JOHN TODD: The Story of Ms Life Columbia ^nibersiitp THE LIBRARIES Bequest of Frederic Bancroft 1860-1945 GENERAL LIBRARY u- JOH^ TODD THE STORY OF HIS LIFE TOLD MAINLY BY HIMSELF COMPILED AND EDITED BY JOHN E. TODD PA8T0E OP THE CIIUKOn OF THE EEDEEMER NEW HAVEN OONN. NEW YORK HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS FP. ANKLIN SQUAUE 1 SVG T^^ Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by Harper & Brothers, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. \}-ni:-:iii^^Clf]): PREFACE Autobiography is, probably, on the whole, the most satisfactory form of a story of a life. Doctor Todd never wrote an autobiography, or even kept a diary ; but in his published writings, under various disguises, and in his letters, a great mass of which are in preservation, he has told in his own language the different parts of the story which it has been the task of the compiler to find and knit together. In the accounts of the contests and troubles through which Doctor Todd passed in two of his minis- tries, the editor does not profess to have given a strictly accurate and impartial history. He has allowed Doctor Todd to give his version of the stor}', because the man, if he is to be judged fairly, must be considered in the light of things as they seemed to him. At the same time, the ed- itor has no reason to think that the accounts are in any respect essentially incorrect. His chief care has been to cut out all names and personal allusions which might hurt the feelings of the living, or do injustice to the dead, or tend to revive controversies which had now much better be left to oblivion, except so far as a general view of them is necessary to throw light upon the character which they (J PREFACE. helped to form. Nor does the editor claim to have woven the materials at his disposal with an impartial hand. If there are any who feel disposed to complain that Doctor Todd is here made too beautiful a character, they will perhaps pardon it, in that it is the fault of His Son. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. HIS ANCESTRY. The old Minister. -Guinea Negroes.— Cusli and his Drum.— Justice Todd's Molasses.— Doctors Jonathan and Timothy.— The Pride of her Village.— The House on the Batteukill.— The Unfortunate.— A new Flag.— The Doc- tor's Character. — The broken Harness.— Poetry under Difficulties.- An insane Mother P<^m 1'' CHAPTER II. HIS INF.\NCY. The unwelcome Babe.— The Indian Doctor.— Tamar and Prim.- Massa Doc- tor's Dinner.— The Return to Connecticut. — Lost Lands.— 'Ittle Daw.— The first Home.— Poverty.— A Potato-digging.— The Sunset Lesson.— The naked Sword.— Family Prayers. — The sick Doctor. — A Lie.— Last Words.— A Child's Remorse.— The Widow's Moan.— Borrowed Shoes.— The Village Grave-yard.— The poor Orphan and the old Pastor.— The dark Messenger 34 CHAPTER III. HIS CHILDHOOD. North Killingworth.— The Skipper's Wife.— Tim's youngest Boy.— Primitive Times.— An old Church.— Birthplaces.— The first Hat.— Death of Echo.— The murdered Phebe.— The kind Uncle.- A Brave old Man.— Near the College.— The long Fish-pole. — The old Eagle-tree.— Madison. — Near the Sea.— The old Duck-gun.— White Stones.— Changes.— The old House.— Three great Men. — Forth Afoot 38 CHAPTER IV. LIFE AT CHARLESTOWN. A weary Tramp.— Homesick.— The Errand-boy.— Hard Work.— At School. — A queer Costume. —Spectacles. — Religious Influences.— Doctor Morse. — A sandy Foundation. — Convictions. — An everlasting Covenant. — To do Good.— The Sunday-school.— Determination to go to College.— The Walk back. — Examination. — The Cedar-bush. — The Bond 55 CHAPTER V. LIFE AT COLLEGE. The young Freshman.— A smart Class.— The first School.— Wet Stockings. —A Terror to Evil-doers.— A borrowed Hatchet.— The Sunday-school.— 8 CONTENTS. Little Lewis.— "Cast thy Bread upon the Waters."— A great Revival.— Ill Health.— Correspondence with Doctor Lee.— Farewell to Hotchkiss- town Page 67 CHAPTER Yl. LIFE AT roLLEGK — continued. A Thunderbolt.— An interesting Letter.— A Daniel come to Judgment.— At Colebrook.— ATunewith a harsh Name.— Impressions of a Stranger.— On Horseback.— Grand Isle.— A buoyant Spirit.— A family Meeting.— Malone. —Return to College.— Advised to Leave.— A Ride on the Ice.— Brig Wil- liam.— K kind Family.— Glimpses of Slavery.— A Saturday-evening Note. —Scandalous Books.— A Pilgrim Horse.— Health Restored.— Mr. Herrick's Pupil.— Staples's Academy.— The Osbornes.— Graduation 81 CHAPTER VII. LIFE AT ANDOVER. Andover Hill.— Doctor Porter.— Doctor Woods. — Doctor Stuart.— Doctor Murdock. — Quiet Life. — A Letter of Introduction. — Preaching without a License. — Qualities of a Minister's Wife. — Memories. — The first Sermon. —North Andover.— The blind Student.— A solemn Contract— Loves to Preach.— A pedestrian Tour.— Osborncville.— Expectant Friends 97 CHAPTER VIII. LIFE AT ANDOVER — Continued. A Day's Work.— Ill Health.— Steam-ears wanted.— A Trip to Cape Cod.— The Captain-doctor. — Mirth under DiflBculties. — Plymouth Rock. — A Dis- pute with Conscience.— Determines to preach extempore. — In the Editor's Chair. — Can not change Profession. — A promising young Man. — The Way clear 109 CHAPTER IX. LIFE AT K-ST>OY^n— continued. Doctor Eli Todd. — The new Librarian.— A Pseudo-Baptist.— Answers Him- self. — A wise Professor. — An anonymous Letter. — Vanity. — Licensed by Professors. — The first Preaching. — Competitors for Valedictory.— Dan- gers at the Seminary.— The Christian Almanac. — Wanted for Palestine. — The Hawk and the Jay.— Two Orators.— Doctor Griffin.— Fanny Fern.— A religious Fourth. — The Association at Dedliam. — The Oration at Park Street. — An awful Question. — A beautiful Prayer 119 CHAPTER X. LIFE AT ANDOVER — Continued. A Disappointment. — A Saturday-afternoon Ride. — Groton. — The old Min- ister.— An unlooked-for Supply.— A Dinner-party.— Calls.— The Scholar- ship.— The Suicide.— A second Visit to Groton.— A Unitarian Church. — A Dilemma.— Dislikes to Go.— Honorable Intentions.— Graduates at An- dover.— Arrives at Groton. — A crowded House. — Meat for Lions. — What Unitarians say.— The Babbler. — Closely Watched.— Intends to split the Society. — An Epidemic. — Notes up. — Toddy on the Coffin. -^Enemies and Friends.— The little Girl and her Chestnuts.— Toddites.— Thanksgiving- day. — Hurries away. — A Town in an Uproar 135 CONTENTH. CHAPTER XI. LIFE AT AXDOVER — Continued. Reasons for Flight. — Defeat. — A stormy World. — Retirement. — Rumors. — The Petition. — A wild Congregation. — Petition rejected. —Claim of the old Pastor. — A Night Ride. — Moderation advised. — Constables at the Church-door. — A Council. — A Committee handled without Gloves. — The Call answered. — A Broad-axe Sermon. — A Sunday at Portsmouth. — The first Sermon in a new Church. — Genuine Drudgery. — Another Defeat. — Another Council. — Compromise rejected. —An Invitation accepted.— Dread.— Good-bye to Andover Page 149 CHAPTER XII. LliE AT GROTON. Preaching in the Academy. — Rum in the Meeting-house. — Invitation to Portland.— A Bible-class. — Hell the same as Eternity.— A Stage-ride.— A young Lady's Desk.— Which is the Church?— Corner-stone laid and thrown down. — A Council.— Beecher on Rights of Churches.- The new Gown. — Invitation to Danvers.— The poor Bee.— The Raising. — A Scene at the Church-door. — An Installation Ball. — A Revival. — Conduct of the Inquiry-meeting. — A Remonstrance.— Organization of a new Church.— A Trap. — The Linchpins.— Call from the Union Church.— The Answer.— Changes 165 CHAPTER XIIL LIFE AT GRGTON — Continued. Ordination. — Dedication — Shawls without Fringes. — Sale of Pews. — Reviv- als. — Sickness. — A hard Journey. — A Sunday-evening Meeting. — Girdling Trees. — The Bride. — Examination. — A great Barn of a Thing. — Sunday- school begun. — Active Ladies.. — A judicious Pig. — A new Horse. — An un- expected Arrival. — A Week of Hope. — Fears. — A household Baptism.— Tears in the Pulpit. — A sad Evening. — The Rose-bud plucked. — A little Funeral. — Memories 180 CHAPTER XIV. LIFE AT GROTON — continued. How to get a Bell.— The best House in Town.— The haunted House. — Pat- tering of little Feet. — A Unitarian Funeral. — Immortal Hens. — Mission- ary Visitations. — A Runaway. — An extraordinary Woman. — A Baby In- firmary. — Invitation to a Funeral declined. — The Letter. — A New-comer. — Death of Doctor Chaplin. — The bereaved Father. — A lazy Agent. — Med- icine with a Vengeance. — A pretty Girl. — The dying young Man. — Results of the Groton Movement. — Author vs. Pastor 195 CHAPTER XV. LIFE AT GROTON — Continued. Boarding. — A crying Child. — A Horse mired. — A new Parish. — Purchase of a Horse. — The lame Boy. — Temperance. — A Horse-trade. — A new Vestry. — Inks. — The Barrel of Brimstone. — Trip to Philadelphia. — A mighty Con- cern. — Yankee Character. — A Revival. — Piety of Ministers. — Morbid Feel- ings. — Depression. — An Idol. — The Deist in the Inquiry-meeting. — A won- derful Time. — Union of Churches. — A Call refused 209 10 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XVI. LIFE AT GROTON — Continued. The new Cloak.— A kindred Spirit. — Another Arrival.- Antimasonry.— Death of Doctor Chaplin.— Death of Mr. Evarts.— A second Hamlet.— A four days' Meetins.- The House divided.— Bochim.— The last Day of the Feast. — Powerfuf Medicine. — The Bowling-alley.— Early Meetings.- Alone.— The black Kitten.— The lost Puppy.— Homesick.— Hard Work. —Milk Diet.— Sick.— Meeting at Sodom.— A Journey.— The Poles.— The Slaves.— One Foot in the StiiTup.— Basted together.— Poor Tea.— A Prov- idential Dispensation.— Stormy Times.— Death of a Sister.— Called to Sa- lem.— A handsome Grave.— Council.— Dismission refused.— Broken up.— Another Call.— Farewell to Grotou Ped her fish, and they carried it off in triumph. The men soon dispersed ; but I sat down under a bush near by to watch, and to bestow unavailing pity. The bird soon re- turned to her nest without food. The eaglets at once set up a cry for food, so shrill, so clear, and so clamorous, that I was greatly moved. The parent bird seemed to try to soothe them; but their appetites were too keen, and it was all in vain. She then perched hei-self on a limb near them, and looked down into the nest with a look that seemed to say, ' I know not what to do next.' Her indecision was but momentary; again she poised herself, uttered one or two sharp notes, as if telling them to ' lie still,' biilanced her body, spread her wings, and was away again for the sea. I now determined to see the result. My eye followed her till she grew small, smaller, a mere speck in the sky, and then disappeared. She was gone nearly two houi^s — about dou- ble her usual time for a voyage — when she again returned on a slow, weary wing, flying uncommonly low in order to have a heavier atmosphere to sustain her, with another fish in her 48 JOHX TODD. talons. On nearing the field, she made a circuit around it to see if her enemies were again theie. Finding the coast clear, she once more reached her tree, drooping, faint, and weary, and evidently nearly exhausted. Again the eaglets set up their cry, which was soon hushed by the 'distribution of a dinner such as — save the cooking — a king might ad- mire. 'Glorious bird !' cried I, in ecstasy and aloud ; ' what a spirit ! Other birds can fly more swiftly, others can sing more sweetly, others can scream more loudly ; but what oth- er bird, when persecuted and robbed, when weary, when dis- couraged, when so far from the sea, would do what thou hast done? I will learn a lesson from thee this day. I will never forget that when the spirit is determined it can do al- most any thing. Others would have drooped, and hung the head, and mourned over the cruelty of man, and sighed over the wants of the nestlings ; but thou, by at once recovering the loss, hast forgotten all. I will learn of thee, noble bird! I will remember this. I will set my mark high. I will try to do something, and to be something in the world ; and I will never yield to discouragements.' "There can be no doubt that my mind received an im- pression, and my decision of character an increase, from this circumstance, which was felt in all subsequent years. The next day, from the fulhiess of my heart, I inadvertently dropped a hint of my determination to go to college some day. The announcement was received with a shout of ridi- cule." And to ridicule subsequently succeeded opposition. But whoever at any time thought to turn John Todd from a fixed purpose by ridicule or opposition, did not know the man. " Were it required," writes one of his early teachers, now an old man of ninety, " to describe in a short sentence what I think was the crowning quality in his character, I might say that, next to the special grace of God, his success sprung from the firmness, the decision of liis character." "In the fall of 1812,1 went to live with my uncle. Doctor Jonathan Todd, at East Guilford, that I might enjoy better means of schooling, my opportunities having as yet been small. My parting with Uncle and Aunt Hamilton can not be by my pen w^ell described. I had lived with them six years, and they had been to me as parents. I could not bid ray aunt ' good-bye,' for tears suppressed my utterance. I HIS CHILL HOOD. 49 thouglit, ns I walked to my uncle's dwelling (it was about ten miles), that I should never again be happy ; and indeed I stopped many times on my way, and dropped showers of tears ; but, strange as it may apjiear, when I arrived at my uncle's I felt in as good spirits and as well as ever," The two years which he spent in his Uncle Jonathan's family were marked by no special incident. Tliey were spent in much the same way as the preceding years, except that liis advantages were on a little larger scale. The only really new influence which was brought to bear upon him was that of the sea. As on the ridges of North Killing- worth he had learned to love the forest and its craft, so here he became expert in, and devoted to, all water-sports. He learned to swim like a duck, to handle a boat, to find the best fishing-grounds, and to hunt the sea-fowl. Through all his life he preserved a passionate fondness for the sea, and for this coast in particular. Once he tried to buy one of the beautiful islands that lie off the Madison shore; and one of his last acts was to purchase, in company with his only surviving brother, a little sail-boat, in which he promised himself many a delightful renewal of acquaintance w'ith the scenes of his boyhood. It lies idle on the sand, and he has gone alone on a darker sea over to a lovelier shore. To his early life in North Killingworth and in Madison may be traced that love and knowledge of the woods and of the sea which not onlj^ exercised afterward such an- influence upon his reci'eations and health, but stored his mind with that wealth of imagery and illustration drawn from the forest and the ocean which appeared in all his writings, and lent them much of their charm. "My uncle had an old duck-gun of enormous size and weight, which I used to borrow, I never owned a gun of any kind till I had a home of my own. It was only lent to. me on certain conditions — that I would first perform a cer- tain amount of work or study ; but, these complied with, Saturday afternoon found me trudging down to the shore with this piece of ordnance on my shoulder. My cousin oft- en went with me, and sometimes Abel, the black servant, also; and on rare occasions the latter deigned to relieve me of my burden for a part of the Avay ; but usually I had to stagger along with it unaided. But the happiest hours of 4 50 JOHN TODD. ray life were those Satuvtlay afternoons spent in skulking among the rocks along the shore with that old blunderbuss, and blazing away, seldom with any effect, at the ducks and sea-gulls." "At Madison they have a new meeting -bouse, and all things are altered there, save Tuxas Island and Gull Rock, where you and I, Uncle John, used to dig clams. When- ever I walk on those beautiful sand-bars, I think of you and of olden times, and of the years of my bo3diood. I went out to Falkner's Island, and the Little Gull Islands near, and — would you think it? — I picked up and carried to mij little boy the same kind of round white stones which my own dear father gathered and brought to me when I was of his age, at least thirty-three years ago. The stones looked like the very same, and, I presume, were gathered within a rod of the spot where he gathered mine. The old hive at Mad- ison looks more out of order and more neglected, otherwise it is about the same old shell that it always has been — the place of all others on earth associated with what moves me whenever I see it. The bushes up the lane are all great trees now, and have outgrown and forgotten me ; and even 'Canoe Swamp' is now quite a majestic wood, and the rab- bits have all left it. Poor fellows! they recollect less of me than I do of them. I can hardly realize that I, who am now growing gray-headed wath care and labor, am the same be- ing I was in those days when ' Parker's Hill School-house' was a world of wisdom, and Molly Hamilton a paragon of beauty! What would I not give for one hour of that free, joyous, gushing feeling of boyhood ! How foolishly I write on ! Will you not oblige me by jDutting it down on your slate that as long as you live you will write once a quarter to ' Tim's youngest boy ?' • " Dearest of all Jonathans ! I have been in Madison to see about mother. The school -pond is filled up, and new houses are built, and nothing looks natural except Uncle Todd's old house, the old elm-tree, the old school-house, and Mr. Ely's house. Tuxas Island and Gull Rock stand just where they did, and so do Round Rock and Reuben's Rocks, but they seem more lonely and desolate than when we were boys and used to stand on them. I went to Blackboys, and thought how I first went there with you, a long, long time HIS CHILDHOOD. 51 ago. Do you recollect it ? and the great fish which you caught ? When shall it be again ?" " Old Killiugworth, too, has lost its old name, my dear brother William, and they now call it Clinton, It is a poor- looking place, in every sense of the Avord. Last August I wont there, and what do you think I did ? I went to see the old house in which our father died. It is just as it was then, except that they have papered the room in which he died. It has had no other repairs or alterations. The gar- den was the same, and every thing the same, and I could stand in the entry and recall it all. Before going over it, I told John Morgan just how every room was situated, and where, greatly to his astonishment. I carried off some onions that grew in the garden which father used to till with so much delight ; and was about ready to knock Morgan down when I saw the stones with which father used to grind his medicines used as step-stones. Ten thousand old childish memories came rushing back to my mind during the visit, which had long since passed away. Our family have had a checkered life, and ' a hard row to hoe,' but we have had far more than we deserve. God has granted us great mercies in that none of us have been left to be drunkards, or dishonest, or openly wicked. He has done great things for us, and for this we should be grateful. I -want you should be contented, simple-hearted, prayerful, indifferent about property, and devoted to God." Three characters seem to have made special impression upon him in his life at jNIadison. "There they stand, before the eye of my mind, the great- est men I ever saw. I was a boy then, and men and trees were tall, and rivers were wide, and hills were high, and every thing was on a great scale. But the three gi-eat men were, the minister, something superhuman ; the doctor, who carried life and death in his saddle-bags; and the militia captain, who could raise armies and conquer legions. Let me describe them. The minister (Rev. John Elliot, D.D., pastor at East Guilford at the time) was a tall, very thin and slim man. His legs, always dressed in black stockings and small clothes, seemed too slender to hold him up. How neatly he was always dressed — not a spot or wrinkle on his garments ! What a broad-brimmed hat he wore — renewed 52 JOHN TODD. just once in two years ! His manners and bearing were most gentlemanly. He was a fine scholar, a genuine lover of study, a capital preacher, a wise and most shrewd man, never trying to be rich or known, but well known, and all his life long he received the enormous salary of four hundred dollars a year. He w^as the life and soul of the village li- brai-y, and ready for every good work. How we boys and girls were wont to look uj^on him with awe and reverence, unable to believe that the common frailties of human nature hung about him ! I never dared enter his front door till I had been a member of college a year or two. I have never since met the minister who, to me^ was so great. "The second great man was the doctor (his own uncle. Doctor Jonathan Todd). What a wonder was he ! A short, heavy, lymphatic man, whose hair was almost milk- white. He was careless about his dress, for it had to be ex- posed to all sorts of weather. He always rode horseback, with saddle-bags, and we children always supposed those bags contained what the Chinese doctors now use — scorpions, lizards, toads, serpents, and the like. He never spared him- self when his aid was needed, and his charges were one shilling (seventeen cents) each visit, and were the subject of far more murmurings than the charges of physicians at this day. I can see him now, on his bay horse with a white streak in his face extending from the nose up to the fore- head. We used to watch him as we would watch an angel of life or death, to see at whose house he Avas to alight. He was most careful as a nurse, and though he bled, purged, and gave medicines that would now be thought fearful in quantity, yet he was a good physician. He was a peace- maker, and, though a justice of the peace, he always settled the quarrel, if possible, without trying it. He was always in demand as moderator of the town meeting, was frequently sent to the Legislature ; a kind of father to the whole com- munity, against whom no man ever bore a grudge or ill- will. DichUt he have the tooth-pullers, and the pills, and the emetics, and the lancets, all in those saddle-bags ! His face was mild and benevolent, but there were life and death in those saddle-bags. I have never seen so great a doctor since, though he did charge a shilling a visit, and seldom collected even that. HIS CHILDHOOD. 53 "My third great man was the captain. Was there ever such an officer as Captain Judd ! He was tall, straight as an arrow, and had a noble figure. When he came forth on ' training-day,' with an old Continental uniform (the most imposing, I still think, that I ever saw), his blue coat, bufi' vest, and buff leather small-clothes, and white-top boots, and high triangular hat with its lofty plume, his red sash around his loins, and his neat sword, and white gloves, who icould not stand in awe ! He was not the same man whom, the day before, we saw beliding over the t,nvil or shoeing the horse in his blacksmith shop. He was something now to be feared. We had no doubt but that with his company, which he marched, and countermarched, and wheeled, and manoeuvred all day, he could have conquered any army that ever ex- isted. What a military head ! what an eye ! what a voice ! and what an ear to hear if a gun were shot off a second or two before word of command ! I once heard him tell his company he ' would not have had that gun go off so for five dollars.' The assertion seemed incredible to me when I heard it. Ah me ! I have seen some great men since, but never any so great as these three. Oh, the eves of child- hood !" When he had lived with his uncle about a year and a half, Mr. Evarts came on from Charlestown, Massachusetts, to which place he had moved, to undertake the editorship of a publication called the Panojjlist, to attend commence- ment at New Haven. While in the vicinity, he went out to East Guilford, to visit his relatives. Here he met again the boy who had spent a winter in his family. On his kindly inquiring of his welfare the boy replied, " I had hoped, sir, that you would want me again in your family." This led to farther inquiries, and eventually to a generous offer from Mr. Evarts of a home in his family, with a view to his attend- ing a better school than could be found in Guilford. The offer was accepted, and all through the summer and fall John anticipated, and made such slight preparations as he could for, his departure. As the time drew near, some one asked him if he had money enough for his journey. He re- plied that he had. And it was not till he was questioned a second time, and more closely, that he confessed that he had but seventy-five cents. HoAvever, no one gave him any 54 JOHN TODD. more; and so, on the 21st of November, 1815, with a small bundle of clothes under one arm and seventy-five cents in his pocket, he left forever — not his home., for he had had none, but every thing that had been home-like, and started out into the world alone. "I believe my uncle parted with me with some regret ; and I know I shed many tears on leaving this home, and father's house, of all our orphan family." LIFE AT CHARLESTOWN. 55 CHAPTER IV. LIFE AT CHAKLESTOWN. A weary Tramp.— Homesick. — The Errand-boy. — Hard Work.— At School. — A queer Costume. — Spectacles. — Religious Influences. — Dr. Morse. — A sandy Foundation. — Convictions. — An everlasting Covenant.— To do Good.— The Sunday-school. — Determination to go to College. — The Walk back. — Examination. — The Cedar-bush. — The Bond. How in the world, with the means that he had, John ever accomplished that journey from Guilford to Boston we can never know. It was on Monday morning at about eight o'clock that he started off, "with a stiff hickory cane in one hand, and a small bundle in the other. In his checkered handkerchief were all his worldly goods, consisting of a Tes- tament, a few shirts, with a black ribbon in the collar of each, and a small number of unimportant articles of dress." At eight o'clock that evening he arrived at New London, hav- ing walked about thirty-live miles. Twice had he missed the way ; for, finding that whenever he made inquiries peo- ple suspected and accused him of being a runawaj', he had made up his mind to ask no more questions, but to find his way as well as he could by the guide-posts. At New London he found a former acquaintance, a man who had some years before taught a free school which the boy had attended. The school-master was now a tavern- keeper and proprietor of a corner grocery, and was at first not disposed to remember his former pupil. But his good- nature soon prevailed, and he received the young traveler into his house ; who seems to have been struck with a de- plorable change in tlie moral and religious character of his host — a change as great as, and possibly occasioned by, the change in his business. Of his experiences between New London and Boston he never said any thing, and he has left no record. They were, perhaps, too unimportant, or perhaps too painful to be dwelt upon. Tradition has it that at night he slept by the road- 56 JOHX TODD. side, protected by a fence or a cedar bush only from tlie Xoveniber frosts. But on Saturday morning he arrived safe- ly at Charlestown, and was welcomed kindly to his place in the family of Mr. Evarts. But no welcome, however kind, could quite reconcile the boy to the change. " For the first three or four weeks I would have given any thing to have been at — I do not say home, for I had none, but Connecticut. Never was I so homesick, as it is called ; and I am convinced that not many diseases are more painful." The position which he occupied in Mr. Evarts's ftimily was, naturally, in part menial. He was expected to saw the wood and draw the water, run of errands, and render what assist- ance he could in the family out of school-hours. There was also residing in the family, and in some way related to it, a lady of abundant means and many whims, who persisted in sending the boy all over the city on errands suggested by her fancies — a servitude which one eye-witness thinks he could not have endured, and did try the boy's patience se- verely. Occasionally he was able to earn a little extra with his wood-saw ; and this he invariably devoted to procuring school-books, "never going higher than a street book-stall for his purchases." So few helping hands were stretched out to him, that the gift of two or three old Latin books from Samuel J. Armstrong, at that time a book-seller, after- ward governor, w^as recorded with touching expressions of gratitude. After a time he was able to write and do ofiice- work for Mr. Evarts, who was then treasurer of the American Board, as well as editor of the Panoplist, and was connected with various societies, and had much for a boy to do. On one occasion he writes: "I have now begun to do up, direct, and send off upward of four hundred pamphlets, which will occupy me some time. They are to be sent to societies, etc. I am to receive several of them as a kind of present for my trouble. They could not hire it done for five dollars, at the common price of things. I shall send those that I receive to my friends, and hope they will not be unwilling to pay the postage of them. I am certain they would not, if they knew how hard I labored for them." When it is considered that the pamphlet was entitled "The Conversion of the World," and that the day of cheap postage was far distant, it will not, perhaps, be thought that his pay was excessive, LIFE AT CH ABLEST OWN. 57 or his appreliensions respecting the appreciation of his friends unfouiided. Two years after entering Mr. Evarts's family he wrote: "Boston, Thanksgiving-day, December 4th, 1817. "Mv DEAR Brother William, — I will give you an iniper- lect sketch how I spend my time. I rise at six in the morn- ing, make fires, etc. ; saw wood till eight o'clock (in which time I can saw enough to last three tires during the twenty- four hours) ; breakfast ; get to school at half-past eight ; re- cite a Greek lesson at nine o'clock; a Latin lesson at half- past ten ; at eleven the school is dismissed ; get home at half-past eleven; go of errands, etc., till one; dine at half- past one ; get to school at two ; recite a Latin lesson at half- past two ; a grammar lesson at three ; another Latin lesson at four; school dismissed at half-past four; return home; drink tea; write for Mr. Evarts till nine; attend family prayers at half-past nine ; get my Greek lesson for the nexl morning ; retire to bed at eleven. I do not think I spend half an hour a week in idleness. I allow myself but seven hours out of the twenty-four for sleep, and I should not so much, if I did not think it absolutely necessary. I have made con- siderable progress in the Latin language, and can read it with facility. I have read but a little more than five chapters in my Greek Testament. I forgot to mention above that I have to read in English twice a day, and speak a piece once a week. Mr. Haskell, my instructor, thinks I have made very great improvement since I have been to him (which is aljout three weeks), and that if I can continue my studies I can be fitted for college by next fall. You mention that you think it probable that you may take to farming. If I can not get along in my studies, and can have no provision for my sup- port (as I now see no way in which I can), I shall go into the new country, and might, perhaps call on you; if so, and you are then working on a farm, perhaps I might go to woi'k with you. I have received a letter from Uncle Jonathan Todd, in which he complains that he is growing old and feeble; would help me if he could, but says that his burden is very great. I think so too. He certainly has done very much for our dear mother, and has by this means created a debt that I shall never think myself able to repay." 58 JOHN TODD. Mr. Evarts liad at this time just removed from Charles- town to Boston, and was living on Pinckuey Street. For about five months previous, John had been taking private lessons of a Doctor Oliver S, Taylor, who still survives, to write with a trembling hand: "The studies were chiefly in Virgil, the Greek grammar, and the Greek Testament. His lessons were thoroughly studied and well recited. Among all the thousands whom Providence has thi'own in my way, or has placed under my tuition, very few have been so care- ful, so inquisitive, and so thorough as he was." On the re- moval of the family to Boston, he went to the private school of Mr. Ezra Haskell, referred to in the above letter. One of his school-mates writes: "This school was held in the basement of the old Chauncey Place Church. There were perhaps forty-five or more boys and girls, from fourteen to seventeen years of age ; also three others, of whom John was one, who attended only to the languages preparatory to entering college. The boys were there at eight o'clock, and left at eleven. The girls went to school at ten o'clock, and left at two. So that they were together only one hour each day. The common branches were attended to first by the younger members, and were dismissed in season to give undivided attention to the Latin class. Their three desks were placed together on one side of the room, so that they faced the wall ; and opposite to them four of us girls also faced the wall. So that what I learned of him was from the back of his head ! You smile ; but it is true, and I learned much ; for his was a character to be studied, and I had nothing else to do, as I prepared all my lessons thoroughly at home. How did he look? In his personal appearance he was sui generis. Tall, of a stooping posture, grave coun- tenance, and knit brows, he seemed to live in the realm of thought. His dress was unique; a brown corded-velvet coat, and stockinet pants, and a blue and white cravat tied with a single bow-knot, his hair brushed to his own fancy, and all the most distant from the fashion. His grandfather wore the suit in the Revolution. He was dignified without superciliousness; and he never put on airs. He was an in- defatigable student. He was persistent and independent. He knew that his dress excited the mirth of us all, and that no other like it could be found in Boston ; nevertheless, he LIFE AT CHARLESTOWN'. 59 moved straight on, minding his own business. He would have been known anywhere as 'the scholar,' )^et was with- out the appearance of moroseness. He was genial, with a vein of humor. With a battalion of bright fJices and auda- cious smiles, we girls thought to bring down the citadel from its high estate; but all the notice we received was a twinkle of roguery above his spectacles, which said, 'I could be merry if I would.' He was remarkably kind-hearted. He never hesitated to take his .own mind fiom his books to nelp my brother; and the loving lean, and the pointing to the sentence with his finger as he explained it, I can well remember," It was thus that, with invincible courage and perseverance, he pursued his studies, entirely uncertain whether he w^ould ever be able to carry out his long-cherish- ed project of entering college. So close was his application that, as appears in the above letter, his eye -sight was al- ready seriously aifected. It was on an excursion into the country that he first discovered that he could not dif yet, of reiig-ior; br e -• - r : f : D. a Mr. S . i:i:e to Mr. Evarts's, -are^k5w He was the firsi who ever _ ked red, y.. He fl lio-a^lit I >: _ ;-lv. ^ of - HIT r as Mr. ith- iBT eves, yet I . the tered : eeping very freely. for I - ^ '^..'^ LIFE AT CHA RLESTOWX. 63 er, that I might have opened my miud freely to him, and reproached myself because I had not before done it. He, however, c-arae in after Mr. S had been there some mo- ments. I derived no comfort for several days, bat would have given worlds, could that have been done, for a ransom for my souL I read Baxter's ' Saints' Rest,' and thought the rest of saints indeed glorious, but that I never should enjoy it. I tried to pray, but considered that it was useless for me to pray, for God would never hear me ; and there- fore I gave it up, and calculated to go to hell. I did not feel now much alarmed at the thought of being a companion of devils forever, for I hated God, and thought I should pre- fer devils to him. Strange as this hardness, wickedness of heart may seem, I gave over all thoughts of religion for two or three months, and gave myself up to wickedness. Mr. S had left 3Ir. Evarts's femily soon after the conversa- tion referred to, and as I had never opened my mind to Mr. Evarts during my distress, I had no one to check me. '■ In the followine September, Mr. and Mrs. Evarts went to Connecticut. While they were gone, a revival of relig- ion commenced in Charlestown. I attendee! meeting every evening, and trembled lest I had committed the unpardona- ble sin. I read Doddridge's ' Rise and Progress,' and trem- bled at every page. I could, however, at this time pray, and, I think too, in spirit. I now considered against what a merciful God I had sinned, and these thoughts drew tears from my eyes, which, a little before, hell could not have done. I thought that if I were cast out, I would go from the foot of the cross. I considered that it would be just in God to send me to hell forever. About thb time I began to feel compassion for the salvation of others. I then be- gan to consider if there was any way in which I might be prepared to do good to my fellow-men, and communicated this to Mr. Brown, a gentleman to whom I was then going to school. He encouraged me, and from that time I have had a very great desire to be an embassador of Christ. On the 13th of April, 1817,1 gave myself up to God in an everlasting covenant. I wrote a covenant in the presence of God and angels alone, signed and sealed it, in which I gave myself entirely up to God. I have never opened it since, and I never aim to again in this world- I also that 64 JOHN TODD. day made a public profession of religion, and joined myself with the church in Charlestown," In one of the last nights of his life, Doctor Todd remark- ed, "I hardly know what to say about my Christian hope, , When I was about sixteen years of age, in Charlestown, I thought that I was converted, and I joined the church. But after a while my interest abated, and I fell into old ways. And then, when I Avas in college, there was a revival, and I was stirred up again. And then I grew indifferent again. And so it has been all along. I don't know — perhaps it is better to rest my hope upon the general aim and endeavor of my life, and upon the mercy of God, than upon those ear- ly experiences." It is perfectly natural that the mature Christian, looking back, should have a poor opinion of his imperfect beginnings of Christian life; but it can hardly be doubted that in this Charlestown experience he passed through a great moral change. From this period dates a "desire to do good," which was one of the deepest and most variedly expressed and manifested of his feelings all his life long. " To do good" was his great ambition. One of his first efforts in this direction was made under the guidance of Doctor Morse. "I well remember attending the first meeting ever held in that region to organize a Sab- bath-school. Doctor Morse was the mover in it, and I was a teacher in it from its very opening." The only other male teachers were the two sons of Doctor Morse — Sidney E., aft- erward editor of the JVexo York Observer, and Samuel F., or Finley, as he was called, subsequently the inventor of the electric telegraph — with both of whom he was intimate. This was one of the first Sunday-schools in the country; and here he acquired the interest in the Sunday-school work which distinguished him all his life. It was, perhaps, his connection with Mr. Evarts, and consequent familiar acquaintance with the operations of the American Board, which led him to form the resolution to become a missionary. The purpose was after many years reluctantly relinquished, but his in- terest in the foreign missionary work never abated. From this period his letters indicate that he has passed through a change. He does not wait for a missionary appointment, or ministerial license, to speak to others of that which he LIFE AT CHARLESTOWK 65 lias found most precious. Hardly a letter to one of his brothers or sisters closes without a word of affectionate ad- monition : " I do entreat you, ray dear sister, to strive to gain the one thing needful;" "I hope you will not be care- less and indiflerent as to your own situation, while in other places they are coming from all quarters to the Fountain to be cleansed ;" " I long to hear that my dear brother and sis- ter have made their 'calling and election sure.'" But the most immediate and marked evidence of a change was, that " the desire for cultivating, enlarging, and disci- plining the mind, and making it an instrument of useful- ness, was every day growing stronger and stronger. It was all I had with which to do good. The desire to go to col- lege was now rekindled with inextinguishable ardor. But what difficulties were in the way ! I was without friends, among strangers, and entirely destitute of property, with not a single voice to encourage. Without a single exception, every individual with whom I conversed endeavored to dis- courage me. One thought it a bold undertaking which could never be carried through. Another, that I had not talents sufficient to become a scholar. A third, that I might make a good business man, and it was a great pity to spoil me for business." His teacher, Mr. Haskell, who kindly gave him half of his tuition, had some talks with the boy about his future pros- pects, and gave him the discouraging advice to wait several years befoi'e attempting to enter college, rather than accept of assistance. " Indeed, I believe I shall be compelled of necessity to follow his advice. I sometimes wish I had left ray present place of abode two months ago, when I had two excellent offers of doing so; yet, as Mr. Evarts is absent, it was thought I could not leave the trust that he coramitted to me till his return." A little while after this, Mr. Evarts sent him an introduc- tion to the Education Society, and he wrote, " I have some hopes of entering college the next fall, if the Education So- ciety assists rae, whether Yale or Middlebury I can not tell till Mr, Evarts returns. If God permits me to receive an education, I hope I shall serve him faithfully even unto death. I have made up my mind that if he spares my life I will be a missionary." 5 66 JOHN TODD. The fall of 1818 saw him return from Cliarlestown to Con- necticut in tlie same courageous spirit, and by the same mode of travel in wliich he had gone from his uncle's three years before — afoot, with his entire wardrobe under one arm, and his entire library under the other. "It was afternoon when I reached New Haven, and I went directly to the President's room. There I found President Day, and with him Professor Kingsley, and they proceeded to examine me without delay. Tiiey found that I was total- ly, unfit to enter college, but, on becoming acquainted with the circumstances of the case, they agreed to admit me, with the understanding that I was to apply myself to my studies with special exertion. It was late in the afternoon when I left the room. I was tired with a long morning's march, and tlie excitement of the examination, I had had no din- ner, and had but three cents in the world. Two of these were spent in paying toll at Tomlinson's Bridge, and with my last copper I walked till dark toward Guilford. When I could no longer see my way, I lay down under a cedar- bush and slept. Very early in the morning I woke, stifi", sore, and almost frozen. I reached my uncle's in the course of the morning. The college then required, as it does now, a bond from some responsible jierson that the student's .col- lege bills shall be paid. I found that my uncle was unwill- ing to sign such a bond, as he feared, not unreasonably, that he would have to pay my bills for me. In great discourage- ment I walked over to Killingworth, and told my brother Jonathan of my trouble. Now Jonathan was not worth one cent more than I was ; but he was a noble fellow, and had a great heart, and as soon as he heard my story he exclaimed, ' Give me the bond ; IHl sign it.' And so he did. I never intended any deceit, but it has since occurred to me that probably my brother's signature was mistaken for that of the well-known Guilford physician, the names being the same. At all events, the bond M'as accepted, and at last I was a freshman in Yale Collesre." LIFE AT COLLEGE. CHAPTER V. LIFE AT COLLEGE. The young Freshman.— A smart Class.— The first School.— "Wet Stockings. — A Terror to Evil-doers.— A borrowed Hatchet. — The Sunday-scliool.— Little Lewis.—" Cast thy Bread upon the Waters."— A great Revival.— Ill Health.— Correspondence with Doctor Lee. — Farewell to Hotchkisstown. The young freshtiiaii had undertaken a difficult task, and one which liis friends tliouglit he could never accomplish. To sustain himself in Yale College without means or assist- ance, or even encouragement, and with so poor a prepara- tion as his, he needed a good deal of pluck. How much ambition and determination and energy he must have had, and what exertion he must have made, appear from the fact that he not only sustained himself in the face of such difficulties, but rose to a place of honor in a class of seventy- seven, among whom were many young men who have since proved themselves to have possessed distinguished ability. The class contained, among others of well-known eminence, Doctor Edward Beecher, its valedictorian ; Rev. Walter Col- ton, the eccentric but brilliant chaplain and author; Rev. John IVraltby, long a pastor at Bangor; Rev. Jared B. Water- bury, D.D., once pastor of Bowdoin Street Church, Boston, a great friend of John Todd's in college, and his "other self;" Rev. Thomas T. Waterman, D.D. ; ^Rev. Horatio N. Brins- made, D.D. ; Isaac Townsend ; Doctor Benjamin B. Coit, one of the most skillful of physicians; Harvey P. Peet, LL.D., the eminent instructor of deaf-mutes; and Hon. John A. Rockwell, a lawyer of national reputation. In this crowd of then unknown young men, the poor stu- dent was merged, and at once lost to sight. He had a room in one of the college buildings like the rest, took his meals at the college commons like the rest, and studied and re- cited like the rest. But, unlike the rest, he had not a cent of money, or so much as the good word of a friend ; and therefore it was inevitable that he should before long come 68 JOHN TODD. to the surface, and distinguish himself from the others by efforts for selt-preservation. During his lirst winter in college he taught a school at Hotchkisstown, or Westville, as it is now called, about two miles and a half from college, walking back and forth every morning and evening, in all kinds of weather and states of the road, and keeping up with his class at the same time. An eye-witness testifies that often, after his long walk through the melting snow, he sat down on the college steps, and, taking off his shoes, wrung the water out of his stock- ings before going in to make a brilliant recitation. In the effort to keep' up with his class while thus employed, he se- riously injured his eyes with night study of Greek. "The next summer I took a school of wild boys in Street, and never missed a recitation all summer." In this school he obtained the reputation of being a severe disciplin- arian. It was the unanimous opinion of the scholars that he was "a terribly cruel man," One of them, a mere boy at the time, writing under impressions which have not been effaced in more than half a century, says: "I can see him now, walking up and down among the desks, with his hair erect, his lips compressed, his spectacles firmly fixed, mend- ing a pen, and casting quick, fierce glances around, with a large ruler under his arm, hdving carved on it, in great, easily legible characters, the warning, 'a terror to evil- doers.'" Such severity was so foreign to all his native disposition, and to all his subsequently manifested charac- ter, that there must have been some special reasons for it. It may be that, as a sophomore, he maintained his dignity a little unnecessarily. But it appears that it was a very- bad school, which had proved too much for more than one previous teacher, and it was necessary to govern with an iron hand until the question of mastership was settled. It was not long in settling. One day one of the worst of the boys hurled an inkstand at the young teacher's head. The missile missed its aim and bespattered the wall, not with brains, but with ink; and the rebel, seeing justice coming with determination in its eye, and "a terror to evil-doers" in its hand, hastened to leap out of a window, and never returned. Discipline and order once established, the mas- ter relaxed somewhat, and very pleasant relations sprung LIFE AT COLLEGE. 69 np between him aiul the pupils. The late Hon. James F. Babcock, of New Haven, who has already just been quoted, writes oIl a dialogue in which he took part at the exhibition : "I lemember that it was an Indian affair — that there was a murder of some sort — and I held the bowl to catch the ebb- ing life-blood." During the fall vacation he taught a school in the town of Orange, then a part of New Milford, where he found some kind friends, with whom afterward, when sick and in distress, he had at one time a thought of taking refuge. At the end of the first year he had gained in position in his class, and had earned a hundred and sixty dollars. In so busy and hard-working a life he found, of course, no time or inclination to join in the usual college frolics. In- deed, he was too much in earnest and too sober-minded to engage in them himself; but his humor qualified him to en- joy observing them, and he often told of them in after-years with great relish. His friend, poor Walter Colton, had not liis steadiness, but was always getting into scrapes, from which his friends with difficulty extricated him. It was at that time the custom for the division which was to recite to enter the recitation-room before the instructor, and to re- main standing at their seats till he had entered and taken his place, and then to seat themselves simultaneously. One morning it was not noticed that the supports of the long benches had been cut away behind, leaving only just enough in front barely to hold them in position ; and of course when twenty men sat down at once on each bench, they all went over backward, and the legs of the whole division flew into the air with one accord. The authorities could not be ex- pected to pass over such an accident in silence, and, among the rest, Todd was called up, and asked if he knew who had cut those benches. Too conscientious to lie, and too honor- able to betray a friend, he replied that he had some reason to think that he could conjecture who the culprit was, but he thought that he had done it in frolic, and not in malice, and he did hope that inquiries would not be pushed to the disgrace and ruin of a fine young man for a bit of fun. Mar- velous to relate, the authorities had the grace not only to desist from questioning him farther, but also to take his ad- vice ; and nothing more was said about it. The "reason" 70 JOHN TODD. whicli Todd liad "to conjecture who the culprit might he" was that Walter Colton had borrowed his hatchet to do the mischief with. But the young student-teacher was engaged in too seri- ous work to enter much into such sports. And, besides, his tastes led him to employ what little leisure he had differ- ently. Finding that there were no religious services or privileges at Hotchkisstown, he at once started a Sunday- school, after the pattern of the one which he had helped organize in Charlestown. "At first the project was greatly ridiculed, and many opposed. But ridicule and opposition soon gave way to a good cause, and in a short time I had seventy scholars. The room in which we met was an un- finished chamber pf a poor, lame woman — the only place that was offered. The floor was not nailed down, and nei- ther ceiling nor plaster had ever been seen in the chamber. The chimney passed up in the centre, and the bare rafters were over our heads. Yet never did I see brighter or hap- pier faces than among the little groups which I regularly met. " One hot Sabbath I had walked out to meet my Sabbath- school. The children were expecting me to give them, at the close of the lessons, a history of the holy Sabbath, from its first appointment, and to tell them why God appointed it, and what are our duties in regard to it ; for so I had pi-omised them, and I had in fact prepared myself to do it. But being weary and ill, I told them that for these reasons I would defer it till the next Sabbath. While thus putting it oflT, I noticed a bright little boy sitting near me who seemed to look disappointed. He had expected to liear about the holy Sabbath. Oh, had I remembered how Christ taught the poor woman of Samaria, though he was weary and faint, should I not have done differently? "The next Sabbath came, and my school were again coming together. On arriving at the house, instead of finding them all quiet in their seats as usual, I found them standing around the door, some sobbing, others looking frightened, all silent. On inquiry, they told me that 'Lit- tle Lewis had just been killed by the mill.' This was all they knew about it. At the head of my little flock, I has- tened to the house where the little boy lived. For some LIFE AT COLLEGE. 71 weeks it had been very dry, and tlie streams had become low. But duruig the preceding day and night a heavy rain had fallen. A mill on a small stream near-by, which had stood still for some time for want of water, was set in mo- tion early on Sabbath morning. I need not ask if the mill- er feared God. About an hour before the Sabbatli-school usually came together, little Lewis went down to the mill- stream to bathe. The poor boy had never seen his parents keep the Sabbath holy. He swam out into the stream. The current was strong, too strong for him ; he raised the cry of distress, the miller heard him and saw him, but was too much frightened to do any thing. The current swept along; the little boy struggled, again cried for help; the waters rushed on; he was sucked down under the gate; the great mill - wheel rolled around — crash ! — he was in a moment crushed and dead ! Scarcely had his last cry reached the ears of the miller before his mangled corpse came out from under the wheel. " I led my scholars into the room. They seemed to breathe only from the top of their lungs. I lifted up the white napkin, and — it was the same little boy who had looked so disappointed on the last Sabbath, because I omit- ted to talk about the Sabbath ! "I have never been able to look back upon that scene without keen anguish. And since I have been a minister, when I have felt weary and feeble, and tempted to put off some duty to a more convenient season, I have recalled that scene to my mind." Among those who opposed the school was a gentleman, who for some weeks refused to permit his only child, a lit- tle girl of eight years, to attend it. "But as all her play- mates attended, and were delighted with the privilege, and as no bad consequences were seen, what by entreaties, and what by a kind request from her mother, it so happened that on the fifth Sabbath after the school was opened, little Clarissa was at school. She continued to attend regularly through the summer, and to improve very rapidly. It was at the close of a pleasant Sabbath in August, when the fa- tlier called the child to him, and addressed her very mildly. *• Clarissa, my love, are you not tired of going to that school ? I don't think you learn any thing — I mean any thing that 72 JOHN TODD. you understand.' ' Oh yes, fathev, I do — a great many things ; for to-day I asked my teaclier about that beautiful text, "Cast thy bread upon the waters, and thou shalt find it after many days;" and what, father, do you think it means?' 'Why, child, it must mean that we ought to be charitable to the poor.' ' Yes, father, but do you know wliy it is like casting bread on the waters ?' ' No, my love.' ' Well, my teacher explained it to me. He said that in the Eastern country rice and all kinds of grain are called bread, even before they are cooked. He said that every year the river Xile, and so of some other Eastern rivers, rose up high, and had its waters overflow its banks and all the country round. While the waters were thus covering the country, the peo- ple went out in their little boats and scattered their rice or bread on the waters. This was sowing it. It sunk down in the mud — the w^aters covered it. Yet the people knew it was not lost ; for in due time the waters went off, and then the rice sprung up, and they usually had great crops. This is casting bread on the waters; and true charity is just like it. Isn't it a beautiful verse, father ?' 'Yes.' 'And don't I learn and understand what my teacher tells me?' 'You may go and tell it to your mother, my dear.' " Toward the close of the summer I was taken sick, and Avas obliged to leave the Sabbath -school and the college. As I was poor, the ladies of the neighborhood kindly made me up a small purse to bear my expenses. One evening little Clarissa came to her father with a very earnest look, and said, 'Father, w^ill you please to give me a nine-pence?' 'What will you do with it, my dear?' 'Oh, I want it very much, and will not waste it, father.' ' But w^hat do you want it for?' 'I wish, father, you would please to give it to me without asking — I do want it very much.' ' I can't give my daughter money, unless she tells me to what use she is to apply it,' 'Well, father, I fear you Avill not give it to me, but I will tell you. You know that Mi-. Todd, my school- teacher, is sick, and must go away. Oh, he has been so kind to me ! He is going away, and I am afraid I shall never see him again. I Avanted to give him the nine-pence: you remember how he explained to me that beautiful text, "Cast thy bread upon the waters."' The little girl sobbed, and a tear stood in the eye of the father. He put a bank- LIFE AT COLLEGE. 73 note in the hand of his cliiUl for lier sick teacher, and turned aside and wept. He thought how he had been taught a les- son of charity by his little child ; how he had opposed the very school where she had been thus instructed ; and how he had ever been supremely selfish and sinful. From that hour he became awakened, and was in great anxiety of mind for some time. He then found peace in believing." Thus the bread which the young teacher cast upon the waters in open- ing the school was found after many days; and he who reaped at once received wages and gathered fruit unto life eternal. At the beginning of the year he had joined the college church, by letter from the church in Charlestown ; and this relation was never sundered till his death. At just about this time there came to New Haven and the surrounding region a remarkable revival, one of a series of revivals which marked an era in the religious history of New England. "There was a wave of divine influence in those days sweeping through the land, the like of which, so far as I know, has not been witnessed since." "August 5th, 1820. " I am happy to state that there is considerable atten- tion to religion in New Haven. Meetings are frequent and crowded. Sinners are inquiring after Jesus. The voice is small, and very still, though not on this account the less powerful. Christians are awaking. With one or two ex- ceptions the work has not reached college, except as the brethren are much engaged. A general seriousness, how- ever, pervades college. We wish to be still, and pray the more. The church met lately, and many tears were shed over our backslidings. The Faculty feel the effects of re- ligion, and are engaged. Oh, sir, do you and your good people pray for our college." "August 15th. "Dear C , — You have probably heard of there being considerable attention to religion in this place. I can not now give you particulars. I have many times seen a large conference-room crowded with young people, all as solemn as the grave; all, as it were, in an agony for their salvation. I hope to give you particulars hereafter. In the mean time, I hope you will not be careless and indifferent as to your own situation." 74 JOHN TODD. " August 22d. "I would speak concerning the state of religion in this place, but I dare not : we stand in the most awful state of suspense; a cloud seems ready to burst upon us, but Chris- tians will not pray with sufficient fervency to pierce it. Oh, pray for us ! pray for our college, pray for our college !" This revival was partly connected with the labors of the celebrated Doctor Asahel Nettleton, who visited and preached in New Haven at this time. " I recollect his preaching in the Centre Church, on Dives and Lazarus, when the pictures he painted were so vivid that a gi-eat, strong student in the class above me told me that he thought he actually saw the spirit of Dives in prayer for his five brethren ! That student rolled in agony on the bare floor of his room all night, and it resulted in his hope- ful conversion. The Great Day alone can reveal the results of the life of Nettleton." "In this great revival," writes one of his classmates, "he, as well as Doctor Brinsmade, Doctor Waterbury, and oth- ers of the class, used to labor abundantly. I recollect par- ticularly his often going to attend meetings in Hotchkiss- town. He was much engaged in labors to save souls, not only among the college students, but everywhere as he had opportunity. One conversation with me, or rather exhorta- tion directed to me, while I was rooming with him for a few weeks, and was under deep conviction of sin, I shall never forget. I can remember no personal address made to me in that momentous crisis in my history that more deeply im- pressed me, or did more to bring me to a definite decision to be fully on the Lord's side." But all this hard study, and teaching, and religious labor and excitement, accompanied with exposure to the weather, and improper and insufficient fare, and unrelieved by a mo- ment's vacation, at last began to tell even upon his iron con- stitution. A neglected cold resulted in a settled cough and symptoms of the gravest character. As early as February he had begun to complain of ill health, and said, "Of all the places to be sick at that I ever became acquainted with, college seems the worst; and for these reasons I can have no care taken of my health, and it is with the utmost reluctance that I can think of leaving off'mv studies." LIFE AT COLLEGE. 75 A little latev he conceived the idea of taking a journey tor the benefit of his health in the approaching fall vaca- tion, on foot, of course, as he could not command the means for any other mode of travel. He had at that time a sister whom he had never seen, living in the northern part of New York, a woman of remarkable character and attainments — altogether the most brilliant member of the lamily. It oc- curred, therefore, to this sick and enfeebled student to loalk to this sister's and make her a visit, and return by way of his father's old home in Arlington, Vermont. Full of this idea, he opened, in June, a correspondence with Rev. Doctor Chauncey Lee, settled at that time in Colebrook,Connecticut. Doctor Lee had formerly been settled near Arlington, and had been an intimate friend of Doctor Timothy Todd. The first letter contained merely some inquiries respecting this friend and father, of whom the son knew but very little. In due time an answer was received, written in the kindest manner, giving to the son a detailed account of his father, of which much use has been made in this story. The second letter of the son betrays his real object in opening the cor- respondence; he asks for letters of introduction to any gen- tleman at or near Arlington on whom he had better call, " It is my wish to become acquainted with men and man- ners; and if there are any in Arlington who were acquainted with my father, perhaps they would not be unwilling to see his son." It is possible that the lonely and suffering and destitute student had a secret hope that his father's old friend would be sufficiently interested in him to put him in the way of getting some more substantial help than an in- troduction to "men and manners," or an invitation, at least, to stop at his house on the weary journey; but his letter contains no hint of it. In answer to Doctor Lee's f^xtherly inquiries, he briefly sketches his hard career, and then ex- ])lains the object of his journey. "A constant and violent ])ain in my breast admonishes me that it is time to clo some- thing for it besides studying. I have been advised by the professors and tutors to take a journey during the coming vacation, I have, for these reasons, concluded to take a journey on foot, the next vacation, to IMalone, Xew York, returning by way of the Connecticut River; ho])ing by means of this exercise to restore my health. Perhaps, sir, 76 JOHN TODD. you may smile at my plan, especially when I inform you that I have no money to defray the expenses of the journey. I am aware of fatigues and difficulties, but to these I am accustomed. I traveled from Boston to this college with fifty cents; and though during tliis journey I slept once nnder a fine cedar-bush, yet I am as well ofl" now as if I had traveled in a coach. I believe that walkiiuj will be as likely to restore my health as any other means, and it is the least expensive. I go to Malone because I have sisters there whom I wish to see. Though the flesh shrinks at the thought of traveling six or seven hundred miles, destitute and among strangers, yet the spirit is undaunted. I would endure any fatigues for my old constitution." While Avaiting for the reply to this letter, he Avrites to his sister as follows : "Dear Charlotte, — I should give the exact state of my health if I knew what to say. A constant pain in the breast admonishes me to do something besides studying. The president of the college, together with the professors and tutors, advise me to take a journey or a voyage the coming vacation. I had thoughts of visiting Vermont for the pur- pose of regaining my health, but I am not now able to walk so far; nor shall I be, at the close of the term, unless I am materially better. I would take a voyage, could I aflford the expense. Somethings however, I must do, though I have not yet determined what. I do not know whether I had better spend the vacation in Guilford or not. I shall not be able to do much. Perhaps I could be upon the water some, and work on the farm, t shall not return to college again, after leaving it this time, till better. I have not, how^- ever. omitted a recitation this term, and have seldom been in bed before twelve o'clock. We rise at five in the morn- ing. Our studies at this time are exceedingly hard, I pre- sume Jonathan is married before this time, as I hear nothing from him. I am very much surprised that he has not written to me ; but as people do not generally get married more than three times during their lives, I very willingly excuse him." A day or two after this was written a very kind letter was received from Doctor Lee, i:)rotesting against his un- LIFE AT COLLEGE. 77 dertaking siicli a journey on foot in his state of healtli, in- viting and urging him to come directly to him, as to "a fa- ther's and mother's house," and assuring him that tlie in- terest awakened in Colebrook by his letters would secure him possibly a horse, certainly a purse. To this the grateful student replied: "Rev. and very dear Sir, — Your letter of the 13th in- stant is now lying before me. I should have answered it immediately, but feared lest the ardency of youth and high- wrought feelings might tempt me to use expressions more hyperbolical than my cooler moments would dictate. When your letter arrived, I was about giving up the idea of my contemplated journey ; but you revived ray hopes, as a small shower from a benevolent hand revives the withered plant. Since I last wrote you my health has failed fast. A continual cough, united with my disorder of the breast, se- verely afflicts me; and the gloomy cloud, which at first Avas hardly noticed in my sky, has continually been blackening. Before I proceed farther, let me assure you, sir, that I feel my heart, as it were, crushed, by the kindness of a people who never knew me. Ah, sir ! were I able to pursue my first plan, and to have gone ray journey solus in solo, ray heart had never shrunk from fatigues and hardships; but when I see benevolence extending the charities that are sa- cred, my hand shrinks back, impelled by its own unworthi- ness. The feelings of a student are commonly sensitive ; of a charity student, tender; of a sick charity student, the most delicate. Judge, then, how I felt while reading your letter — a letter not dictated by selfishness, nor written with the pen of indifference ; but a letter written by a pen dipped in benevolence, and guided by the fingers of love. I shall accept of your kindness, nor will I attempt to thank you I took the liberty to show your letter to President Day ; it affected him little less than it did me. He feels much more alarmed about me than I do about myself, and advises me to leave college immediately, or to put myself under the care of Doctor . I have done neither. I ara hindered from the latter by the fear of expense; and from the former because I wish to stay till after the examination. I shall then, if health permit, leave college a fortnight from next 78 JOHN TODD. Thursday night, and, if possible, be in Colebrook a fortnight from next Saturday. I know not that I shall be able to walk this distance in two days, especially as I shall have a great-coat and some few clothes to carry; but if not, I trust the Lord will provide for me. As to clothes for niy journey, tell my dear mother Lee that I do not know that I shall need more than I have. The ladies in New Haven have been exceedingly kind to me. I shall wear a black suit which they gave me. This suit is much too good, but I have no other, and my next clothes must be made accord- ing to the plan adopted by the students in college I found three dollars inclosed from you. Oh, sir, when a minister gives to me, my heart aches. I fear you could not do this consistently with duty. It is the greatest present I ever received from an individual. I feel as though I was doing wrong to take it. Oli, it makes me feel little, it makes me feel ashamed, to live on the charity of otliers. I suppose I inherit too much of my father's independency of character, pride. Till I see you, thanks, tears, prayers. Adieu." This correspondence with Doctor Lee excited so much in- terest that it was at length published, in the absence, and without the knoAvledge, and very much to the annoyance, of the younger party to it. He attempted to suppress it, but in vain. It was reproduced in several editions. Before starting on his journey, he wrote to a lady in Hotch- kisstown, at whose house he had taken his meals while teach- ing there, and who had continued a ftithful friend to him, often sending into his sick-room in college little delicacies and soothing draughts for his cough, and moving the ladies of her little village to interest themselves in his behalf "Dear Madam, — I can not content myself to leave town without dropping you a line, as the only pledge I can give of my remembrance, esteem, and gratitude. I have lived among strangers, and I have acquired friends among stran- gers; but never did I feel as I now do on separating, and never more deeply lament the necessity which 'di'ives me again among strangers Many a year has rolled away since the sun first beheld me as a forsaken orphan, but He LIFE AT COLLEGE. 79 who fecdeth tlie fowls of heaven has ever given me benefac- tors and friends, and I trust lie lias also given nie a heart susceptible of gratitude ; and if an orphan's prayers can ever reach the throne of Jehovah, these benefactors will not go unrewarded. .... It is characteristic of some that they are willing to crouch and flatter at all times and at all places for the sake of a little temporal advantage, while otheis would rather die than receive any thing by way of a present. While I despise the meanness of the former, and pity the pride of the latter, I would take a middle course. And wiiile I would never beg unless misfortune had thrown me into the most forlorn situation, neither would I reject the kindness of friends when performed, with a proper spirit. With this stifl^" preface, I would take this opportunity to ac- knowledge from the good people of Ilotchkisstown the sum of $8 90, together with a pair of boots, two cravats, and the making of shiits, besides other kindnesses In the suf- ferings of the body, I would earnestly request the petitions of those who can pray, that I may be prepared and resigned to the will of Heaven. If it be consistent, I could have wished to spend my life in the service of Him who spent His for us. I had hoped, when j)repared, to have taken my life in my hand, and to have spent my days beneath an In- dian or an African sun. Such are the calculations of man, and how difl'erent are the designs of God ! Though bitter be the cup, though gloomy the disap])ointment, though mys- terious are the footsteps of Jehovali, yet I would pray for resignation, and put my trust in Him who is the Judge of all the earth, and who will do right. I can not close with- out adverting to a topic which, I trust, lies near my heart. While your people are extending the hand of charity and relieving the wants of others, I can not but feel anxious lest they forget themselves. It is now a time to obtain the 'one thing needful,' and I do hope they will not put off the sub- ject till it is forever too late, even till the door of hope is closed, and the voice of mercy is dumb forever. Accept, madam, my thanks for your personal kindness to me, as well as that of your family. I shall ever be under obligations to you. Thei-e are those whose unhappy lot it is to receive all their good things in this life, and I have lately trembled lest I shall be among this number. The privation of health 80 JOHN TODD. is, indeed, a great affliction, but Providence often tempers our afflictions with mercy, and the sick-bed may often be soothed by the tender hand of charity ; and the footstejis of deatli, though appalling, may often be rendered less hideous by the kindnesses of friends. I return, then, the thanks that flow from an aching heart ; receive a tribute of my grati- tude as the only reward. I can ever make you Should I attempt to say all that I feel, should. I tell of all the tears I have shed on being obliged to leave the endeared walls of college, ray letter would be protracted to a patience- w^earing length. Should we not be permitted to meet again in this life, I pray that we may meet in a world where pain shall be unknown, and be permitted to walk in the streets of eternal da v." LIFE AT COLLEGE. 81 CHAPTER VI. LIFE AT COLLEGE — Continued. A Thunderbolt.— An interesting Letter.— A Daniel come to Judgment— At Colebrook. — A Tune with a harsh Name.— Impressions of a Stranger.— On Horseback.— Grand Isle.— A buoyant Spirit.— A family Meeting.— Malone. — Return to College.— Advised to Leave.— A Ride on the Ice.— Brig Wil- liam. — A kind Family. — Glimpses of Slavery. — A Saturday-evening Note. —Scandalous Books.— A Pilgrim Horse.— Health Restored.— Mr. Herrick's Pupil.— Staples's Academy.— The Osbornes.— Graduation. ''Lyman Beecuer was a thunderbolt. You never knew where it would strike, but you never saw him rise to speak without feeling that so much electricity must strike. I have his memoir lying on my table. No other man could sit for such a portraiture. No other family but his could make the life of a plain country minister as interesting as a novel, and as instructive as a work on moral philosophy. I have never yet met the man in whose presence, whenever I met him, I always felt so small, as in his. Settled in an obscure corner, remote from all the world, he soon burst out in his sermons on ' Dueling,' and ' The Government of God Desirable,' with a power that startled the land. There was an inward spring that drove the machine with a power often sublime, always eflective, and wonderful in results. Beecher and Nettleton were the two great instruments in revivals, such as I have never seen equaled. But I took up my pen to give one or two reminiscences of the man. It was in the year 1820, when I was a member of Yale College, that the Spirit of God came down upon us with awful power. Mr. Nettleton was laboring in the city, and Professor Goodrich in the college. There were deep feeling, pungent convic- tions, earnest prayer, but for a time few conversions. Just at that time I was compelled to leave college on account of alarming symptoms of consumption. I was going north, and Professor Goodrich gave me a letter to carry to 'Mr. Beecher, of Litchfield.' The letter began thus: 'Brother Beecher, do you know there is a revival in Yale College? C 82 JOHN TODD. Do you know you have a son in college? Do you know that we want your help at once, and that you must not de- lay to come'?' On knockhig at his door, he himself met me. I gave him the letter, and, without hardly speaking to me, he ran it through again and again. ' So you are sick, and need advice. Well, we have Doctor Sheldon, than whom no more skillful man can be found. We will go there at once.' Over we went. The doctor examined me, and said — and it was not till years afterward that I knew how much it fright- ened my new friend — ' Young man, I will prepare you some medicine. I think it will help you ; but if it doesn't, look out !' From Doctor Sheldon's we went to Judge Reeve's house. With what awe I entered ! But I needed not, for I doubt whether Mr. Beecher ever thought of me while in the house. He had the letter about the revival in his hand, and he was there to talk it over with his friend. ' I think it will be my duty to go,' said he, ' very soon.' Already his soul was full of it. It seemed to absorb every faculty. After tea I went with him to what he called a ' conference meet- ing.' Just after taking a seat, some one handed him a slip of paper. He read it, laid it down, and commenced the serv- ices. I am not sure whether he performed all the service himself, but think he did. Beginning to speak, he stopped and picked up the little paper, and read it. It Avas some question in theology which he was requested to answer. There I first saw the man. He first stripped the subject of all that did not belong to it, and then examined, explained, and poured out a torrent of condensed, fiery argument and illustration, such as I had never heard before. I seemed to see 'a second Daniel come to judgment.' He stood on a pedestal in my mind then, from which, to the close of life, he never descended. On going home after meeting, I went immediately, coughing, to bed. It was in a bedroom on the lower floor. After I was fairly in bed, he came and stood by me, and began to ask questions about the revival in col- lege. His son Edward, our first scholar, was a member of my class. Earnestly and minutely he questioned me about the work, about the meetings, the instruction that had been given, etc. ; and as he talked about it, the tears came down his cheeks like rivers. I never, in after years, saw him more moved. I went on my way, and he went down to the col- LIFE AT COLLEGE. 83 lege, and was the honored instrument of helping forward one of the most glorious revivals with which Yale was ever blessed. I was not present, but heard much about it. Into the hands of Edward, when his strong mind and heart began to quarrel with the theology which his father preached, he placed Edwards's sermon on ' The Justice of God in the Dam- nation of the Sinner' — a powerful medicine, but in this case efficacious. From this time I seldom met him, perhaps never to speak to him, till he came to Boston. Then, being settled in Groton, and both he and myself much mixed up in the famous 'Groton Council,' for which he wrote the celebi-ated and masterly result ' On the Civil Rights of Churches,' I saw much of him. He preached my ordination sermon. His hand was laid on my head in the consecrating prayer. And, what pleased me, he never forgot my first introduction to him. To the very last time I met him, in his extreme old age, he would always take me by the hand and say, or its equivalent, ' Todd, I remember the first time I ever saw you, and I have loved you ever since. I remember going to Doc- tor Sheldon's with you.' " " Our young friend and correspondent," writes Doctor Lee," arrived at our house on Tuesday evening, much sooner than he had proposed or we expected, his departure being hastened by his failing health. We found him a very ob- serving, ingenuous, intelligent, afiectionate, and interesting young man, and hopefully possessing the greatest of all ac- complishments — piety. His state of health was as critical as he had represented. The attending symptoms of pain in his breast, cough, and night-sweats were threatening; so that our fears and hopes about his eventual recovery were equipoised. The account which he gave us of the rapid progress of the revival in New Haven was very animating, and the interest he appeai-ed to take in it tended to endear him to us. In his countenance, figure, air, and manners, I recognized a resemblance of his father, the friend I once so highly valued, and whose memory will ever be dear to me. I put him under the care of our family physician, a gentle- man of experience and eminence in his profession, who pre- scribed for him, and attended to hira while he staid. Dur- ing his continuance with us his health appeared stationary. He tarried till Friday morning, September 8th, and then 84 JOHN TODD. took his departure for Malone. I was happily successful in hiring him a horse, and obtaining for him by charity a suf- ficient sum to defray the expenses of his journey, and re- joiced much in being able to redeem the pledge I had given him in the promise of assistance." On parting with his young friend, Doctor Lee, who was something of a rhymer, put into his hands some amusing- lines of advice, ending with an acrostic on his name. "This acrostic Mr. Lee had set to music, and he and his family used to sing it. The name of the tune was ' John Todd ;' yet, notwithstanding its harsh name, it was a delightful piece of music." At Doctor Lee's he had met a niece of his, Mrs. Bulkley, who became greatly interested in him ; and at her invita- tion he stopi)ed for a day or two at her house in Sheffield, Massachusetts, on his way north. An extract from a letter of hers to one of his sisters will show the kind of impression that he made at that time upon strangers : " Were I, my dear Miss Todd, to attempt expressing to you the high estimation with which I view your brother, the invaluable blessing I consider such a character to soci- ety, the loss that the Church of Christ would sustain by the removal of such a man, you might perhaps think my object was to gratify the feelings of an aifectionate sister; but this, I trust, would not be my motive. Your brother's merits and excellencies of character are too conspicuous to need the eu- logiums of any ; they will soon be discovered by an impar- tial observer; and I do not hesitate to say that few young men in our country rank so high, and I consider my acquaint- ance with him among the most fortunate events of my life." From Sheffield he pursued his journey northward, pass- ing, without knowing it, through the town where the best part of his life was to be spent, lingering a little and de- livering his letters of introduction in the neighborhood of his father's old home, and everywhere receiving attention and kindness, and then pushing on toward his destination. Sometimes he " rode forty-six miles in one day," and after it spent " a sleepless night." He kept a journal, also, in which he " wrote every night, at a public house, and often when too sick to hold a pen," and in which he made sketches of the objects which he found most interesting. LIFE AT COLLEGE. 85 "Did the reader never look with admiration npon that enchanting spot called Grand Isle, anchored ofl' as if cooling herself in the lake; while Plattsburg and St. Albans, like an eye in each state, Xew York and Vermont, seem to be cast- ing most coveting glances upon this water-nymph? If he has not seen all this, he has much pleasure before him, should he ever visit this delightful region. At the close of the day in early autumn, I rode up to a small tavern on the lower point of tlie island, just in sight of the place around whicl), during the last war, the British fleet hove on a bright Sabbath morning. There the cannon roared, the groans of death were heard, the blood reddened the Avaters, and the shouts of victory were heard — the victory of McDonough ! I was standing in the little piazza, and calling to mind this strife of blood between two nations bound together by ev- ery tie, and between which no other feelings save those of mother and daughter ought ever to exist, when the land- lady came up, and asked me to step upstairs and see *a poor, sick young man, a stranger.' 'Do you know who he is, or where he came from ?' ' No, sir. He came across the lake a few days since, and when he rode up I thought he must be intoxicated. He could hardly sit on his horse; and when he stopped he rather fell off tlian got off. He has been here three days ; and though I have tried to coax him, yet he has eaten nothing but one soft egg a day since he came. The poor fellow tells me he has no friends, and I think he is not long for this world. He seems to be a very good man.' On entering the chamber, I found him on the bed, leaning on his elbow, and gazing out of the window upon the same spot at which I had just been looking. He seemed glad to see a new face; told me his name was John Todd, a member of the junior class in college; that he had left college, as a last resort to gain his health, which had been prostrated by study. He was supposed to be in what is there called ' the galloping consumption,' had reached this spot, and here became too feeble to go farther. Others thought he was near the grave, and would never leave this place ; but he was cheerful, elastic, expecting to live and do much good. I shook my head, but did not shake his hopes or confidence. I never before saw a spirit so buoyant, so confident in the belief that God would use it as an instru- 86 JOHX TODD. ment of usefulness to men. It seemed as if nothing short of the hand of death could crush or even repress this hope. He had a dreadful cough, and every symptom seemed dis- couraging. Even his hopes — were they not such as every consumptive patient cherishes '?" Having recruited his strength a little, he crossed the lake, and soon arrived at Malone. Here he found three of his sisters, one of whom he then saw for the first and only time in his life. His visit with them was a delightful one. It was long since so many of the scattered family had been together. But he seems to have formed an unfavorable opinion of the place. Writing soon afterward to his re- maining sister, with reference to an invitation from her sis- ters to join them, he says : " The country at Malone is en- tirely new. The roads are awfully bad, and a howling wil- derness bounds the prospect on every side. The society is new. It is composed of people collected together from all parts, and of all descriptions and characters. Their man- ners and customs, of course, are very widely different, and different from what we are accustomed to. The young men are generally active and enterprising, but they are clownish and almost savage. Their first plan, after marrying, is to spend three or four days in building a little log cabin. Here they live, having but one room, till the husband levels the forest around with his axe, and cultivates his farm. In about ten or twelve years they are able, if industrious and prosperous, to build a framed house, which is a great luxury. The young men are much more numerous than the young girls, and an old maid is a great curiosity. They dress very simply, and somewhat slovenly. I dressed as I usually do, in a black suit, and they thought me at first a fop of the highest order. Every man, with few exceptions, is either a colonel, a judge, a squire, or a captain, and yet there is not a man of liberal education among them. I do not recollect that I took any liberties in displaying what I knew, yet they thought me almost a jirodigy of learning. I mention these things to give you an idea of the state of society at Malone. I think you would not enjoy yourself there. In looking over this scrawl, I am reminded of the Dutchman's letter. He wrote every tiling that he could think of, and then added that he had not time to be particular." LIFE AT COLLEGE. 87 His Stay in tnis charming spot was short, as he was im- patient to return to his studies. His health had now begun to improve, so that when he reached Colebrook, on tlie 1 7th of October, Doctor Lee w-as able to write: "His threatening symptoms were gone; his strength and appetite daily in- creasing. On Tuesday, the 24th, he left here in good spirits to resume his studies at college. Thus our hopes are real- ized ; our prayers graciously answered." These appearances, howevei', were deceptive. Scarcely had he been- at w^ork for a week when he began to complain : "My health has not been so good. Last night was a very uncomfortable time. My cough is violent, though not so constant as before I went my tour. President Day advises me to go immediately on a voyage to Europe; if not, to the South. I fear my health will compel me to leave soon, though I shall not as long as able to keep about. I room in the fourth loft, and find it hard to get up and down so many stairs." Just at this time he received a letter from his old friend Mr. Evarts, remonstrating with him against attempting to go on with his studies, and urging him to go South for the winter, find some position in which, by teaching, he might earn a little, and return the next year to join the class below him. The advice was accompanied with a gift of ten dol- lars. This letter struck " almost a death-blow" to his hopes. On his showing it to President Day, the president, under one of those impulses which led him to do so many quiet acts of kindness that were never known to many, seconded Mr. Evarts's advice, and added to it a gift of fifty dollars. Still the young student hesitated about taking the advice or the assistance. He could not bear to relinquish his studies. Two weeks after this he wrote : " I shall try to make myself as comfortable here as I can, and at this late season shall not think of leaving for the South. I know how disagree- able it is to be in a land of strangers, and destitute and sick ; and I know, too, that this would not restore my health. Should my health fail, and should I be as low as I was yes- terday and the day before, I shall leave college never ex- pecting to return." In a very short time, however, he was compelled to yield to the urgency of his friends. The winter was unusually 88 JOHN TODD. severe, "shutting up our harbors at the Xortli to an extent ahuost unprecedented," and his liealth and strength were rapidly giving way. " Just at evening, on a terribly cold day, destitute and sick, and bleeding at the lungs, I was drawn down the harbor upon the ice, by a sailor, upon a hand-sled, to go on board a brig which had almost cut her way into the open water. I liad had no notice of the brig's departure till within an hour before I went down to go. I had letters of introduction from Pi'esident Day and others of New Haven, from Mr. Evarts, and Father Lee." A purse had also been made up for him among his friends in Hotch- kisstown and New Haven. " My passage (brig William) was very short — four days ; but it was stormy, and there were high winds all the time. I did not see the sun while on the big waters. I was sea-si(;k, and kept my dirty little berth most of the time. It was on the Sabbath when I landed, not knowing, as I supposed, a single soul in Caro- lina. Walking up the street, I found myself opposite the Circular Church when the public service closed. The first individual that came out w'as my old acquaintance, Finley Morse, of Charlestown, Massachusetts. He took me at once to tlie house of the pastor of the Circular Church, Rev. Doctor Palmer, to whom also I had a letter of introduction. In his family I was received with all the tenderness and kindness that parents could manifest." In a letter Avritten to one of his brothers at the time, he says : " I was invited to stay all night. I did so, and here I have been ever since. Mrs. Palmer, though the mother of a large family, calls me her son. I have proposed to go to a boarding-house, but she has as yet forbidden me. Con- sidering her large family, and the many strangers who call, I am surprised that she is so good to me. I had hoped to obtain some employment here, but as yet have seen no opening. Should I not find any, I must go to Savannah or return to the North. I have an able physician, who daily visits me, though I endeavored not to call medical help; but Mrs. Palmer was stronger than I. Doctor Whitridge has put me on what I call a rigid course of medicine; but he in- tends all for the best. The climate is very delightful at the present time; it resembles the latter part of our May. The sight of beautiful gardens made yellow by oranges was novel LIFE AT COLLEGE. 89 to me. Oranges grow here very luxuriantly. Roses were in full bloom when I arrived. You may imagine, to come from our deep snows of the North, and in four days to find myself in so delightful a climate, was very strange to me. The ladies are generally dressed in white. The negroes go bare- foot all winter." "February 3d. " Since writing the above, I have taken an excursion into the country on horseback with Doctor Palmer. Our ride was about thirty miles from the city, through a most dreary road. I have described it at large in my journal." (Tliis journal, like the one kept on his trip to the North, is ii-re- coverably lost.) "My health is not much improved by the ride, though my spirits Avere somewhat exhilarated. I have had a good offer to take a school here, provided I would stay through the summer; but my health and disposition forbid this. The offer was nine hundred dollars per annum with- out my board, or five hundred with it. I would accept it were my health good ; but as I am, I can not. I have agreed to give a young lady private lessons in the mathematics, for which she is to pay me thirty dollars for twelve weeks. Mrs. Palmer has kindly invited me to stay in her family a month, an invitation which I presume I shall accept." The result was that he remained in her family about four months, or during his entire stay at the South. "My friends in New Haven gave me a handsome purse when I left, but every thing is very high here. I wear a Lycurgean dress alto- gether, which looks somewhat odd in this country ; but you know our family love to be odd." Here follow minute directions as to the distribution of his furniture, books, and clothes among his friends, in case, as seems probable, he never return ; and then, with an amusing but characteristic change of tone, he adds: " Should I live, I shall return to the North by the 1st of June. Should this be the case, will you furnish me with a new hat? I will try to reward you for it. I trust, my dear brother, though I am many hundred miles from you, that you do not fail to pray for me, and that, too, often. You may wish to know how I like this country. I have not time to tell you now. Every thing here is different from what I had supposed when at tiie North. I do not think this a good place to acquire religion, though it is so to obtain 90 JOHN TODD. ease and elegant manners. The slavery here shocks me," And well it might. More than once or twice he saw his kind hostess herself send a servant-girl to a public whipping- house, with a note designating the number of lashes which she wished administered. And very soon after his arrival public notice was given by the authorities of Charleston, to all ministers of the Gospel and other benevolent persons engaged in teaching the blacks to read, in night-schools, that they were violating the laws, and must desist. During this visit to the South he conceived a deep abhorrence of the institution of slavery, which he consistently maintained and frankly avowed all through his life, though he did not ap- prove of the measures of the eai-ly abolitionists, and pre- served too grateful a remembrance of Southern kindness to sympathize with their spirit. "You need not feel anxious about me ; I shall be well taken care of while I stay here. I am confident God can give the fatherless friends in any situation." Of this he experienced the truth most remark- ably. One Saturday evening, as he was reflecting somewhat despondently on his condition, the door- bell rang, and a note was brought to him. On opening the note, he found merely the words, "My God shall suj^ply all your need," and a fifty- dollar bill. The missive proved afterward to have come from two excellent ladies of the name of Grimke, who had become interested in him. They belonged to the Society of Friends^ and vv^ould have liked to proselyte him ; but he was not cut out for a Quaker. At another time the daughters of Doctor Ramsay sent him an order on a certain book-seller for books to a considerable amount. It was gen- erally expected among the good people who were interested in him, that the young man who had dedicated himself to the ministry, and who seemed to be on the brink of eternity, would procure with the order some very pious and profit- able works ; and they w' ere not a little scandalized when they found that, among other books of a scarcely more theo- logical character, he had chosen a copy of Shakspeare. At the end of about four months, when it began to be hot, and his health seemed almost restored, his friends in the Cir- cular Church made up a purse of a hundred dollars, and bought him a horse, with saddle and bridle, and sent him away with kindest wishes. In the year 1860 he revisited LIFE AT COLLEGE. 91 Charleston, having been invited to a council called to settle a pastor over the old Circular Church, which is of the Con- gregational order. In beginning his " charge " to this pas- tor, he briefly recapitulated the story just given, and added: "As a matter of taste merely, this personal incident should have been omitted ; but may I not be excused for referring to a burden of gratitude which has been lying on my heart for forty years, and which will not be taken ofi" even now? It is the first opportunity in all these long years I have had to make my acknowledgments; and now, the kind and noble ones whose faces I would recall are mostly among the dead ! Their record, I am sure, is on high," His route homeward brought him near the Natural Bridge, in Virginia, and other points of interest, which he visited, and after his return described in some articles which were among the first that he ever published, and were so well received that they were very soon reproduced in Eu- rope. These sketches are the only memorials of his long and lonely ride. His horse, which he had named " Pilgrim," proved to be a losing investment ; for, having been broken, as many Southern horses are, to the saddle only, his excel- lences were not appreciated at the North, and his owner, when he no longer w^anted him, was obliged to sell him for sixteen dollars. The 1st of June found the student who had been sent away to die back in his class in college again, and " buried in studies." The worst symptoms of his disease had almost disappeared, but he was still far from well, and the closeness with which he now applied himself to his Avork was unfavor- able for his complete restoration. " I study all day and till half-past eleven at night, take no exercise, and rise at half- past four in the morning. It is not strange that he became low-spirited, nervous, and miserable. He was determined to maintain his standing in his own class, and not drop into the next class and lose a year, if he could help it. In the midst of his despondency, one cheering piece of in- telligence came to gladden him. Charlotte, Avho was near- est and best known to him of all his sisters, had become a Christian. His letter to her is worthy of being read, as giv- ing not merely his theory of religion, but the theory which he put into his own practice : " I hear what God has done 92 JOHN TODD. for Guilford, and ray heart rejoices. And has he redeemed the soul of my sister? Oh, this is more than I could ex- pect, or dared to hope. I can not tell you my feelings. Ah, Charlotte, how much do you not owe to God ! Will you not devote your time, your talents, and all your facul- ties to the advancement of the Redeemer's kingdom ? Your opportunities have been great, your advantages great, and much will reasonably be expected of you. Dare to do good. But rest not in your own strength. You have but just en- tered upon a school in which you are to be instructed throughout eternity. Let the Scriptures be your constant guide. Read them often ; pray over them ; consult them as you would a chart, were you a sailor. Strive not only to be a Christian, but to be an eminent Christian ; not only to do good, but to do much good. You can not be a Christian without letting your benevolence be an active principle. As well might you catch the beams of the sun and weave them into the mantle of midnight as to enjoy religion with- out trying to do good to others. I hope you will ever cul- tivate the religion of the closet. It is here our joys and our sorrows, our light and our darkness, commence. Pray and meditate by yourself every morning and every evening; never omit it, unless you would ruin your soul. I do re- joice I have a sister near me now who can enter into my joys and sorrows, and feel with me. Oh, could I see my sister and friends but for a moment, it would rejoice my heart much — a heart that is almost withered among stran- gers. I send you a gold piece, which is in value five dollars. It was given me for writing a piece entitled ' The Orphan,' which has been printed in several publications. I calculated to have kept this piece of gold as a kind of pocket-piece, but I find I love you too well." During his last year in college he came out of the straits somewhat into a broader place. His studies were easier, and he had made up for his lost time, and his standing in the class had become secure. His health was ver}^ much better, and he began to show it. He exchanged the stoo2) with wliich his friends had often found fault for an erect and manly carriage. Having more leisure, he cultivated the friendship of his classmates ; and they were surprised to find the hurried, laborious, abstracted, and sickly scholar so genial LIFE AT COLLEGE. 93 and agreeable. One of his classmates writes: "Until the last year he was not as well known by his classmates as others, though he had more acquaintance with the ladies of New Haven than almost any one else." This was in part owino" to the fact that his circumstances were such as to ex- cite their sympathy and benevolence. Among the ladies who befriended him was a Mrs. Denison, who had two daugh- ters, into whose society he naturally fell. The elder of these daughters, Mary, was an interesting and brilliant young lady, very generally pleasing to men of education. It was whis- pered by the gossips that this young lady and Mr. Todd were very intimate. It is certain that he admired her, and equally certain that there was no more serious feeling on either side. She married and removed to New York State, and her history was not a happy one. A more important acquaintance was made by Mr. Todd, while teaching for a few weeks in Rev. Charles Herrick's school. Here he saw, for the first time, the one who was to exercise most influence upon all his subsequent career. She was at that time a pupil in that school ; and her only recollection of the young teach- er amusingly illustrates that taste for the pathetic, and love of making people feel bad, which was one of his striking characteristics, and which led some one to say at his funeral that the only consolation of the occasion was, that he was not there to conduct the exercises himself, for no one could have endured it. She says that, though he had only been teaching in the school for a few days as a substitute, yet, on the last morning of his being there, in conducting the devo- tions of the school, he read that chapter of Acts which de- scribes the parting of Paul from the elders of Ephesus, and their sorrow that " they should see his face no more," and so skillfully treated the parallel that all the girls cried! Dur- ing this senior year he wrote quite a number of brief articles, which were first published in the Seameii's llagazine, and the best of which were afterward collected in a little volume called " Simple Sketches." In the spring of the senior year he left college, many weeks before the close of the term, to take charge of a school in Fairfield, in the village of Weston. " I have the honor to be the preceptor of Staples's Acade- my, established in this place, and have consequently been 94 JOHN TODD. closely confined ever since I came here. My school is not very large as to numbers, but is laborious. Most of my stu- dents are studying Greek, or Latin, or French, and some of them all three. My time, however, is almost out, as I have but a few more weeks to stay. I have been urged to stay another year, but for various reasons think I had better not. My wages are not very great, but I receive my wages in money, without any trouble of collecting. I receive two hundred dollars for twenty-four weeks' services. I could receive five hundred dollars for the coming year, if I could think it my duty to stay here ; but as I do not, I shall leave as soon as my time is expired. By the aid of the two hun- dred dollars which I earn this summer, I shall be able to pay ofi" all my college debts, and have about sixty or seventy dollars left. It is now my intention to go immediately upon the study of theology, in which study I expect to spend the three coming years, should I live so long. Perhaps I might get licensed to preach in less than three years; but I wish to have my education as complete as possible. I am undetermined where to spend the next three years. I shall either stay at New Haven, or go to Andover, Massachusetts. Both places afford good advantages. Andover is so cold that I fear for my health, but it is cheap living there. New Haven climate is more congenial to my constitution, but not at all agreeing with my purse. I must, however, determine soon whither I go, as I expect to commence study in about five or six weeks. You may wonder how I am to support myself while burrowed up three years more; indeed, I al- most wonder myself; but as I have always got along well, so I think I shall in future. I have many friends Avho would almost give me their e3^es if I needed them ; and I hope among some of these good friends to borrow money as I need till I get my profession." At Weston he first boarded for a time with the minister ; but the family being large, and his situation not altogether agreeable, a place was found for him in the family of Mr. Jeremiah Osborne, the father of the late Judge Osborne, of New Haven. Mr. Osborne lived in a fine house in afilu- ence, and the family did every thing in their power for the young teacher. The two daughters especially Avere really sisters to him ; and not only during his service at Weston, LIFE AT COLLEGE. 95 but through his entire theological course, and till he had a home of his own, he always found a welcome and a home with the Osbornes. It was a kindness which he never for- got. During his residence with them, his health, though im- proved, was far from establislied. He would often return from the academy pale and weak, so that he would have to sit down and rest before ascending the steps, and would then go to the table, and eat a few little things very spar- ingly. And this was his habit all through life. He was an exceedingly small eater. Meat he abhorred : with the ex- ception of now and then a favorite dish, his taste Avas simple and his appetite delicate, and often he would leave meal after meal untouched. Though his consumptive symptoms gradually left him, his constitution always felt and showed the eifects of the disease. He was never a well and hearty man, A short time before the expiration of his service at Wes- ton, he took a week's vacation, and went over to New Haven to take his degree with his class. He had accomplished his purpose. In spite of poverty and sickness and hard work, he had gone through the course without delay, and out of a class of seventy-seven was one of the few appointed to speak on the commencement stage. His dissertation in the after- noon was on "The Influence of a High Standard of Attain- ment." There was but one thing to mar his triumph. He had only a brother and sister present to share it with him ; and when his- classmates had dispersed, and he had no longer a place within college walls, he was once more alone, and without a home in the world. This story of a desperate struggle for an education may fittingly close with the following letter, written many years afterward : " Pittsfield, April 5th, 1853. "Dear Sir, — For reasons which will be obvious (I was educated at Yale, and am a trustee of Williams), I would advise you to go to Yale or Williams. They are both good, but Yale is very expensive, while Williams is moder- ate. I think if I were poor, and had to feed myself with one hand and hold my book with the othei', I would go to Williams. However, a man who loills it can go anywhere, and do what he determines to do. We must make our- 96 JOIIX TODD. selves, or come to notliiiig. We must swim off, and not wait for any one to come and put cork under us. I con- gratulate you on being poor, and thus compelled to work ; it w^as all that ever made me what little I am. 3Iacte vir- tide. Don't flinch, flounder, fall, nor fiddle, but grapple like a man, and you'll be a man. Yours, truly, " J. Todd," LIFE AT AN I) OVER. 97 CHAPTER VII. LIFE AT ANDOVEK. Andover Hill.— Doctor Porter.— Doctor Woods.— Doctor Stuart.— Doctor Murdock. — Quiet Life. — A Letter of Introduction. — Preaching without a License. — Qualities of a Minister's Wife. — Memories. — The first Sermon. — North Andover. — The Blind Student.- A solemn Contract. — Loves to Preach. — A pedestrian Tour. — Osborneville. — Expectant Friends. " It is now a little over fifty years since, after a cold ride on the top of the stage, I found myself in Andover. A short examination of my papers and attainments, and I was a member of the seminary. Those who now see 'Andover Hill,' with its beautiful buildings, its graded walks, its splendid trees, and profusion of beautiful things, can have no idea how dreary, comparatively, it looked then." He had finally selected Andover as the place of his theological training — partly from motives of economy, and partly from dislike to ISTew Haven theology. He went to the seminary, therefore, almost directly from Weston, in the fall of 1822. His entrance into the seminary was like the coming of a ship out of a stormy sea into the smooth waters of a harbor. His debts were paid, and though he had but a few dollars to live upon, he had an established reputation and charac- ter, and a host of friends. He was no longer a friendless, penniless orphan boy of unknown abilities struggling for an education, wnth little prospect of success. His health, though delicate, was much improved, and was becoming daily more confirmed. He had now nothing to do but to devote him- self to the peaceful life of the seminary. So still was the life, and so absorbed in it was the student, that for several months hardly an incident of interest occurred to disturb its uniformity. There wei-e fewer seminaries then than there are now, and Andover was a place of great religious importance. The classes were large — that which Mr. Todd entered num- bered fifty- one — and the professors were men of distin- guished reputation. They were all of them greatly re- 7 98 JOHN TODD. spected and beloved by Mr. Todd, and gratefully remem- bered by him as long- as lie lived. His discriminating sketches of them, made after a year or two of acquaintance with them, and hardly changed by the judgment of later years, show the nature of the intluences under which he was formed and trained, and the characters of the men who left their impress upon him. " Doctor Ebenezer Porter, professor of sacred rhetoric, is a gentleman in his manners — rather tall, slim, graceful in movement, mild and winning in looks, with a voice not ca- pable of great compass, but finely modulated, and musical to a high degree, and so managed that his whisper will reach every ear in the house. lie thinks slowly, and speaks still more slowly ; deliberates well before he pens or utters a sen- tence, but when he has once got it out, it is perfect, so far as language is concerned. His mind is so disciplined, that he can write just so much in a given time without depending on wind and weather. He is generally a good judge of charac- ter. He must be, and is, our model as a preacher, and often far too much so. That this necessity of drawing all eyes upon him makes him more or less artificial, I shall not deny. We all prick up our ears when we see him go into the pul- pit on a Sabbatli morning. Those who heard him preach his sermon on the decision of Nehemiah, as he brought out at the end of every picture, ' He went on building,' will never forget the deep impression made. It seemed like the striking of one of the great bells of Moscow, sending out its notes long after the tongue had become quiet. He is clear, gentle, decided, and evangelical." Of all the professors, Doctor Porter was the one to whom Mr. Todd became most strongly attached, and with whom he came to stand' in the closest personal relations. "Doctor Leonard \Yoods, professor of theology, is tall in stature, finely proportioned, with a mild, pure, gray eye, and a calm, gentle, patient, and thoughtful face. He is the great- est thinker I ever saw. His mind is a complete laboiatory of metaphysics. He has no glare, no quickness, no flashes; but he is always interesting, always correct, always unan- swerable. He is like a good, strong, iron-sided horse, which goes on a strong, heavy trot, with the same gait, always keeps the same pace up hill and down, never starts or LIFE AT AND OVER. 99 plunges, is never antic. He knows but little about rheto- ric, little about languages ; but you may let Demosthenes thunder at him, and pile all Germany with their philology upon him, and you will not move him. He must reason the subject out, and reason is the only weapon which he can be made to feel. He does not surprise us by startling origi- nality or new theories, or giving new names to old things. But his thoughts are clear as distilled water. There is no color in his light, but he has the power of throwing off all that is extraneous in the subject in hand ; then of holding it up patiently and carefully in the light of the Bible, and un- emotionally urging his views with logic unsurpassed. He leads human nature admirably. The reverence that he pays to the Bible is deep and earnest. He ever teaches that what the sun is to the earth — light and heat — that the Bible is to the Church. " Doctor Moses Stuart, professor of sacred literature, is a tall, slim man, with a musical and sonorous voice, who holds his audience entranced. He is no such horse as I have mentioned ; for if you make him a horse, you must now make him a war-horse, and, with Job, clothe his neck with thun- der, rushing upon the pikes of the enemy, and now rearing and plunging like a colt newly harnessed. He carries an enthusiasm in his nature that would open a mine of quick- silver in the most barren mountain. He has a sort of mag- netic power, never wanting, by which the whole seminary is lighted up into his region of thought and study. He cer- tainly is a great man, and has a prodigious force of mind. His soul is always bounding and burning. If with this ever- lasting go-forward of his he was well balanced with judg- ment, he would be a giant. I ever admire him, always feel delighted and kindled when in his company, but never feel that his 12)86 dixit is safe to follow without re-examination. He is like our five-hundred-year comet, bright, fiery, daz- zling, but so eccentric in its orbit and so rapid in its course that you have difiiculty in calculating its progress. He is always modest, never deciding what the Scriptures oiiglit to teach, but Avhat they do teach. His reverence for the Word of God is most remarkable ; and I remember his saying to me, ' Light comes from above ; you will get more light on the Scriptures by prayer than in all other ways ; look up.' 100 JOHN TODD. He is a decided dyspeptic; and I have no doubt that he often mistakes the miseries of a weak digestion for the hid- ings of God's face. But, when the clouds are lighted up. and he feels well, happy is the pupil that can walk and talk with him; and, above all, awed and delighted all are when in prayer he comes to the atonement of the cross. His face fairly glows, and reverence, and awe, and admiration, and love seem to swell iip in his heart, and come out in tones and words such as I never heard from other lips. I look back to the influence he had upon me with deep gratitude, and his voice still sounds in my ears like the music that floats over the still waters in the dusk of evening from some island whose form you wish you could see. " Doctor James Murdock, professor of ecclesiastical his- tory, is a little, apple-faced man, gentlemanly in his manners, agreeable in his conversation. He is master of more litera- ture than any of the others. He is at home in Greek, He- brew, and German. He has a strong memory, and his head is a complete repository of all the facts, events, names, and dates in the world. He is the most instructive man in con- versation that I have ever seen." Such were the men who for three years guided and mold- ed him. They were men of extraordinary enthusiasm in their several departments, and the time was that in which the conflict between Unitarianism and orthodoxy was at its height, and the controversy between Channing and Ware, on the one side, with Stuart and Woods and Beecher, on the other, was awakening echoes in every village. Hence there were an excitement and enthusiasm aroused in the seminary such as have hardly existed since. Into all this the eager, earnest young student threw his whole soul, at once delight- ing in and not a little increasing the fervor. For the first yeai*, however, he was scarcely drawn into this excitement. He was in the lowest class, and his studies were of a quiet character. Only one event occurred of any importance, but that was destined to exert a greater influ- ence upon his life than almost any other. Among his col- lege memories, the recollection of one whom he had seen for a few days in Mr. Herrick's school was one of the brightest and most carefully treasured. Midnight studies of Hebrew liad not efiaced from his mind the fair image of Mary Brace. LIFE AT AND OVER. 101 And so, in June, near the close of his first year in the semi- nary, he found or made an errand to Hartford ; and finding himself accidentally in the neighborhood of Newingtou, he obtained from a young minister who had met Rev. Mr. Brace, but had almost no acquaintance with him, a letter of introduction. " New Haven, June 6tb, 1823. "Dear Sir, — Will you allow me to introduce to your ac- quaintance Mr. John Todd, a student from Andover, and now on his return. Should he find it in his way to call on you, you will find him an agreeable and intelligent visitor, and ready for any good work you may propose to promote the cause of the Redeemer among your people. As we stu- dents in theology like to form acquaintance among the min- isters of our country, you will excuse the liberty I have taken to make my friend, Mr. T ^, acquainted with you, although you may be hardly able to recollect me. "Your aflfectionate friend, ." Armed with this precious document, Mr. Todd did "find it in his way to call " on Rev. Mr. Brace, " ready for any good work," more especially that of making himself agree- able to his eldest daughter. His reception was such as might possibly have discouraged, not to say dismayed, a less determined suitor ; but it was of no use : he had made up his mind, and the garrison might as well have sui'ren- dered at once without farther parley. In the course of a stay of a few days he did contrive so far to break through the reserve as to obtain the unwilling consent of all parties to the opening of a correspondence, and with this victoiy he retired. One of the first letters of this correspondence states very frankly the object to which his life is to be directed : " From the very nature of my situation and circumstances, I know not what is before me in life. I know not, and I care not, where my life is spent ; and, if the good of the Church demands it, I care not how soon it is spent. My object in living is but one — to do good. To this every sub- ordinate desire, every panting of ambition, every longing after fame, must and shall be subjected." During this vacation, while sojourning temporarily in a small village, Mr. Todd was called upon one evening to 102 JOHN TODD. make some remarks before a small gathering of persons for religious worship. He did so ; and, on returning to Ando- ver, was severely reprimanded by the Faculty, who rigidly enforced the rule Signmst preaching without a licoise. They required him to make in their presence an expression of con- trition for this misdemeanor. Without 'demurring in the least, Mr. Todd rose from his seat, and, with a countenance expressive of the deepest sorrow and with downcast eyes, delivered himself as follows: "I, John Todd, in the presence of this august assembly, with feelings of the deepest contri- tion and repentance, do express my most heartfelt regret and sorrow for having (on such a day) in the village of , in a small school-house, exhorted the people to repentance, and to seek their eternal salvation through God; and of such a crime may I be pardoned." Soon after the beginning of the second year in the semi- nary, he writes : " I am now pleasantly situated, in a cold climate, but in a warm room, four stories high, whence I can look oiF on the cold mountains, and see even the Monadnock. As you may suppose, I am buried up in theology. I am much driven in study. My class recites three times a week in theology, once in Hebrew, once in Greek, and attends three lectures, sometimes four. Besides this, I belong to four different weekly societies Avhich meet evenings. In ad- dition to this, I have now the appointment of writing a dis- sertation of one hour in length, to be delivered before the Society of Inquiry, respecting missions. This society em- braces the whole seminary. My object will be to prove that the Gospel, since the Resurrection, has never been prop- agated in any country except by means of foreign missions. This will require great research and critical investigation. I have not yet begun, though I have thirty-five octavo vol- umes, of which ten are in French, in my room, for my first leisure. It must be ready in eight or nine weeks." In the midst of his studies and societies, Mr. Todd found time to do a good deal of litei-ary work. He wrote, and published anonymously, an article on Swedenborgianism, which made great commotion, and excited much indignation among the believers in that mystery. He was also intrusted with the superintendence of the publication of a little work by Doctor Woods. It was his full purpose to engage largely LIFE AT AND OVER. 103 in such work in his future lite, and not to content liiniself with the spliere of a parish. And in these phms he sought to interest her whom by this time he felt encouraged to as- sociate with them. "You need not that I tell you that a minister's wife is often as useful as the man himself. Your own good mother has taught you this by her example. She can be active herself, and by example and precept she can do immense good among the people of his charge. Add to this, she is to be the adviser of her husband, is to sympathize with him in his sorrows and trials, to cheer him under dis- couragements and despondency, to check all his improprie- ties, to mend his weaknesses, to soften all his aspei-ities, to help him grow in piety and holiness. You will, doubtless, find many frailties in me. My pride you must turn to hu- mility; my ambition you must curb and restrain. If I live, I intend to own a good library, and to be a student through life. I can not think of treading the mere path of parochial duties. I hope to be diligent^ active., persevering . To this object I am now bending ray studies and the discipline of my mind. My situation and disposition are such that I never expect to be rich. I hope to be comfortable, and never to be parsimonious. As to my natural talents, being such as God has given, it becomes me neither to be proud nor ashamed of them. "As to your teacher's mnemonics, I perfectly detest them. I studied them once, and wasted ray time and strength. I do despise that littleness of mind and soul that can concen- trate the powers of iraniortality upon the points of needles. I can not, will not, be playing in the shell of a mustard-seed when I may rise and survey the universe. "My chum and myself have sent to Boston and procured a pair of battledoors and three winged attendants, with which we practice for half an hour in our room after breakfast and dinner. I find this exercise exceedingly valuable. As you enter our room you see it is square, and the floor paint- ed yellow. Here you find my chum and myself each bend- ing over a portable writing-desk laid upon two marble-col- ored tables. You see our room ornamented with four pretty chairs, a beautiful mahogany bureau, large mirror — all fur- nished by the munificent Mr. Bartlett. All the rooms in this building are furnished alike. Nothinor could add to our con- 104 JOHN TODD. venience if we had a carpet. But this is of little conse- quence." "February 14th, 1823. "I have just begun my first sermon. You will find the text in Psalm cxxxvii., first three verses. I suppose it will be but a coarse piece of work, like the first productions of the apprentice." " March 6tb. " I think I have told you how I go out every Sabbath even- ing to hold meetings in a distant neighborhood. It is situ- uated in Andovei', a few miles from the seminary." The ban had by this time been removed, and, though not regu- larly " licensed," members of the middle class were allowed to preach with permission of the Faculty. "There is some- thing of a revival among my little flock ; five or six are hop- ing in Christ, and many are anxious. You would be inter- ested could you see them, after 1 have closed my meeting, come around me and express their affection for me. Last Sabbath evening they came clustering around me, and some, with tears, who have lately obtained hopes of eternal life, declared that my preaching to them was the means, under God, of awakening them; and when I saw one or two drunk- ards among them, I could hardly help weeping myself Four families among them have lately commenced family prayers, and several are still anxious." "April 2d. "A Student has lately come, perfectly blind, to become a minister. I go and read and converse with him an hour ev- ery day. He has imbibed an idea that my hour is more val- uable to him than any other one. I suppose it is because I feel most deeply for him." The reserve with which Mary Brace had at first received the abrupt addresses of the young student bad long since given way, first to interest, and then to a more tender feel- ing; and now, on the 5th of May, her eighteenth birthday, the two parties drew up and signed a formal contract of engagement, by which, " relying on the goodness of God through the merits of Christ," they " unhesitatingly gave themselves to each other, in the most solemn and tender manner in their power." The young lady was considered remarkably beautiful and attractive in person, manners, and LIFE AT AND OVER. 105 character; and there had been not a few plans laid for her, and not a few attempts made to prejudice her and her friends against her poor lover; but his determined and per- sistent " readiness for any good work" had disconcerted and overcome her own and all other opposition, and, as usual, he won the day. Marriage was, of course, deferred " till cir- cumstances should render it convenient." The following Sabbath was spent in New Haven. " They have a very interesting Sabbath-school here, containing be- tween three and four hundred children. They fill the gal- leries of the Middle Church. I visited the school yesterday morning. The superintendent wished some one to address the scholars, after the lessons were recited. But no one would speak. J refused, M refused, C refused, a Princeton student refused because he was afraid of us Andoverians, So, after all, I had to do it myself. I told the children and teachers a short story, made them inter- ested, drew a practical inference or two, and sat down while all were standing tiptoe for more. I trust the impression was good. It was an interesting audience to address. You can scarce conceive how much pleasure I take in speaking to an audience on religion, owing partly to the agitations and hurry of the mind, to a sense of responsibility, to a full be- lief of the importance and consequences of the truth in ques- tion. Oh, how I shall delight to preach the Gospel to my fellow-beings, if God should spare my life and health !" This feeling accompanied him to the last. How often has he said that there was no study and no work like his, and that he would not, if he were to begin life again, change his choice on any account ! Every Sabbath morning he was happy in the anticipation of entering the pulpit, and felt it to be a trial ever to yield it to another. And even in old age, when friends had been remonstrating with him on account of his many labors, and had counseled rest, he exclaimed, when they were gone, " Oh, they do not know how I love to preach the Gospel !" From New Haven he started, with a classmate, on a short pedestrian tour for the benefit of his health. " On Saturday morning, at an early hour, in company with my old class- mate, Carrington, I left New Haven for the West. We looked very untheological, each swinging a heavy cane, and lOG JOHN TODD. each fondling a bundle of clothes under his arm, frequently shifting them from one arm to the other, as if unwilling to deny either arm so great a pleasure. Our first stage brought us to Derby, where we breakfasted. We stopped several times in Huntington, and arrived at Mr. Lee's, in Munroe, at dinner, sixteen miles from New Haven. The morning was fair, the country delightfully pleasant, all in the beauty of its bloom; we were on foot, independently at leisure, and enjoyed our walk very much. Carrington, though an odd soi't of mortal, is a person of sound, sterling talents, fre- quently shrewd in his remarks, and always agreeable to a friend. Mr. Lee was writing a sermon, but broke off during my stay. My short visit there was very pleasant. Here I left Carrington for a day or two, Avhen I expect him on to see me, and then we shall take up our line of march and go farther. From Munroe to this place (Weston) I walked alone, and arrived here before night, exceedingly tired, hav- ing walked about thirty miles dui-ing the day. I intended to ride a part of the wa}^, but meeting with no opportunity, I pressed forward, as I always do, and accomplished my de- sign, and arrived at my old home, where I was welcomed by tw^o as affectionate sisters as you could wish. You will presume, then, that when I awoke on Sabbath morning I did not feel in the best health and spirits. Mr. Osborne lives about a mile from meeting, so I rode with the girls. On arriving, we found the minister was out of town, so there was no way but I must preach. I was not dressed very much like a reverend, but hoped they Avould forget the man in the preacher. I talked all day, and attended a Bible-class of young ladies at noon, where I talked about an hour, prov- ing to them that the Bible was inspired. You may imagine that by night I was somewhat exhausted. I can not say how the good people in this enlightened place were pleased with their preacher, though one of my acquaintances hinted to me that since I went to Andover I have lost in animation what I have gained in logical correctness. To-day I am resting, though I am shortly going out on a visit. You must now imagine me at the place which for two years I have called. Osborneville. Your imagination will paint a fine white house, about the size and appearance of yours, with a beautiful door-yard, rich shrubbery, etc. Back of the LIFE AT ANBOVER. 107 house is a steep hill, from which you have a delightful pros- pect over a rich, extensive vale beneath. This side-hill sup- ports a thriving fruit-yard, where apples, pears, peaches, and grapes are found in abundance in the autumn. I feel well acquainted with each tree, having very narrowly examined the character of each when I resided here. In front of the house, about lifty yards distant, is a lovely winding stream, where I used to go fishing with great success. You can throw your eyes in no direction without meetiiig with what is lovely and charming. Truly, this would be a most de- lightful spot, were the society in any degree equal to its natural scenery. Entering, you see me seated in my sister's parlor, where we have a little fire. The room is much like your parlor. Sisters Susan and Phebe are sitting beside me with their white needle-work. The room is still, save the unwearied ticking of the clock, and my watch, with its silk- en chain, lying before me, and the noise of my pen, as it scrawls this long sheet of nonsense. You see your humble servant sitting, very dignified, in the rocking-chair, with a sprig of the flowering almond and the lily of the valley in my bosom, thinking of a friend at some distance hence. By- the-bye, 1 wish you would procure some of these flowers for your garden, I admire them very much, as I do almost all kinds of flowers. "I staid at Weston, writing and visiting, till Thursday morning, when, in company with Carrington, I left for Dan- bury. We went through a wild, romantic place, known by the name of 'The Devil's Den.' It is a cluster of shaggy, uncivilized hills, thrown together here and t\\Qve,sine ordine. There are two frowning hills stretching along parallel with one another for some miles. They stand close together, as if in the attitude of defiance. We stopped at Reading, where we visited a Mr. Bartlett (minister), a Squii-e Sanford, an in- telligent, reading, visit-loving justice of the peace, a Doctor Davis (physician), etc. At the last place I found Mrs. Davis to be a remarkably curious woman. As soon as she learned my name, and that Timothy Todd was my fixther, she raised both hands, as if in transport, and declared tliat I must stay with them a month. She would hardly take 'No 'for an answer. Here we dined, having walked eight or ten miles. Our next stage brought us to Danbury, eight miles from 108 JOHN TODD. Reading. This is a wicked but interesting place. There is a revival here at the present time. On Friday I returned to Weston, leaving Carrington to assist in the revival. I found myself not a little fatigued, and nearly sick with a cold; but, notwithstanding all this, I could not be excused by my friends from executing a plan which they had formed during my absence. So on Saturday morning I took Mr. Osborne's horse and chaise, and set out for Guilford, which I reached just at sunset, much fatigued, having ridden between fifty and sixty miles. I found my friends all well. I returned by way of North Guilford, for the purpose of calling on a cousin whom I had not seen for a long time. Monday even- ing finds me again in New Haven. I am now about return- ing to Weston, where I am to confine myself for a week closely to my Avriting. I am sorry to find that my friends in Guilford and elsewhere in this region are forming too high expectations of me — higher than I can ever meet. It is in vain that I tell them I know nothing, and have but medium talents ; they still persist in their loud demands for my exertions. If I am well, I may, by unremitted exertions, do something toward being what they expect; but if my health fails, these exertions will soon lay me in my grave. I know of no young man who has such a numerous circle of friends and acquaintances, all looking at him and expecting much. Pushed on thus, I must rise and be very respectable in my day, or find an early repose in death." LIFE A T AND VER. 109 CHAPTER VIII. LIFE AT ANDOVER — Continued. A Day's Work. — Ill-health. — Steam-cars wanted. — A Trip to Cape Cod.— The Captain-doctor.— Mirth under Difficulties.— Plymouth Rock.— A Dis- pute with Conscience.— Determines to preach extempore.— In the Ed- itor's Chair.— Can not change Profession. — A promising young Man. — The Way clear. It was now June. The spring vacation was over, and the students were re-assembled, and at work. " If I give you the history of one day, I give you the memoirs of a week or summer. I rise at five in the morning, wash, clean my boots, brush my clothes, dust my books, etc., till six ; then attend prayers and breakfast till seven. At seven, walk for exer- cise till eight. From eight to half-past eight, secret devo- tion. From half- past eight till half- past twelve, severe study in theology. At half- past twelve, dinner till one. From one to two, read belles-lettres and polite literature. From two to five, study theology. From five to six, read 'Butler's Analogy' to Plaisted, the blind student. At six, prayers, and tea till seven. From seven to eight, walk for exercise, or visit my fellow-students. From eight to nine I usually attend some society. From nine to ten, read French or write letters. At ten, prayers till half-past ten. From half-past ten till eleven, secret devotion. Thus passes my day. If you could enter my room now you %vould find me sitting at my high, light-blue desk, mounted on a three-leg- ged chair, which I call a tripod. My desk is large, being three and a half feet long and three wide. It holds my books that I use daily, and is covered with soft baize on which I write. Our taste has furnished each of us with a tumbler in which we keep flowers — roses, sweet-briers, and pinks. I change the water every morning, aud bring home some buds almost every time I walk. There is one high hill, about two miles from the seminary, which I love to climb, and sit on its top all alone after sunset. It gives a prospect of a wide extent of barren country, but it is a delightful 110 JOHN TODD. place to sit and think of this world and the next, and to think of the great God." Five or six weeks of hard study in summer weather be- gan to produce serious effects. " For the last ten days my health has been quite feeble. I know not tliat it can be im- puted to any cause, unless it be too severe study for the last six or eight months. I am considerably debilitated, with but little strength, and an appetite far from ravenous. There is a general sinking of the system, too frequently forbidding my being about, or far from my bed. In order to benetit my health, toward the close of last week I rode out to Bos- ton with a friend. Visited in the fiimilies of Mr. Osgood, Major Adams, and Mr. Foster. They carefully nursed me, and I received from each hand a heavy potion of wormwood tea, or elixir pro, or aloes, or some delectables, which I con- sidered myself bound to take, out of politeness. They were exceedingly kind to me, walked with me, sailed on the lake with me, and carried me to hear their Unitarian ministers, etc. I returned to the seminary yesterday, better in health, as I think, and sat up yesterday more than any day for some time. My physician gives me bark and wine. Our profess- ors here advise me to take a long journey immediately, and are even urgent. On the whole, I think it best to try to stay, taking as good care of my healtli as possible. But if I come to the conclusion that I must leave or die, I shall leave at once. One of the professors lately said to one of ray classmates, ' Your Mr. Todd has a strong, a powerful mind, but I fear he is not long for this world.' This may be true, but it did not frighten me in the least, as I know my own constitution better than the professor. Z believe I am getting better." In her anxiety about his health, his betrothed replied : "How convenient for us it would be were there a steam- boat from Boston to Hartford, as there is to New York ! I liave not yet heard of any land vehicle propelled by steam, but I presume I shall before long. If any such invention is made, I hope that the conveyance will be more safe than by water, for we have heard of so many accidents to steamboats of late that I should almost fear to travel in one." A week later the overworked student was again com- pelled to try to recruit his exhausted strength. "During LIFE A T AND VER. 1 1 1 the last week my healtli failed so fast that the pliysiciaii said that I must leave, or have a fit of sickness. Thinking it not most desirable to be sick under the sound of the bell, and. the constant calling of the students, I proposed to two of my classmates, Jacob Abbott and Josiah Brewer, to go off with me. They are both superior characters. On Fri- day morning, then, we early seated ourselves in a stage for Boston, I being admirably prepared for my tour, having been awake all night by headache and vomiting, and hav- ing fainted away once after rising; but perseverance is not easily checked. Having wrapped myself in my old cloak, I reached Boston very comfortably about 11 a.m. Here I lay in the Commercial Coffee-house, and slept, or drank soda- water, most of the afternoon, not being smart enough to make more than one call. In the evening we took packet for Yarmouth. I was in hopes, especially as it was windy and stormy, that I should be seasick ; but no such event happened. We had seven or eight passengers, and but four berths, so Abbott and myself wrapped ourselves in our cloaks, and lay on the deck. The air was cold and damp, and for that reason seemed refreshing to my feverish frame. I can hardly tell you how we passed the long night. Suf- fice it to say that it blew hard, the waves swelled proudly, the water around the prow phosphoresced, we came near getting on a reef of rocks and oversetting in a sudden gale, etc., etc., which are common incidents on this coast. Hav- ing stood i_t through the night, the morning was but a little more tolerable. Every thing below. was dirty and sicken- ing, and every thing on deck Avas wet and cold. Abbott was sea-sick, Brew^er was afraid, Todd sick with a fever. To amuse myself, T put a piece of white rag on a hook, threw it over, and soon caught a fine large mackerel. I felt sorry for the poor fellow, to be so duped by a rag ; but as he is not the first who has been gulled, I gave him to the steward to cook for ray breakfast, but was too sick to eat him. We arrived at Yarmouth, a sail of about eighty miles, in a lit- tle more than twelve liours. Here we were in new trouble. It rained hard, and we must walk nearly two miles to get to a boarding-house. So, calling a council of three, we very gravely deliberated the matter, and came to a unanimous resolution not to stay in our ark any longer. This was 112 JOHN TODD. scholar -like prudence. The result was that we got com- pletely wet, and I took a violent cold. Our house of ren- dezvous was kept by a Captain Gray, a plump, hardy, weath- er-beaten old son of Neptune. What next was to be done? A second council was held (in which, you see, I could only have one vote), to decide upon my health, which was pro- nounced to be wanting. There was no physician near, say within forty miles, whom we dared trust; so we concluded that the old sea-captain should be the doctor; Abbott and Brewer to superintend, and I the patient. There was no way but for me to submit with as much grace as I could muster (and even the old captain said he never saw a man take medicine more courageously), and indeed my pains by this time were so great and many that I concluded they could not be made worse. So at seven o'clock Sabbath evening I took I know not what as an emetic. It operated in ten minutes, and continued to tear me till eleven o'clock — by far the most powerful I ever took. Abbott and Brewer very sagely concluded that it must do me a vast deal of good, as it was so powerful. I agreed,^>?'c»vzV?ef?it would be content to stop before it took me with it." In recalling this scene. Rev. Mr. Abbott has described his unfortunate fellow-voyager's disposition in terms which will at once remind many of Doctor Todd as he was in later life. " He was at that time, though famed for his witty and satir- ical sayings, one of the gravest and most sober men that I ever knew. He never seemed to laugh himself, though he occasioned a great deal of laughter in others, and this not merely through the incongruity and drollery of his ideas, but by the very serious and sedate manner in which he ut- tered them. On this night, for example, while he lay toss- ing and groaning on his bed, showing a face with as exag- gerated an expression of distress as he could throw into it, what he said and did produced so comical an effect that Mr. Brewer and myself were obliged often to go out of the room to recover from our fits of laughter, and I was kept for hours in a most curious state between pitying his sufferings and laughing at his wit." "My landlady was a large, coarse, deaf fisher- woman, so my only nurse was my captain-doctor and my fellow-students. This medicine left me weak and exhausted, but in full pos- LIFE AT ANDOl 'ER. \ \ 3 session of all my pain. On SaLbatli morning the}' concluded (tor I was now too sick to vote, and so the captain filled niv place) that I must breakfast on calomel and dine on jalap — the captain -doctor to deal the medicines. I ventured to suggest that he might not know how to adapt such power- ful medicines to my constitution ; but he raised a loud laugh at my ignorance in not knowing that 'a sea-captain has the care of the medicine-chest, and knows all about it.' From that time till dark I was in full possession of the benefits to be derived from his medical skill. His medicine acted as powerfully as my worst enemies could wish ; and what was worse, I was faint, but could not keep down any thing to give me strength. This lasted till evening. My compan- ions went to hear a Unitarian preacher, who proved to them most indubitably that men are not depraved, from the fact that we have a conscience. I kept close to my bed, being un- able to sit up, the captain being my nurse. I received no re- lief from my pain till morning. I then found myself mostly fre.e from pain, free from fever, free from strength, and as limber as a French dancing-master. The fact of the whole seems to be that I had the foundation laid for a severe fever, that this captain-doctor, measuring his medicines by the ro- bust constitution of a sailor, gave me at least twice as much as my physician would have done, and broke up the fever. On Tuesday I walked out, and made several visits in order to learn the character of the people. Wednesday morning was our appointed time to leave on our return. We decided on sending our trunk by water to Boston, and returning by land. Accordingly we set out on foot Wednesday morning, and wnth a slow march wandered along the coast, gazing at every thing we saw, and imagining many things which we could not see. We stopped and bathed at every conven- ient place, which was very refreshing, but one of them came near being dangerous. Abbott and myself pj'ocured each of us a plank, and while Brewer was hovering aroimd the shore we sailed out of a creek to try our comparative nau- tical skill. We sailed bravely until we arrived at the mouth of the creek, when a strong current set in, and shot us out into the ocean. Our poor vessels were soon placed beyond the length of our setting-poles, and of (bourse were wholly unmanageable. We had nothing to do but plunge and 114 JOHN TODD. swim; and as we both are tolerably good swimmers, we stemmed the tide bravely, and soon regained our starting- point, to the great joy of poor Brewer, who looked rather wild on the occasion. I thought but little of it, as I have been in greater danger of drowning at least a thousand times. We walked eight miles only in the forenoon. In Mr. Fish's congregation in Marshpee are about four hundred Indians ; some of them are pious. He has two deacons, and one of them is a full-blooded Indian. In the afternoon we walked eight miles farther to Sandwich, We enjoyed it exceedingly; and Avhile our sedate Brother Bi-ewer would stalk along with all the perpendicular dignity of a vicar, Abbott and myself would stop in almost every house, beg a drink of Avater, and study the character and manners of the people. I was much pleased with them. They were sim- ple, open, frank, and very kind. At Sandwich we passed the night. The next day we had a dreary walk to Plymouth. You have doubtless heard much of the Plymouth Rock. And, pray, Avhat do you suppose it to be? Do you suppose it a large, flat, romantic rock, stretching off into the water, large enough to contain one hundred and one pilgrims — a rock venerated, marked, notable, conspicuous ? So had I im- agined ! But, alas! non itafuit. Imagine us walking down a narrow, dirty street, with an Indian boy for a guide, all go- ing down toward the water to see the Forefathers' Rock. Imagine Brewer to be striding on with liis huge steps for- ward of the rest, all stretching our eyes to see the rock. Now we are all silent, expecting every moment the rock to burst upon the vision; now we come to the -wharf, and just as we are entering the wharf, among tai'-barrels, molasses, salt, and codfish. Brewer stalks over a flat rock about four feet square, just on a level with the ground. Todd exclaims, '■ Siste, I pray this be not the rock!' with great vehemence. The little Indian rolls his dark eyes, and cries, ' Dat be him.' We all stop and look. This, then, is the rock ! on a wharf, covered with dirt, run over a hundred times every da}^ with carts and horses ! Oh, how unromantic ! It was originally about eight feet square, but half of it has been broken oflT and carried up to the court-house to preserve. It was so hammered and pecked that we could not get a piece to bring away. But we were sadly disappointed, and most LIFE AT AND OVER. 115 sagely agreed that whenever we took upon us to say we had see7i the rock on which the Pilgrims landed, it would not be judicious to describe it. We next visited the grave- yard. Here we found grave-stones inscribed 1690, but no one knows where one of the Pilgrims lies. On Saturday we returned, having been absent one week and one day. I find my health improved since my return, yet it is feeble. My stomach is such a quarrelsome fellow, it wrangles with ev- ery thing I eat; but I hope soon to bring it to a sense of propriety. It so happened that at every tavern at which we stopped they were Universalists, and they all learned where we were from, and charged us enormously. So that though we carried eleven dollars each, yet w^e had barely enough to get back. The pleasures I receive from traveling are unusually great; for my characteristic boldness and ar- dency (and some will add, address) carry me at once among all classes of people. I study all kinds of character, and see all I can. This study of original character is what I pecul- iarly delight in." "August 23d. " It was Thursday, about eleven o'clock in the forenoon, that I was sitting at my writing-desk, thinking of you. 'Come, come !' says old Mr. Conscience, 'you must commit your piece to memory, which you have to speak at two o'clock in the chapel.' 'Oh yes, Mr. Conscience, but it is a great while since I have heard from Mary: let me just look at her last letter. Now, then, old friend, isn't this a pretty letter?' 'Your speech, your speech!' 'In a moment; but just let me look at that letter in which the girl told me, for the first time, that she loved me — only a minute !' So I be- gan to read that letter, and the next, and the next. 'Stop, stop!' cried Conscience, ' you'll be disgraced ! your piece !' 'In a moment, sir; let me just read our engagement, and her next letter. -Ah, here is a good letter, old Quiz — a very fine letter !' ' Nonsense, nonsense ! commit your piece !' ' Oh yes, but doesn't she write good letters ?' ' Your piece !' 'Ay, but doesn't she gradually show how she loves me bet- ter and better?' ' Your piece ! your piece !' ' Yes, but this is a sweet girl; how I wish I could see the creatui-e!' ' Hold !' cries Conscience, ' your piece is not committed ; the dinner-bell rings, and you must speak at two, before the 116 JOHN TODD. seminary ! See what your foolish love costs you!' 'Right, right, Mr. Conscience; but she is a lovely girl, say what you will, as the dozen letters I have just read prove.' Here the dialogue closed, and I went to dinner while old Conscience took a nap. After one o'clock Brother Howe comes in. 'Do be well prepared. Brother Todd ; we are to have a host of ladies to hear you.' 'Ah, I have not committed a word of my piece !' 'Ay, ay, I told you so,' says Conscience, just waking up; 'I told you that you would be disgraced.' 'Be still, Mr. Conscience, I will go to work; but — she is a fine girl !' So, pulling off my coat, I took to my work — forgot you, forgot every thing. The bell rings. 'Ah, now for it !' cries my old tormentor. ' Cease, Conscience, let me alone !' I go in ; the ladies are there ; I mount the stage, go through without tripping, without hesitating. They listen silently, and I come off well. ' See now, old fool of a Conscience I' I say, ' see how I have got along, and thought of Mary too.' 'Yes, but you are too bold, too daring; you may one day get yourself into difficult}^ with this foolish love of yours !' ' Never, never, old friend ; but don't say any thing more about this escape: she is a sweet girl.' " " September 6th. " I have concluded to take a room at Doctor Woods's next year, and for these reasons: I can write sermons to much better advantage, and study much more profitably, than if in the seminary. If I am sick, I shall be near Mrs. Woods, who is very kind, and a skillful nurse, which would be no small consideration, if I should be as I have been much of this summer. The expense of rooms there will be considerable, but I had rather economize in something else than forego the advantage of rooming alone senior year. My room will be convenient, large, and very comfortable. I will read you my first sermon when I see you, and you may criticise it, for it needs it. As to committing sermons to memory, I shall not do it. I intend to preach extem- poraneously half of the time after I am settled, and half of the time written sermons. My extempore sermons will probably consist in part of exegesis. I am persuaded that no man can be really eloquent ver)'^ frequently who is wholly confined to notes." As soon as vacation arrived, he naturally started for Con- LIFE A T AND VEE. 1 I 7 iiecticut; but he was hindered by the way. "I had got as far as Boston, when I was* stopped by the editor of the I'ele- graph.^'' The Boston Telegraph was a religious newspaper, started but a little while before by Gerard Hallock. It was soon afterward merged in the Boston Recorder. " He pleaded with me so hard, that I consented to take the edi- torial chair for a short time. I have just got out one paper this morning, and must now go to work on another. I am constantly expecting Hallock to return ; but I neither know where he has gone or when he comes. You may fancy me cooped up in the counting-room of the Telegraph office, sur- rounded by seventy diii'erent kinds of newspapers constantly pouring in, with letters and pamphlets, and company, etc. Every evening I am dragged into meeting nolens vole/ts, and last Sabbath I preached twice in the new society of this city. So, you see, I am busy, and see much good company, and have fine things said to me. As to pecuniary profits, I know not what Hallock will give rae, but should presume he can not afibrd to give me such a compensation as that I can save much. My board is one dollar per day, exclusive of washing. Should the Boston people undertake to make me an editor of some Avork, ought I to think of accepting ? T say JVo. I wish to preach the Gospel, and I don't wish to think of any other business. I mention this because hints have been thrown out, and I have determined, before con- sulting even you, to say I want no other employment be- sides the Gospel. I intend to undertake no other." In about a fortnight he was released by the return of Mr. Hallock, and again started for Connecticut. But again he was overtaken by duty. " I am in Hartford, on business, important business for Mrs. Lee " [his old friend, Mrs. Doctor Lee, of Colebrook]. "She has lately sold some property in New London. I am now dispatched to collect the money and settle the business. So, you see, if I can't get a living by preaching, I may by being sheriff. My circumstances make me turn my hand to almost any thing; but I care not, as it teaches me to do business, to see society, to be placed in different situations, to see men and manners in all their varieties." In Colebrook, "on the Sabbath I preached twice. The audience was very full and very attentive. It does not be- 118 JOHX TODD. come me to say whether or not they were interested. The people here look upon me as a kind of Colebrook man, and almost claim me as theirs. My friends here seem to have increasing expectations of me, and continue to call me ' the promising young man ;' but it is these A'ery expectations that often make me shrink. It is not a good thing for a young man to enter the world under a full tide of expecta- tion, and a wide circle of acquaintance. Perhaps no one of my acquaintance has more eyes upon him than myself. Perhaps, too, here and there one, like our mutual friend Mrs. D , Avould rejoice to see me fail and come to nothing. I am a proud creature, and my feelings are all as deep as the seat of life. I do not feel discouraged, but feel solicitous. My father fell under a heavy blow of Providence ; lie fell in the morning of life. The same stroke crushed my mother, and I was born an orphan, shelterless, penniless. I was but six years old when I knelt over my father's grave, and vowed, even then, to rise above my circumstances. I soon determined to have a liberal education. * My friends op- posed, obstacles were thrown in my way, every thing op- posed. I rose above all; I went to college, half -fitted; I was sick much of the time, owing to too seveie application and anxiety; I pressed on, rose above all, and now stand where I can see my way clear." LIFE A T AND VER. \ \ 9 CHAPTER IX. LIFE AT ANDOVER COntmuecl. Doctor Eli Todd.— The new Librarian.— A Pseudo -Baptist. — Answers Him- self. — A wise Professor. — An anonymous Letter. — Vanity. — Licensed by Professors.— Tlie first Preaching.— Competitors for Valedictory.— Dan- gers at the Seminary. — The Christian Almanac. — Wanted for Palestine. — The Hawli and the Jay. — Two Orators.— Doctor Griffin.— Fanny Fern.— A religious Fourth. — The Association at Dcdham. — The Oration at Park Street.— An awful Question. — A beautiful Prayer. Having been appointed librarian at Andover for the com- ing year, it was necessary for him to be promptly at his post; and so, after three or four weeks spent among- his old friends in Litchfield and Fairfield counties, he set out on his return, by way, of course, of Newington and Hartford, At the latter place "I walked out to see Doctor Todd, at the Re- treat. I was received with great politeness, my name being a passport to their good gi'aces. I should think the doctor possessed a mind quick, inquisitive, independent, daring, and skeptical. He seemed to be well acquainted with tlie char- acter of my father, whom he seems to have greatly respected, and perhaps from the fact that many traits in their charac- ters are alike. He says my father was an ambitious man, but had character to stand on ; and adds that, had he not met with that calamity which brought him to an untimely grave, ' there is no doubt but he would have been governor of Vermont in two or three years.' You may think me childish for mentioning this, but the memory of my dear father is all I have to cherish. "I find the library in excellent order, and my duties as librarian will be lighter tiian I expected. I am not necessi- tated to go in, except on particular occasions, and then I charge a shilling per hour for all the time it takes me. It is a delightful place to practice speaking or reading aloud. I am very glad I have the office. I am also librarian for the Athenaeum — a reading-room — which makes me some trouble with but little profit. Perhaps you would think me some- 120 JOHN TODD. thing of a man could you see how busy I am, out of study liours, in fulfilling the duties of some of my nine different public offices. But all these duties help to render me accu- rate, quick to dispatch business, and prompt at any thing in hand. We have a general meeting of the seminary at the commencement of every new year. In this meeting all the committees, officers, collectors, etc., are appointed for the year. There are about ten or fifteen different committees. At our late meeting Todd was called to the chair as moder- ator, and Rood as recorder. The nomination of all the vari- ous committees fell upon me. I went through it as well as I could, and, as far as I know, to the satisfaction of all con- cerned. I believe I am as strange a compound of feeling and delicacy, combined with boldness and decision of char- acter, as ever lived." "December 4th. "My class are now on the subject of 5a/)?is/>i, and as we have no Baptists in my class, I have been appointed by the class to be a Baptist during the discussion. I have accord- ingly begun a dissertation in favor of the Baptist tenets, in which I have advocated (I.) That infants can not be proved to be proper subjects of baptism ; (II.) That immersion is the only true mode of baptism ; (III.) That close communion ought to be practiced. I am sorry, on the whole, that I was appointed, for several reasons: (l.) I have taken hold with so strong a hand, that Doctor Woods will feel suspicious of me, lest I believe the tenets of the Baptists. (2.) It does not have a good effect upon the mind to be so placed as to de- fend what you do not believe. (3.) It will be as much work as to write four good sermons, but will not be as useful to me. (4.) We are so constituted that we retain an objection, while we forget its answer; and thus the mind is left in con- tinued doubts, where there should be none. Miss H says if I will become a Baptist minister, Mr. P will give me the right hand of fellowsliip with all pleasure imaginable. I fear, however, that I am too much tied down to the good old opinions of my fathers easily to surrender my faith at the first sound of the trumpet." "December 2ith. "After my appointment, I sat down to the business, and in a week wrote my dissertation against baptizing infants LIFE AT ANDOVER. 121 and cliildren. At the close of that time I read it before my class. It took me fully iifty minutes to read it. I had given myself to the subject, and entered into it with my accus- tomed ardor of feeling. It evidently produced a great ex- citement in the class. After I had resumed my seat, Doctor Woods did me the honor to say I had ' pleaded the cause of the Baptists better than they ever did themselves.' My 'ground was bold, my reasoning specious, and out of the comrnou course.' The professor then said the dissertation must be answered — that the class might appoint a man to do it, or he would do it himself The class met, and nomi- nated me to answer it. I declined, for I was wearied with severe study. They then referred it to the professor to ap- point some one. The doctor immediately sent for me to his house, and said I must turn upon myself, and answer my own dissertation. I tried to beg off, but he insisted, so I took the appointment. This was Monday. The class all suspended their regular studies till I got my dissertation done. Again I sat down, and for a week I studied from daylight till after midnight. On Monday I again read, in favor of infant baptism. My piece was one hour and twenty minutes, as fast as I could read. It was a piece on which I had laid out my strength. Great expectations were excited in the seminary while I was at work, and I feel peculiarly happy in saying that I believe these expectations were met. I believe every man felt as if I had taken grounds from which I could not be shaken. Doctor Woods did me the peculiar honor, after Ihad finished it, to request me to pre- sent him a co])y to keep — a thing which he has never been known to do before. But, as I have no time or disposition to copy it, I fear he will never receive it. The essay has not been in my hands since, but in the hands of different members of the seminary, who are copying it. I presume at least fifty copies will be taken. I have been urged by sev- eral of my brethren to publish it, but I shall not do 'it. I am too young to publish at present. Now, from what I have said, I fear you will infer two things: first, that this business has made me vain, which I assure you is not cor- rect; and, secondly, that my piece is very extraordinary, which is not so. It is good, it is able, but nothing very extraordinary ; for no piece that was wholly planned and 122 JOHN TODD. written in five days can be very great. Tlie exertion of these two weeks was so great as to make me sick. My nerves had been so excited during the time that I was writ- ing, that after the excitement was over I was quite unstrung and quite low-spirited. I have now got over it, and have come out quite strongly — 7iot a Baptist P'' The last sentence was not without meaning. His enforced advocacy of Baptist tenets had, as appears from his remarks upon it already quoted, produced a temporary effect upon his own mind. Nearly fifty years later he wrote: "Doc- tor Woods read human nature admirably. I recollect tliat when ray class came to the subject of baptism, there not happening to be any brother in the class, we appointed one to present the Baptist side of tlie question. This he did, and so strongly, that the professor desired to have a man appointed to reply. The class concurred, but referred the appointment back to him. He immediately appointed the same man to meet his own arguments. This wisdom of Doctor Woods not unlikely saved the young man from tak- ing sides and becoming a Baptist." "December lltb. "As I can keep nothing from you, I must transcribe a short note lately put into my hands. It reads thus: "'My dear Todd, — Mahomet says that he had one drop of black blood in his heart, and that when the angel had squeezed out this drop he was holy. Idem tibi dico. That you have accomplished manners, that you have a pleas- ing address, I know; and that the talents Avhich God has given you are far superior to any of our class, there can be no doubt ; and, with one exception, you are certainly the most perfect man I have ever met with. This exception is, too bo'ld, too independent feelings. I do not say you want humility; I think otherwise; but you need more of the ap- pearance of doubting your powers in those cases where none can doubt them. Alter in this respect, and you will do more for the Church of God than ten common men. " ' One who loves you no less tiiax he respects you.' "You may think that this is mere flattery, but I know whom it came from, and know it is every word sincere. The writer is truly a friend of mine, and puts more confidence in LIFE AT AND OVER. 123 me tlian in all the rest of our class. I ara aware of the evil to which he alludes, and told you of it when I saw you, and suppose you have seen something of it. But I will try to mend, and, with the assistance of God, I have no fear that you will ever have just reason to be ashamed of me." No man, probably, ever accomplished much who had not this consciousness of, and confidence in, his own powers — a consciousness which is allied to, and perhaps always mixed with, more or less vanity. Mr. Todd had o-auged his own talents so well, that he coidd not doubt his own powers, and he was too honest to put on " an appearance of doubting" which did not exist. But if this self-consciousness was sometimes too apparent, it was relieved by a beautiful humility, and readiness to listen to suggestion even from a child. This is apparent in his remarks on the anonymous letter just quoted. In one of the later years of his life, one of the editors of the Gon- gregationallst wrote to him, offering a criticism upon a point in a sermon of his then just published. His immediate reply was : " Your criticism in regard to an unguarded expression in the sermon is just. I meant simply, etc. We can't al- ways guard as we would." " It interested me," writes the editor, " that Doctor Todd, though a man of very wide rep- utation, and venerable in years, should so readily accept a suggestion from one so much younger as myself And I am happy to add that I always found him a most comfortable man to deal with ; the difference between him and many other contributors to our paper was quite marked in this respect." As a further illustration of the same characteristic, it may be added that in the height of his power he not unfrequently submitted a production for which he felt specially solicitous to the criticism of his son, and always considered with the greatest care, and frequently followed, in one or two cases even to the entire recasting of a plan, the suggestions of his boy. One of his striking utterances on his death-bed was, "The last sin that I shall leave behind me on earth is— van- ity," Very likely there was justice in this self-condemna- tion. No man ever more accurately took the gauge of his own character as well as abilities, and knew himself better. But it may be questioned whether in this instance his con- scientiousness did not, to some extent at least, mistake for 124 JOHN TODD. vanity what was really only self-knowledge and self-confi- dence. "Friday my class observed as a day of fiisting and prayer, as a previous preparation to our being licensed by the pro- fessors. These licenses we received last evening, so that I am now a licensed preacher according to the laws of this seminary. To-morrow evening I expect to preach in the chapel, and it would aiford me great pleasure could I know that you were then praying for me. I expect a full house, if the weather is good, as there is no small desire to hear me. Oh, it is a great w^ork to preach the Gospel, and to do it with faithfulness ! Most earnestly do I beg you to pray for me, that my preparation may be complete. "The Sabbath after I last wrote, I preached in the chapel, as I expected. My audience was large, and I was so suc- cessful as to gain more approbation and compliments than I could have expected, even with my natural share of van- ity. "Doctor Woods lately called on me, and said he wished me not to make any engagements for next fall at pi'esent., until he had some talk with me. By this I mistrusted that he wishes me to go on an agency for the Board of Missions, to the South, as I presume. These suspicions were confirmed by having Mr. Evarts make the same remark to me when I was in Boston. I should very much dread to have them ap- ply to me to be an agent. I know that it is the duty of somebody to do it; I think it a good and honorable employ- ment; and yet I should shrink from it. Not but that I could beg and get them money — I should have no fear of this kind — but I should abhor to begin. "The subject of our valedictory begins to excite consider- able interest in the seminary, as it always does. It is not known who Avill have it. There have been, for more than a year, three candidates — Howe, Maltby, and Todd. Tiiese have been looked upon as a literary trio. But of late. Malt- by is pretty much dropped, and the struggle lies between Howe and Todd. I call it struggle, for so every thing of this kind is ever looked upon, though there could be no better feelings than exist between Howe and myself. The seminary are in doubt to which it Avill be given. The stu- dents look upon us thus: Howe is the best speaker; Todd, LIFE A T AND VER. 125 the best writer. Howe, the most polislied by art; Todd, the greatest by nature. Howe, a man as perfect as art can make him ; Todd, as origiiuil as need be. The one has most ac- quired talent; the other, the most genius. The one tliinks correctly and beautifully; the other thinks strongly and pow- erfully. Howe has had much the greatest advantages, but seems nearly at his 7?e plus • Todd, the less favored in boy- hood in advantages, has a mind on a broader and deeper scale. The one is never heard without admiration; the oth- er, never without attention and deep impression. The one takes the audience like a refined and skillful orator; the oth- er makes tlieni feel themselves nnder the control of a mighty spirit. This is what the seminary think, and it is a matter of great doubt who has the valedictory. If, now, you ask my opinion, you shall have it. I think Iloioe will have the valedictory. It will not be known, liowever, till next terra. I shall have no hard or unpleasant feelings, for it Avould make but little ditference to myself. I have the honor of being universally considered the first man in my class, and probably the first in the seminary, and with that I am con- tent. I thought, however, I had better mention the subject to you, and tell you precisely how matters stand, lest you be disappointed if I do not have the said valedictory. If I have it, it will be well enough — let it come; but if I have it not, it probably never will make the difference of five dol- lars with me." The disadvantages of all this rivalry and intellectual ap- plication he was not slow to perceive. To his future father- in-law he writes: "Your classification of the dangers con- nected with our situation here is just. The plan of our course of study here is such, that the three years' discipline makes a man either a giant or a pedant. The greatest men we have here always belong to the junior class. But I have certainly met here with the most expanded and liberal minds, and minds, too, that can and do appreciate excellence of character Avherever seen. As to the danger of decay of piety, it is greater than all other dangers united. All our impressions are received passively ; all the atmosphere is literar}'^ ; all our exercises are subjected to criticism ; all is intellect, speculation : nothing to draw out active piety. Our studies, too, are pressing, more pressing than I had an- 126 JOHN TODD. licipated. We have as many as six or eight irons in the iire continually. I write a sermon now and then as a relax- ation, and tind it by far the most delightful of my employ- ments. But I suj^pose the sermons I M'rite here will be considered by you as too abstract. I suppose they are so. I find it extremely difficult, after being cloistered up nine years in a literary atmosphere, to write such sermons as are best adapted to a common congregation ; but I hope this difficulty will be diminished, if not wholly annihilated, when I come to associate with men. Having lived in a city or seminary ever since I was thirteen, I hardly know how I should manage in a country parish. Although I do not look forward to the great work of life without much, solicitude, nor to the momentous question of personal salvation with- out trembling, yet I most ardently long to be preaching the Gospel of Christ. For this I have toiled for years; to this I have devoted all my powers. The news of salvation through Jesus, whether you and I are partakers or not, is 'glad tidings of great joy,' and I pray that we both may be faithful and devoted to the business of proclaiming it." "January 15th, 1825. " The Committee of the American Tract Society have ap- plied to me to be the editor of the 'Christian Almanac for 1826.' I shall undertake it, provided my health is good enough. It is a good opportunity to speak to half a million of immortal beings, and I need not say it will bring upon rae no small responsibility to do it well. ■ "Last Wednesday, as a class, we had a day of fasting and prayer, in order to prepare our minds to decide, each for himself, whether or not it is his duty to become a foreign missionary. The ladies in Boston have funds to support a missionary in Palestine, My class all point to me as the in- dividual possessing the proper qualifications for this respon- sible station. Doctor Woods, who is the most perfect judge of character I ever met with, thinks decidedly, that, should I not go to Persia or Palestine, I ought to go to our own new countr}", where churches and societies are forming. I do not intend to be solicntous as to Avhere I shall go, or what I shall do. Professor Stuart says my prospects for life are as promising as those of any young man he ever knew. I think it not unlikely it will be judicious for rae to go to the LIFE AT AND OVER. 127 South next winter, as my health hardly bears this cold weath- er. Doctor Murdock tells me that it' I can get a berth in New Orleans, it will be the place for my talents. If I can be a faithful, devoted preacher of the Gospel of Christ, I care very little where I go." " February 5th. "At the close of the week I was not well, so I got into the stage for Boston, whence I returned on the Monday fol- lowing. On my return, I found S , of my class, in great distress, it being his duty to preach the Sabbath following; and lo ! he had no sermon, and could get no one to take his place. This was Monday evening. What was to be done ? At his earnest request, I undertook to stand in his place. I immediately chose a subject, drew my plan, and on Wednes- day evening finished my sermon. I read it to a professor on Thursday morning, agreeably to the laws of the seminary, and it received his approbation; so last Sabbath evening I preached it before the seminary and a crowded audience. It was forty minutes long, and decidedly the greatest ettbrt I ever made at composition. It was received with breath- less attention, and has done me an honor in the eyes of the institution. " My poor almanac comes on very slowly. I have lately had a memoir of Tiiomas Hamitah Patoo (who died, in 1823, in Cornwall school) put into my hands to prepare for the press. It is not long, but I must rewrite it entirely, and, what is still worse, it is for the American Tract Society, who have no great appetite for compensating one according to the labor bestowed. "I was walking out, a few mornings since, in company with a friend — it was a clear, cold morning — when I saw a bird flying, about fifty rods distant. It was a blue jay. Presently I noticed a hawk coming very leisurely, and look- ing about for a breakfast. At once he dove down and struck the poor jay, which set up a most pitiful yell, as if already in the clutches of a hangman. The blow of Mr. Hawk broke a wing of Mr. Jay, and they both dropped toward the ground together. The hawk now seized the jay with his chiws, and, in return, his friend Jay seized him also in his, at the same time keeping up a most dismal screaming. On seeing and hearing the poor jay, I dropped cloak, off hat, kicked off 128 JOHN TODD. overshoes, jumped over tlie wall, whicli fell down as a kind of chorus, and away I ran to relieve neiglibor Jay, for I can never bear to see oppression. Mr. Hawk, seeing me coming, undertook to be ofi" ; but no — the jay would not unclinch his claws and let liim oft', and the poor hawk (not having been to breakfast, and probably having lived rather abstemiously the day preceding), had not sufticient strength to fly oft" with his load ; and so, after running a good long stretch, I caught them both. It was my first feeling to kill the murderous hawk, and let his captive go free; but I thought I would spare his life a while, in order to see their behavior; and truly I was much pleased to witness the difference in their dispositions. I brought them both up to the seminary, and introduced them into my room. The jay was a complete dandy, dressed in a light-blue coat, spotted vest, light small- clothes, red stockings, a full ruffle in his bosom, and a high hat, which he could take off" or put on as he pleased ; his eye, small and black ; neck, long and slender. From the first moment of my catching him, he appeared to be the most ungrateful, uncivil, and ungentlemanly knave I ever met with, and withal a most arrant coward. He kept up an almost constant yell ; would try to pick out the hawk's eyes, would seize him by the throat; and made no bones of biting me, his deliverer, every time he could. In short, he was a most contemptible, revengeful, malicious, rattle-headed, mean, cowardly creature, and could be excelled in villainy only by a dandy without feathers. I never met a more des- picable fellow — too cowardly to live, too mean to be killed. Monsieur Hawk, on the contrary, was a most dignified per- sonage. He was dressed in a plain, Quaker-like suit of gray — nothing shining or artificial about him ; a large piercing eye, a short solid neck, a flat-crowned hat, and a true Roman nose finishes his picture. As soon as I caught him he show- ed a character really great. He looked me steadily in the eye, was calm, composed. He never opened his mouth to complain, as if he was afraid of suffering ; never begged foi- life, as if a coward. When the jay would yell and peck at him, and try to pull out his eyes, he would only turn his head and look at him with a countenance so full of gravity and contempt, that I really felt small for the jay. More- over, he never tried to bite or scratch me ; and when I threat- LIFE AT AND VER. \ 2 9 ened hitn with deatli, he seemed to look at it with all the fortitude and composure of a Regains. To be sure, he was caught in an act of aggressive warfare, but then lie was driven by necessity, and he seemed to know what was really dignified. In a word, he behaved so much like a gentleman and a hero, and I admired his magnanimity so much, that, after bestowing many cautions and much sage advice (which he received with the most profound gravity and attention), I let him go out of my window. His greatness and noble- ness of demeanor was such that I had no heart to kill him. As for Mr. Jay, he was too contemptible to die, and I soon sent him off also, and he went oft" squealing, and yelling, and growling, as if I had done him a great injury in saving hira from the hawk. My classmates laughed at me ibr spar- ing their lives, especially that of the hawk; but I stopped them by saying that I regretted that I did not keep the hawk to instruct the seminary in politeness and manners, and the jay for a living exhibition of depravity. I have given you a description of this boyish freak, not because I suppose it will interest you very much, but because 1 want you to understand that I expect hereafter to respect hawks and despise blue jays, and that I have about me a tender- ness of feeling that can spare even a hawk. "I suspect you will be obliged often to say, 'John, you must be more prudent in what you say or do ; you must be more economical :' but I trust you will never have to say, 'Don't be so mean; do be generous and noble.'" "AprillSth. "I have just received an invitation to become the editor of the Recorder and Telegraj^h for the last three weeks of vacation, which invitation, though not exactly what I like, I have concluded to accept. The wages will not be very great, but you know poor people like us must be content to labor. You are aware that our Rhetorical Society, which embraces the whole seminary, celebrates its annivei'sary the day preceding the anniversary of the seminary in September. We have two oi-ators — one from the honoraiy members, and the other from the seminary. You may smile when you hear that the orators this year are — Doctor Griftin, President of Williams College ; and Todd, of the senior class; and Colton, poet. The oration, which falls upon your humble 130 JOHN TODD. servant, is the highest honor which the seminary has the power of bestowing, as it comes from the voice of the stu- dents. It is peculiarly so this year, as Howe, the most ac- complished scholar of his age I ever met with, was also a candidate for it. We two were the only candidates, and the Middlebury students used every eiFort to get Howe elected, in order to raise their college." "May 22d. " I heard Doctor Griffin preach to-day. He is a large, tall, red -faced, flush -looking man — white hair, and small hazel eye — dressed in blue pantaloons and ruffled shirt, I was in- troduced to him, and urged to go to his place of abode, so I went and dined with him. He is a very pleasant man, agree- able in conversation, though rather egotistical. The whole subject of our conversation was the cause of Africa, in which his whole soul was deeply engaged. Our conversation was very interesting to me, and seemed to be so to him. He is an eloquent preacher, has a loud, sweet, and clear voice, and a great power in controlling it," " May 25tb. " I have left my big house of a hotel, and live in the fam- ily of Mr, Willis, the proprietor of the Recorder. It is a great family as to numbers." Mr. Willis had a large family of children, some of whom afterward distinguished them- selves in the literary world. In some way or other, the young preacher was so unfortunate as to incur a displeasure which long years afterward dipped the pen of Fanny Fern in bitterness. "May 29th. "A few days since, a committee from Park Street, Old South, and Essex Street churches, waited on me, and in- formed me that I was appointed orator to deliver an address in Park Street Church before those churches on the Fourth of July next, ' in behalf of the cause of Africa,' " It was customary at that time, in many places, to celebrate the Fourth by a religious, as well as a municipal, public service. The latter service, appointed and attended by the city au- thorities, was at that time held in the Old South Church, as of late years in the Music Plall. " This was very unexpected, and that for two reasons: (L) They have never before had a less man than an ordained minister; (2.) I have no ac- LIFE AT AXDOVER. 131 quaintaiice in Boston, and can not see how I was sufficiently known to be appointed. If I succeed, it will be a great ad- vantage to me. The subject of the oration is trite, distant, stale. If I fail, it will kill me as to all my prospects. I im- mediately called on Professors Porter and Woods (both of whom happened to be in the city), and laid the case before them. They feared my health would break down under the burden which I must necessarily endure this summer. They thought, too, it was a case of life and death — that I must put forth my mightiest exertions, or it would ruin me. But, on the ichole^ they decidedly advised me to accept of the appointment. I then called on my good cousin, Mr. Evarts, and asked him the same questions, stating my exact situa- tion. He was pleased to see his Cousin John needing advice on such an occasion, and very freely advised me to undertake it. Accordingly I returned an answer that I would try to prepare myself for the occasion. What eflect, you ask, will it have on the valedictory ? This is, probably, decided. If it is not decided, I should think it not likely to be given to me. Why? The trustees will know of my appointment at Boston, and they will not doubt, if they have any doubts on the subject now, that I am able to make something of a man in the world, and that I am worthy of the valedictory ; at the same time, they know that Howe is equally worthy, that he has not received any of the honors which I have received this year, and that I have now received as much honor as any young man can safely have bestowed upon him. I ought, in conscience, to be content. I have full as many ex- pectations excited as I can wish. Do not fail of praying for me daily, that I may be humble and holy, that I may be as- sisted in the duties before me, that I may be a devoted and useful minister of Jesus Christ." " June 26th. "On Monday evening, in company with Rood, I left the seminary in a chaise, to meet the Suffolk Association at Ded- ham — a distance of thirty miles. I Avas almost sick, and glad of the ride. We staid at Medford with my friend War- ner that night. Rood lay down, and I went to a church conference, and talked, as usual. After that, I sat down and wrote my creed for the next day, then chatted with Warner till nearly morning. On Tuesday morning I rode with War- 132 JOHN TODD. iier to Dedliam, fourteen miles, througli Boston, to the house of Rev. Mr. Bui*gess. They live in princely style, in a large and delightful country-seat. Here I was to be examined for license. The Suffolk Association embraces the orthodox ministers of Boston and the vicinity. It was for this reason (viz., their high-toned orthodoxy) that I chose to be exam- ined by them. Our examination was pretty severe, com- mencing a little past ten, and ending a little after four. I believe I succeeded well enough, as they neither brought me to a dead set nor puzzled me. Mr. Fay was moderator, Mr. Wisner scribe; just the men that I could have wished had I selected from the whole State. I know not precisely what opinion they had of me, but I felt conscious there was not a mind present which I feared. What pleased me most was, that the creed which I made out on the way lay before the association, and they made it a text-book from which to ask questions. The other candidates read sermons, but / did not, and I suppose it was because I was examined as much as all the other three. Every difficult point was laid on my shoulders. After the examination was over we had a sumpt- uous dinner. Governor Phillips presided, supported by Messrs. Burgess and Wisner. Mrs. Burgess was at the other end of the table. I presume Paul ate a very different din- ner when he was licensed. The table was large, richly adorned and served ; beef, pig, mutton, ham, turkey, three sorts of puddings, strawberries and cream, iced cream, iced wines, cherries, etc. After going through all the formalities of the table, toasts, etc., and after receiving our licensures, which were granted with the greatest readiness by every one present, we took leave of the association, and returned to Boston." "June 30th. "As to my oration, it is all written, but I can not have patience to commit it. I have been at work at it to-day, till it has become so insipid that it seems as if my audience must hoot me when I come to pronounce it. It is awfully long, and dry, and stupid." "July 1st. "I have dined twice and drunk tea twice to-day, in order to get along pleasantly. I have declined invitations, and gone to a boarding-house, because I wish to have a room re- LIFE AT ANDOVER. 133 tired, where I can write. I remember, too, that Monday is approaching, and I want to be alone, where I can tremble at my leisure. They have printed a handbill containing a scheme of the order of exercises in Park Street Church on Monday, to be distributed at the* opening of the meeting. This was never done before, and was done, the committee informed me, ' out of respect to the orator,' They are beau- tifully printed, and I will try to send you one, where you will see my name in glaring capitals," "July 4th. "At three o'clock ray bell rang, and I walked toward Park ^Street. There were six ministers in the pulpit with me, and more than twice as many below. The audience was quite large." After the singing of two or three anthems, in which "the excellent choir usually officiating were assisted," ac- cording to one of the newspapers of the day, by eminent performers on violins and "flutes and soft recordeis," and after " the Throne of Grace was addressed in a feeling man- ner" by a minister from abi'oad, "the address was deliv- ered by Mr. John Todd, of Andover Theological Seminary, and was a masterly effort. " I had a severe cold, and a sore throat which almost strangled me, yet I lived through it, and came off" with full as much applause as even you could wish. I was soraetliing over an hour in delivering it. The audience was very still and very attentive ; I could not have wished it more so. Mr. Fay shook me warmly by the hand. After I had come out of the pulpit, two strangers came to me and inquired when they could see me." The two strangers proved to be a deputation from Hol- liston, who, after hearing his oration, offered him an urgent invitation to settle in that place. Having listened to their representations, he returned, without giving any answer, to the company he had left. Amidst all this excitement, there was one momentous question which was seldom out of his thoughts: should he devote himself to tlie foreign missionary work? Many were his deliberations and conversations and letters on the sub- ject. The young lady whom he had selected for his wife had signified her readiness to go with him wherever " the finger of Providence very clearly pointed." Her father 134 JOHN TODD. was unwilling that his child should leave the country, her mother still more so ; but no positive prohibition was in- terposed. For himself, he had been for years expecting to go as a missionary, though perhaps the idea had first been suggested by his intimacy in Mr. Evarts's family, rather than the impulses of his own mind. But as his powers had developed, and he had become conscious of them, and his ambition had awakened, he had shrunk more and more from the thought of burying himself in heathenism. And now, with the applause of the day ringing and the sweet breath of flattery still warm in his ear, it was "an awful subject." Still, he wished to do his duty, and he waited for indications of Providence; and, lest selfish and unholy feelings should unduly influence him, he wrote out, before retiring on this day of excitement and triumph, a fervent prayer, and sent it to his betrothed, designing, apparently, to set the subject before the minds of both of them in the most solemn and tender manner by its ])etitions: "May we love one another with purity, with tenderness, with unreservedness, with con- stancy ; may we long live together ; may we make each other happy, useful, respectable, and holy ; may we live and labor together in the vineyard of Christ ; and wilt thou, O Spirit of Grace, direct us where to go, where to spend our lives, where we can be the most useful. Oh, shouldst thou, by thy providence, call us to go to some heathen land, may we be willing to go and labor and spend our lives for Christ our Redeemer." Having thus laid himself and his ambition and his love at the feet of infinite Wisdom and Strength, his wearied thoughts took wing from the noisy city, and the ex- citing scenes through which he was passing, and the prob- lems and struggles of the career that was opening before him, to hover for a moment over a quiet village and a peace- ful home, and an unconscious one who had given him the first and only real human love of any kind that had ever cheered his orphaned and lonely life: "And now, Protecting Power, send thy guardian angel to watch over my Mary while she slumbers this night. Let Peace kiss her pillow, let Mercy embalm her slumbers, let Health cover her with his mantle. May we long live to make each other happy, and, in our death, may we not long be separated." The prayer was answered. LIFE AT ANDOVER. 135 CHAPTER X. LIFE AT ANDOVER COnthlued. A Disappointment.— A Saturday-afternoon Ride. — Groton. — The old Min- ister.— An unloolced-for Supply. — A Dinner-party.— Calls.— The Scholar- ship.— The Suicide.— A second Visit to Groton. — A Unitarian Church. — A Dilemma. — Dislikes to Go. — Honorable Intentions. — Graduates at An- dover. — Arrives at Groton. — A crowded House. — Meat for Lions.- What Unitarians say. — The Babbler. — Closely Watched. — Intends to split the Society. — An Epidemic— Notes up. — Toddy on the Coffin.— Enemies and Friends. — The little Girl and her Chestnuts. — Toddites. — Thanksgiving- day. — Hurries away. — A Town in an Uproar. The gratification afforded by his success in Boston was almost immediately dampened by a great disappointment at Andover. The valedictory was given to Howe. This was in consequence of the adoption by the Faculty of an alto- gether new and unexpected rule, the justice of which it is difficult to perceive — that the man elected by the students as orator at the anniversary of the Rhetorical Society should not receive the valedictory appointment from the Faculty also. As Mr, Todd had already been elected to the first honor, he was by this rule excluded from the candidates for the other. In announcing the event to his future father-in- law, he shows very plainly that, in spite of all his attempts to prepare himself and his friends for this result, he was for the moment deeply disappointed and mortified, "I should like to have Mary read this letter, as I hate to tell her about the valedictory in her letter, though I don't really know as she cares about it," But there were events at hand which soon effaced the recollection of such boyish contests and disappointments. Already the young student stood unconsciously on the threshold of real life with its sterner battles. "August 13th, 1825. " On Saturday I received an invitation from a friend to ride with him. About two o'clock we entered the chaise, and after riding through an interesting country for twenty- eight miles, we arrived at Groton a little past sunset, I felt 136 JOHN TODD. quite refreshed by the ride. Groton is a very delightful town about thirty miles from Boston. It has but one so- ciety and one meeting-house, though it contains over two thousand people. On entering the town, I was delighted with the natural scenery, which is really enchanting. I was immediately introduced to the minister, Doctor Chaplin, a venerable old man, more than eighty years of age. He was quite ill, and here I first began to suspect the snare into which ray friend had drawn me. You must know they are all Unitarians, and hate Andover worse than poison. The good doctor is a kind of Arminian, a man of commanding talents, and, I doubt not, a go-to-heaven-man ; still, he has made all his people Unitarians. He was glad to see me, never heard of me before, was prepossessed in my favor at my appearance, for I was dressed handsomely — a thing which strikes Unitarians at once — and immediately urged me to preach the next day. What could I do ? I was not well enough, and yet here was a glorious opportunity to show Unitarians how Andover and orthodoxy could appear. You know my temperament so well that you will presume I did not long hesitate. The morning came. Doctor Chap- lin was unable to go out ; I went into the pulpit ; the con- gregation all stared ; no one knew who I was, or where I came from. It was fine sport to take them by surprise. I gave them one of my most popular sermons, and I never saw an audience so still. At noon they gathered around my friend, inquiring who it could be, and put money into his hand to pay our expenses, even before I came out of the pulpit. They knew not that Andover was like this. The afternoon went off equally well. After meeting, at night, I was invited to a dinner-party, which, I am sorry to say, I at- tended ; not that I sinned very greatly, but because I could not enjoy myself in a company where nothing but politics, and roads, and canals, and birds, etc., was discussed. I could not introduce religion. In the evening I visited sev- eral families; was everywhere treated with the utmost re- spect and kindness. They were so surprised that an Ando- ver man could preach, that they did not hesitate to express their delight. Had they previously known that an Andover student was to preach, I presume there would not have been a hundred at meeting ; but should it be known that I was to LIFE AT AND OVER. 137 preacli there again, I j^resume there would be fifteen hun- dred present. We left early on Monday morning, had a de- lightful ride back, and I felt no other eft'ects of my preaching than a severe headache. "Since I wrote you I have had the following distinct of- fers: (l.) A mission to Maine, on an exploring tour, for a year 01* less, as I please ; eight dollars a week and my expenses defrayed. (2.) A mission to Virginia for six months; same salary. (3.) A mission to South Carolina; twelve dollars a week, and part of the expenses defrayed. (4.) A mission in Savannah, Georgia, for six months ; same salary. On mature reflection, I have declined accepting any of these offers. I could succeed pretty well in any of them, but still none of them suits me. In rejecting them I have gone in accord- ance with the advice of Doctor Porter, on whose judgment I place great reliance. The next offer is the felloicship at the seminary. It has now been offered me formally, and I have it under consideration. It amounts to this: I may re- side at the seminary one or more years, as I please. My board, room, library, tuition, and washing are all given rae. I am to select my own course of study, Avhich must be ap- proved by the Prudential Committee, and in which I am liable at any time to be examined. I must stand ready to preach twice at an hour's warning. I may preach abroad, for pay, fourteen Sabbaths a year, besides twelve Sabbaths in vacation, I may leave at any time that I have a good call to go — so good that the committee shall approve of it. My expenses will be clothes, wood, light, and postage, all of which, I suppose, I could pay for by preaching. The ob- jections to it are, that my health needs a change, and my debts need reducing. The advantages would be, great op- portunities for mental and moral improvement, and a good stand from which to take a good settlement, whenever I did settle. The probability is, that if I should stay I should not settle as soon, but should settle better. Doctor Porter says it is my decided duty to accept it; that he has not a doubt on the subject ; that it is the best ofier the country can pre- sent a young man, unless a peculiar providence calls him into immediate service, in which case I could go. I am now inclined to think I shall accept it. I suppose this ap- pointment means I had not better think of becoming a mis- 138 JOHN TODD. sionary abroad. Doctor Porter seems to wish to get me into a city, but I do not covet it." "August 26th. "Mr. Evarts and Mr. Fay and Doctor Woods have their hands on me still for the Palestine mission. They hang on heavily, and I say nothing. They are so anxious that I should go, that I presume, from what Mr. Evarts said last week, they would be willing to have me go for three years only, and then return, and not go again unless I chose. " It is quite sickly in the seminary. Doctor Murdock and others are sick with the fever, and I am with some of them most of the time. Last night I watched with Doctor Mur- dock. I value myself on being a good nurse, and love to take care of the sick. Doctor Murdock is very fond of hav- ing me at his bedside. "Last Sabbath I 2:)reached twice for Mr. Wayland, and in the evening for Mr. Greene, in Essex Street. To-morrow I am to go again to Boston, to preach for Mr. Wayland. Our laws will not allow a student to receive pay for preaching, and the good clergymen around us, who make it a holiday at this time, well understand it, and never give us a cent over what is barely sufficient to pay our expenses. I presume I shall preach abroad as many as seven Sabbaths this term, and shall not receive a shilling over what my traveling fees amount to. Still, the ride usually does me good, and I thus become known. Hallock has already besought me to edit two numbers of his paper for him, at the commencement of vacation, as he says the papers which I manuficture are bet- ter than his own. I have not promised him that I will, or will not. As we must get our livelihood ' by our Avits,' as Burns says, it is necessary that I be active and seize em- ployment whenever it offers to suit me. I have no idea of our starving." "September 10th. "About the time of my visit to Groton, a young lady had been disappointed in love. She attended meeting all day, and, I suppose, was deranged. On her return home she said that I had preached at her individually all day. The consequence was, that the next day, or the next but one, she cut her throat. The Unitarians soon spread the report that the poor girl was scared into suicide by my ' brimstone ser- LIFE AT ANDOVER. 139 moil.' This, of course, I did not hear for some time after- ward. It did not trouble me, though I supposed it might have killed my influence in Groton. Last week, on Wednes- day evening, I received a letter from that place, requesting me to come and preach for them again. Immediately I began to write a sermon adapted to their circumstances, watched with Crosby on Thursday night, and finished my sermon about midnight. Saturday I rode to Groton, where I was cordially received by the family of the old minister. On the Sabbath, went into the pulpit; the Unitarians scovd ; have eleven notes for the sick ; preach twice, and come ofi" with greater popularity than before. Judge Dana and Sen- ator Lawrence both invited me to a Sunday dinner. I had foreseen the snare, and had made an appointment to go and visit the sick the remainder of the Sabbath. They were dis- appointed, but there was no help for it. I had my sympa- thies much enlisted in behalf of this people, all brought up in the gayeties of this world, and with very little or no pros- pect of settling a minister who will guide them to heaven, for they will undoubtedly settle a Unitarian. "I wrote this morning to Hallock that I should not ac- cept of his offer. I am confident my health has suffered in consequence of my being an editor in vacation." " September 23d. "Next Tuesday and Wednesday are our great anniver- saries. I have both my pieces written, and partially com- mitted to memory. The employment of my life seems so vast, that I think but little of one occasion on which I am to speak. The trustees have offered a fellowship to Howe and myself — each a fellowship — for the coming year, and I think we shall both stay. " Something over forty - six years ago a young minister was settled in Groton by the name of Chaplin, He is now Doctor Chaplin, He married into a gay, worldly family, a sister of Judge P . This family have since all become Unitarians. As Groton was a beautiful and fashionable place, and as he had married such a girl, the consequence was that he was drawn away into the vortex of fashionable society. He attended balls, parties, card -parties, played blindfold, etc. The next consequence was, that, however or- thodox his head might be, his heart was cold, and he could 140 JOHN TODD. not, and did not, preach faithfully, and to the conscience, on the Sabbath. What was first of necessity soon became a liabit, and the consequence is, that all, or nearly all, of his congregation have become fashionable Unitarians. More than two thousand people belong to this society, and I sup- pose the widest cloak of charity could not cover more than twenty or twenty-live pious people in the place. The church is all rotten. Some of the leading men in town are deists and infidels. The church has never been disciplined, and these men belong to it. The town has a fund nearly large enough to support a minister, another to support a large academy ; it has a female academy also, and a kind of law school. I consider the town as given over to Unitarianism. Nothing on earth can save it except the almighty power of God. The few pious people are mourning in secret. Doc- tor Chaplin is over eighty years of age, is just dropping into his grave, and now begins to tremble for his people. You know I preached once to this people, before they knew what I was. All parties applauded. The Unitarians went too far in praising to retract immediately. The orthodox had no wish to retract. This gave the few pious people cour- age. They sent for me again. I went. The Unitarians were still mostly silent ; they winced, but said but little. The pious were still more encouraged. The next step was for the pious people silently to raise a subscription, and in- vite me to come there a few Sabbaths, not as a candidate, but as assistant minister to Doctor Chaplin, hoj)ing that a good impression in favor of piety may be made on the town, and that, for a few Sabbaths at least, they may hear faithful preaching. This is the invitation which I have received, and this is the business which prevents my coming to you immediately. I have thought of the subject in its various lights, and, according to the decided advice of the professors and Mr. Evarts, I have concluded that it is my duty to go. I anticipate not much comfort. I shall have many proud hearts rising up against my preaching. All the great men will at once array themselves against me. Who, you ask, will be for me? Truly, unless Jesus Christ and a few pray- ing women take my part, I shall have to wade in hot water. Do I anticipate ever settling among them ? No ; they will not have an orthodox preacher. There is no prospect of LIFE AT AND OVER. 141 that ; and even if they would, I have no wish to go there. Why do they not get a popular Unitarian? Because the old minister will not let one go into his pulpit while he lives. The moment he dies they will have a Unitarian ; and the prospect is, that, for generations to come, they will be led away by this bewitching delusion of Satan. I shall have no confidant, none to uphold my hands. Doctor Cliaplin has a son of just my age, a graduate of Cambridge, and now a stu- dent in law with Judge Dana. He does not profess to be pious, but is orthodox up to the ne plus. It is he who is at the bottom of all this. He it is who is the means of getting me to Groton. It is really affecting to see the old man, who has for fifty years been preaching his people to ruin, now starting up just as he is about to drop into the grave, and the young man, who makes no pretensions to religion, try- ing to pull the society out of the mire. He will be the only man with whom I shall dare to converse freely." It was not without hesitation that he accepted this invita- tion to Groton. In replying to his friend, William L. Chap- lin, through whom the invitation had come, he wrote : "I took a letter in each hand, and placed myself in Doctor Porter's study. One was from Oliio, giving me a flattering invitation to visit Marietta; the other was from yourself These I read to Doctor Porter, and then asked his advice as to the course to pursue. He thought the Marietta offer a good one — an important station, and an uncommonly good berth for one's comfort. Still, he thinks your town in so critical and peculiar a situation, that, should I have a bishop- ric offered me, it is unquestionably my duty to refuse it, and go to Groton, for a short time at least. I have accordingly made up my mind not to go to Ohio at present ; and, unless something should take place of which I am now ignorant, I accept of your invitation, and shall be in Groton before the Sabbath succeeding our anniversary, two weeks hence. In coming to this conclusion, if I know my own feelings, I have been actuated more by the interest I feel for your town than an expectation of personal enjoyment. Not that I shall be unhappy in Groton — yow society would forbid this; still, there are very many unpleasant things to be expected. It is unpleasant to go invited only by a /e?/;, feeling conscious that many abhor the sight of you ; unpleasant to labor in 142 JOHN TODD. such a church, aiid with so many prejudices arrayed against you. Yet the work itself is pleasant, and probably few tri- als are without their real advantages. Trials, like the hurri- canes of the Atlantic, may carry dismay, yet they commonly purify in their progress. The pearls of the greatest value are said to grow in the most troubled waters, and the poor diver risks neck and limb in obtaining them." In accepting this invitation he also resolved to do and allow nothing which the strictest sense of honor would hot approve. " You know my feeling, that nothing but a faith- ful, devoted minister can raise your town for this life, or fit your people for the next. To get such a minister is ex- tremely desirable. Still, no dishonorable means should be used. We will not do evil that good may come. If pru- dent, straightforward, yet energetic exertions will not ef- fect the object, we must conclude that God has other de- signs, and yield to his providence." "October 4th. " I was almost made sick by the severe duties of our an- niversary. I preached for Mr. Fay, in Charlestown, on the Sabbath ; returned Monday. I came off pretty Avell on Tuesday, the anniversary of the Porter Rhetorical Society; pleased about every body except Doctor Chaplin, of Rocky Hill, Connecticut, and even him on Wednesday. On the latter day my piece was universally and excessively pop- ular," His theme on Tuesday was, " The Peculiar Motives which bear upon Christian Preachers in this Country to ex- cite them to cultivate Sacred Eloquence ;" and on Wednes- day, "The Sublimity of the Preacher's Work." "I will say to you that /wrote the piece read by X , the most pop- ular piece in the forenoon. He gave me seven dollars for doing it, and I must not mention it. He got more reputa- tion by it than by all he ever did in his life. It was ap- plauded to the skies. I laughed in my sleeve, and so may you. He must feel queer, or qneerish. On Thursday I parted with all my classmates, with many pangs. Rode to Boston Thursday morning ; walked to Cambridgeport, and dined with the celebrated Doctor Chaplin." This Doctor James P. Chaplin was the elder son of Doctor Chaplin, of Groton, and an eminent physician. " Returned to Boston ; attended a large tea-party at Mr. Willis's; in the evening LIFE AT AND OVER. 143 attended the ordination of several of my classmates; was wearied beyond description, " I arrived in Groton on Friday. The pulpit had been supplied the two preceding Sabbaths by a Mr. Gage, a Uni- tarian from the Cambridge school, the valedictorian of his class in college. The Unitarians hugged him, clapped him. I was to follow, and for orthodoxy to follow was like vine- gar after honey. Sabbath came ; the whole town was ex- cited, bustling, and fuming. The house was crowded, all staring. I preached. They were still, lost not a word, and through the day the house was in a breathless silence. The few poor pious people wept through the day. The Unita- rians raved, after meeting, beyond conception. I gave them orthodoxy with a decision and boldness that awed them while listening. I have no idea of tampering. Prudent I hope I shall be, but God forbid I lower the everlasting con- ditions of his word for the fear of man." Perhaps the reader is a little curious to know with what kind of meat this young Daniel, thrown into this Unitarian den, fed the lions. His theme in the afternoon was, Christ weeping over Jerusalem, and the lesson that he derived from it was, that Christians ought to feel deeply for those who are destitute of religion. (I.) Because the example of Christ requires it ; (II.) Because the irreligious have no happiness that is satisfying; and (III.) Because they have a gloomy prospect for eternity. In the course of his remarks on the third head, he said : "Paul says, 'They that obey not the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ shall be punished with everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord, and from the glory of his power.' Everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord ! Oh, I can conceive of the sufferer clinging to the fragment of the vessel which has been shattered by the storm, in the darkness of midnight; the ocean has been lashed into convulsions, the storm has brought destruction on its wings ; his companions have mingled their last shrieks with the bowlings of the tempest, as they sunk into the yawnings of the abyss ; and as the poor sufferer is tossed from one wave to another, hearing nothing but the hollow roar of the great waters, seeing nothing but the whitened waves, how long does the nioht seem ! and with what ago- 144 JOHN TODD. nized feelings does he look toward the heavens to see some ray of morning ! and how does he feel as if the sun had for- gotten to rise! I can conceive oi' such agony; but oh, who can conceive of the misery of 'everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord, and from the glory of his power !' there to linger out eternity, as it piles its ages on ages; there to gaze on an ocean whose every wave seems reddened with wrath, with no sun to rise on this gloom of night, no beam of hope to send its thrillings into the bosom of despair ! And when Christians look at the prospects which lie before the man who dies without possessing religion, how ought they deeply to commiserate his situation, and with tears point him to the ark of safety, whose door is now open ! "I hear something of what the Unitarians say. One says, 'That fellow can preach now, for he has been years in writ- ing his sermons; any fool could do it; but he won't wear,' Another says, ' Because they've got a great orator here, they reckon to put their brimstone preaching on us.' A third calls the eternal God to witness that I shall not stay in town long. A fourth says, 'Though he doesn't singe us now, yet every body who comes from Andover has hell-fire enough to send us all to misery.' There are two things which the Unitarians here fear prodigiously ; first, lest I should pro- duce a revival of religion, which they call ' a religious stir,' and abhor beyond all horrors ; and, second, lest I produce an impression in favor of orthodoxy that will lead the people to -wish to settle aji orthodox preacher. To prevent these dreadful catastrophes, the first men spend their time in rid- ing through the town all the week, to do away the impres- sion I make on the Sabbath. My duties are very severe. I have to write two sermons for every Sabbath, preach twice during the week extempore, and visit the sick. You may presume that Mr. Todd, who is now the only subject of talk in the whole town and region, is no unimportant man among them. When I attend a weekly meeting the house is crowd- ed to excess; when I attend a funeral, I am followed by nearly the whole town ; you may see the house filled — every corner, the doors, windows, and the very house sur- rounded by the gaping multitude, all listening to hear what ' this babbler' will say. Last Sabbath I had men out to hear me that had not been before for ten years. You may won- LIFE AT ANBOVER. 145 der how I live amidst so much excitement. I wonder my- self; but I do not, and will not, consider myself as a can- didate for settlement here, only as an assistant to Doctor Chaplin, so that I feel jjerfectly independent, as it respects myself. I care not a whit what they say or do, provided they do not shoot me. It may give you some relief to know that I have no personal enemies ; that is, no one objects to my manner, to my writing, voice, or personal appearance. It is the matter which they hate. You would pity me, to see how closely I am watched. My every look, gesture, and word is remembered. For myself I feel no concern, except for my health. For the cause of pure religion I feel deeply. I have no expectation that they will ever have a pious or- thodox minister here, but there are already, by my preach- ing, a few who are anxious for their souls, and for them I feel. My responsibility is so great that it destroys my sleep, and, I fear, will soon wear upon my health. I saw wood ev- ery morning before breakfast for exercise, and ride in the aft- ernoon. I board at Doctor Chaplin's, and the whole family are very kind to me. The result of my labors here, should my health continue, will probably be a most severe struggle between orthodoxy and Unitarianisra. That the latter will obtain the conquest, I have no doubt. Still, I trust it will do the people good. The Unitarians are the great men, the rich, the influential. The poor orthodox tremble and quake before them — all but young Chaplin and myself; we fear them not. He is a fine fellow, and is, were he pious, a man after my own heart. I have enjoyed personal religion much since I have been here, and have no fears except for my health. The neighboring towns are wondering, and sit mute in astonishment to see an Andover student in the pulpit at Groton. It does all seem providential, and it is not impos- sible that God has good in store for this truly desolate place. Some few of my hearers have sworn that they will never again hear me preach ; but they will. They attend the fu- nerals, and Avill be present wherever I am called to speak. There were more people at meeting last Sabbath than there have been for fifteen years. I presume it will be so next Sabbath. I preach tenderly at the conscience, let doctrines alone, preach heaven and hell, and the responsibility of man ; take depravity as granted, and acknowledge it in my public 10 14G JOHN TODD. prayers ; speak of the Trinity, Saviour, and Holy Spirit, as if no one ever questioned the doctrines. I can not set this town all by the ears, as I shall, without having it known abroad. To God I look for a blessing, or all is vain." " October 17th. "You make me smile when you say you don't know but I may have a call to settle here. You don't know the power of Unitarianism. The Unitarians become more silent, and intend to let the matter go oiF as well as they can. They come not near me. I should be caressed, were I only of their sentiments. Oh that I were more worthy to suffer such reproach as Christ endured ! Last Aveek I preached four times in Groton, a preparatory lecture in Pepperell, and a lecture in Littleton. The object in going out of town was to have a reaction upon Groton ; that is, in the same propor- tion as orthodoxy is popular in consequence of my going-out of town, in that proportion will the news return, and make it popular here. I have no expectation of bringing this great town over to orthodoxy, but I intend to split it, so that an orthodox society can grow out of it. This will be no small triumph, and no small blessing to the town. You must not think I am elated with my popularity, I have enough to humble me, many bitter things said against me and my re- ligion. I should feel very bad if I were a candidate here ; but I am only an assistant, and am independent. You will see by my calculations that I can not be at Andover for three or four weeks after the commencement of the term. The committee of the seminary understand it all, and will excuse it. As to not being at study, I never studied harder than now. I have been more with sickness and death than in all the rest of my life. Sometimes I have twelve or thir- teen notes up in one prayer. This at first troubled me; but I now classif\% load my memory, and cut through all as well as I can." The occasion of so much sickness was an epi- demic influenza of a very severe type which was prevalent throughout the country. "At their funerals here, they in- variably hand round rum, brand}', and wine, and the bearers are often intoxicated." He used to say that he had seen them beating up toddy on the coftin ! "I am in hopes the poor orthodox people will get over their fright before I leave. When I first came, the Unitari- LIFE AT AN DO VER. 1 4 7 ans shouted so loudly that they scared the orthodox, all but Chaplin and myself; but I have taken so bold and decided a course, that the scared ones are beginning to gather courage. It takes the Unitarians a whole week, in riding and talking and blustering, to do away the impression made on the Sab- bath, and even then they do not half accomplish their end." " October 31st. "My congregations on the Sabbath are immense. Yester- day there was a fuller house tlian has been known for forty years, and the house is prodigiously large. For a week back I have been ill — caught a severe cold at an evening lecture ; yet I preached five times, yea, six times last week, besides three funerals. Amidst all the talk about me, you may pre- sume there is much of good and much of bad. It is true I have many warm admirers, and some bitter enemies. The Unitarians hate me, curse me, yet all come to hear me. The women especially are almost universally my friends, and so are all the poor, the lame, the halt, and the blind, and so are all the little children. A lady mentioned to a little girl, to whom I had never spoken, that Mr. Todd was to leave in three weeks. Slie burst into tears, and said she would ])ick up chestnuts three weeks to pay me, if I would stay. The Unitarians have some peculiar phrases which they apply to those who flock to my meetings, such as Todd-crazy, Todd- mad, and Todd-mania." For years they were called " Todd- ites." "They want me to stay and preach on Thanksgiv- ing-day, but I shall get off", as I now think, by pleading my health. The Unitarians here are prodigiously afraid of a re- vival of religion. They dread that more than any thing else. You presume, by my writing, that I am buried up in the good of Groton. I am so. I dream about them, think about them, talk about them all the time. One thing you may be sure of, that it will cost Unitarianism great labor and time to get the wound healed that it has received since I have been here. People are my constant hearers who have not been into the house of God for ten, fifteen, or even thirty years. I preach at the conscience, and press man's account- ability severely, and say but little about 'brimstone.' They feel the shoe pinch prodigiously, but know not exactly what makes it. They feel no flames of hell, and yet are in torture, and can not account for it. I know Avhat the matter is, and 148 JOHN TODD. lay on. The ministers around me are mostly Unitarians, and do not come near me. The whole region is watching me. I have hearers from the neighboring towns eveiy Sabbath." " November 21st. " I can not be with you at Thanksgiving. I never was so disappointed. I expected to set out this morning, but have been overpersuaded to stay and preach to this truly pitia- ble people on that day. I say truly pitiable, because the town is torn and rent in pieces, and I am the cause. The Unitarians are wide awake, and the whole town is in a dread- ful tumult. Nobody blames me; but truly my heart is melted for this town. God only knows what is in reserve for them. I shall go into the pulpit on Thursday at precisely half-past ten o'clock, shall preach, and, the moment the serv- ices are over, shall get into the stage and go home. I can sleep but poorly, and could not stand it much longer. I am glad I have only one more discourse to write." This resolution w\as punctually executed. He had had no vacation for many months, and after so much excitement, especially, he was in great need of rest. The eight weeks for which he had been hired were now fully past. The mo- ment, therefore, that the services of Thanksgiving-day were ended, he hurried away, to bury himself, after a short visit in Newington, in the retirement and quiet study of the sem- inary, leaving the scene of his brief ministry in a tremendous uproar. LIFE AT AA'DOVEli. 149 CHAPTER XI. LIFE AT ANDOVER C0?lHnuec7. lieasons for Flight. — Defeat. — A stormy World. — Retirement. — Rumors. — Tlie Petition. — A wild Congregation. — Petition rejected. — Claim of the old Pastor. — A Night Ride. — Moderation advised. — Constables at the Church-door. — A Council.— A Committee handled without Gloves. — The Call answered. — A Broad-axe Sermon. — A Sundaj' at Portsmouth. — The first Sermon in a new Church.— Genuine Drudgery.— Another Defeat.— Another Council. — Compromise rejected. —An Invitation accepted.— Dread.— Good-bye to Andover. There were other reasons for the hurried flight from Gro- toii than the longing for rest and quiet. The friends of Mr. Todd had determined to bring the question which agitated the town to an issue, and he did not wish to be present during the struggle. Already, on the 14th of November, the church had met and voted — seventeen to eight — to call him to settle with them in the ministry, as co-pastor with Doctor Chaplin. According to the usages of Congregation- alism, it was necessary that this vote should be confirmed by a vote of the parish, which at that time comprehended all the legal voters in town. A town meeting was therefore called for the day after Thanksgiving, at which the friends of Mr. Todd were defeated at every j^oint, and a committee was chosen to supply the pulpit. To William L. Chaplin. " Newington, Conn., December 1st. " Your letter arrived yesterday. I was prepared to re- ceive just the tidings which it contained. Since leaving you, I have walked as a distant spectator, with my arms folded, and have rejoiced not a little to get into a more peaceful region. You tell me to hold myself in readiness. I trust I need not tell you that I am sufficiently interested for you, and that I feel grateful for tlie many kindnesses of your family and of ray friends in Groton ; but since my re- treat, I confess I feel but little disposition to encounter an- 150 JOHN TODD. other such warfare. Should I be called again among you, it is evident that it must be a party concern, and will place me in a situation much more trying to my feelings than that through which I lately passed. Your imagination may now find me in a pretty parlor, with a Franklin stove and neat carpet, sitting at my ease at the writing-desk of a lovely young lady, leaning on my left elbow, and musing over Gro- ton, with your little letter lying before me. It is cloudy without, but there is sunshine above these clouds ; it is a stormy world, but there is one above it where storms are unknown. My health is good, but, as I expected, my spirits are somewhat depressed after so much excitement. Give my best love to your good father and mother — to the ladies whose pies I used to steal, and who were exceedingly kind to me, and to whom I feel very greatly obligated. The ' hoobub ' has doubtless thinned the number of my admirers and friends. Thank them all for their kindnesses to me." On his return to Andover, he was met by a messenger from Dunstable, New Hampshire, who brought him an invi- tation to preach in that place as a candidate. "As I would not, and could not, be considered as a candidate there, I re- fused at once. " I found Howe was here, and had concluded to board in commons this winter, on account of his lameness. Of course he needed to room in the seminary. After talking the mat- ter over with him, I concluded to let him have the room alone, as I was convinced that we should both study more. I ought to say that he was very honorable in his feelings. Doctor Murdock has consented to receive me into his family." This was no small sacrifice, as it involved the surrender of a large part of the advantages of the fellowship. There were, however, some benefits to be derived fi-om it. " (1.) I want Doctor Murdock's conversation, which I now enjoy full two hours every day. (2.) I have his whole library at com- mand. (3.) Mrs. Murdock is a good, motherly woman, and will take the best of care of me if I am sick. (4.) I shall nec- essarily see much good society from abroad, and thus brush off some of my rusticity of manners, and have my spirits cheered by a pleasing variety. (5.) I have a large good room, carpeted, and every convenience heart could wish. It is the LIFE A T AM) VEIL 1 5 1 same room in wliicli Gibbs translated liis Hebrew lexicon. Mrs. Murdock is very neat, the family very agreeable, and their table elegantly and sumptuously spread. Mr. Stuart says it is the best place to study in town. My friends seem to fear I shall study too hard ; and even Mr. Evarts endeav- ored to make me believe I should go into immediate con- sumption if I study too hard. I told him he made me think of the wisdom of the old lady, wishing to scare her daugli- ter .by telling her that her salt would be poisonous if it was pounded too fine." In this peaceful retirement he spent several weeks, occu- pied wholly with his books, and hardly knowing any thing of the outside world or the stornjy scenes that he had left. Indeed, even his efforts to learn a little of what was going on were almost fruitless. Absolute silence seemed to have fallen around him. " I am at my studies, pretty much buried up ; hear little of the world, and care less. lam all alone, and in- tend to be the rest of the year. Were it not for my debts, I never was so happy before. Besides these, not a care trou- bles me. I sometimes look forward, but as I can see nothing, I come back again, and enjoy my present existence. I like ray boarding-place very much ; and, taking my own way in my studies, I hope to make some advancement. I write no sermons, nor any thing else. My studies are mostly of the severe kind, and require no writing. I have no inducement to write sermons, as I have enough (such as they are) to preach in any place to Avhich I may be called. I look for- ward to no definite prospect for life. Should there be no opening for me between this and next fall, I shall push for New Orleans or the Western country." Gradually, however, the commotions of the outside world made themselves felt, even in the still waters of this schol- arly seclusion. Reports began to come that "all Groton was in a tumult," and " wild with excitement," and that the town was "shaken to its foundations." Presently more defi- nite accounts arrived. Undismayed by their discomfiture in town meeting, the orthodox party got up a petition, and cir- culated it through the town on a " cold Tuesday," praying the committee for supplying the pulpit to employ a candi- date, and that Mr. Todd be this candidate. "It was signed only by regular voters, and contained a majority of nearly 152 JOHN TOBD. or quite fifty of all the votei's in Grotoii. Tliis was won- derfui. The committee are in a sad predicament. If they grant it, and I go there, they fear it is death to their party. If they refuse, as they probably will, it will bring odium upon them, and make their party more and more unpopular. iSTo- body, not even the petitioners, supposes they will have the liberality to grant it. I hope to hear from Chaplin soon, but he hardly dares write me, for fear his letters will be picked at the office." Pending the result of this petition, " I concluded, in conse- quence of receiving a letter from Doctor Chaplin, of Cam- bridgeport, to go down; so on Saturday I visited a little in Boston, and walked to Doctor Chaplin's. Here I found the old Doctor Chaplin, from Groton, who seemed very glad to see me. I was soon introduced to the Rev. Mr. Gannett, the Unitarian minister, for whom, at Doctor Chaplin's request, I was to preach. I could see at once that he was sorry to see me ; but as Doctor Chaplin had requested him to invite me to preach, and as Doctor Chaplin pays sixty dollars annually toward his salary, he could not refuse. Behold me, then, on the Sabbath in a Unitarian pulpit, the minister by my side trembling like a leaf I went home with him at noon, and sat down to a sumptuous dinner — real Unitarian. His wife is a beautiful creature, gay, dressy, and extravagantly fond of company. Mr. Gannett and myself both shunned any ground on which we should clash, and were both embar- rassed. I thought he did not appear to think me much to be feared; but after I commenced the services it was differ- ent. People sat in astonishment, looking as wild as a hui'- ricane. At noon Mr. Gannett gave me several hints about how he never preached doctrines, how he never offended his hearers, seemed very anxious to know my subject, etc. ; but I kept him wholly in the dark, and pretended not to under- stand his hints. He must have thought me a stupid creature. In the afternoon his congregation looked still more wild, and as still as if in the presence of death. They never had any thing like it. Curious stuff is this orthodoxy. Mr. Gannett never thanked me, but said he should remember my kindness ; and I very much mistake if he does not remember it for a long- time to come. His church is veiy large and handsome, but has not much of a congregation in it. It was a charming LIFE AT ANDOVEM. 153 place to speak in. In the evening I preaclied for Rev, Mr. Jacobs, a Baptist. The house was crowded, and very warm. As neither he nor Mr. Gannett would take part in the exer- cises, I was not a little fatigued ; and here I caught my severe cold, going out from this warm house. The Baptists seemed delighted, but greatly wondered how such a preacher could get into a Unitarian pulpit. Many of them were acquainted at Groton, and quickly concluded that Groton people will never bear such preaching ; and I more than fear their an- ticipations are correct. Doctor Chaplin was kind enough to pay my expenses, aiid Mrs. Chaplin gave me two new white linen pocket-handkerchiefs, or, rather, two 'flourishes;' so that now, when I preach, and use one of my 'flourishes,' I need not reflect I have only one more." 7o William L. Ghaplin. "January lOtli, 18:26. "By a letter received from Cambridgeport last Saturday, I have learned that the petition was rejected, for two rea- sons : (1.) Unfiiirness in getting subscribers; and (2.) Can- didate engaged. This was all I learned, except that per- haps you would think of a town meeting soon. The game you are playing is a mighty game. Doctor Porter told me yesterday that no state question for many years had awak- ened so much interest ; all eyes are turned toward you, all are watching, all are anxious. Seldom has a question been pending on which so many were looking with interest so intense. You must raise your minds and exertions to a level with your station. There is no drawing back. God Almighty seems to have placed you as you are, and you must go onxcard. The sympathies and the prayers of many attend you. It is a heavy throw. All are anxious here, as they are also in Boston, and all the region round about." The next move in the " game " was made by Doctor Chap- lin. He had been "settled" for life, and, according to con- gregational usage, had the right to say Avho should occupy his pulpit. The committee, however, took the ground that in consequence of his extreme age, and inability to take per- sonal charge of the pulpit, this right was vacated, and ought to be relinquished. Accordingly, when their pastor had of- fered to supply the pulpit at his own expense until a man 154 JOHN TODD. could l)e found in whom all could unite, they had promptly rejected his proposition, and continued to exercise the right to take care of the pulpit, which they had taken from him. "They brought Rev. Mr. Robinson there, formerly settled at Eastport, Maine, a pretty heavy man as to talents. Before he went into the pulpit, Doctor Chai)lin wrote a note to him and to the committee, saying that if he went into the pulpit it would be against the wishes of the church, the majority of the people, and himself. This was a spirited remonstrance, but it produced no effect. Doctor Chaplin then called a meeting of his church, to ask their advice. They voted, (l.) That they thought Doctor Chaplin had a right to supply the pulpit himself; (2.) That they wished he would do so ; (3.) That he employ Mr. Todd; and (4.) That no member should thereafter be admitted from another church without first explicitly assenting to their articles of belief They next had a caucus of the orthodox present — just one hundred, and all very respectable men. They voted, (1.) That they thought Doctor Chaplin had a right to supply the pulpit; (2.) That they wished him to assert the right; and (3.) That Mr. Todd be the man. These were all legal voters. A com- mittee waited on Doctor Chaplin with these resolutions, and he promised to comply." Accordingly, he undertook to fur- nish a supply for the following Sabbath, and a letter was sent to Mr. Todd, requesting him to send a suitable preacher. Meantime, the committee vowed that no man but theirs should enter the pulpit, "January 28th. "A few days since, I received a letter from Chaplin which troubled me considerably, for I did not know what the Gro- tonians were coming to. I called on Doctor Porter, and had a long talk with him, and slept but little that night. On Wednesday a man was seen riding between Andover and Dunstable. He was astride a poor crazy sort of animal, but which shambled over the ground at a great rate. The rider was a curious-looking object. He was a strong, resolute- looking fellow ; a light plaid cloak was wrapped around him, with its collar tied close around his face, so as to conceal it. A large, black seal-skin cap was drawn over his liead, saving his eyes, so that you could see scarcely any of his face. His LIFE AT AND OVER. 155 encoiivagcd his steed. All stared wildly at bira, for he was either very much afraid of the cold, or else he wished not to be known. People stared, the dogs barked, the children whooped, the rider passed on in high spirits. But who was this rider? I presume you have guessed. It "was my design to stop at Dunstable till evening, then push on to Groton, see my friend Chaplin, and back again to Dunstable before morning, and thus learn the state of things in Groton with- out having it known that I had been there. I had Howe's cloak and a borrowed cap, and no mortal could ever have mistrusted who it was. Just as I arrived at Dunstable, I met Chaplin coming over to see me. He did not know me. He went back to Dunstable till dark. I then left my horse, got into his chaise, and rode to Groton, got there about ten o'clock, sat up and talked till four"; then he took his chaise and brought me to Dunstable, where we arrived before sun- rise, and I got back to Andover by noon, without having half a dozen know Avhere I had been." At this secret in- terview, it was agreed that he should send over a suitable preacher from Andover to contend with Mr. Robinson for the possession- of the pulpit on the following Sabbath. On laying the matter before Professors Porter and Woods, however, he found that they entirely disapproved of the plan, and on maturer reflection his own judgment condemn- ed it. Accordingly, he wrote to his friend Chaplin imme- diately, giving as the professors' advice and his own, that Doctor Chaplin should not attempt to supply the pulpit on the following Sabbath, and that he should 7iever attempt to take or send a man into the pulpit until the committee had firs.t yielded; "that is, by no means to have the clashing in the house of God. This, of all things, they would deprecate. They think it would do immense injury." He further ad- vised that Doctor Chaplin " immediately address a note to the committee, and another to Mr. Robinson, saying that it is the wish of his church, and of a large number, and, as he believes, a very decided majority of the legal voters, that he should supply the pulpit himself, as he undoubtedly has a legal and customary right to do; that he could not conven- iently obtain the supply for the coming Sabbath, but that he wishes to supply the Sabbath after next, and to continue to do so for the present ; that he has understood, to his great 156 JOHN TODD. surprise, that the committee tliink of refusing him this right; and what surprised and grieved hira still more was, that they talked of doing this on God's holy day ; that it is unbecoming his character, his years, his feelings, and, above all, his sacred office, to resist, or to attempt, or to expect, any violent or unchristian measures; that he distinctly dis- avows any intention to go into his own pulpit, even at the request of a majority of his beloved flock, unless the com- mittee will peaceably withdraw their preacher, and permit him to go forward unmolested, etc. This must bring the committee to a point. Unless they are absolutely mad, and given over to madness, they will not refuse your father the pulpit. If they do, then proper steps can be taken. It is vastly better to have the quarrel in a town meeting than to go to law about the pulpit. At any rate, you must not have the quarrel in the meeting-house on the Sabbath, It would be awful to try the question in the meeting-house on Sabbath morning. Their party are expecting a quarrel next Sabbath, but they must be disappointed." The letter containing this wise advice to temperate meas- ures was dispatched by express, and arrived on Friday. But proceedings had gone so far that it was thought impos- sible to retract. "So they got Fisher, from Harvard, to go to supply; but when he arrived he found the Unitarian committee had appointed constables to keep him out of the pulpit. His heart foiled him, and he dared not go into the meeting-house." After this defeat there was nothing for the orthodox party to do but wait for the annual town meeting. Meantime there was a short lull in the storm, while both parties gath- ered their strength and secretly prepared for a decisive con- test, "January 28th. " Chaplin has come up from Boston, in haste, for me to go down immediately, and attend a council of consultation re- specting Groton," "January 29th, Sabbath Evening. " Our meeting was held at Squire Samuel Hubbard's house. The following gentlemen composed our meeting, viz.. President Humphrey, Rev. S. E. I) wight, Rev. B. B. Wisner, Rev. Samuel Greene, Rev. W. Fay, Samuel Hub- LIFE AT AND OVER. 157 lianl, Esq., Doctor J. P. Cliapliii, Deacon Procter, Deacon Burastead, H. Holmes, etc., William L. Chaplin, and J. Todd. The meeting was held over four hours. The situation of Groton was stated. The whole story was told. Much dis- cussion followed, and very much sound wisdom was shown. The following seemed to be some of the points on whicli they were all agreed : (l.) Groton is one of the most impor- tant stands in our country for a minister to do good. (2.) That they are playing for life; that is, which party soever gets beaten is dead. It can have no hope of living and forming a separate society. They have not ])rinciple enough to do it on our party, and not zeal enough on the other. The question, then, before the town is an awful ques- tion. (3.) The subject of the church was discussed. (4.) The subject of their choosing their civil officers in March was next discussed. (5.) How shall the orthodox sustain their party, increase it, and depress the other, between this time and the March meeting? After much discussion, it was unanimously agreed, no one dissenting but myself, that Mr. Todd was the man who got them into all this difficulty, and he must help them out, and he only can do it ; that it was vastly important that I go to Groton by some means or other, to go to work among them, and that, too, if possible, immediately, I know not what will be the result of this. I do not want to go to Groton under these circumstances. If I go, I sacrifice my time, and much more. I should go as an assistant to Dr. Chaplin, should have to assert his right to the pulpit, probably be kept out by constables, and should draw upon me the direct enmity of every Unitarian in Groton or in the State. If I go there, of course it will be my aim, by bold and yet prudent measures, to carry my party through the struggle. If my conscience will possibly let me off, I will never go there again, or have any thing to do with them. But what can I, what ought I to do? I have got the town into this situation ; how much ought I to sacrifice to help them out ? A few days since, I had an application to go to Henniker, New Hampshire, for six weeks. They offered to defray all my expenses and give me sixty dollars for six Sabbaths. As this was an uncommonly good offer, I felt disposed, to go. But on proposing it to the committee, they refused to permit me to leave the seminary. 158 JOHX TODD. So you see I am still ' nncler tutors and governors.' I did not grieve, for I confidently believe God will order all things as shall be most for his own glory, and for what is best for me. By the Groton affiiir I have doubtless drawn upon me the sympathies of many a j^ious heart, and I trust God will open a proper door for me. Let me trust in him." To William L. Chaplin. " Januai-y 30th. " I find that I can not come to Groton, and stay any time, without forfeiting my scholarship. I do not v;ant to go to Groton. If I might consult my own personal feelings, I never would go into the town again, unless it be on a short visit. As the town is, with the prospects now before it, I have no wish to think of becoming its minister. My going to Groton would be a hazardous game; it might, and it might not, result in being beneficial to your party. It would warm all the decided friends and foes. How it would aftect those who are wavering or indifferent, can be determined only by actual experiment. But I love you^ love your people some, and hope I love the cause of truth more. If, then, it seems absolutely necessary for me to come, I will sacrifice scholarship, popularity, etc., and loill come and help you. Still, if you can get along, and conquer in your March meeting without my being seen there, I think it will be bet- ter; that is, I will not come unless public feeling loudly de- mands it. In your caucus, please to handle that committee without gloves. Oh that I could have an oppoi'tunity to stand beside you and spout also ! We would shave them ! Dwell upon the liberality of the liberal party.' Shut an old man out of his pulpit ! appoint constables ! their system to be protected by constables ! their courage, too ! (they dare not let an orthodox preacher go into the pulpit a single Sabbath for fear he would upset their dish !) their economy and regard for the town ! Doctor Chaplin oflTers to supply the pulpit at his own expense till they find a man in whom the church and town can be united, and they will not, dare not, do it. There certainly was never a more elegant occa- sion to make a speech that will 'split the ears of the ground- lings,' make their eyes sparkle, and increase your own po'wers of talking. Be of good cheer, thou champion of orthodoxy. LIFE AT AND OVER. 159 tliou idol of the commons, thou star of truth, thou terror of evil-doers, thou upholder of parsons, thou presser of narrow beds, thou destroyer of the aliens ! Be of good cheer and o-Qod courage ! Oh, how I want to see thee ! My sides fairly yearn to laugh with thee ! Doctor Murdock can laugh some, but he is no more to be compared to thee than is a wren to an owl: the one only twitters, but the other whoops — like a gentleman. Forgive my trifling, for it may be wrong ; but I am lonely, and am thinking how I would laugh, if I could only see you." "February 11th. "Last week, on Fi-iday, I wrote a long letter to the church in Groton. This letter was predicated on the call I received from them, though, of course, it contained no direct answer to their call. I intended to have it a plain, manly, bold ad- dress to the church. My only fear is that it is too si/iurt, and will cut the Unitarians too deep; but I wish them dis- tinctly to understand that I can, and shall, have no fellow- ship with Unitarianism. I learn that my preaching at Gro- ton was the means, as is hoped, of converting some four or five individuals; that Robinson does not take — does not have over two hundred hearers ; that my friends are anxious to have me come there, but are willing to follow my advice ; that they are bending all their efforts to the town meeting in March. It is a contest of parties ; but I believe there is conscience at the bottom of it, though, doubtless, much that is unholy is mingled with good motives. Do I think the orthodox party will carry the day? No, not at present. They have too much mind working against them, and mind, in almost any struggle, w-ill carry the day. I most sincerely wish the contest were ended on one side or the other, but God's time is the best." To William L. Chaplin. "January 30th. " Yesterday I preached before the seminary — one of our Groton sermons. It made the natives stare, especially as they knew it was such food as you had to digest. Doctor Porter said I went at you with a broad-axe, but he was evi- dently pleased with it. I told him it was my manner to let it off at you 'bush fashion.' He is now laying a plan to get 160 JOHN TODD. me into a neighboring pulpit the next Sabbath, in hopes that I can strike hard enough to split them. You see what a tool they make of me. I think you and I will soon be able to hire out to great advantage to split societies. How much shall we have the conscience to ask? Shall we go by the day, or by the job ?" " Februaiy 2oth. "At Xewburyport I took the prevailing influenza, and have been sick ever since: till to-day I have hardly left my bed. For several days I was very sick, had a physician twice a day, watchers at night, and was some of the time much out of my head. A pretty severe medical course, with the best of nursing, has set things in the right way again. I am now well, only weak. Howe comes to my room daily, and we read Greek together. He has no plans for the fut- ure ; wants to get a good settlement in New England. If no opening seems to invite me before next fall — and I have no reason to think there will — I shall take ordination, and away for the West or South. I will try to make one push, ere I consent to die a theological death in the chimney-cor- ner, I am to preach in Portsmouth. They send me into every hornets' nest in the whole region. " Last Saturday I w^ent to Boston, and preached three times the next day — once at the Old South, Mr. Wisner's, and twice in tlie new church in Hanover Street, to which Doctor Beecher is called. This is the most beautiful house that I ever saw. I had the honor of preaching in it the first Sabbath, to an audience by far the largest I ever addressed. The crowd was so great that constables had to be stationed at the doors, and probably more went away who could not get in than the audience. I could not get to the pulpit, ex- cept by the constables' aid. My audience were very atten- tive, and I probably never acquired so much applause in any one day in my life. Anderson sat with me in the pulpit, but took no part. They gave me the usual price, ten dol- lars, for my day's work. The honor of going first into the house to preach is considered very great. " You know I went to Newburyport, a fevf Sabbaths since, to preach. In the last Neichxiryport Herald I notice an article, saying that the Rev. Mr. Ford, the minister of the society, is soon to be dismissed, and that the Rev. Doc- LIFE AT AND OVER. 161 tor Dana, of Londonderry, and the Rev. Mr. Todd, of Ando- ver, are candidates to succeed him. The offer will, of course, first go to Doctor Dana, and he will juni]) at the chance. However, he is a great and good man, and it is no small honor to have my name stand with his. As to Groton, I I'eally do not know what to do. I can not get at them to do them any good, and the professors and good people of this region would not allow me to be a candidate in any other place in the world while the question is pending. "I have my hands full of sermons, lectures, notes, and ex- egeses, belonging to the professors. They put them into my hands, and request me to read them, make notes on them, etc. I have just returned Doctor Woods nine ser- mons on one text, with two sheets crowded with criticisms. He sent rae five new lectures, which he wants I should ex- amine. The professors seem to forget that while they thus honor my talents they consume my time, and make me pass through much genuine drudgery." "March 12th, Sabbath Morning. " I have been weeping, not for myself, but for my poor Groton friends. They have tried their strength and are completely put down — so I have heard. What will be the result, and what Providence designs for them, is more than I know. I have now no hope that they will ever succeed. Perhaps they may withdraw, and build a house, but I know not." "May 24th. "Chaplin came over last week, feeling bad enough. It would have made your heart ache to see him. In the town meeting, Avhile electing officers, the Unitarians had one hun- dred and fifty -eight votes, and the orthodox one hundred and forty-one — a majority of seventeen. When they came to the ministerial question (which Avas, whether they would continue the present committee in office six months longer), the orthodox said, 'A^oy let Doctor Chaplin supply the pul- pit, for he will do it without any expense to the town.' The Unitarians, seeing that they should lose the day, then moved that the present committee be continued in office six months longer, on conditioii that the preaching shall be no expense to the town.' On trying this motion, the Unitarians had one hundred and fifty-six and the orthodox one hundred and 11 162 JOHN TODD. forty-three — a majority of fifteen. So my poor friends were beaten. Chaplin comes over to inquire what shall be done. The professors advise that the orthodox set up a separate meeting, and that Mr. Todd go and preach down Unitarian- ism — say, a campaign of six months to begin with. This seemed to cheer Chaplin greatly, and he went home rejoicing, though I gave him no encouragement that I would go. This week, on Wednesday, there was a council held in Boston on the subject of Groton — consisting of Doctor Beecher, Doctor Woods, Doctor Hunaphrey, Doctor Payson, Mr. Fay, Mr. Wisner, S. Hubbard, Esq., Doctor Chaplin, Mr. Cornelius, Deacon Proctor, Deacon Bumstead, and Henry Holmes, Esq. They passed the following resolutions : that, in their opinion, it is expedient for the orthodox in Groton to have separate Avorship; that, in order to hold a check upon the fund, the church hold its stated communion as usual, in the old meet- ing-house ; that Mr. Todd is the man to go to Groton. My every feeling, my very soul shudders {horresco referens), while I think of going there. Now, what ought I to do ? If I don't go, I go contrary to the wishes of half the ministers in the State ; though, at the same time, I know they are think- ing only of the good of Groton, and think nothing of my good or wishes. Doctor Woods told them in Boston, ' Our Mr. Todd is a genuine hero. He stands and looks at the field of battle, dreads to enter it, but if we once get him there, he Avill fight most powerfully. There is no shrink to him.'" In accordance with the recommendation of the council in Boston, the friends of Mr, Todd held a meeting, in fine spirits, and voted to have preaching forthwith. They appointed a committee to apply for the use of the large hall in the acad- emy, another to fit it up, and a third to invite Mr. Todd " to come and reside among them, and perform ministerial labor for the present." Alarmed at the prospect of Mr. Todd's return, the Unitarians ofiered to raise a large committee, half from each party, to settle matters. "The orthodox say, 'No; we won't be duped any longer. No liurry, no hurrj'^; let us have Mr. Todd here a Avhile, and hear a little of the old-fashioned preaching ; and then, when we get cool, there Avill be time enough to talk about compromising.'" The committee appointed to invite Mr. Todd performed their LIFE A T AND VER. 163 duty promptly and becomingly. " We are aware that one who can command almost any situation he may choose re- quires no common degree of self-denial to expose himself to the trials that must inevitably await him in circumstances like ours. Whether the present is an emergence that de- mands this great personal sacrifice on your part, we must submit to your sober reflection. Though this situation may not promise all the enjoyment that one could wish, yet we believe that the strong hold you have upon the best feelings of this people would give you a vast advantage over any other man for extensive and lasting influence." This oflicial invitation was backed by all sorts of personal appeals. " You have doubtless learned," wrote Doctor Chaplin, of Cam- bridgeport, " the opinion of the meeting in Boston ; and I will add that it is the concurrent opinion of all with whom I have conversed. They are decided not only as to the main question, but that you are the man. I believe you will find yourself more pleasantly situated far than in your late residence there. Your friends have been sorely tried, stand firm, and improve daily by friction. You are expected, by friends and foes, to be there by the first Sabbath in April, in your own proper person, large as life. Be discreet, pa- tient, firm, unwearied in prayer, and the great Captain of our salvation will conduct you and his friends to a glorious result." Under the circumstances, Mr. Todd felt that there was but one course for him to pursue. Yet even in his public acceptance of the invitation he could not help manifesting his reluctance. " Permit me to say, I have acted more fi-om a scrupulous regard to what, on the whole, seems to be duty^ than from regard to my own feelings. You are so good as to say, in your communication, that in accepting your invi- tation I must make personal sacrifices; and I assure you that what you thus generously intimate I can not but deeply feel. My circumstances are such, that many reasons, to my own mind strong and powerful, have caused me greatly to hesi- tate as to its being my duty to accept your invitation ; and these reasons will forbid my committing myself by any pledge that will prevent my leaving you whenever I shall deem it my duty so to do. But though I have hinted at painful doubts and feelings while making up my mind to 164 JOHX TODD. come to Groton, yet you will not thence infer that, aftei' con- cluding that it is ray duty to come, I shall come with any want of cheerfulness. No, gentlemen ; the indications of di- vine providence seem to be such as to promise many spiritual mercies to you and to your children. I trust the hand of God is directing you. You will wish me to come, of course, not as a partisan, but simply in the character of a preacher of the Gospel, considering it my duty to preach this as plain- ly and faithfully as is in my power, making the Holy Bible, and nothing else, my standard of opinions and practice. ' To the law and to the testimony ;' if I speak not according to these, 'it is because there is no light' in me." To his personal friends he expressed himself yet more strongly : " You see that I must go to Groton. I never dreaded any thing as I do this. I had much rather go to India or Palestine; and could do it with less sacrifice of feel- ing and comfort. I liave tried every possible way to get rid of the whole affair, but can not. I am expecting my friend Chaplin every moment to carry me to Groton." It was a painful hour which he passed in waiting to be carried away from the quiet scenes and studies in which he had spent more than three of the happiest years of his life, into the struggles and turmoils of the world ; and it was with many regrets that he took leave of dear friends, and threw a last glance around him upon familiar and loved ob- jects ; but the long period of preparation was over, and the time for active work had come. The bugle-call of duty had sounded, and it remained to be seen whether the battle that had been lost in caucuses and town meetings and elections, and when fought with " carnal weapons," could in any meas- ure be redeemed by a single brave soldier of the cross, cov- ered with "the shield of faith," and armed with "the sword of the Spirit, which is — the Word of God." THE OLD SANCTUARY. First Congregational [Unitarian] Churcli, Groton, Massachusetts. LIFE AT OROTON, 165 CHAPTER XII. LIFE AT GROTON. Preaching in the Academy.— Rum in the Meeting-house.— Invitation to Portland.— A Bible-class. — Hell the same as Eteruitj-.— A Stage-ride.— A young Lady's Desk. — Which is the Church?— Corner-stone laid and thrown down. — A Council. — Beecher on Rights of Churches. — The new Gown.— Invitation to Danvers.— The poor Bee.— The Raising.— A Scene at the Church-door.— An Installation Ball. — A Revival.— Conduct of the Inquiry-meeting.- A Remonstrance.— Organization of a new Church. — A Trap. — The Linchpins.- Call from the Union Church. — The Answ^er. — Chauges. " Groton, April 10th, 1826. " I c^ME here on Saturday (April 1st), nearly sick. On the next day I went to meeting ; house crowded to overflowing. They were all smiling for joy to see me, and I sat down and wept like a child. You too would have wept, could you have seen my poor persecuted flock. They had been trod on all winter, had heard no preaching, and were hungering for the bread of life. Never did I see an audience so eager to hear, never once saw people sit in such breathless silence. Verily, I feel as if God was present every time I meet them. I have been here eight days, and have preached six sermons (two on Fast-day). My audience is three, if not four, times as large as the Unitarian audience. They have the great meet- ing-house, and I the academy ; they are so scattered that they can hardly know each other, and we so crowded that many of our poor women faint away during service. Does it not seem strange to you that I could have an audience of eight or ten to their one, had Vfe accommodations, and yet they constantly carry the town by vote? The reason is, that the great men sway the town by influences which no conscientious Christian could ever use. At the town meet- ing last month they had their stores open, and all supplied with drink gratis, and cake and cheese gratis, and they even carried rum by the pailful into the meeting-honse, in order to influence unprincipled men to vote against evangelical re- ligion ! Never did I see Unitai-ianism exhibited on so grand 166 JOHN TOBD. or so dreadful a scale as at present in this place. But I have good courage, for I believe that God is on our side. I sup- pose I shall spend the summer here." " May 17th. " Soon after receiving your last, I received a letter from the committee of Doctor Payson's society, Portland, inviting me to come there for a few months, stating that Doctor Pay- son was sick, and probably would not be able ever to preach for them again. I wanted to go. No place in the United States could have been ofi'ered more congenial to my feel- ings ; I may never have so good an offer. On the other hand, I had begun a great battle here, and if I left them now, I was afraid they would never move again. I wrote to Portland that I would consider the subject a week. I called the com- mittee here together, and stated my circumstances, that if I did not go, it was making a sacrifice very great. They de- liberated, and decided unanimously that if I left it would be impossible for them ever to keep the society together, etc. After much anxious deliberation in my own mind, for I had no one to consult, I concluded that I must not leave this post for the present. Was not this some self-denial ? Since I wrote to Portland I have been quite easy. I considered that God had marked out my path for the present, and so I was contented. Last Sabbath I organized a Bible-class among my young people, wholly a new thing in this region. Upward of fifty joined it. My orthodox friends have about concluded to go to work immediately and build a new meet- ing-house. You can not imagine how interested the people are about the new house. Many a poor girl offers to give half she is worth for the object. " I lately attended the funeral of a child, and in the course of my remarks I said to the parents they must soon follow their child into eternity. One of the Unitarians spread the report that I said the child had gone to hell, and the parents must soon follow it. On being called to account by some of my friends, he said he always supposed eternity and hell meant the same thing ! In one of my public prayers I lately quoted the first twelve verses of the 139th Psalm. The Uni- tarians caught the eighth verse ('If I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there'), and the report over town is now current that I sent God to hell ; and they have no idea that LIFE AT OROTON. 167 it was quoted from the Bible. Not a neighboring minister dares come near me, lest his people raise a dust. My every movement is watched, and I need much heavenly wisdom to guide me." Early in June he went to New Haven, " for the purpose of procuring an instructor for Groton Academy," and of course availed himself of the opportunity to visit Newington. To William L. Chaplin. " Newington, June 15th. " I left Boston at one o'clock for ' the Land of Steady Hab- its.' I had a bad crew — two ladies, one crazy man, and three rogues and drunkards. They quarreled, drew sliears, broke watches, and so on, till I had to put in a voice, called them to order, made the driver expel one, and leave him by the wayside. At last, after riding all night in a cloud of dust, yesterday morning I arrived in Hartford not a little fatigued. Imagine me now bending over this same ' young lady's desk,' with ink, and knives, and folders, and divers other like implements before me, seated in an arm-chair, dressed in frock-coat, crape pantaloons, white stockings, thin slippers, cravat all awry, glasses off, and now dipping my quill to write to you, and now turning my eye off over the left shoulder to gaze upon a beautiful young lady. And when you have imagined this, imagine too how my thoughts so soon stray off to Groton with great anxiet)'^, and then tell me if I do not feel too much interested for you and yours. I think that I must return as soon as I can, and the more I think of it, the more I dread it. I do dread commencing life under such circumstances; a man of ardent tempera- ment, and yet narrowly watched ; a man generous in dis- position, and yet his shoulders broken by blows laid on by poverty's club ; a man whose soul rejoiceth in refined and elegant society, and yet shut out from it ; a man ambitious as a war-horse, and yet tied up to go the rounds of a bark- mill ; a man despising ignorance, and yet with only books which might be put into a watch-pocket ; a man abhorring any thing that is tame, and yet placed amidst a body of clergy so tame that they need a ladder to go to bed by. Should this letter be peeped into before it reaches you, it may be well just to say that there is more than mere conjecture 168 JOHN TODD. to excite the suspicion, that this is neither the first time they have done such a thing, nor the worst thing they ever did." At New Haven he was offered the editorship of the Neic York Observer^ with a salary of one thousand dollars ; but he returned to Groton. A majority of the church, having withdrawn from the worship in the " Old Sanctuary," as it was called, claimed to be the churchy on the ground that it is the organization, and not the place of meeting, that constitutes a company of believers a church. Their claim was sti'engthened by the fact that they continued to hold the pastor and the records. But they voted to suspend the celebration of the commun- ion for a time, lest by celebrating it elsewhere than in the meeting-house they should seem to abandon the claim to be the church, and so forfeit their interest in the parish /»/if? of upward of sixteen thousand dollars. On the other side, the minority also claimed to be the church, on the ground that the part of a cliurch which adheres to the home and maintains the relations of the church to the parish is the church, even if it is the smaller part ; and the departure of any number of members is merely a secession. The smaller part of the church proceeded, therefore, to celebi-ate the communion in their old place of worship at the usual sea- son. A dignified and earnest remonstrance, addressed by the aged pastor to one of the officers who remained with the minority, was inelFectual, and a committee sent by the majority to demand the communion- plate was peremptorily refused. At this point the seceding church, finding itself in peculiar trials and difficulties, determined to call a council of pastors and delegates from neighboring churches, and ask advice and sympathy. The time was fixed for the 17th of July. Meantime, on the afternoon of the 4th, the corner-stone of the new church edifice was laid. " The occasion was ex- ceedingly interesting. My address Avas listened to witli in- tense interest by friends and foes. The stone was hurled off out of its place by wicked hands the night but one after it was laid ; but is it any wonder that they who cut away the great Corner-stone in open day, should overturn the corner- stone to his temple in the darkness of midnight ?" LIFE AT GROTOX. 169 "July 15th. "The council meet here day after to-morrow. I liave spent most of this week in preparing a memorial of this church to read before them. It was no small labor to make it out. It occupies ten full sheets of closely written paper. It is a history of events here for the last eighteen months, and closes witli the points on which the church needs advice. Though I wrote it, and expect to read it before the council, yet I intend it shall go in the name of the committee of the church, I acting only as a kind of lawyer." "July 19th. "Tlie council all came on Monday, and the very moment that the hour arrived, I called them to order. They took hold like men. I read our memorial, of something like two hours in length, before them, and then the business was in their hands. They sat till ten o'clock in the evening, ad- journed till half-past seven yesterday morning, and sat till three in the aftei-noon, Avhen they adjourned to the 22d of August. In all their measures they went just as I could wish, and Doctor Beecher really outdid himself. They ap- proved and commended all the steps and measures which we have as yet taken, and gave brief advice as to our future course. They appointed a committee to make out a full written report, to be presented at the adjourned meeting next month. From this I expect much, I am expecting it will be a heavy state paper," These expectations were not disappointed. The result of this council, which did not make its appearance till late in the year, was from the pen of Doctor Beecher, and was an able treatise upon the rights of churclies, w^hichliad recently been infringed upon by legal decisions. It attracted great attention, but did not particularly affect the Groton case. " It is more a state paper than an ecclesiastical, but strong as iron. He takes hold of the laws of this State and tears them all to pieces, laying bare the foundations of right and wrong, which Unitarian legislators and judges have buried up in their trappings. In his words, ' they have killed the Church, and buried her, and placed the law as a sentinel over her grave, lest she should ever rise.' " "If we follow their advice, we have now to commence a severe course of discipline (even to excommunication) with 170 JOHN TODD. all the Unitarians in the church. Oh, how my heart sinks under the thought ! It will set the whole town in an up- roar, and all the blame and cursing will fall on my head, as they do already. I have to bear the blame of calling the council, and of every measure which is now taken, whether ofiensive or defensive. On our present situation I have only to remark, (l.) That this quarrel is growing more and more awful, and is extending wider and widei*. Still, the pros- pect of having great good come out of it never was so fair as at present. (2.) I can not, and will not, stay here much longer. I can not live through it. Such constant anxiety weighs too heavily upon my health, and I certainly shall sink under it. I do not now feel as if I could live here six months longer." The upper room in the academy being altogether too small for the congregation that crowded into it, and insuf- ferably hot at midsummer, the ladies presented him with a silk vest and gown to preach in, which he wore for a long time. A few days later, he " received an invitation from the committee of Danvers to go there to preach as a candidate, their minister being dead. It is twelve miles from Boston, a central situation, a large church and society, rich, very in- telligent, one of the most desirable stands, with almost any salary. I did icant to go exceedingly. I met our commit- tee, and told them my situation. They were instantly up in arms, and said that they had thrown out encouragement that I would stay to get the meeting-house agoing ; that it all depended upon me ; and that it would be impossible to hold the society together, and build the house, if I left ; in short, it would ruin them. I could do no more nor less than to write to Danvers that I could not leave. The dis- cipline of the church goes on very well ; it is hoi-ribly dis- agreeable business, but they take hold of it like men and like Christians. It is the most trying situation in which I was ever placed ; but I look to Jesus Christ for help. In the warfare here, I begin to feel that it is my daily business to meet with trials and reproaches, and I go cheerfully on- ward, and let them come. I am cursed openly and secretly, on the house-tops and in the streets; have received most severe letters from the first and greatest men here : but they have the wrong man to scare. I ought not to murmur at LIFE AT OBOTON. l7l Providence for placing me here in these trying circumstances, but it seems too much for me to endure. I am like a poor bee that sees a sweet flower, on which he would light and be happy, but is continually driven away by the storm; and it is in vain that he flies, and buzzes, and hums ; he can not settle on the flower, but must be forced from it." " September 2d. "This has been an anxious week, but it is now nearly over. The weather cleared off" pleasant, and early on Thurs- day morning the deposit was made under the corner-stone of our new meeting-house. At eight o'clock I was called out to pray ; the frame being covered with eighty men selected to aid in raising, and spectators all around, the rigging, etc., all being ready. They raised timbers weighing at least three tons at a time. I greatly feared accidents and mis- fortunes. Our friend S , a young man of our own rais- ing, took the command. Before night the number of spec- tators was immense, say nearly two thousand. It took two days to raise it, and by every body is pronounced the best frame they ever saw. It looks magnificently beauti- ful, and will probably be one of the best meeting-houses in the State. I am greatly relieved to have it over, and yet no life or limb lost. Not a man got in the least intoxicated, and not one used profane language during the whole. It makes the Unitarians awfully cross, and their bitterness flows out in great abundance." The town having called the Rev. Charles Robinson " to become their religious teacher," the concurrence of the church was necessary, according to congregational usage ; the pastor, therefore, caused to be affixed to the door of the meeting-house a call for a meeting of the church on Thurs- day, August 31st. "In the morning he sent a note to the chairman of the selectmen, requesting him to direct the meeting-house to be opened, which he presumed he w^ould willingly do, as he had given him distinctly to understand that. his 'personal presence at all times was not objected to, but cordially desired.' The gentleman wrote back, as I ex- pected, a most scurrilous letter. But I was determined to try the courage of our troops. So at three o'clock you could have seen an interesting sight. An old minister, eighty- three years old, shut out of his meeting-house, standing on 172 JOHN TODD. the door-steps in front, with his cliurch gathered around him; I standing at his left; and a little way off", a space being between, selectmen and lawyers, drunkards and judges, looking on. The old man took oif his hat; we all took off ours; the sun beat dreadfully hot; he addressed his church tenderly, and prayed. He then made another address, and the votes for Mr. Robinson were called for. Twenty were present; all voted, and all voted in the nega- tive., i. e., not to give Mr. Robinson a call. A committee were appointed to remonstrate with the town, and with the council that should assemble to install Mr, Robinson. The discipline of members was then brought forward, their ac- cusation read, and five were excommunicated by a unani- mous vote." Two had been previously cut off, and two more were cut off afterward — nine in all — being the whole of what claimed to be Mr. Robinson's church. " It was the most interesting meeting I ever attended. I can conceive of few scenes more interesting to the painter than the one I have been detailing. "We have established a weekly prayer-meeting in the church, which I think will do good. Our Bible -class in- creases ; we have had one meeting in the evening., which is a new thing in this town, and which makes a great buzz, for which I care not a farthing. Mr. Robinson will be in- stalled soon. He is to marry a rich, simple, gaj'', and bitter girl in this place. He is as bitter against revivals and ex- perimental religion as is possible for the greatest infidel to be. They are calculating to make a great installation ball, and he is expected to attend with his lady, perhaps be one of the managers !" " October 5tli. "The Sabbath before last I noticed an unusual solemnity on the faces of my people. I did not know Avhy, but I could hardly keep from weeping all day. At the close of worship I observed that in all congregations where the Gospel is faithfully preached there are usually some who feel interest- ed in religion. There might be some such in this audience. If there were, they were invited to call the next evening at the house of Doctor Chaplin for free religious conversation. They stared, for it was the first meeting for inquiry ever held in this town. I was a little fearful how it would take, LIFE AT GROTON. 173 and did not expect that more than some four or five would come. The evening arrived; I went into the room, and found eighteen present. Some of them were under deep conviction. None were professors ; all were more or less anxious. The next week I appointed another inquiry-meet- ing, and at the same time invited those of the church who wished for the salvation of men to assemble in the opposite room for prayer. They did so. The church meeting was full. They were warmed, animated, and often very tendei*. In the room opposite I found twenty-six inquirers, and every one in tears. Their convictions of sin seem deep and power- ful ; they are still ; there is no noise. No less than fourteen are beginning to indulge a hope that they have been born again. They are, however, very timid, as they should be. So far, every part of the work seems genuine and wrought by God. Religion and a revival are all I think of or talk of; but I am all alone, and my anxieties and duties are im- mense." To Rev. J. Brace. " October !33d. "I have now about forty on my inquiry-list; of these about twenty -five are hoping that they have been born again. I am at a sad stand, not knowing how to manage an inquiry-meeting. I have it in the evening in a private room, and the church kneeling in prayer in the opposite room. I manage them thus : I go to my closet, confess my sins, try to feel them, go into the room, read a short portion in the Bible, remark briefly upon it, kneel in prayer (all kneeling), rise, then go round and converse in a low whisper with them individually, inquiring out their feelings, and pressing immediate repentance upon them, trying to shake false hopes, and sifting them, keeping them off" from hoping as long as I can. When I have gone half round in this manner, I leave them silent, go into the church-meeting, tell them what are the appearances, try to keep them humble, and excite to prayer, then go back into my meeting, kneel in prayer, then go round to the rest-, giving each attention as seems to be needed. I then address them aloud, as a body, pointing out the path of true repentance, and what real re- ligion is. I then close with prayer, and tell them to go home immediately, or else they would linger. I do not en- i 74 JOHX TODD. courage much weeping or passion, but solemnity, and an awful sense of God's presence. I encourage none to hope ; they will do this soon enough. Is this course judicious? is it best ? I am a mere babe in experience, and I tremble when they come to my meeting. I do not yet like the at- titude of the church, though they have altered most won- derfully within a few weeks. They really begin to seem like other Christians. Many of them are yet complaining of their coldness, though I do not allow them to do it be- fore me, without reproving them for it. The Unitarians are filling up their excommunicated church with Universalists, swearers, etc., and even went so far as to propound a man and his wife without their knowledge. They were quite of- fended, and would not come forward to the communion. Don't you think they were unreasonably obstinate ?"' " Xorember 2d. "I spent Monday in writing a remonstrance from this church, to be laid before the Unitarian council which met yesterday to install Robinson. It was nearly the length of a sermon, and as severe as argument could make it. I know not how they swallowed the cud ; but if they did not find it a bitter pill, I am a poor judge of human nature. That they got it down is certain, and it had fully as much efiect as I expected it would have. The remonstrance took the ground. (l.) That a religious teacher or pastor can not be called or settled over this church and parish without the joint concur- rence of each body, expressed by a separate vote. (2.) That the Rev. Charles Robinson has never been in\nted to become our pastor by the joint concurrence of the first church" and parish in Groton. The council, recognizing the body that remained with the parish as the church, rejected the second of these propositions, and, therefore, it was unnecessary to settle the first. The installation-day was spent by the se- ceded church as a day of fasting and prayer. They met at the house of Doctor Chaplin. There were two ministers be- sides myself presents The meeting was over three hours long, and the best meeting I ever attended in my life, de- cidedly so. It will do my people good." '• November ISth. "For the last few days I have been much occupied in the steps preparatory to the organization of a netc church in this LIFE AT OliOTON. 175 place. I liave gone so far as to take the following steps: (1.) Have selected twenty-six out of the converts, half of each sex, for the foundation of the cliurch. (2.) Have ex- amined them publicly before the members of tlie old church. (3.) Have drawn up a system of articles of faith and cove- nant, and had it approved by the candidates, and also by the old church. (4.) Have invited an ecclesiastical council to convene here next week, to organize this church, if they think proper. The articles, covenant, etc., are as orthodox as pen and paper could make them. The object, as you will at once see, is, to begin de iiodo, to let the old church stand as it does, to fight out the battle, and yet to have a regular church to go into the new meeting-house, and occupy it, when finished. So far every thing has worked as I could have wished. It is a very delicate business to manage, and a slight indiscretion would upset the dish." The articles and covenant here referred to were successively adopted without change by every church over which Mr. Todd was settled, and are to-day found in their manuals. "December 2d. "On Tuesday, November 21st, the council convened, the old church being present. The candidates for admission were brought in for examination, five at a time. The articles of faith and co'venant had previously been read and approved by the council. The examination of the candidates occupied from nine to one o'clock. At two, the whole congregation assembled in the academy. The sermon, as also the admis- sion and baptism, was by Rev. Doctor Church, of Pelham ; consecrating prayer, by Rev. Mr, Palmer, of Tovvnsend ; right hand of fellowship, by Rev. Mr. Edwards, of Andover. It was the most solemn scene I ever witnessed. The whole audience (except a few Unitarians) were melted. Five re- ceived baptism, and thirty were admitted, fifteen of each sex. The church was consecrated by the name of 'The Union Church of Christ in Groton,' a name of my selection, as I hope the two orthodox churches will one day be united. Thus, under God, have I been the means of organizing a new church in this dark part of our land. It is small, but I trust its foundations are strong and pure. I believe it to be built on the Rock Christ Jesus. To him would I give all the glory. 12 176 JOHN TODD. " Would you think it ? At our last evening lecture the Unitarians set a trap for my poor self, intending to catch me and break my bones ! The next morning it was currently reported among them that Mr. Todd had met with a sad ac- cident, having broken his ankle, returning from an evening meeting. But thy servant was not caught." The " trap " was a rope stretched across the dark staircase leading down from the upper hall of the academy. It was Mr. Todd's prac- tice to close the meeting, and then, as he stood nearest the door, to go out ^rs^. This habit was well known; and the rope was apparently designed to trip him up and throw him down the stairs, and perhaps break his neck. The attempt was made more than once, but was always discovered in time to prevent harm. " This was not the worst they did. The night was very dark, and the meeting very full. On our coming out, the carriages were in a dangerous situation. Most of the reins were unbuckled and tied to the collars ; most of the linchpins were taken out and thrown away. Some thirty lives were exposed ; but the good providence of God so ordered it, that the whole affair was discovered before any one was hurt." Within a few years, in the repairing of some old Avooden steps, these linchpins were found concealed beneath them. " It is not known who the individuals were who did it ; but this is a fair specimen of the Unitarian spirit of this place and region. I should not be surprised if our new meeting-house should be burned down by them. They have a mortal dread of me. They see I am laying plans and springing traps that will eventually revolutionize this place. It is out of the question for them to attempt to stop the in- fluence of Bible-preaching upon this community. Our peo- ple are actually afraid that poor I shall get stabbed or shot dead in some of my evening walks, I have no such fears. They have the wrong man to be moved by threats or flat- tery. Both have been abundantly tried. Since the revival, they have hardly dared to be seen at any of our meetings; they are sore afraid. Over ninety have attended my inquiry- meetings, though some of these were from neighboring towns, and frequently came seven or eight miles. About fifty among my people have obtained a hope — such a hope, I trust, as will never forsake them. I pray God the work may not be stop- ped. The Unitarians yesterday offered our people a thou- LTFE AT GEOTON. 177 sand dollars if they Avould'sign off,' and form a distinct par- isli. And yet they pretend we have no claims there ! It is, doubtless, all out of pure, disinterested benevolence. There is one subject which I have not yet mentioned, as it is one I dread to think upon. I have been hoping- that the provi- dence of God would open a way of escape from this place of turmoil and anxiety. I have been the means, under God, of placing the falling standard of truth on these walls, and I have been hoping some other one would be sent to hold it up, and I should be permitted to leave this trying post. But God knows what is best. The new 'Union Church' here have given me a unanimous call to become their pastor. Tiieir aifectionate call now lies before me." The call pro- posed that the ordination should take place at the time of the dedication of the new meeting-house, and pledged the church to pay a salary of eight hundred dollars, or one hun- dred more than the salary of the Unitarian minister; which, when it is considered that orthodox people had no fund, or men of wealth, and were still taxed for the support of the Unitarian worship too, must certainly be considered very liberal. The question of the acceptance of this call Avas at once laid before the young lady whose interests were most at stake in it, with the request that she and her friends would decide it. But they were unwilling to assume any such re- sponsibility, and no answer was returned. After waiting for a fortnight in vain, and having no one to advise with, he made the decision for himself. In the letter announcing this decision to the church, he says : " When I began and when I completed my studies, preparatory to preaching the Gospel of Christ, I had marked out a very different path of life from that which I am now treading. I had hoped that God would deem me worthy to go to some foreign heathen land, and proclaim 'the unsearchable riches of Christ' among some people upon whom the Sun of Righteousness nevei" shone. I had expected to lay my bones in some distant clime, far from kindred and friends and my native shores. I had pictured in ray mind months and years of toil, and then the little church planted in the darkness of heathenism, like a light breaking through the gloom of midnight; and then I had hoped to die there, and sleep tliere till the morn- 178 JOHN TODD. ing of the resurrection, and tlien to awake to receive a crown of glory from the hand of Him who died for sinners. Sucli were my expectations. But there is an overruling Provi- dence who is wiser than we. It was an unseen hand that first led me to this place ; and the same mysterious wisdom hath since led you and me to the spot on which we now stand. God himself seemed to hedge up my way, so that from my first acquaintance with you to the present hour I have seen no time when I dared leave you. His interposi- tions, and tokens of approbation have been so manifest in your behalf that it would be the height of ingratitude not to acknowledge his great goodness, and not to trust him im- plicitly for the future I have watched your prospects for the year past with an interest that has often been painful. I have seen the cloud rise and hang over you, and then seen it burst and the floods rush over you. But the cloud is with- drawing, and the Dove that lighted on our Saviour's head at his baptism is now spreading the wings of mercy over you. As a monument of the everlasting kindness of God, the in- fant church whom I now address has arisen from the desola- tions of this Zion ; and I pray God she may long stand ' the pillar and ground of" the truth,' with her mouth filled with praise and her hands uplifted in prayer, till her glory go forth as the sun in his strength. Being free from all other special engagements, I hereby signify my acceptance of your invitation." The close of the year saw a great change in old Groton. The slumber of generations had been broken as by the last trumpet. In eight short months the greater part of the old church had been roused to do their duty; a great revival had brought one hundred and sixteen to inquire the way of life, and affected the whole community ; a new church of thirty members had been organized, and eighteen more stoo'd ])ro])Ounded; a congregation three or four times as large as any other in town had been gathered ; a class of two or three hundred were studying the Bible; a new meeting-house had been built, and stood ready to be dedicated ; and the man who had been the means of accomplishing all this was about to enter its pulpit as a settled pastor. Surely there was truth as well as beauty in the opening sentence of the letter missive which summoned a council to dedicate and to or- LIFE AT a HOT OX. 179 dain : "The church of the living God in this town has for a long time been sitting in affliction. The cloud still hangs heavy over her. But the great Head of the Church has of late been visiting the desolations of this Zion, and the ran- somed are beginning to take down their harps from the wil- lows." 180 JOHN TODD. CHAPTER XIII. LIFE AT GROTON COntillued. OrdiuatioD.— Dedication.— Shawls without Fringes. — Sale of Pews. — Reviv- als.— Sickness. — A hard Journey. — A Sunday-evening Meeting.— Girdling Trees. — The Bride.— Examination. — A great Barn of a Thing. — Sunday- school begun.— Active Ladies. — A judicious Pig. — The new Horse. — An unexpected Arrival.— A Week of Hope.— Fears. — A household Baptism. — Tears in the Pulpit.— A sad Evening.— The Rose-bud plucked. — A little Funeral. — Memories. The 3d of January, 1827, was an important day for the in- fant Union Church. In the afternoon the pastor-elect was solemnly ordained by a council called for the purpose, Doc- tor Lyman Beecher, then pastor of the Hanover Street Church, in Boston, preaching the sermon. In the forenoon the new meeting-house was solemnly dedicated to the wor- ship of the Triune God. ' In inviting the people to join in the act of consecration, the preacher, who was the young pas- tor-elect, with a beautiful Christian spirit, exhorted them to cherish no bitterness of feeling in the remembrance of the past : " In looking back, you who have erected this house will be in danger of indulging hard and unchristian feelings. But do it not. It is true you have seen a strong band stopping the church of God on the very door-steps of the ' old sanctu- ary;' and you have seen age and sobriety and religion cast out, and unholy hands drawing aside the curtain from before the holy of holies, and the awful mysteries within brought forth to vulgar gaze. You have seen — but stop ! The his- tory of this house will be unfolded at the great day of ac- counts. It has cost you many tears and sacrifices ; but weep no more. All is written in the book of God above. Weep no more. Rejoice in the great goodness of God which you have experienced. I call upon you to lay aside every hard, every unholy feeling, and come in the spirit of Jesus, and unite with me while we now solemnly consecrate tliis house to God." LIFE AT GROT ON. 181 Some idea of the interest that was felt in the new meet- ing-house, and of the saerifices that were made for it, will be obtained from the fact that " almost all the active women and girls cut off half of the long fringe of their shawls to make a rug for the pulpit." One lady said that she would rather her husband should sell half his farm than that the undertaking should fail. " On the Sabbath after the ordination I administered the communion — an afternoon service. My great house wasfull: I was astonished at the multitude of people. I want you should become acquainted with my people during this re- vival. You can have no possible idea of the change that has taken place in society since I came here. Three miles west of me is a beautiful river, called the Squanecook — the Indian name. Here a part of my parishioners live, and here multitudes of heathen live. My friends are preparing me a pretty chapel over at this spot, and as soon as it is finished I am to open a battery there." A week or two later: "The pews in our meeting-house were put up at auction. The highest went at about one hundred and twenty dollars. I believe some ten or twelve went at over one hundred dollars each. Enough were sold to pay for the expense of land and building, and then we have from fifteen hundred to two thousand dollars' worth of pews left. These will be reserved to rent. Every body was astonished at the sale of the pews, and the Unitarians stand in wonder." All this time the revival continued unabated. " Eleven are now propounded for admission into my church, and as many as twelve more are hoping : a hundred and eighty on my inquiry-list." This religious interest seems to have been wide-spread. " Revivals of religion are quite astonishing in this part of our land. Boston is yet all in a ferment. Great good will undoubtedly result. In Lowell there are a hun- dred inquirers, and fifty hoping. In Andover, Mr. Edwards opened an inquiry-meeting last week, and thirty attended. Almost every one in the academy is under deep conviction or rejoicing; in Bradford almost the whole academy. In Portsmouth and all the towns around it — towns where they have been a desolation and without a pastor for half a cent- ury — there are great revivals." 182 JOHN TODD. The severe and continuous labor and excitement of this protracted revival at last began to tell upon the pastor's health. "February 23d. "A fortnight ago to-day I wrote you. The next day I was taken sick with a slow fever. On Sabbath I did not sit up. Monday and Monday night, was quite light-headed. Since, I have sat up about half the time. Last Sabbath I made out to preach. This week I have been gradually on the mending hand, though I gain but slowly. Thus my meetings have been mostly checked, which has cost me much anxiety. I know the Lord can carry on his work in his own way, but as this way is usually through the use of human means, I feel sorry to have them stop. Nothing is the matter except a running -down of my strength, whicli, with kind care, I hope soon to regain." Even before this attack his need of rest had been so ap- parent that, a favorable opportunity of supplying his pulpit offering, it had been arranged that he should take a vacation of two or three weeks early in March, and that his marriage should take place during his absence — some weeks earlier than had jjreviously been intended. His journey to Newington at this season of the year was necessarily tedious. " It rained in torrents, and, what was worse, there were sloughs and snow-banks in abundance, so that every now and then the passengers had to get out and lift, and push and tug, to keep the carriage from turn- ing keel up. Of course I lifted among the rest, though, as you may suppose, I was not quite as stout as some. I got wet and cold. We were three hours and a half in going- nine miles. We had a noisy, story-telling crew, sometimes laughing, yelling, hooting, drinking, and swearing. We had no lady to protect us from the coarseness of their language. I neither ate nor slept till after eleven o'clock last evening. I arrived here yesterday toward three o'clock, quite cold and worn out. My feet were not dry from the time I left Boston till I got home. All my perils by land and by water, by storms and colds, were soon forgotten when once more among my friends. You had kept me so long at Groton that I was almost a stranger here, but am becoming acquainted slowly. I should say that in the course of a week I could feel quite LIFE AT GROTOX. 183 at home. Formerly I used to eat mince-pies, and cakes, and fruits, and all manner of delectables, Avhen here; but now I can only sit and gaze. However, amidst all such privations (which to men of our taste are very great), I do not feel pe- culiarly unhappy in my present situation. How to give in- vitations for the occasion has been the anxious question since I came. They can not invite fifty without offending five hun- dred. On the whole, as the most safe and judicious method, we have concluded to have the oath administered publicly in the meeting-house, on the evening of the coming Sabbath." This somewhat unusual programme was actually carried out. After preaching twice on the Sabbath (March lit!".), the bride being one of his hearers, the bridegroom-elect in the evening led the fairest girl in the village, and the sweet- est singer in the choir, to the front of the pulpit, and they were married by her father, " with appropriate remarks." A very " small reception, after the ceremony," to which only the family and immediate neighbors were invited, completed the solemnities, and gave sufficient offense. It was the intention of the bridegroom to take his wife, first of all, down to East Guilford, to see some of his rela- tives ; but want of time and strength made it impossible. In writing his excuse to his sister Charlotte, he added, " I lately received a package of letters from Vermont, containing let- ters from Jonathan, Eliza, and Sister P . They all seemed to be pretty well except Jonathan, who was feeble. He men- tions his little John, about a year old, one of the greatest rogues that ever walked. So I suppose he inherits some of the virtues of his uncle. They all scold at rue and about you, because, say they, we have been most unwarrantably negli- gent in our correspondence. I know not how you may an- swer the accusation, but for myself I immediately dispatched a huge sheet, almost as big as a barn-door, hoping it would still the storm ; and I advise you to do the same. Jona- than and Eliza ai-e very good-natured; but as for Sister P , she is in quite a pet. A strange sister, that ! but there are some people Avho, if you put them in Paradise, will girdle the trees." The wedding tour consisted in the stage ride to Boston, and thence, after a visit of a day or two, to Groton. "The journey was so horrible, that I almost shudder to review it. 184 JOHN TODD. Maiy stood it fully as well as I did. It is just as I told you ; she is becoming so popular, that I must hereafter stand in the background. I have several times overheard them whis- pering, ' What a charming woman our Mrs. Todd is !' ' We are all delighted with her.' ' She is a great addition to our society,' etc., etc." It was arranged that the newly married j^air should go to housekeeping about the 1st of May, and meantime should board at the old minister's. "We have a })retty parlor at our command, and an agreeable chamber over it, with a small chamber to put clothes in, etc. — giving us two fires. We are to have board, washing, wood, lights, horse and chaise, etc., as we need, for five dollars a week for both. In the parlor we receive calls ; in the chamber we study, sleep, and work. In the morning and evening we read and pray together, one reading the English and the other looking on the Greek alternately. Then we study the Bible together. Mary sings also at times, at my request, and for my particular benefit. Our hymn-books are just alike. I bought her a beautiful Watts's Psalms and Hymns at Boston, and our people had put a carpet in her pew be- fore our return. Her new hat very much becomes her. It is leghorn, simple, trimmed Avith white satin, and lined with the same. W^ednesday we dedicate our little chapel at Squane- cook." " April 9th. "Last Wednesday evening candidates were examined to be admitted into my church — five besides my dear Mary, four of them fine young men. The house was full, crowded, a very interesting meeting. Mary bore her part wondei'- fully ; and lest they should think I was partial, the examina- tion was severe. I could not wish her to do better. She is now a member of our church." Mr. Todd himself never joined any church of which he was pastor, but to the day of his death remained a member of the church in Yale Col- lege. He was opposed, on principle, to a pastor's becoming- one of his own flock. " On Fast-day I preached — morn- ing, on intemperance ; afternoon, on slavery. I suppose my morning sermon will probably make 'no small stir' in town, for I drew and hewed Avith a broad-axe. Among other in- teresting items, I told them we should not keep any spirits in our family, not even wine." LIFE AT GliOTOK 185 To 3Irs. Lucy Brace. " April 12th. "I can conceive sometliing of your feelings, my clear mother, in Jiaving us leave you, though probably nothing as you do. I feel for you in these trying circumstances, but all I can do for you is to tliank you, and that most unfeign- edly, for giving me so great a treasure. We are perfectly happy, and, so far as I know myself, it will ever be my high- est ambition to make your dear child happy to the utmost extent of my power. I could wish it in my power to do more for her in the way of property, but I need not tell you how little, on tlie whole, of real happiness depends upon mere drapery. There is one thing that troubles me, my dear mother, and that badly ; it is your health. Martha says it is poor, and you hint the same. What shall I say? I say, do spare yourself I fear your anxiety respecting us has worn upon you. If I m.a}^ give my advice, I would say, get lielp, and spare yourself labor till June, and then ship oft" for Groton. I feel confident it would do you good ; and you must do it. We urge it, Ave entreat it. You say you love us, and we do not and can not doubt it; do, then, for our sakes, be careful. The things appear to have come finely, though we have not as yet opened many. Very many thanks do we owe you, and do we give you, best of mothers, for your great goodness to us. We do and will love you ; do and will pray for you ; and will do all in our power to make you happy in this life, and we will hope to meet in a world where separations are unknown and sorrows come not. I have not shed a tear since I left you, till I took up your letter; but now my eyes fill, and now they overflow." The only house that could be obtained for the young couple was probably the most unsuitable one in town. It was a great barn of a thing, "in the confusion of business," very much out of repair, and commanding a high rent. Be- fore taking possession of it, Mr. Todd wrote, " Nothing in our prospects is so gloomy as our great and expensive house." And after a few months' trial of it, he expressed the opinion that " it is the most villainous house that ever stood with so respectable a character. "It fronts east, three stories in front and four behind. It is light straw color, with new careen window-blinds, fourteen 18G JOHN TODD. windows in front. You come in, turn to the left, and our parlor is there. Opposite is a i-oom for small meetings, pri- vate conversations, etc. Back of the parlor, kitchen, and cellar-kitchen beneath. Back of the other front room, two store-rooms and a dining-room. Second story, over the par- lor, my study ; opposite, our sleeping-room. Back of my study, best chamber; back of our chamber, w^orkshop and another chamber. Third story, tw^o chambei's and a beau- tiful hall for meetings, capable of holding three hundred. Here I have my Bible-class, and many meetings. It costs us considerable, but we make this a part of our annual char- ities." But this was not the only cost. So many meetings in the third story involved a great deal of labor, and carry- ing of chairs and lamps up and down. And, besides, for the sake of company in that great ark, and with a view to re- ducing the rent, Mr. Elizur Wright, the principal of the academy, and a lady teacher, and one or two boys, were re- ceived into the family as boarders. ' All this brought upon the young Avife an amount of labor which, w'ith insufficient " help," she was unable to perform, and which soon produced disastrous results. For a time, however, all went well. The " workshop " was fitted up with a rude lathe and a few join- er's tools, and Avas really useful as a place of manufacture as well as exercise. The garden was more of a failure. " I do long for a garden more than I ever supposed I should. We have land enough for a noble garden, but it is so wet and cold that we can not use it to any advantage. I see no way to remedy this evil. Gardens are not very much at- tended to here. "As to this place, the struggle is still continuing. Unita- rians are active, and so are we. They swear much, and we pray a little. Our Bible-class continues with unabated in- terest. It never was more flourishing. Our hall is filled. Unitarians come in also. We have commenced a Sabbath- school, between eighty and ninety scholars. The Unitarians followed us immediately, and are scouring the town for scholars. We have collected twenty-five dollars to begin a library for our school. The Unitarians immediately followed us, and got twenty dollars to form their library." LIFE AT G RUT OX. 187 From Mrs. Todd. "The Unitai-ians are very much troubled to keep tlieir people together. The Hon. Mr. Lawrence said in Boston, ' There is a fanatic in Groton who has made a great noise, and has gathered the lower class of people about him, and, what is worst of all, he is picking from the other society.' Almost every day some strange story comes. One of the Unitarians came along the otlier day, and said to our next neighbor, who is also a Unitarian, ' Do you smell Mr. Todd's prayers? I should think he had got near enough.' Last week we had a meeting of the ladies to form a charitable as- sociation. About tliirty-five were present, and several have since joined it. We hope to get seventy-five. Of course I am dignified with the ofiice of president. Some of our be- nevolent ladies, finding that the children in the poor-house did not attend any Sabbath-school, determined to fit them out. They went about it immediately, and on the morn- ing that they had fixed upon to go and carry the clothes, the committee went over and forbade their going to our meeting, and said they would clothe them themselves. They had passed a vote in the spring that they would not fit them out to go to meeting anywhere. On Tuesday afternoon we had a meeting of betw^een thirty and forty of our ladies to clean the meeting-house. It was swept and washed thor- oughly from beginning to end with hot water — pews, aisles, galleries, stairs, etc., all scoured with soap and sand — and it produced a great change. When the proposal was first made, many were in astonishment, for it has been con- sidered almost a disgrace to go and clean the meeting- house. Nobody could be hired to go and do it. This is another evidence of the readiness of our people for every good work. I do not believe that we should find a people who would treat us more kindly, or appear to love us more, than ours have done so lar." From Mr. Todd to Mrs. Lucy Brace. "August 2d. "Our dearest Mother, — We want to tell you a thou- sand things, all in the same breath ; but as you are good at picking out a troublesome skein of thread, so you can pick 188 JOHN' TODD. out all our little items of intelligence as you please. But time and paj^erare wasting, and, after all, I shall forget what I am going to say. I am in a hurry, have dipped my pen several times while thinking how and where to begin. I can not stop to tell you how father's letter at last came to hand; how it gratified us all to know you were in the land of the living; how the little books did not come to hand, and then, after a long time, they did come to hand ; how Mr. Wright was delighted, and cheered, and swelled on the occasion (and while my finger is on the little fellow, I must just Avink to you that I believe he is courting our land- lord's daughter, a pretty, wee bit of a thing, with a fine neck and good teetli, and large, rolling black eyes, and a little lisping voice, and small feet, with which she bewitches the little fellow. I really don't know but our happiness — Mary's and mine — will excite our very pig to fall in love, for so every thing else does that comes near us; even the philo- sophical Mr. H came near falling into a swamp) ; how the New England school flourishes, as also does the large one, and we have a hundred and thirty scholars; how our hens have actually left us, though the pig sticks by and holds on well, though he has had a bad cough, and came near going into a consumption ; and how about the same time (last week on Monday) his dear master was also taken sick, and hardly sat up till Monday following, and was un- able to preach last Sabbath, but is now slowly recovering. But I must stop, for want of breath, and begin anew. This is the reason why we did not write before, viz., my sickness (not the pig's)." "Later. "Our pig continues to maintain his character as a judi- cious and talented pig. He is such a gentleman in his way, that we shall regret to kill him. You remember Ave told you how we had two hens given us, and how they ran off to our neighbor's. Well, this was slander, base slander ! for, lo and behold ! the yellow hen (the other is speckled) came off a few days since with six most beautiful little chicks, and did it all in our own barn ! We immediately made her a glorious coop (just four feet square), and there she is, edu- catinsr her children." LIFE AT GROTON. 189 "August 8th. " Early in the morning got into Mr. Chaplin's old wagon with ^Ir. Chaplin, and set our faces toward New Ipswich — twenty miles. Our journey was to buy a horse. I had seen one here more than a year ago which I liked very much. Very dusty. Arrived at about one o'clock. Found Captain Solomon Davis at home ; looked at his horse : raised it him- self; seven years old this summer; black star in forehead; fine build ; very gentle, but full of life ; a great jumper; no fence in the State can check it. We liked the creature. His name is Charles. Captain Davis asked a hundred and thirty dollars. We played the jockey. There were several cir- cumstances in our favor : (l.) He jumped so badly that they could not manage him. This was no objection to me. (2.) They were already determined to sell him. (3.) They were exceedingly attached to the horse, and dreaded to have him sold where he would be abused. I made an offer. The women and children set in that I should have their "dear Charles," as they believed I would take good cai-e of him. At last my offer was accepted, and I took the horse for a hundred dollars, and ran in debt for him. We put him in the wagon, and led old Charley. He got away, and we had to chase him over fences and meadows, and through corn and through thorns, for miles, before we caught the old creature. Got home in the evening exceedingly fatigued. My dear Mary was glad to see Charles, and quite as glad to see me. She likes Charles very much, and is going to make me a gingham apron, with sleeves, for me to clean him in." "Later. " Our horse answers, and more than answers, every expec- tation. He is a beautiful creature, and I must add what you won't like to hear, that ours is the handsomest horse and chaise in town. But they are both new, you must re- member." "September 10th. " ' Why don't we keep Mary for hired help T For three special reasons: (1.) We don't want her; (2.) She has the rheumatism so that she can do nothing; (3.) She is pub- lished, and is on the very brink of matrimony. All that we have to say on this point more is, (1.) We have had miser- able help for some weeks past ; (2.) We have engaged a 13 190 JOHN TODD. new girl, and expect her this week. At her approacli we hope many troubles will vanish. I take care of my horse Charles myself, but very much need a boy. Every thing thus far goes well with us. People wonder, and congratu- late us on having all go so ' glibly ' and smoothly. It does so; but then, as you know, it needs a prodigious power at the crank to keep the wheels in motion, and great care to prevent their tendency to friction." But the sunshine w^as now interrupted by a cloud of real tronble, which gathered suddenly and unexpectedly. " There are a thousand impressions which we receive dur- ing our earthly pilgrimage, and which at the time are in- teresting, and often deep and solemn. But as soon as they have gone by, and we return to the active pursuits of life, they gradually become less and less vivid till they are wholly gone. All can look back to such events, and they seem like pleasant or troubled dreams ; and all wish that they had something to recall the circumstances of the scenes, so that they could live them over in all their detail. It is for this purpose I now write these pages, that when one and another event shall have partially obliterated what now seems as if it could never be forgotten, I may recall it to my own mind and feelings, and to those of my dear wife. For her eye and mine alone I write. " Our dear little boy was born at sunrise, October 6th, 1827. 3Irs. Todd had been remarkably well and active since our marriage, and probably his premature birth w^as owing to her over-exertion. At his birth, none seemed to think he could live but a short time ; but with great exer- tions he was made to revive. He was small, but promised, humanly speaking, to do well. He soon opened his eyes, and began to notice sounds and objects of sight. For a week we had no fears concerning him, and enjoyed as much as parents could enjoy. When I went out, I hastened home to see my dear child lie in his mother's arms, and, at the sound of my voice, open his dark-blue eyes and turn them toward me. We began to talk of a name, and in ray own mind I had begun to form many little plans concerning him. "As we had been married not quite seven months, the enemies of religion at first made a great noise about it, and threw out a multitude of stories; but as it was well known LIFE AT GMOTON. 191 that I liad not been out of Groton for eiglit months previous to our marriage, and as Mrs. Todd's character stood far above all suspicion, the stories only buzzed a while through the region, never disturbing us, and never injuring us in the least. "On Saturday, the little boy being a week old, we weighed him again, and found that he had lost. Here T first began to fear that he would not be spared to us. Still, he seemed well, and his nurse appeared to have no fears con- cerning him. "In the afternoon of the same day he was evidently sick, and we began to be alarmed. Every thing was done for him which could be. That night he rested pretty well. "Sabbath morning he was evidently very sick — appeared to have something like fits — and during breakfast he turned so black as greatly to alarm his mother; but from this he soon recovered. I was obliged to leave at half- past ten o'clock, to go into the pulpit. I left the child in his nurse's arms, and tears in the eyes of his mother. I endeavored to conceal my fears and feelings, and w'ent into the pulpit with a heavy heart. As soon as possible I was at home, and found the child worse, and his mother greatly distressed. It was then evident that he could not live. When I really came to the conclusion that he must die — our own sweet boy, our first-born, must die — it was almost insupportable. As we then came to the conclusion that he must leave us, we determined to give him formally to our covenant- God in baptism. I immediately wn-ote a note to our friend, Mr. Chaplin, requesting him to bring his venerable fiither down to baptize our dying child. Mrs. Todd's dressing-table was placed before her bed, the baptismal font was placed on it, and the family stood around the room. The child was in the arms of the nurse. The venerable old man. Doctor Chaplin, prayed with deep feeling and great appropriateness. I was kneeling by the side of the bed and holding my dear Mary's hand, while we both w^ept, and endeavored to give our child to God. The prayer ended, I took the dear babe in my arms and presented him to Doctor Chaplin. The old man was eighty-four years old, upward of six feet high, sil- ver locks, and the most venerable person I ever saw. Our child was eight days old, fair, well-proportioned, and seven- 192 JOHN^ TODD. treen inches in length. Striking contrast, indeed ! He was solemnly baptized into the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Gliost, by the name of John William — the former name being his father's, and the latter that of his friend. The bell rang for meeting while the ordinance was administering, and I was obliged to go again into the pulpit, expecting to find my child a corpse on my return. I walked alone to meeting, with my eyes flowing. It was an agony which I can remember, but can not describe. On entering the pulpit, I felt somewhat composed : attempted to read that beautiful hymn beginning, " ' It is the Lord, enthroned in light, Whose claims are all divine, Who has an undisputed right To govern me and mine.' "Immediately a thousand inexpressible feelings rushed through my heart. I choked, hesitated, faltered, wept, and sat down after reading one stanza. The audience felt for me, and very many wept. I preached as well as I could, hardly knowing what I was about, and again hastened home, and again found our dear child alive. "It was now toward night, and he continued to have spasms, in which he would turn black, groan, and seem to be in great pain. I sent immediately for a physician, who put him in warm water, and he revived ; but it was only for a time. During the whole afternoon the nurse held him in her lap without moving. In the evening, hoping it would endanger Mrs. Todd less, I had him removed into my study. He was carried out, and it was the last time his weeping mother ever saw him alive. I was in and out of the study during the evening, but Avas for the most part with my wife. At ten o'clock he had an awful spasm. I went in, and was told he was no more. I gazed at him : his beautiful little features were all composed and set, and it seemed as if Death had indeed now set his seal. All hope was cut ofi", all doubt removed. I returned to my dear Maiy, and was obliged to tell her our first-born was no more. She burst into grief the most passionate, and it seemed as if her very frame would be crushed under the burden. We spake but little : it was, that God ruled ; that our dear boy had gone to his bosom ; that we trusted he would be among the angels, himself an LIFE AT GROTOK 193 angel ; and that we should meet him again beyond the shoves of mortality. I then knelt by the bed of Mrs. Todd, and we prayed, our right hands joined, and we committed and gave ourselves away to God. "At eleven o'clock I left Mrs. Todd and went into the study; and here was the most severe trial I was called to undergo. I found the child was not dead : he had revived, and was now in great agony ; it Avas the agony of death. He was in the arms of Miss Chaplin, his eyes open, his arras thrown out, his little fists clenched, and every muscle brought into the most intense action. They dared do noth- ing to relieve the little sufferer. I immediately gave him paregoric, and anointed his chest with warm olive-oil. His pains were less intense after that. As he lay with his eyes open, I spoke to him, called him 'John;' he turned his head and bright eyes toward rae with an expressiveness that I shall never forget. I do not pretend he knew me or my voice ; but it was such a look as a dying child might wish to leave with his father, if he could choose. I sat without turning my eyes from him for an hour, and then returned to inform his mother that he was still living. I did not see him again alive; for he ceased to breathe soon after the Sab- bath was over. I never saw such suffering before ; and it seemed as if God had indeed cursed our race, and had most awfully written his displeasure with sinners on the features of our dying boy. Mysterious system ! that such a child should suffer so intensely! But 'clouds and darkness are round about Him,' which we trust will one day all be rolled away. " Early on Monday morning I opened my study door. The room was solitary, the windows open, and the cold winds of a chilly morning were sighing through the shutters. The room was in perfect order. In a corner, near my book-case, were two chairs, and a white cloth between them. I went slowly and lifted the cloth, and there lay my sweet boy, pale as the cloth which covered him ; the beautiful white robe of the grave was upon him ; his little hands were folded on his bosom ; he was dressed for the coffin. Never did I see a countenance so beautiful. Every part was well-propor- tioned and perfect. His dark-brown hair was parted on his forehead under his cap. It seemed as if death never could 194 JOHN TODD. gather a fairer flower. I stood over him for a long time, and, if possible, loved my hoy more in death than in life. "For fear of injuring Mrs. Todd, we had rather a private funeral, that afternoon, at half-past three o'clock. There may have been fifty present, all of whom seemed to feel for us. The good old man Avas our pastor. He talked well to us : they sung a hymn, and he made the prayer. The little creat- ure was put into a mahogany coffin, with a plate on the top with the following inscription: 'John W.Todd, who died October 15, 1827, aged nine days.' Without any parade or bell, he was carried in a chaise, and I rode alone in my chaise, and saw him softly laid in Doctor Chaplin's tomb, in the very spot where the good man himself expects to lie. When that event takes place, I intend to have him placed beside the old man's head, or on his breast, that in the morning of the Resurrection they may rise together. It seemed to be his wish to have him entombed there, and it was gratifying to us, for it seems as if even the grave would be sanctified by his remains." Years afterward he wrote : " I shall perish sooner than forget the feelings which I had clinging around our dear first-born. I know that we did not deserve him, and that it was all right; but my aching- heart too frequently goes back to that dear lost one, and the wems of all the earth could not compensate for the loss of that one. Is he now alive? Shall we ever know him? Will that beautiful form ever come up again from the tomb ? Oh, the agony of that moment Avhen the little coflin-lid was act- ually closed ! May God in mercy spare me from ever Mut- nessing another such scene !" LIFE AT QROTON. 195 CHAPTER XIV. LIFE AT GROTON — Continued. How to get a Bell.— The best House ia Town.— The haunted House.— Pat- tering of little Feet. — A Unitarian Funeral.— Immortal Hens. — Mission- ary Visitations.— A Runaway. — An extraordinary Woman. — A Baby In- tirmary. — Invitation to a Funeral declined. — The Letter. — A New-comer. — Death of Doctor Chaplin.- The bereaved Father. — A lazy Agent. — Med- icine with a Vengeance. — A pretty Girl. — The dying young Man. — Re- sults of the Groton Movement. — Author vs. Pastor. "Ix one year ray people have done as follows: Meeting- house, 16000 ; horse-sheds, llOOO ; salary, $800 ; stoves, $120 ; communion furniture, |1 20; singing, $85; bell, $600 ; Sab- bath-school, $48 ; Bible -class, $100; total, $8873. Is not this doing well ? Three years ago it would have been next to impossible to raise fifty dollars in town for any object connected with religion. They are a peculiar people, are in a peculiar situation, and my influence is and has been some- what peculiar. My influence in carrying a point is never di- rect. I come as near to it as possible without broaching it, and then set a few about it. For example : I wanted a bell, and knew not how to raise six hundred dollars. I felt of a few minds, and found they were off. All was still. I then got three sets of subscription-papers ready, one for young men, one for elderly men, one for ladies. I then took a little strip of paper, and wrote the names of five active young men, about seventeen or eighteen years old. I then gave it to one of them, and requested him to invite them to my study. They came: I talked with them about the bell; got them warmed up, just as dogs have their ears rubbed to make thera fierce ; then gave them each a paper, to go to the young men in their several parts of the town. They did so, and got one hundred and eighty dollars. Very well. I next started the men ; and then the ladies. When the thing began, no one favored it but myself; and in all this I have kept entirely out of sight, and the people think they did it all. This is a specimen of my generalship." 196 JOHN TODD. In tlie beginning of 1828 an opportunity offered to oc- cupy half of one of the best houses in town at a low rent. A wide hall separated the vacant half from the part that was occupied by a small and respectable family, and the two tenements were in other respects quite distinct. As the rent was kindly remitted for the first two months, Mr. and Mrs. Todd hastened to leave, even before the year for which they had hired it, the house which had been so unfort- unate a one for them, and had become so sorrowful. Hardly were they comfortably settled in their new home, when there began to be rumors that the house which they had left was " haunted." "It was a large, three - storied house, with brick ends, wood front and back. It was well lighted with a multitude of Avindows. It stood in the midst of a thick neighborhood, other houses clustering all around it. In short, there was nothing about the house, inside or out, that would lead one to suspect it was the place where ghosts would resort. It was the last place one would select for a murder to be com- mitted ; and yet the house was said to be haunted. It stood empty, and strange noises were heard in it. Sometimes it would seem to be filled with groans, then again with sighs, and then the patter of little feet would be heard, and then the wails of an infant. The neighbors became excited. Some heard all sorts of noises, some only one, and some al- most heard them. In the night, when all was stillness and darkness, the noises were the most fearful. Some felt sure that ' all was not right there ;' some said ' strange secrets lie concealed within those walls ;' some were very sure that a murder had been committed there, and the dead one was haunting the place. They were not exactly sure whether the murdered one was a full-grown man, as the many groans would seem to indicate, or whether it was a little child, whose feet were pattering on the naked floor. They were almost afraid to go past the ' haunted house ' in the night, and no one, even in the daytime, dared to enter it. "As I had occupied the house last, and as I had lost my little infant boy there, it was natural that I should hear of it ; and though I believe no one actually accused me of mur- der, yet they shook their heads, and arched their brows, and thought 'the w^hole thing wonderfully strange.' At first I LIFE AT OROTON. 197 paid no attention to it ; but as the hints became louder, and the whispers deeper, and tlie niuvnuirs clearer, I saw it would injure the character of the house, and prevent the owner from renting it, even if it did not injure me. I must confess, how- ever, that though I could never hear any noises as I passed by in the evening, yet the testimony of so many staggered me. I determined, therefore, to investigate it myself, and that very quietly. So I procured the keys, and, strange to say, as I went toward the house, and was seen to have the hardihood to enter it alone, the neighbors gathered round tlie front door in the street to watch the result. I said noth- ing, but went in. A few moments satisfied me about 'the little feet that pattered on the floor.' There had been many such, for the rats had made the house their head-quarters, gnawing the floors, tearing off the paper from the walls, scattering the plaster, and leaving their little foot-prints very abundantly. But those groans! I could find nothing that cast any light on them. The house was silent as a tomb. The sunlight streamed in the windows, and I had but to think over the hours of joy and sorrow I had passed there. There I had had a happy home, had rejoiced over my first- born child, and had there seen him breathe out his young spirit to God who gave it. From room to room I wandered, and all was silence till I opened the door of the chamber in which my child died. Then instantly there was a sharp, deep groan ! What could it mean ? The people about the door heard it, and what an awful feeling of terror went through them ! I was not frightened, but I was at a loss to account for it. It evidently had been called out by my opening the door. But the room was perfectly bare ; not a thing in it. Soon the groan was repeated. I now went to the chimney and tore away the fire-board, and looked up, and there, just in the throat of the fire-place, was — not a ghost, but — a shingle that had been blown into the chimney, and had fallen down and been lodged in the throat, so that it could swing backward and forwai-d, and when the wind blew it would groan sharp, or shrill, or deep, according to the strength of the wind. Thus it was that, on my opening the door and letting the wind into the room, the shingle swung and nearly filled the throat, and the air rushed and groaned past it. I took pains to call up the i>eople, and I 198 JOHX TODD. verily believed they wished rather to go home than to go in. I put back the fire-board and opened the door, made them hear the groans, took away the fire-board again, showed the shingle, and how it rattled and groaned, then took it away, and put things back, and opened the door, and — there were no more groans, A little ratsbane scattered on the floor stopped ' the pattering of little feet,' and the house ceased to be haunted ! And yet it loas haunted as really as any one ever was, as I verily believe !" " February 37th. "Doctor Chaplin has applied for his salary, and is going to sue for it, and that makes a big buzz in town. Our peo- ple are going to try to put new men into ofiice in town, if possible, next week. I have many doubts as to their suc- ceeding. As things now appear, if we can persuade our people to stand just as they now do, the time will come when they will be a majority in this town. It is best that they should not do it at once ; for I should deprecate the ef- fects of sudden and unexpected victory while wrongs are un- forgotten — if tliat is an English word." "March 26th. "Mrs. Todd and myself have attended, on sjiecial invi- tation, the funeral of Mrs. Robinson (the young wife of the Unitarian minister). In the room of mourning were Doc- tor R , of Concord ; Rev. Mr. W , of Littleton ; etc., Ijesides the mourners. The Doctor was consoling them when we went in. I was glad to go, on Mrs. Todd's ac- count, who had never heard any Unitarian. As she did not take it in the natural way, I think she will not in any other, for she seems satisfied even with her minister in comparison. The Doctor said nothing about sin, depravity, atonement, repentance, regeneration, resurrection, or future retribution. Of course his remarks and prayer were, like the bones of the vision, ' very dry ;' and they w' ere ' very many ' too — a great deal of repetition, but not a single thought calculated to do any soul any good. Every thing future was dim and indis- tinct. By-the-way, the more indefinite your views are re- specting eternity, the less is your power over men in preach- ing. Hence the New Testament is everywhere as definite as human language and comparisons can describe unseen and unearthly things." LIFE AT GROTON. 199 "April 18th. " We must once move mention our hens, though then- very name is associated with gloom. They were doing- most judiciously, that is, the leader was crowing most man- fully, and the ladies had already afforded us one hundred and ten eggs, and were continuing- to give us four per diem, when, lo and behold ! our neighbor wrote us a note inform- ing us that our hens annoyed him. How they did 'it we know not, save that they crowed and cackled, and thus raised a little demon called envy. So, as we could not think of kill- ing them, we gave them away to the old minister's family, who have promised to be kind to them. ' Sunt lacrymse re- rum et mentem mortalia tangunt.' The old hen is sitting on fifteen eggs, and is to follow as soon as she comes off. They were all beautiful in our eyes, and we almost wept when tliey departed. They must now probably finish their course like vulgar hens, and have no one to give them immortality. "At our weekly prayer-meeting before the public fast, I proposed to my church to spend the forenoon of Fast-day in prayer, and in devising ways of doing good for the ensu- ing season. They agreed to it, and appointed a committee of four to report on tliat occasion — one on the Bible-class, another on the Sabbath-school, a third on intemperance, and myself on the situation of the poor families in this town. In consequence of my report, the church voted to take meas- ures to ascertain the wants of this people in regard to the Bible. A committee of twenty-two ladies was chosen, to go and spy out the land. They divided the town into eleven sections, and went two by two. Out of almost three hun- dred and thirty families, they visited two hundred and sixty-seven, their hearts fiiiling them in regard to the rest. Some of these ladies were two full days on their mission, taking their food and their horses' food with them. The business was all done up in two days. It set the whole town in an uproar, but no lawyer could bring an action against us. What is equally pleasing, the church voted to supply all wants at her own expense. In a few instances only were these female missionaries treated otherwise tlian with politeness and gratitude. It did them all good. The Unitarians are mad enough at me, considering me as the au- thor of all this mischief" 200 JOHN TODD. "April 28tli. " This afternoon, as I was going to Shirley, I thought it best that Mrs. Todd sliould visit at Mi-s. Dickson's while I was gone. We called at Doctor Chaplin's door. Just be- fore we got there, our horse became a little scared, but we thought but little of it. At the door I stepped on the door- step to call William, holding the reins in my hand. The horse was rather restive, and, as I always do, I endeavored to bi'ing him to obedience. Mrs. Todd was in the chaise talk- ing with the ladies, and I was talking with William, but just stepping into the chaise. All at once Charles jumped, and dragged me off the steps. I held on to the reins till the chaise came up to the side of the house, and was crushing both of my hands, when I could hold no longer. Again he sprung, and ere human aid could reach, he was off, chaise, Mrs. Todd, and. all — the reins on the ground — and never could a deer run faster. I sprung, and. the women groaned. I nearly kept up with him till after he had crossed the main street, when he seemed to outstrip the wind, as he really did. The merchants dropped their pens, and two wagons were immediately after him as fast as horses could go. I gave my dear Mary up to God, and if ever I prayed, it was during these moments of agony. I never expected to see her again alive. The horse ran, and turned round Judge Dana's to the right, still keeping the path. Mrs. Todd, with wonderful presence of mind, kept her seat, spoke kindly to him, calling him by name, and soon he began to slacken a little. At the end of the street was a boy sitting down by the roadside. Mrs. Todd beckoned to him, and pointed to the horse. The little fellow sprung up, caught the reins, and stopped him. By this time the wagons had arrived, and there was help enough. Mrs. Todd was safe, unhurt, and, what is still more wonderful, the least frightened of any of the company. It was a most wonderful escape; and I do hope and trust that we have hearts grateful in some degree proportionate to the magnitude of the mercy we have re- ceived. Mrs. Todd is now thought to be the most extraor- dinary woman in the world — not to jump out! not to scream ! not to yell ! not to faint ! Indeed, I have long had this opinion of my dear 3Iary, so it is nothing new to me. But I have determined to sell my horse as soon as possible ; LIFE AT GROTON. 201 and sliall never ask her to ride after liirn agaiu. We shall both cry when he goes, for he is the most beautiful and af- fectionate creature in the shape of a horse that I ever saw. But he is too gay for us, and, I suppose, we have been too proud of him." From Mrs. Todd. "April 23d. " I had no idea that boarders made so much difierence in a family. Mr. Todd says we have never known what it was to live before. You would smile to see how we live. We have bought fresh meat only twice (except for the associa- tion), and fish once, in two months. Sometimes we have pancakes for dinner, and nothing else, sometimes bread-and- milk." "May 23d. " We are interested in all that interests you, and, with mother, have most deeply lamented the great distance that passes between our monthly dispatches. It certainly has a bad effect upon the heart ; and if ' absence is the tomb of affection,' it does seem as if we ought to hear more frequent- ly. So, for our part, you need not wonder if you hear from us oftener. Mary and I once tried to write only once in three weeks, but we both grew poor upon it, and altered it to a fortnight. The months of our little lives are going rapidly enough ; and the time may come, nay, it will come, when we shall most fondly go back and look upon every monument of love, and wish that they were many more, and perhaps regret that we did not cause more to be reared. " That Dwight Gymnasium ! I believe it to be mere fudge ; but it will go for a short time. You can not start any thing new but it will go, especially if it be some new mode of learning. The fact is, parents can not bear to think their children are not geniuses ; and in the old way it is soon dis- covered that not one in a thousand is a genius, but a mere plodding mortal like others. Therefore is the call so great for innovation ; and if you would set up a skating-school, I have no doubt that it would be amply patronized. If God ever gives me any children, I hope he will give me that modicum of common sense which will send them to learning in the old way. Not that I suppose every improvement in education complete : Johnson said so, and we know he was 202 JOHN TODD. ;i fool at times; but tlie rage for innovation is so great, that it seems as if it would sweep down all barriers. A man in Newburyport has actually sent me a circular (I Avish the poor dog had paid the postage) in which he proposes to set up a baby infirmary ! that is, if there are any babies six months old who can not walk, or talk, or run, it is some dis- ease, and the learned fool is to cure them !" The runaway Charles was succeeded by Prince — "very large and strong, six years old, perfectly gentle and docile, can not live upon air, and is not particular as to his diet. 1 Jiope he will be the creature we want," From Mrs. Todd. "JulySOth. "Mrs. Peabody has recently died here. Mr. Todd had visited her, by request of her husband and herself, several times ; and with some it was doubtful who would be called to attend the funeral. Mr. Todd, however, did not expect it. On the morning after her death, who should appear, in one of the hardest rains we ever have, but L. Lawrence, Esq., with Ml-. Peabody's request that Mr. Todd would attend the funeral, read a hymn, and address the mourners, and Mr. Robinson would make the prayers. For his part, he said, he could see no objection. It was very evident that he came prepared to persuade Mr. Todd, if he made objection. It seemed to be a difficult case. She was one of our nearest neighbors. Mr. Todd had visited her often. She died pro- fessing to trust in an almighty Saviour. It might be a fine opportunity to do good, to say nothing about pleasing Uni- tarians, and some of our own people. What was to be done? 3[r. Todd said tliat if it would be just as well, he would give Mr. Peabody an answer in a few hours. He went directly into his study, and in about two hours wrote a letter to Mr. Peabody, refusing to go, and giving his reasons. Thus w^e are called upon to exercise wisdom, prudence, and self-de- nial." A few weeks after this, Mr. Todd wrote, " My church have printed my letter to ]\[r. Peabody. Copies and reports were so numerous that we printed it in self-defense, in a little pamphlet." And again, some weeks later, "To-day I have re- ceived orders for fifty of my 'Letter,' for Worcester, and ten LIFE AT GROTOK 203 for Shin'ey. We have only twenty-five left. Tlie "Worcester people are greatly nettled by it. The writer of the letter to me says he got a single copy of it, and lent it among all denominations, and it produces a most marvelous stir among the Unitarians. What will be the result of it, God only can foresee. I heard nearly a month ago that they had an an- swer to it in press, but it has not come out. Never has any little affair produced so much excitement in this whole re- gion." This " Letter," which created such commotion, and which defended a course so much at variance Avith the practice of orthodox ministers at the present day, disavows all personal feeling in the case, and places the refusal on the broadest grounds of conscience. "I do believe that Unitarianism is not the Gospel of Christ. I have read the Bible, I have wept and prayed over it, and there is nothing like it there. Christ did not preach it; the apostles did not preach it; the redeemed in heaven do not celebrate it. I can not do any thing to uphold it. I repeat it, I have no personal enmities or dislikes; but as I conscientiously believe that Unitarianism will not and can not save the soul, I can not give my feeble influence in its favor. I do not believe that Jesus Christ will ever acknowl- edge it as his religion, or its ministers as his ministers; and I can not, therefore, acknowledge it as being the Gospel, or them as being the ministers of the Gospel. Do you say this is bigotry, and exclusiveness, and illiberality ? Call it what you please, but so is my most solemn conviction ; and though I know I shall lose popularity Avith the world by avowing such opinions, yet, in view of the great judgment-day, I dare not do otherwise ; my conscience and my God would con- demn me if I did. By acceding to your polite invitation, I come alongside of a Unitarian minister, and thereby public- ly acknowledge him to be a minister of Jesus Christ. Sir, in view of the judgment-day, I dare not do it." " September 23d. " It is a very beautiful morning. Mother is well, and Mrs. Todd is quite well, and little Mary Brace Todd is well ! She was born last evening ; is a perfect child, as fat as a par- tridge, and as beautiful to us as she could be. I trust we all unite in giving thanks to God for his great goodness." How 204 JOHN TOBD. little was it foreseen in what an evening of darkness and sorrow the life whose morning was so fair and joyful would end ! " October 12th. "This community will not soon forget Doctor James P. Chaplin, late of Cambridgeport, a man highly and univer- sally beloved. He has been cut down suddenly in the bloom of health and in the midst of usefulness. His fall will be felt far round the spot where his dust sleeps, and his name will be embalmed in the sweetest recollections of those who knew him best. He was the child of many prayers, the ob- ject of fond expectation, and all that a father could desire in a son. The afiection between the father and the son was reciprocal: the father leaned upon him as upon a staff, and the son repaid the confidence by acts which nothing but the most refined afiection could suggest.. It might be said, as of Jacob, the old man's heart was bound up in the child. On Friday, as I was going to ride with Mr. Chaplin for my health, he received a letter stating that his brother was worse. He had been ill for some time, and had just returned from a jour- ney. So Mr. Chaplin took the chaise, and went down to Cam- bridgeport as quickly as possible. This evening, just as I was going to attend my Bible-class, Mr. Chaplin stood on the door-steps. He was chilled through, and looked more than sick. I took him b}'- the hand, for I knew at once that his only brother must be no more. Never did I see aflliction more deep. The lamented man died this morning at nine o'clock. He came in, and I immediately went to my Bible- class, and told them to turn their meeting into a prayer- meeting, and added that Doctor James Prescott Chaplin was no more. A deep, audible groan through the assembly testified how the stroke was felt in his native village. As we were going to the house of the aged father, the son said, ' These are heavy tidings to carry to an old man, a father al- most ninety years of age !' It was all that passed between us on the way. The old man had been to meeting this aft- ernoon, and had a note up in behalf of his son. Mr. Chaplin could not go in till I had first communicated the tidings. In a few moments I was standing in the family parlor. There was the old man, with his wife and daughters. He was sit- ting by the stand, reading his little Testament. ' Have you LIFE AT GBOTOK 205 heai-J any thing from Cambridge to-day, sir?' 'No,' he re- plied, with uncommon quickness. There was a long pause, each dreading to speak, 'Are you pre])ared, sir, to receive any tidings which Providence may send ?' He started per- ceptibly; the hectic flush passed over his countenance, but it was gone in a moment. 'At what hour,' said he, with a calmness that was more than afibcting — it was sublime — ' at what hour did the awful event take place ?' I told him. A burst of agony broke from every one except the aged father. His youngest and only son came in. He had not slept nor eaten since he left home. The good old man Aviped the tears which gently stole down his cheeks, and calmly took William by the hand. ' Had the Doctor his senses after you reached him?' 'No, sir, he was then dying.' 'Does he look natural since he died?' 'Perfectly so.' 'This is hard, my son; he was a great pillar to our family, but I rejoice that Christ is a greater ])illar. It is hard for flesh and blood, but I am thankful that I had such a son to give back to my glorious Saviour. In the great scale of Providence it is all as it should be. He was in the prime of life and in the height of his use- fulness, but Christ knew best when to call him away.' He then resumed his seat, and while we were all weeping almost aloud, the venerable man, with a steady voice, for a full hour continued his discourse to us in a similar strain. Never did I conceive of a resignation like this. It was not stupid feel- ing, nor the blunting of age, for tears rolled down his cheeks continually. It was the man, the father, the minister, bap- tized by the Holy Ghost. I was ashamed of any resigna- tion or religion which I ever called my own." " October 26th. "Have been mad, and plagued, and bothered, four days and as many nights, with one of those paltry agents^ and his horse ! Wanted money for the Tract Society ; a good ob- ject, but why do they send such green, raw -headed, self- sufiicient, lazy fellows about? He is a student, and wanted a gentlemanly way of spending his vacation ; lazy, and could hardly feed himself I gave him my mind on this agency business with a freedom which he will not soon forget. At first I told him that I would not further his designs one hair, unless he would do just as I wanted to have him, and go to work. After some grumbling, he surrendered. I then 14 206 JOHN TODD. marked out my plan, and sot him to work. It was this: he should go twice to all the towns in this vicinity; first, to appoint meetings for every day next week, and, secondly, to attend those meetings; the object — to form an 'auxiliary Tract Society for Groton and the vicinity' — to plant a good and permanent depository of tracts at Groton. He has vis- ited the towns, and their ministers fall in with it, I want to raise two hundred dollars for this depository, and this would give us a good one. I drew a constitution, and this evening met my people at the academy, without telling them what I wanted. The said agent opened the business in a tame, unintelligible speech of ten minutes. I followed it with a speech of half an hour, for I felt it would not do to let it fall through, I pressed the thing very gently, how- ever, and proposed my constitution. It took, and in ten minutes sixty dollars were subscribed, and they set me to nominating officers. "Was not this doing up business? God be praised for his goodness to us and to my people ! I do think such a permanent depository will be a great thing for this region," An amusing illustration of the medical practice of that day is furnished in the following extract from a letter from Mrs. Todd, dated when the baby was six weeks old : "Little Mary seems pretty well, except that I am obliged to give her physic often. Last Wednesday evening I gave her more than an even tea-spoonful of salts. She has needed nothing since. When she does, I think I shall give her an emetic. " P.S. — Yesterday Doctor Cutter was here, and advised us to give Mary a dose of calomel and jalap." "A little later. "All the medicine that I give her is a little magnesia and elixir asthmatic every night. " We carried her to meeting when she was seven weeks old. She behaved very well indeed — never cried a word till we got her out into the entry. I was obliged to carry her •with what clothes she had ; for there was no dimity to be bought, and no socks. Those little stockings which you gave me, and a couple of pairs of socks which I knit for her, and colored with a little cochineal which I brought from home, are all she has had. LIFE AT OROTOX. 207 " From Thursday to Saturday we had Miss Harriet Beech- er with us. She seems to be a very pretty girl. She talks some of coming to assist her brother in the academy. I wish she would. I should think she had a taste for school- keeping." George Beecher had before this time succeeded Elizur Wright as preceptor of the academy. "October 26th. "To-day I was sent for to visit a sick man in Shirley. He is a young, dissipated, wicked creature, had religious par- ents, was well instructed, once had strong convictions of sin, resisted all, and now has nothing but the most dreadful horrors ; no softness, no penitence, no hope, nothing but the hardness and the horrors of the damned. The neiglibors came in, and I preached, taking him for my text, and spared not. Got home late, and very tired. Ilastily drank tea, and went off again to my inquiry -meeting. There were thirty-six in the number of inquirers, an increase of twelve during the past week. A very solemn and very fatiguing meeting." The next week there are "forty-nine, and a few begin to hope;" the week following, "forty-eight; consider- able solemnity ; but I have great fears lest we do not have a deep revival. The consciences of my people are awak- ened, but have not so deep convictions as we could wish. Mrs. Todd has got up a female praying-circle, and it prom- ises well ; seventeen present at the last meeting. Religion seems to be quite popular, and yet I try to deal as faith- fully as I can with the heart. But you can not imagine how much I have to do." " December 23d. "I lately preached in Townsend. They are doing well, and will have a fine orthodox meeting-house there within a year. Day after to-morrow I go to Westford, to assist in organizing a church there on orthodox principles. Evan- gelical religion is taking hold of this community most won- derfully. I have a special quantity of odium to bear, as Groton headed the revolution." Eight churches, in as many different towns, were among the immediate results of the Groton movement. "I am sorry that the Unitarians dislike me so extensively. In all this region they^consider me a fearful foe, and, what is curious, they have an idea that I am a most perfect general — a very artful fellow — which certain- 208 JOHN TODD. ly is not true. But God can do his own work with liis own instruments, and will do so. I suppose a great book-maker would consider you and me as doing nothing — throwing away our time, and doing nothing but taking care of a lit- tle parish. But the book-maker is the lazy one; and it is easier to write as much as did Chrysostom, than it is to be faithful to a little parish. This is our world, and it is big enough. To make a folio is a contemptible business com- pared to bringing a soul to Christ. The one can be done by any one who can sit and plod : the other can be done by no one, not even an angel, without the assistance of God's Spirit." LIFE AT QROTON. 209 CHAPTER XV. LIFE AT GKOTON — continued. Boarding. — A crying Child.— A Horse mired. — A new Parish. — Purchase of a Horse.— The lame Boy. — Temperance. — A Horse-trade. — A new Vestry.— Inks. — The Barrel of Brimstone. — Trip to Philadelphia.— A mighty Con- cern. — Yankee Character. — A Revival. — Piety of Ministers.— Morbid Feel- ings. — Depression. — An Idol. — The Deist in the Inquiry-meeting. — A won- derful Time.— Union of Churches. — A Call refused. Early in January, 1829, the family broke up housekeep- ing, stored a part of their goods, and went to board at the old minister's, where extensive repairs and alterations had been made with a view to the reception of boarders. Quite a number of circumstances combined to lead them to take this step. The owner of the house which they occupied had died ; and the heirs, wishing to sell, had for some time been wishing them to surrender their lease. The expenses of es- tablishing and keeping up a home had involved them seri- ously in debt, which they hoped to be able to pay off by liv- ing in a more economical manner; a hope which was so far realized that in three months more than half of the debt was paid. The cares of an establishment had of late been heavy, and Mr. Todd wished for " more time to study." Their go- ing to Doctor Chaplin's would secure to the family a num- ber of other boarders also, and so be a kindness to them. But that which most influenced them was the need of rest for Mrs. Todd, in consequence of the care required by her little one. Already the parents had a foretaste of the weary years of watching, anxiety, and sorrow which this gifted but unfortunate child was to cause them. " Mary never has been well. She is a most lovely and playful and perfectly amia- ble little girl, when free from pain, but this is but a small part of the time. She cries more than any child that we ever saw. Sometimes there is not an hour in the night that we are not disturbed, and do not have to get up to still her. We have asked the advice of four different physicians, but nothing that we have ever tried has done any good. We 210 JOHN TODD. sometimes get quite discouraged, and almost worn out with her. Mrs. Todd has now really more than she ought to do, simply in taking care of Mary, though she is teaching French and Euclid to a young lady who boards here." " March 29th. "I seem to be prophesying over a valley of dry bones. Besides my own unfait])fulness, many things have united to pi"event a revival; such as, (1.) Weather. Our roads have been almost impassable, being blocked up with snow. It has been next to impossible to go from one part of the town to another for a long time. One Sabbath morning I under- took to go to Westford to preach, and rode about four miles and a half through deep snow, got my horse into a drift, and mired in the snow. It took three men an hour and a half to dig him out ! (2.) No good place for meetings. Almost every school-house in the town is closed against meetings. (3.) Law-suits. Doctor Chaplin's case will be tried proba- bly next month ; and the heirs of old Mr. Sawtelle have sued for the farms which went to constitute the fund here. The ground which they take is, that the will has been violated, as these farms were never to be sold. The ground of the de- fense is, that the spirit of the will has been preserved. How and where the quarrel will end we pretend not to say. (4.) Forming of parishes. Our people have just gone through the difficulties of forming themselves into a new parish. The current is so strong in favor of belonging to the First Parish, where there are no taxes to pay, while there are heavy ones for those who belong to ours, that I at one time feared it would sweep all before it. But I believe all is safe for the present. The Unitarians have also just issued their warrant to form themselves into a new parish. These move- ments have probably had a tendency to divert the minds of our people from personal religion. But, after all, I feel dis- posed to take most of the blame to myself Time flies, and I resolve and re-resolve to do more and better, and yet I go too much onward in the same old track." In the month of April an opportunity occurred to buy an old house "within ten I'ods-of the meeting-house." The place needed many repairs ; but it Avas cheap, and its pur- chaser needed exercise. And so, boarding having by this time become tiresome, he once more established a home of LIFE AT GROT OX. 211 liis own, "We liave a good parlor to shut up — a thing indispensable to human happiness — and we have a good study, if it could be wanned, a good keeping-room, and a good kitchen ; and this is all. Our bedrooms, garret, and barns are poor things ; and if we were to live on earth al- ways, I should feel that we must have a bigger house, and more land, and more room within and without." Before fairly taking possession, he secured a short vaca- tion, and spent it in a visit with his wife at her father's. It was the second visit home since their marriage. They drove their own horse, Prince, all the way, and were nearly three days on the road. "Little Mary was as good a child as possible, but the poor little creature was dreadfully wearied before we reached this place. She sat in my lap, and as- sisted me in driving many a long mile, and, on the whole, was of great assistance and a great comfort to me." On their return from Newington to Groton, Mr. and Mrs. Todd took Avith them one of her little brothers, who spent a whole year with them at this time, and subsequently was for many years a member of their family. Joab was at this time about fifteen years old, and an object of special care and tenderness, from the fact that in him a superior mind was united to a poor, frail, crippled body. "In his very in- fancy, it was discovered that there was an enlargement of an internal organ, which must prevent his ever having good health, even if he could live. No medical aid could remove the difficulty. Still, he was a sprightly child till about two years of age, when he was suddenly smitten with a kind of paralysis, which added lameness to feebleness. For a long time he could not walk or even sit alone. At seven years of age, his father used to carry hira to church on the Sab- bath in his arms. Then, gradually, he began to get about on cratches, a feeble, helpless child, kept alive by the great- est care, tenderness, and nursing. When I first saw him he was about nine years old, a pale little boy, leaning upon his crutches, and in his mildness and meekness looking on and enjoying the sports of the other children, Avhich he could partake of in no other way. As the years rolled away, it became apparent that he was to be a sufferer, a cripple, and an invalid for life. But his eye was already bright, and he had already endeared himself to his friends, 212 JOHX TODD. 80 that the softest light began to fall upon his path, and the hand of love was careful that his pillow should not be the hardest. The Avatchings, the anxieties, the Avearisome days and nights which witnessed parental love hanging over him I shall not describe. And there was a difficult question for his parents to solve. Should they tenderly nurse him, watch over him, and keep and prolong mere animal exist- ence, or should they put him on a course of education that would develop his mental powers, awaken and bring out his moral faculties, and thus, as far as they could, fit him for God's service, and leave the event to him? Without per- haps formally discussing this question in this shape, they determined to take the latter course. When he was about fifteen, he spent a year in my family in Groton. Among the studies which he pursued, I put the large Hebrew gram mar of Stuart into his hands, and long before the year was out, he had not only mastered it, but delighted his father by reading, with admirable correctness and ease, whole chapters in the Hebrew Bible. This year was the only pe- riod af his being from home, or under any teacher except his father, previous to his entering college." And thus was introduced to Mr. Todd's family one of those many members of it whose dependence upon him nerved his strength, and whose helplessness and suffering deepened the tenderness of his character. "June 28th. "I preached this afternoon on the progress of the temper- ance reformation in our country. Was heard with atten- tion, and, I doubt not, in very many cases with detestation. I took the ground on which the subject must stand, and struck in the face and eyes of intemperance with all my might. I do believe that ardent spirits will exclude more from heaven than all other things put together." " November 2Sth. "We have a new horse. It was Mr. Chaplin's trade. 'Dick' is a bay, seven years old, small, light, beautifully formed, arched neck, long tail, small feet, quick as a weasel, and as gentle as a dove. I never touch him with the whip, and can drive hira eight miles an hour without striking him or worrying him. The great advantages over Prince are, he can be kept much cheaper, is much more nimble, nearly LIFE AT GROTOX. 213 twice as quick, and is the prettiest creature under tlie sad- dle I ever ' backed,' as the jockeys say. He is nothing as large or heavy as Prince, and of course can not draw so great a load. But I have been very glad and perfectly sat- isfied every moment since the exchange was made. I fear I set too much by him. " Our vestry is finished and dedicated, and is a beautiful place. The pulpit is complete, and is trimmed by our ladies very richly. I am every way satisfied. The large room seats one hundred and seventy, and all together will hold three hundred and fifty. We usually have about two hun- dred on Sabbath evening. I feel very thankful, as I hope, for such a place. We want nothing now but the special and powerful presence of God's Spirit." "January 18th, 1830. , " Joab and I have been trying our skill in making some new kinds of ink, and I thouglit you might wish for a speci- men. Iied,yon arefiimiliar with. It snows now quite fast, and I have got to go to Shirley, seven miles, to attend a funeral ; and so I tell you of it in blue. Mr. Chaplin has gone ' below,' to attend the trial of his father's case ; and because I am very doubtful how it will turn out, I mention it in yellow. Our congregation is larger on the Sabbath than ever before in the winter. We have a singing-school with seventy scholars, and a leader from a neighboring town, hired for a year at one dollar a Sabbath, after the school is closed. This is a sort o^ purple circumstance, that makes all sides look cheerful. We have been setting out rock-maples in front of our house, and some pretty evergreens in our door- yard. We fear they will all die, but they look green now. "Day after to-morrow I must be at Rindge, New Hamp- shire, thirty miles off, to talk on intemperance. All the min- isters who are afraid to preach on this subject themselves are sure to send for me^ supposing that I have nothing to lose ; or, if I have, that my loss is not theirs. " Little Mary grows Avell, and learns to talk fast, and to %is is interesting; but oh, what a child! She never wants to sleep or to rest. It seems as if we should never have a night's rest, or ever be free from headache and fatigue. She carries Patty, and tends Patty, and loves Patty as a first- born, though she is terribly mutilated and defaced." 214 JOUX TODD. "February 22d. "A week ago last Saturday evening, a bitter cold night, I was called up in the dead of night to go and see a dying woman, but before I got there she was a corpse. It ap- peared that in the afternoon (she lived in a room by herself) she liad drunk freely, and at six o'clock fell into the fire, and, before discovered, was awfully burned. All she could say was, 'Oh, I'm going into eternity!' Although her breath smelled as strong as a brandy cask, she denied hav- ing drunk any. In six hours she was a corpse — the most shocking -looking object conceivable. A few weeks ago I called on her, and warned her most solemnly against this sin. All her relatives are either cold Universalists or bitter Unitarians. Contrary to my wishes and expectations, I was called to attend the funeral. And there was her son, a mer- chant in Boston, who not two years before had tried to bine a man to bring me up half a barrel of brimstone. Now he met me for the first time, and had to hear me speak over the hideous remains of his own mother. What must have been his feelings ! It will do our temperance cause good. I took this opportunity to press the subject one evening, and did it in such a manner as to cause Mrs. Todd to quiver. It was while the woman lay dead, and too offensive to be seen. The next step which we propose to take is, to try to get our church to make the use of ardent spirits by any member a subject of discipline. If we can carry this point, it will greatly add to our strength." The point was subsequently carried, "March 29th. "The Unitarians here arequite humble. They have com- promised Avith Doctor Chaplin's family by giving fifteen hundred dollars, and paying the costs, which will be at least four hundred dollars more. It is a sore pill for the Unita- rians, but they see they must take it. The Universalists — for fully half who have sailed under Unitarian colors arc in fact Universalists — have moved somewhat, and talked of forming a society and building a meeting-house. I think they will probably not do either. Just for the present time it would be well to have them drawn out by themselves, and I could wish it; but in the long run I should deprecate having sucli a cage built. The fowl that would flock to it out of the Unitarians would be unclean indeed." LIFE AT G*ROTOX. 215 In May ]\[r. Todd went down to New York (leaving his family in Newington on the way), to attend the anniver- saries, and make a speech at one of them. " I will not say how good my speech was, but believe that it was thouglit to contain too m\xc\i pepper. It was heard. I was delighted to see that the different denominations of Christians were brought together with the utmost harmony of feeling, and seemed to love one another the more for their little differ- ences." From New York he made a hurried trip to Phila- delphia, his "great object being to become acquainted with the Sabbath-school system as it is understood by those who manage its great concerns. This I have done. The man- agers of the American Sunday-school Union showed me every thing, from the clerks' books up to their publishing commit- tee's manner of doing business. It is a mighty concern." "May 21st. "I am once more in Newington, having hurried away and around and back again. Whatever I have seen done, whether in religion or any thing else, the Yankees are the doers thereof I had no idea that you would find them everywhere, and in every kind of employment. If you find an intelligent man, he may be a Yorker; but if you find one intelligent and liberal too, he is a Yankee. I 'have never been so much delighted with Yankee character and Yankee energy as since I left home, and never felt so proud as at this time that I am a descendant from the Pilgrims." In June the " General Association " held its annual meet- ing in Groton ; and immediately after it, and perhaps in con- sequence of it, followed an important revival. "July 5tli. "Last evening, after being exhausted by the labors of the Sabbath, I attended an inquiry-meeting, the church holding a prayer-meeting in the opposite room. Eighteen in the in- quiry-room. I had requested that none be urged to attend, and that none come who did not feel interested for their sal- vation. A few were joyful ; some awfully bowed down ; oth- ers solemn, though not under deep conviction. The prayer- meeting was full and solemn. Mr. Chaplin, who conducted it, seemed overwhelmed; I never saw him appear so much affected. If there is any one thing that looks more encoui-a- ging than another, it is that the church are deeply solemn." 216 JO^y^ TODD. " July 12th. "Twenty-seven in the inquiry-room. I never saw meet- ings, countenances, every thing, so solemn as they are in this town now. There seems to be no excitement, no joy, not even in the church, but a certain awful sense of the presence of God. I am glad to find that the people seem to put un- reserved confidence in me, perhaps too much. They almost think they can be saved by their minister. I have conversed with over sixty people within four days on the subject of personal religion. It is the only subject on which I con- verse at all." "July 13th. " I do not know as I ever had the great subject of relig- ion so fully and constantly before me as for the week past, and am sure I never had such clear views of the way of salvation through Christ. I have been reading to-day the life of Doctor West, who entered the ministry without piety, but "was afterward converted ; and I think I would rejoice if I could now be led through convictions equally deep and awful. Oh, how I do pity those in the ministry ! They have none to sympathize with them, can not open an aching heart to any one, for they are above all, and all feel that they are above sympathy, or fears, or dangers. I more and more fear for the piety of ministers, and never felt it so deeply as within a few weeks. In looking at my own case, I find that I have many of the fears of the Christian, many of his temp- tations, little or none of his contintion, and none of his joys. Never did I enjoy less of the consolations of the presence of God than at this moment, when sinners are inquiring, some are rejoicing, and God's people are filled with joy. If I can weep in secret, I fear it is nothing but nervous depression, not sorrow for sin ; if I rejoice in public at what God is do- ing, I fear it is nothing but professional sympathy. I have no time for study, and all I read is a little in the Bible and in Payson's Memoirs: the former would be degraded by my commendations ; the latter gives me more satisfaction than any uninspired book I ever read. To me it is valuable beyond all price; the reason is,I have just his weaknesses without any thing of his piety or any thing of his talents ; so that I can sympathize with him Avhen he is under the cloud, but my eyes can not bear such sunshine as sometimes falls upon him." LIFE AT GROTOK 217 Keen observers of human character will detect here a strain of morbid feeling suspiciously like one of the results of ill-health. In fact, he was very far from well. His long and uninterrupted studies and exciting labors had seriously and permanently disturbed his nervous system. It was sometimes thought that the pulmonary disease which had so nearly taken his life in college had assumed another form. On the other hand, it was thought by himself and others that his enemy was the dyspepsia, and accordingly he resorted, for years, to severe courses of medicine and diet, which un- questionably aggravated rather than relieved his distress. Those who were not intimately acquainted with him, who saw his strong frame and hardy appearance and the amount of work which he performed, will probably be surprised to learn that he was never well, that he was a great sufferer, mentally and physically, and that he was almost always on some course of diet, medicine, or exercise, in the vain hope of recovering health ; and those who read his remarkably healthy and cheery writings, and those who witnessed the humor and fun which overflowed in his social life, will prob- ably be still more surprised to learn that, all his life, he was subject to frequent and long-continued turns of depression of spirits and mental suffering of the deepest and darkest character, and that much of his writing was done under these shadows. "My spirits have been very unusually de- pressed, and I have felt all the horrors of those whose trou- bles are something more than imaginary. Among the suffer- ers in this sad world, I believe that poor Cowper may take a foremost place. I know you will find fault with me for my hours of depression ; but if you could experience one such hour, you would only pity and weep. No language can de- scribe it." He seldom allowed these turns of depression or their effects to be seen in his writings or public life; but his family were familiar with them, and their lettei's from him were almost uniformly sad. Probably mental suffering is almost inevitable for those whose mental organization is so delicate, whose feelings are so finely-strung, and in whom the imaginative and poetic is so exquisitely and excessively de- veloped. The revival went on. "The Unitarians know something of the state of religion among my people, and it makes them 218 JOHN TODD. exceedingly aiigrj-. My people seem most devotedly at- tached to me, and this makes the Unitarians very much vexed. They say there was never any idol on earth so much worshiped as Mr. Todd. I think they are very much mistaken. My people have confidence in me and respect me, but I have kept them too distant to expect they can love me as a friend. I have no doubt this is one secret of my influence. "A week ago last evening I found a young man, a Uni- versalist, or deist, in my inquiry-meeting. He came out of curiosity, Avith a view to make sport of it, I asked him if he was a Christian? 'No.' Ever thought of it as a per- sonal concern ? ' No,' Live without Christ, and hope, and God ? ' Yes.' During the whole evening there was a sar- donic smile upon his countenance. At the close of the meet- ing I said, aloud, 'AH seem to be under the direct influence of the Spirit of God, except 07ie,' There was a pause. I added, ' There is one young man who came out of curiosity, or to make sport, who confesses that he has nothing to do with God.' I then bore down upon him openly, fully, and witli all my power. The malignity of hell seemed to sit upon his countenance. It was a harsh medicine to use, but I felt that no other would do any good ; and I thought it best to make an example of such characters, lest others should come. Last evening he was there again ! His coun- tenance changed, sober, grave, solemn ; and the Spirit of God seems to have touched his heart in some measure. I don't know^ as he will be converted, but he is in God's hands. The change already produced is very wonderful." In writing to his father-in-law, to beg him to come and help him for a few weeks, he says (August 28th), "We want efficient help amazingly, and never did labor produce so much effect as now. One hundred and four different persons have attended the inquiry -meetings ; of these about forty have a hope that they 'have passed from death unto life,' It is all most evidently the work of God, and yet it moves forward only in exact proportion to severe., faithful labor. It does seem to me as if there might be a powerful work here, if we had help. Never was the contest between sin and holiness so great in this town as at the present time, God is shaking terribly the land." His application was success- LIFE AT ROT ON. 219 fill, and for about three weeks he enjoyed the assistance of Mr. Brace. "October 3d. "At the meeting of the church last Monday evening the subject of the union of the two churches wms brought up, and it at once kindled a fire. There were two reasons for it — pride, and love of rum. Many of the old church can not bear to have it become extinct, or, rather, they can not think of coming down to a uew church. 'It is like a general's being reduced to the ranks,' say they. But many more hate our rules about rum, and so the churches Avill not at present be united. A good deal of warmth and temper was shown, and some most severe remarks made. I thought, wlien I came home, that the revival was at an end; for it could not be but such a sjjirit would grieve the Spirit of God." " October 25tli. "^Ye have had bad times. Dui-ing the last week several applied to the old cliurch for dismission, and a vote M-as passed that any might come (to the new church) Avho wish- ed ; but this vote only increased the difficulty, till it seemed as if there would be bursting somewhere. I only lamented the ruin of the prospect for a revival of religion, as I felt perfectly convinced that the revival was at an end for the present. At length the tide ran so high that it seemed ready to sweep away every thing. But tlie wind is shift- ing, and I trust the storm is over. I called the Union Church together, and they passed a vote giving the old church a kind invitation to unite with them. To-day I met the old church at Doctor Chaplin's, and communicated the invita- tion. Tliey unanimously accepted it, and are to sign our articles of faith, covenant, and rules, without altering them a hair in any way. We are to have a religious meeting at Doctor Chaplin's some time next week, when the union is to be consummated by their signing our book. They were per- fectly harmonious, except on the subject of total abstinence. How that will turn I do not know ; but I am expecting a few will stand out and not come in. They will have to stand so ; and where will they belong ? Nowhere. We shall cut them off from our communion, if they need it. I do trust that in the course of next week this disagreeable business will be over." Thus was accomplished at last the 220 JOHN TODD. event in anticipation of which the name Union Chuvcli liad been selected. The pastor Avas vight, however, in his expectation tliat the controversy attending tlie event wonld kill the revival. For some time the congregation on the Sabbath continued to be "unusually large and solemn;" but "the inquiry-meeting had lamentation and woe written upon its walls." During the revival one hundred and fifty-eight persons attended the inquiry-meeting, of whom fifty-two joined the church before the close of the year. "I do not know how many more will be admitted. Many would like to come in, for it is thought to be respectable; but there is more danger of having the church too large than of its being too small. The Unitari- ans have made very great exertions to get their congrega- tion into the church, and, after all their eflbrts and open doors, their church now consists of about sixty, old and young, male and female. I do not know how they account for it that their system does not work faster. Never did Satan invent any thing so poorly calculated to enlist the feelings of mankind as this same system of Unitarianism." " November 30th. "At Lowell they are organizing a new Congregational church, and building a new stone meeting-house. A secret committee did me the honor to call on me to inquire if they could have any hope of getting me to become their pastor, if they should give me a call, with the offer of one thousand dollars salary. You w\\\ readily suppose I did not listen a moment to the proposal. Not that I suppose we shall al- ways live in Groton, should we live long ; but the indica- tions of Providence must be plainer than this to induce me to take the risk. It would be a very great risk for me, and equally great for this people at present. I sometimes — nay, often — think our stay here will be short; but that will be as God shall direct." LIFE AT GROT ON. 221 CHAPTER XVL LIFE AT GROTON — conthiued. The new Cloak. — A kindred Spirit. — Another Arrival. — Antimasonry.— Death of Doctor Cluiplin. — Death of Mr. Evarts. — A second Hamlet. — A four-days' Meeting. — The House divided. — Bochim. — The last Day of the Feast. —Powerful Medicine. — The Bowling-alley. — Early Meetings. — Alone. — The black Kitten. — The lost Puppy. — Homesick. — Hard Work. —Milk Diet.— Sick. — Meeting at Sodom. — A Journey. — The Poles.— The Slaves. — One Foot in the Stirrup. — Basted together. — Poor Tea. — A Prov- idential Dispensation. — Stormy Times. — Death of a Sister. — Called to Sa- lem.— A handsome Grave.— Council.— Dismission refused. — Broken up. — Another Call.— Farewell to Groton. "January 7th, 1831. "Mrs. Todd, instead of putting me up to get u, tidy goat's hair wrapper, with wadding, etc., has turned my old college plaid cloak, taken out one lining, cut up my old fur cap for a collar, and tlien persuaded me that it is warmer for hav- ing lost one lining, and, as to looks, is really superior to any thing that can be purchased. Should you doubt it, I can probably send you a certificate. I get it on, rub my cheeks against the fur, imagine that it is new^, and prove its warmth by shivering in every limb. The Biblical Repository has just come to hand. It is most beautifully printed, and has far more show of learning than any thing that I have seen this side of the water — except Catharine Beecher." " February 22d. "Mr. , of Fitchburg, will probably be dismissed shortly. His crime is, not having talents great enough for that peo- ple ! May he be forgiven. Last week I was made sick by the ordination at Townsend. The young man's name is Kit- tle, and he promises well. He certainly is a man of talents," With Mr. Kittle Mr. Todd became quite intimate. For a long time he had been almost deprived of ministerial so- ciety, the nearest pastors with whom he could fi-aternize liv- ing fourteen or fifteen miles away, and he took great pleas- ure in having a man of kindred tastes and spirit so near him. Of his friend's abilities and indolence he entertained a high opinion. " Kittle would often ride over to see me, 15 222 JOHN TODD. and we would sit down in my study, and take a text, and plan out a sermon together, and I would dig over it the whole week; while he would stick the paper in his hat, and never look at it again till he got into the pulpit on Sab- bath morning." To please an uncle, Mr. Kittle subsequently changed his name to Rogers. He afterward became the first minister of the Central Church in Winter Street, Boston. "April 5th. " Little Martha was born on Friday — fat as a paitridge, and perfectly quiet. I do not deny that my disappointment was great in not having a son ; but when we have so per- fect and beautiful a child given us, I feel that we have no right to complain. I trust we feel something of the good- ness of God in this event, which so far has been most mer- ciful. "There are many things about my people which are very discouraging. The whole town is in a convulsion, and where it will end I see not. The subject of antimasonry is excit- ing great attention. A lecture is to be delivered on the subject this evening, and tlie prospect is that the community will be very greatly excited. I feel more and more that this is a changing and passing world, but fear I am uot try- ing to prepare for a better." "April 27tli. "Last Sabbath afternoon I preached the funeral sermon of Doctor Chaplin to a very full house. He was a father to me, and I loved and honored him as a son. I never heard him, during all his trials, make use of any angry exj^ressions, or make a severe remark against any man, or evince the least bitterness of feeling. It seemed hardly ])ossible for im- perfect human nature to pass through what he did, and yet so uniformly and so clearly reflect the image of Christ. I do not believe he knew what it was to feel enmity against any human being, or that, for years before his death, he had a personal enemy. His last sickness was severe and trying, but he bore it in meekness. As death approached, there were no raptures, no high excitements, 7ior were there any fears. He went down the valley of deatli as the full sun of autumn sets when not a cloud dims its brightness. He had been so often on the mount, and had so often seen eternal things, that when the king of terrors came, he found the LIFE AT GROTOX. 223 pilgrim ready. It was not so imicli like dying, as like the sweet confidence of the infant lalling asleep in the arms of its mother. Many men have been more noticed in life, and, perhaps, longer remembered after death ; but few, it is be- lieved, have found a nearer passage to the bosom of the Re- deemer, or will wear a brighter crown in the day of his ap- pearing." "May 31st. " I went to Boston to attend the election. It rained most of the time in torrents, and I got jaded out. The pulse of religion in Boston is veiy high. All that I did was to make an extempore address before the Massachu- setts ]Missionary Society, and to mourn, with all the rest, over the loss of Mr. Evarts. I never before knew any such effect produced by the fall of a man in Israel as there was in Boston by the tidings of his death, and I verily l)elieve his thus falling in the greatness of his strength will give a greater impulse to the cause of Christ than his living twen- ty years would have done. Mysterious providence ! He died in the very chamber (in Charleston, South Carolina) in which, in 1820, Z was confined for months by sickness. He fell, too, just after having made his greatest effbits ; as if the sun should sink suddenly away, after having just thrown up his most golden beams. I think I have seldom contem^ plated a death by which heaven seemed to be brought so near. Oh, how iev; have ever come so near rising above the effects of the fall, and so near serving God with the ardor of a seraph and the purity of an angel ! His family are cheerful and happy. It seems like the same cheerful home, and, while there, I seemed to forget the event ; but the mo- ment I cast my eye upon the very natural portrait on the wall, I could not keep the tears from my eyes. It did not seem as if a body which had been occupied by such a spirit ought to return to the dust. But I know it must. He was the son of ray f^ither's favorite sister. I need not eulogize; the tears of thousands put the eloquence of words to shame. "I have nevei-had so large a congregation as this season, and never has my society been so prosperous externally ; but within, all is dark and discouraging. I can look over the garden, see what wants to be done, form great and good plans, but, alas! have not life enough and soul enough to ex- 224 JOHN TODD. ecute them. I seem to be like young Ilamlet, when a spirit from the other world was continually haunting him and urging him to great deeds, and he resolved that he would do them ; the only weak spot in him was, that he had not strength enough, manhood enough, to carry out his resolu- tions. I do not know what is to become of us, if God does not shortly visit minister and people. Next week we are to have a four days' meeting begin; and I pray God for a preparation. I have some — many hopes, and many fears. There a,ve five such meetings in this region, commencing on the same day." The four days' meeting began on Tuesday, June Vth. By way of preparation, the pastor appointed a prayer-meeting on Monday morning at five o'clock, expecting six or eight persons, "but was delightfully surprised to find fully fifty." There was also a meeting of the church in the afternoon, " full and encouraging." The order of exercises was the same for each of the four days. At five o'clock in the morn- ing there were as many prayer-meetings as there had been meetings on the j^revious evening. The first morning there was one meeting; the second, one; the third, eight; the fourth, ten, in as many different school -houses. At nine o'clock the ministers met to arrange plans for the day, and then and at a later hour had a season of prayer by them- selves. These ministers gathered from the region about, on tlie first day, to the number of six; the third day, there were twelve ; the last day, there were eighteen. In the forenoon there was preaching, followed by addresses. In the after- noon there were addresses and prayers. In the evening, preaching in as many diiferent places as there were preachers. "June 8th. " One day is gone. The life-boat has been with us one day. Last evening I attended a meeting at the academy ; at least one hundred and fifty present, the other six meet- ings notwithstanding ; a very solemn, good meeting ; many present of those who seldom hear the truth. Those who were sitting at the doors of dram-shops and stores looked .cross enough, as we went by to go to meeting." " June 9tli. "At the close of the services to-day, the audience was di- vided, the Christians taking the wall-pews, and the uncon- LIFE AT GROTOX. 225 verted the body of the house. It was solemn indeed. The Christians, each way from the pulpit, tilled the wall-pews, and nearly the aisles, and there were as many as three hun- dred and fifty unconverted in the centre. After this di- vision, they were addressed by Mr. Chickering and myself. It seemed like the grave for solemnity, and like Bochim for tears ; altogether the most solemn time I ever witnessed. The unconverted were by themselves, and the professors of religion were all around them, like a thick wall, and were weeping for and over them. The ministers of Christ were praying and weeping too. It was a time in which the souls of men were melted." "June 10th. "This is the last, great day of the feast, and so anxious a time I never kiiew before. The ministers came together at noon, and I never saw men so weighed down. Worn out witti labor and sleepless nights, they seemed to sink under the thoughts of the afternoon. All came around the table, but ate scarcely a mouthful. All seemed to breathe short and quick. All felt as if the most powerful medicine had been given, and we were soon to know the result. Much weeping and praying. The house, this afternoon, was full. Between thirty and forty notes were read of those who de- sired prayers, and truly they were the sorrows of many hearts. Oh, if our Redeemer be not divine, how useless to spread all these sorrows before his throne ! During the farewell address, God seemed indeed to be present. Near the close of it, I called upon the impenitent who had deter- mined to make religion their chief concern, to rise. Over one hundred and fifty arose and stood. I then called upon those who were professors of religion to rise, if they would pray for them; almost all in the house rose. I then inquired what would become of those who continued to sit. Where will they go ? Heaven and earth are witness that they de- liberately chose to keep their seats and deny Christ. While they were thus standing, the Christians and the anxious, I called for the judgment hymn, ' Oh there will be monrnins; Before the judgment-seat,' etc. It was sung slowly and solemnly, and its efiects were aw- 226 JOHN TODD. fully great. Several who lield to their seats i-ose up; they could sit no longer. Among those who rose were some whom we never expected to see softened in the least. In all our efforts we have tried to lead the people to be solemn, rather than to cause high excitement. " The meeting has done little to the Unitarians, except enrage them. They have attended our services but very little. They talk, and swear, and hate. On the second day, the Unitarian minister was found at a bowling-alley, setting up pins while the party Avere rolling. On the third day, he and some such men as , and some most profane ones, got up a riding party, and went over to Pepperell. Some forbade their wives and children to attend any meetings. A husband forbade his wife to attend the meetings in the school-house near w'hich they lived. She would get to her chamber-window, and open it, and listen, and weep, because she could hear only the sound of the voice without distin- guishing the Avords. But it is wonderful that God has so changed public sentiment that we could have ten meetings in ten school-houses at once, and could have had the whole fourteen houses, if we had had the men to occupy them." "June 29th. "At our first inquiry-meeting after the above there w^ere nearly thirty present. The number has since increased to forty, and some have obtained hope. We have prayer- meetings every morning at half -past four o'clock: a good state of feeling in the church." "Later. "I have attended many of these meetings, have seen them under all circumstances, and, on the whole, am at a dead loss to say whether I think the good or the evil of them preponderates. I might fill sheets on this point, for it is one that has cost me much anxiety. That good, much good, has resulted from them, I do not doubt : that enormous evils are almost inseparably connected with them, I believe quite as firmly." In July, Mrs. Todd, Avith the tAvo children, Avent home to her father's to make a A'isit and obtain needed rest, leaving Mr. Todd to occupy the house alone, except for the hired boy, and to take his meals Avith the Chaplins. His four years of domestic happiness, after the long solitude of his LIFE AT G EOT OS. 227 early life, had so endeared his family to him, that he keenly felt his separation from them, and his loneliness. " I am now in my study, looking out of my window to- ward you, and seeing the new moon with a little star beside it, and am wondering where you are, if you are sick, if you are tired, if the children are sick, if you feel good courage. Father writes as though he expected you would come, and as if I should make nothing of having you gone — several months, I should think, by his account. Have you thought of lonely me? I am truly so. But your plants are here, and I have watered them; and the kitten is gleesome ; the evening air is sweet ; the heavens are beautiful to the eye ; and all far, far above them, is beautiful to the eye of faith. To Ilim who dwells ftir above these bright stars, I commend you. " I have had a truly lonely evening. Just at night it be- gan to rain, and there has been a wet easterly storm all the evening. In whatever part of the house I am, I hear the same dripping and pattering. You know bow gloomy our well-room is at such a time, even when the family are all liere. How diflerent is your situation from mine! I sup- pose to-night you are surrounded by all the great family, and all is light and cheerful. But when I move around, how many things tell me I am alone ? The rooms are dark- ened. I go into the bedroom, and there is Mary's ' little summer-bed ;' I go into the other bedroom, and there lies your bonnet on the bed, and little Martha's cradle by the side of it. I go out-of-doors, and there is Mary's wagon, with no little prattler by it. Every step and turn brings you all fresh to my memory. May every mercy be upon you, and about you." "Little Mary, — Your little black kitten goes with rae out to the barn, into the garden, into the workshop, and fol- lows me all around, because she is so lonely. She wants to see you. Yesterday she went out to the barn with me, and, as I was at work, I heard something squeal. So I turned around, and your little kitten had caught a rat ! and the rat was squealing, and trying to get away, and trying to bite her; but she held him fist, and would not let him go. And then she carried him out-of-doors and let him run, and then 228 JOHN TODD. would jump and catch him. She eats milk, and grows finely. The pig grows too, only he thinks it too hot. Father is all alone, -and wants his little girl to help him. So j^ou must be a good little girl, and take good care of mother and little Martha, till you are ready to come home. Tell all of them that father sends his love. Good-bye." "My DEAR LITTLE Mart, — Father must tell you about the little puppy. Last Wednesday night Deacon Adams heard something trotting in the meeting-house. So, after dark, Allen and Mr. Farley took the key, and went and opened the meeting-house door and whistled, and down came a lit- tle puppy out of the gallery. He was almost starved, and jumped and capered about, and was so glad to get out ! The poor fellow had had nothing to eat since Sabbath, and this was three days and three nights. Don't you think he was very hungry? So they took him into the store, and gave him some crackers to eat. Poor fellow ! he had no- body to take good care of him, as my little girl has. So you must be good, and don't forget your father at Groton. Good-bye. Kiss little Martha for me." " You do not mention the subject of ever seeing Groton again ; but father does, and in such a way that I should con- clude that he expected you to stay at least six months. I certainly shall be ready to make any self-denial, if it may benefit your health; but in making your estimates upon the whole subject, I presume you will not forget that I am here in a loneliness almost beyond description. Xobody has called, and I have felt so down that I have called on nobody. The silence in the house is dreadful. The clock ticks so loud, that I sometimes think of stopping it." Undoubtedly these feelings were greatly aggravated by the state of his health. The intense excitement in which he had now lived for years had worn upon his nervous system terribly. But, mistaking the nature of the difficulty, he put himself upon a rigorous and insufficient diet, and, neglecting every thing else, devoted himself to severe manual labor, with an energy which soon exhausted what little nervous strength he had left. "I have been at work all day. This morning I pitched LIFE AT GROT OX. 229 oif my load of hay, . and tlien worked in the shop; this after- noon I helped Mr, Chaplin ; I pitched three loads on the cart, and one off. Both of my hands are blistered, and my wrists lame. "After dinner I went down into the corn-field, and hoed till it was done. It took us most of the afternoon, and was very hard. I have but one feeling, and that is, excessive fatigue and low spirits. All my bones ache ; but I feel de- termined to keep on with hard work, from sun to sun, till the experiment has been fairly made. " I have eaten milk every night and morning since you left. At present it neither suits me, nor do I love it. But I must do something. I have worked hard every day, either on land or in the shop. I do not feel that I am any bet- ter as yet. Never did any man need to have more horri- ble nights than I do. I either do not sleep, or, if I do, my dreams are painful and terrific beyond all description. "I have not much opinion of dieting, though I have tried it most faithfully, and it seems as if I should die under it. As yet I have not relaxed an iota. I have made up my mind not to alter for a month from the time I commenced." At last he was taken down with violent chills and pains, and every symptom of a fever. In this condition a friend " happened to espy " him, and medical attendance and care- ful nursing were at once obtained for him. A severe course of medicine broke up the fever, but his physician urged him to take a few weeks of rest immediately ; his nervous sys- tem was in a bad condition. "August 7th. "This afternoon I crawled out and tried to preach, extem- pore. When about two-thirds through, my lungs seemed to fail, so that I could hardly speak aloud. The last third of the sermon was like drawing a sleigh on bare ground. However, the people, by their looks, forgave all. After meet- ing I had to go up to Sodom to preach. It seemed wrong, but there was no help for it. It was a terrible time: meet- ing full : some drunk, some swearing, some talking, some pushing, some trying to keep order, and some weeping. There evidently is some seriousness there, else would not the devil come down with such wrath. I don't suppose a third of what I said was heard, for the noise." 230 JOHN TODD. lie was now convinced tliat a s^liort rest was indispensa- l»le. "I feel bad to be cut ott' from my work when I have over sixty inquirers, but can not do any good as I am." Aft- er considering niany plans, and rejecting them as too expen- sive, he determined to drive to Connecticut with a pair of horses, and bring back his family. The journey was a pleas- ant one, and he returned, after two or three weeks, not re- stored, and with " very little elasticity," but much better. " November 1st. "The lawsuit has been decided in favor of this town; so that Unitarianism will quietly settle down on these funds, till God shall overturn it in his own wise way. "I am in distress for the Poles. Poor fellows ! their fate seems to be sealed; and, after having waded long in blood, they are to be crushed. God speed the day when the foot of tyranny will not tread on the necks of the brave ! I am in distress, too, for our two millions of slaves, who are made cattle of, and yet who, if they lift the head at all, are butch- ered in a moment. Poor missionaries, too, in Georgia State- prison ! When loill the river of salvation quench the fires of persecution ? And at what point will our country stop, in its career of wickedness ? I have a heart full of fears and griefs caused by looking at the world. But, poor worm ! there is One above who holds the hearts of all, and who is calmly carrying on his own plans, while I, poor short-sighted creature, am worrying and wondering where these tilings will end. I feel like Mary, see that they have taken him away, and wonder where they have laid him, while at the very moment he is risen, and holding the keys of death and hell in his hand." About this time the peace of the community was disturb- ed by the antimasonic excitement, which mixed itself with politics. "December 4th. "The church is full of jealousies and coldness, and it seems as if Satan had come down, and was setting all by the ears. Every man's hand is against his brother's, and we are in a most deplorable condition. As yet the storm has not reach- ed ?e first for a long, long- time. I liave sunned and en- joyed it highly. Xo old goose ever crept out and cackled with a higher joy. But such a body of snow as we still have ! We have had to shovel it from the roof of our house, lest it come in upon us. It now begins to turn to water, and the warm rays of the sun to-day seem to go to its very lieart and melt it in tenderness. I long once more to see my mother earth : never before have I been so long at a time without seeing her countenance. I am sorry to say there is no revival among my people, in the usual accepta- tion of that word. There have been perhaps two hopeful cases of conversion, and a few more are anxious. The church is becoming better, more engaged; but one misery is that the old church must go with us, i. e., must be carried by us. The two churches are now under a united course of visiting; but many of the visitors are so poor Christians that I am fearful it will do no good. A community needs to be under a very high state of excitement and attention to receive much good from cold, inefficient, and dead professors." From Mrs. Todd. "April 6th. "The state of tilings in our society is very interesting. Three weeks since, Mr. Todd held his first inquiry-meeting; there Avere eighteen. The next Sabbath evening there were twenty-five, and the next, over thirty, Avith an increase of so- lemnity. I suppose as many as twelve or fifteen are indulg- ing hope. The two churches are to unite to-morrow in the exercises of the fast, Mr. Todd to preach. I wish the old church would get a good minister. Mr. Todd has to per- form the labors, not of one great society, but of two. I have never known him so absolutely driven as at the present time. He is the chairman of four school committees, besides what he has to do for the district schools and building a boarding- house for Miss Dwight's school. He has all the parochial duty to perform for the town, besides having weddings and funerals to attend in other towns." In June he "was called to the city of Philadelphia, to as- sist in organizing the first Congregational, or New England, church ever gathered in that city," and to preach the ser- mon on that occasion. It was arranged that during his ab- 258 JOHN TODD. sciice ho should leave his family Avith th.at of his father-in- law, who was called to the same council. "The children all dance at the idea of seeing Newington, except J. E. T ; he is too grave to dance." "June 24th. "All things look as if I should not go to Philadelphia. As I get away from the excitement and anxieties of the place, the more the difficulties seem to rise up, and the fear the ship can not weather the storms which are before her seems to increase. If I should go, the thing must go, or I must die in the attempt. But the hazard seems very great. Tiie more I look at it, the more it seems doubtful whether they are sufficiently strong to weather the opposition which is coming, and to stand under the burdens which must come upon them as a matter of course. If they had not the united strength of Presbyterianism to contend with, and only the ordinary obstacles in the way, I should shrink less. Add to this, that my people here feel that it will be death to them, utter ruin, for me to leave them. I think the result will be that Ave stay where we are. The old Society here long to have me go, and would give all their old shoes to have me. This makes my situation here unpleasant, wery unpleas- ant; but perhaps it is no reason why I should go. If I go, and lose in the opinion of men in this region, and then not succeed, it will very nearly destroy me, body and mind. Success, decided and splendid, and nothing else, would lead people to say and feel that I had done right in going. Is not the risk too great ? I believe that for once I am less sanguine than you are." "July 17th. "After many tears, and more fears, I have decided that I ought to go to Philadelphia. The committee have been here ; they met Doctor Beecher at my house, and he put in his oar, and rowed like a good fellow on their side of the boat. My brethren in the ministry have all set in, and said that such an opening has never before taken place ; that it is of immense importance to man that post with one who has had some experience, and who can bear to be crowded and pushed, without shrinking or sinking under it, and that it is most clearly my duty to go. There are at this time no less than twenty-three agents in Xew England, begging for LIFE AT NORTIIAMPTOX. 259 '■ the far and tlie groat West.' I most deeply feel that if our countiy is ever saved, and her institutions made permanent, New England, under God, must do it. As she must lift and labor untiringly for generations to come, it is highly desira- ble to have her distinctive character, her institutions, and her churches all move South and West, as fast as the provi- dence of God shall open the way. After mature reflection, I have thought it my duty to go. My people are all weep- ing and groaning ; and my dear wife weeping and down- spirited, and feeling dreadful because we must go. She sees not a ray of light, nor a single thing which is not un- desirable, hazardous, and dark, I already feel a burden rest- ing u2:)on my shoulders which is truly oppressive. It will be a gloomy time for me for several months to come. But I ti-y to keep up good spirits." " October 6th. "My deak Sisters, — Foi- several months past I have been in the sorrows of tearing away from a most devoted and af- fectionate people, and the place has been a Bochim. I be- lieve no minister and no people were ever more happy in their connection than we have been, and for a long time it seemed to me that I could not make a sacrifice so great. To-morrow Ave set out for Philadelphia, amidst the tears of my people and in full grief ourselves. I take my wife, who is a universal favorite in this place, four children (the young- est a quiet little girl a few weeks old, Sarah Denman by name), and two domestics, making eight in the whole. I have sold my house, without much loss, and have sent on our furniture and books — five tons ! They are building me a most beautiful church, the largest in the city. My salary is two thousand dollai-s a year ; but when you recollect that the rent of a house is five hundred dollars, and other expenses proportionate, you will not envy me my salary. I even doubt whether it is as good as my salary here. Be this as it may, it has had no influence on my decision. I have never tried to make or to save monej% and I certainly have not been successful in doing either. God has hitherto given me a comfortable home, and bread to eat, and, further- more, I ought not to care, if I may do any thing for him." Undoubtedly one of the greatest sacrifices of Mr. Todd's life was made when he left Northampton. He had just 260 JOHN TODD. established liiiiiself in a deliglitful house of his own, in one of the most beautiful and cultured towns in New England. "The whole land could not, probably, present a sweeter liome than was mine." He was surrounded by a large con- gregation of young and active people, worshiping in a new and beautiful house, and showing him every possible kind- ness, aifection, and devotion. He had not yet been with them long enough for a single one of those clouds to rise which are sure, sooner or later, to throw a more or less tran- sient shadow upon every pastorate. In the older parish, in spite. of some inevitable jealousies, he w^as hardly less hon- ored than in his own ; and in the whole community he en- joyed a wide and growing influence and popularity. On the other hand, he felt to his home and to his people the tenderest attachment. He had watched and prayed and wept over the church from its very cradle ; many of its members were the fruits of his ministry ; among this people he had spent some of the best years of his manhood, and done some of the most important work of his life ; their sympathies and affections had brightened his happy home, and comforted it in scenes of deep distress. Fi-om the midst of the toils and turmoils of the great city, and the troubles which came upon him there, he often turned back in mem- ory to "the green pastures" of Groton and "the still wa- ters " of Northampton. "O flocks, led by ray inexperienced youth, kind to for- give ray many imperfections, ready to sustain me by your confidence and love — O flocks, dear to my memory as the apple of my eye, may peace rest upon you, and a light from your altars, pure and bright and beautiful, go up and spread wide over the sweet hills and valleys which surround you !" LIFE AT PEILADELTUIA. 261 CHAPTER XIX. LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. A new Sunday-school. — A new Church. — A new Pastor. — Helps. — Hinder- ances. — lustaUation. — Salting a River. — A bitter Minister. — Solemn Meet- ings. — Lectures on Sunday-schools.— Paul for a Colleague. — Panic. — Two General Assemblies. — No Salary. — A sad Journey. — The morning Cloud. — Dedication.— Tlie Spark.— A Howl.— Take it Coolly.— Galvanism.— The Dutchman's Horse. — Gathering the Harvest. — Resolving. — Work accom- plished. —Sabbath School Teacher in London. — Mustard-seed Souls. — To the Editor of the Keepsake. — Life of Scott. — Reminiscences. — Will not be Soured. The Clinton Street Church began in a Sabbath -scliool. A part of the teachers in the school connected with the Fifth Presbyterian Church, conceiving that their eiforts were not sufficiently appreciated, but rather were opposed by some of the older members of that church, became dissatis- fied and seceded, and established an independent school. A place was found for it in "Union Hall," at the corner of Chestnut and Eighth streets, and it was soon comfortably fitted up with the requisite benches and desk. The school opened with good numbers and every promise of success ; and the attendance soon became so large that it was thought desirable to have preaching also in the hall from time to time, as preachers could be secured ; and it was not long be- fore there began to be talk of organizing a new church. The quarrel between the Old and the New School parties in the Presbyterian Church was at this time just at its height, and many minds, weary of dissension, were beginning to long for repose. The teachers in the new Sabbath-school, in ad- dition to this feeling, had, as they conceived, suffered a spe- cial injury at Presbyterian hands. Several of tliem were of NewEnghmd birth; and it was natural, therefore, that they should look favorably upon the Congregational system, un- der which the churches of New England were at that time enjoying a peace which was unusual, and which contrasted strikingly with the storm that was rending the Presbyterian Church asunder. It was determined to oroanize a Conjxre- 262 JOHX TODD. ^Mis}ier. The molasses has been a great affair with us, comprehending in itself, and therefore a substitute for, almost every thing. 'Mrs. Todd, have you no preserves for tea?' 'Oh, you see LIFE AT rillLADELrUIA. 277 the molasses.' ' You liave forgotten to set on the cake, Mrs. Todd.' 'No, but the molasses is a substitute.' 'But we have no smoked beef, or cheese, on the table.' She points to the molasses. So it is like the Irishman's shirt, 'victuals and drink, and pretty good clothing.' "E. H is making a first-rate singer! a voice that Her- cules might covet ! I tell him he may sell his lungs for leather, at a great price, after he has done with them." "June 30th. "Within a few days past, little Sarah has been quite ill. If she gets no better within a day or two, I shall try to get the family off to you on next Tuesday morning, for if the summer complaint be once lixed upon a child here, it is cer- tain death. Joab will accompany them, as I must not leave at present." The little one grew worse so fast that the departure was hastened, and Mr. Todd accompanied the family. On the Avay it seemed impossible for the child to live from hour to hour. She was so weak that her father carried her on a pil- low, and in the crowds held the pillow up above the peo- ple's heads, lest she should lose her breath forever. In New York, " \Vhen my whole family were shut up in a stage at the steamboat-landing, at the end of the wharf, the horses began to back the carriage ; and had they gone six inches farther, they would all have been precipitated in the deep waters, and undoubtedly have found a watery death." In the air of New England the sick child at once revived, and her father hastened back to the city for a few days longer. " October 11th. "It is absolutely impossible for any one who does not live in a great city to conceive of the irmltitude of things which cut up all our time, weary the spirits, exhaust the mind, and corrode the heart. I accidentally cast my eye on an old letter, written many years ago by Doctor Porter, of Andover, in which he is kind enough to say that they ' never had a man of Mr. Todd's age who, in a given time, could do so much, and do it so well.' This is too high praise; but if I have any one gift peculiarly my o\vn, it is dispatch. But even that avails nothing here. I never lie down with- out having conscience reproach me for not 'having done at least four times Avhat I have done ; and I never rise in the 278 JOHN TODD. morning without feeling that I ccui not do what I must during the day. " There is nothing interesting among my people, except- ing an indescribable anguish of spirit which I have felt for them for some weeks past. I wi'ite my sermons and preach as pointedly, as plainly, and as solemnly as I know how ; the congregation is full, very large, and very attentive, and ap- parently solemn ; but there is nothing that abides; in a few hours it is all gone. I am now laying my plans to make a great effort to improve the spirituality of my church. If these plans fail, it now seems as if my heart would also fail. A iaw days since "vvas my birthday. I solemnly dedicated all that I have anew to God, and consecrated the remainder of my life to him. I have prayed for this flock, now a great flock, and every week increasingly so. My people feel that I am to fill the church with people, pay for it all at once, support the concern itself: this is the first and great work; and, subsidiary to this, I am to carry them to heaven, while they live entirely to the world, and am to convert the con- gregation also. To do their part of this immense work, they are jealous of each other, afraid that one or another will have too much notice, or they too little, and then they wonder why the minister does not accomplish more. It is a dreadfully liard field in which to do good. If it w'ere allowable to preach pretty and fashionable sermons, to eat and to drink good things, and not to deal with the sins of men, I could get along and do well. But my desire and aim and stand- ard is, to see my church become spiritual, and my congre- gation savingly converted. This must be done, or I shall sink under my labors. Do not fail to let us have your prayers. "We have not a single leaf in the mulberry-tree that shakes, and not the least breath from the Spirit of God. I think that I desire one thing above all others, and that is, that I and mine may be holy. "I have had the luxury of reading a few hours to-day, under a sick headache. I have re-read the life of Robert Hall. I felt that I envied him, and wished that I could preach like him, till I came to John Foster's wonderful dis- section of him as a preacher, and then all my envy was gone. He is immeasurably distant from being a model for the ministry. If all could and did preach just as he did, it LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 279 seems to me the clay of the world's conversion would be distant, "Many thanks for a cojiy of 'Eulogy upon Bowditch.' A wonderful man ! Very few sons of a poor cooper could rise by their unaided genius and industry to accomplish what he accomplished. I sat down at once, and read his memoir with astonishment, and with sorrow too, to think that a mind so gigantic, clear, and discriminating should pass through life and go into the eternal world giving so small evidence of knowing Jesus Christ, 'whom to know is life eternal' I should hope that his eulogists have left out something, and that such a noble spirit has not gone to the presence of God clothed in the poor garments of its own righteousness." " October 19tli. "Poor H ! poor orphans! seven of them ! Nothing for a long time has affected us like the death of this lovely woman, and this warm, constant, and sincere friend of ours. Her sun set suddenly, but in glory. The earth can show but few like her. I love to dwell upon her sweet image, Avhich will never fade from my mind and heart; and to thank God that, among all his mercies to me and mine, he has permitted us to know and enjoy such a friend. I can not yet realize that the blow is struck, and the rose has been plucked from the sweet buds which clustered around it, and is now withered and gone. ISTo, it is not dead. The hand of Love has carefully sliaken the dust from it, and trans- planted it into a world where the wind shall not shake it, where the storm shall not bruise it, where the dust of earth shall not defile it. The spirits of but few, as I believe, ever went more directly ?7>, or were at once admitted nearer to that blessed One, whose prayer, ' Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me be "with me where I am,' has now been so unexpectedly and mysteriously answered." To a Parishioner at the West. " November 13th. " In that land where all goes by impetus, and all is mov- ing, do not forget to ask for that 'still, small voice,' which is not heard in the crowd, which can not be heard except when the heart is withdrawn from the world, and which is always given for the asking. Ask for yourself, and for me, and for this church." 280 JOHN TODD. " November 28th. "To-nioiTOW we are to have a day of Thanksgiving in our church, to keep time with our flxther-laiid, New Enghand, We are determined to bring New England this way as fast as we can. The Lord only can aid us to do it in reality. The proposal in my church ^ooA; well, and I encourage every thing that tends to give the New England stamp to my church. As to our situation, I can hardly say what it is. My church is coming up in influence and character, and in the confidence of the community ; and I suppose I am, indi- vidually, more known in the city at the present time than ever before. But I have my trials, and they are neither few nor small. Our congregation is large and very attentive ; but there is no breath in this valley of dry bones, and I seem to beat the air. I work as hard as I can, and ' it prof- iteth nothing.' But results are not in our hands, and we ought to rejoice that they are not. Ministers come into my church and into my study, and envy me my situation ; but they little know with what heaviness of heart I engage in ray duties. I am trying to write a lecture for the Athenian Institute, but I have no heart for it, and it must be a failure. They will not allow me to introduce the subject of religion, and I am out of my element if you take me out of the pul- pit." To an absent Parlsldoner. "January Cth, 1839. "A private word in your ear. If you ever go away again, I must go with you, or starve. My good people have not paid me a cent since you Avent away, and only nine hundred and fifty dollars in more than a year. I have been sorely pinched and perplexed ; but I have uot said a word, nor shall I, and I beg you will not, before your return. They may do better before that time. TJie ■ congregation was never so large before; but there is no energy — no moving, active spirit. I believe I never stood better in their estima- tion, and I am sorry that I can not live on their esteem. I am invited everj'where to preach, but shall not go away from home at present." " Januaiy 22d. *' I am trying to get up a young ladies' school con- nected with my congregation. Miss G , formerly in LIFE AT PHILADELrHIA. 281 Miss Dwiglit's school in Northampton, has been at myliouse six or eight weeks. I do not know as I can carry out my plans. If I do, it will cost me something personally; but I am aTixious to have it done, and if it can be, it shall be. She commences lier school on Wednesday next, under very good auspices." [The school was successfully established, and continued for a number of years, a school of a high order.] "Joab begins the same day. I will tell you how I went to work to accomplish an object. I wanted to get him a school liere. He came, and I selected thirty or forty of my friends, to each of whom he sent a polite note, stating that he was going to open a school. To this note I appended a note of my own, stating his character, scholarship, etc. He commenced with two or three scholars. His prospects are fine, and I think he will shortly have at least a thousand dollars income. I have charged him nothing, except to have little John go over half an hour each half day and read a little lesson. I love to give my friends a lift as I can, and all I ask is, that when ^get in the mire they will not forget me." [Mr. Brace, soon after this, had all the pupils that he wished, and his school continued in successful operation for some years after he, with Mr. Todd, had left the city.] "When Collins" [Mrs. Todd's eldest brother] "came, I took unwearied pains to introduce him to gentlemen of the first standing here, both by personal interviews and by lettei*. The result will be, I think, what I want, and have wanted. I think they will get xip a new daily paper here, and make him the editor. They have not decided, but have gone so far as to have several meetings, and C. has drawn up a pro- spectus. I think it will go." [The JSTorth American was soon afterward established on this basis, and still continues, united with the United States Gazette, one of the leading journals in Pliiladelphia.] " I sometimes feel like sitting- down and having a hearty cry ; for I seem to have the fac- ulty and the opportunity to help others, but no faculty to help myself "Deacon is in Europe. The last year he was scold- ing because I wrote books. He now writes from France that he receives great kindnesses and attentions because he belongs to a Mr. Todd's church — Mi-. Todd being extensive- ly known there by certain books which he wrote. So the 282 JOHN TODD. world goes. I wisli I had pluck enough to write some more." To Mrs. Doctor Palmer^ formerly of Charleston. "January 28th. "I have been hard at work, with little or no good result- ing. What hard work to convert the human heart ! I wish some of those new divinity folks who allow God only to permit^ while they decree., would come here and convert some of my hearers. It is more than 7" can do. "We have had some sickness, and I have had the dyspep- sia — the only fashionable, genteel thing I ever had — and have stood still with both hands full. Yet I have found time to follow you in your dismal journey, your stages, your low rivei-, and your new entrance into the Far West. I have felt very sorry for you; for I have too often been upon wheels, with all I had in the world on wheels with me, among strangers, and with a short purse, not to know how badly off we may be, and not to pity you. But I was glad that you could live it through, and from your last I gather that the good doctor is catching the spirit and enterprise of the West, and is again taking off his coat to go to work. I hope he may find the fountains of life replenished, and that he still has the arm to nerve a strong bow, and to send many arrows, with great effect. I suppose that you will not al- ways find there that Art has reared her temple on the dry hill of Zion, lighted with silver lamps and sweet-smelling oil ; but you will find enough to do ; and I pray that you raav live long to do much of it, and have grace to do it thor- oughly." "February 14th. "I am poor, and always shall be: I have met with some losses by dishonest folks ; but I thank God that I never yet refused to aid a fellow-man, be he who he might, if I had any evidence that he deserved it, and if it was in my power to do it ; nor do I ever intend to." To Rev. 8. G . " February 15th. "All Congregationalists profess to love Congregational- ism, and yet you could get them to yield no sympathy for Conrjregationallsm ; but show them a weak, devoted feeble Congregational church, organized and struggling for exist- LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 283 ence, and you excite their sympathy. The system is differ- eut from any other. Men will join (and fight lor, too) Epis- copacy or Presbyterianism or Methodism, but not Congre- gationalism. The very life and soul of the system consists in embracing men, and not an abstraction. In my experi- ence, you can do nothing toward raising a church unless there is enough of the self- moving spirit en the spot to make a fair beginning. Had tlie New England people sent me here to raise a Congregational church, and pledged me funds for support, I do not believe that in five years I could have got any foot-hold. The only hope of success was, that there was self-movement here : the people wanted such a church, and were ready to move and act, to labor and to give. But to this hour it remains an experiment. I started here too weak, and would never do so again. "We have been ranch prospered, but the trials through which we have passed, and must yet pass, are almost beyond what you can conceive of" " February 23d. "I have just organized a young ladies' Bible-class. We have sixty already, with fair prospects of many more. I am working with all my soul. Last Sabbath I threw my con- gregation 'all aback' by preaching on tlie sovereignty of God, and election. It shook the building terribly. Some cried, and some threatened, and some were grieved, and some were mad, and some were disappointed, and I? — no more moved by it than you are in Newington. I preached not only the truth, but truth that I am prepared to main- tain anywhere. I hope it will do good." To Rev. J. C. W . " March 3d. " Let no man Avho values his soul, or his body, ever go into a great city to become a pastor. I tfhought I knew what hard work meant before I came here; but I did not, nor did I ever dream of it. I can not describe it to you ; but here every thing works on a different scale, and human nature is cast in a different mould, from what it is in Xew England. But it is unsanctified human nature, after all; and I sometimes feel as if I must cut every string and run. I have been here nearly three years, preach to a great con- 284 JOIIX TODD. or foui- theological students ; but oli ! the care and wenv and tear, the tears and tears, the ijulling and lifting, the creeping and weeping, the sighing and crying, necessarily connected with raising up a new church in a great city, all alone, with none to love you, or aid you, or go with you ! I could tell you a long and a sad story. Yet we have been most abundantly prospered. "We have exceeded the hopes and expectations of all ; and we have, on the whole, very far exceeded my own expectations. Yet if you were to see me, you would be surprised to see how many gray hairs cover my head, and how very old a man may become in three years. " I was, of course, not surprised to learn that you were dismissed; for I have ceased to be surprised at any thing, and, least of all, at any change in the ministry. God will overrule it all for good ; and if you can find a snug place soon, you will find your materials of very great service to you. But when you settle again, do not lean too much upon old sermons, and become lazy; consider how poor they are, and how little execution they have done, and go to work and make better. They will be your ruin, if you lean upon them. I can not judge as to the causes which drove you away, or of your judiciousness. I have no reason, how- ever, to suppose that you were not judicious. At this day you will find breezes and storms everywhere, go where you will; and the great thing you need on such occasions is, to keep cool and self-possessed. Many a ship has outridden the storm, by the coolness of the captain, when the least worry or flurry in him would have thrown her on her beam-ends. This is a hard matter, and requires much manhood, much nerve, much philosophy, and more grace. As a general thing, it is not best to reprove or instruct or reason with those who are fools, or drunk, or mad, or under any strong excitement. When the swine get to running, you can not stop them. Cold water is the place where they must go. When the storm is over, and the passions are cool, and all parties are calm, then is the time to reprove and instruct. Had Christ reproved Peter in words, when he only put his cool eye upon him, very likely Peter had sworn at him I*' " March 7th. "Doctor Johnson wrote a small but good book, to pay for LIFE AT rillLADELrniA. 285 l)utting his mother into the grave ; and I am writing a small and^^oor book, to keep my mother out of the grave." To Mr. A. M . "March 7th. "If there is any one thing above all others wliich I am disposed to envy, it is the privilege of those who are now in our colleges and seminaries, preparing, under a stimulus al- most overwhelming, to act their part in human affairs. Set your standard high. Fix your eye on a star far above the horizon, and take it not off. Study — hard, flesh-tiring study — is the only thing that can make men. Genius, like other ghosts, is much talked of, but seldom seen. The only gen- ius that I ever saw, worth naming, is the result of severe application. With this, success is within the reach of every young man ; without it, it can seldom be obtained, and can not be permanent, if obtained. The intellect and the heart must be cultivated together; a divorce between them, like that between man and wife, is ruin to both." To Mrs. W . "March 15th. "Don't think of sending into a great city. If thei-e be a spot on earth full of pitfalls and death-holes, it is the city. Bringing my children here was the greatest trial I had in coming; and keeping them here is still the greatest trial I have. A boy of his age would be exposed to all manner of temptation unavoidably, and a world would not pay for the mischief which he might receive. Of all places in the world, Xew England is the place for education. It is the great school-house of the land ; and an education ob- tained there, and habits formed there, are vastly more val- uable than those of any other part of the land. I would not determine to educate my son imless he first gave evidence of piety. This may seem hard, but it is my deliberate opin- ion. The first thing a boy needs is a good, firm, powerful constitution tcorked on him, so that in after-years he can en- dure great fatigue and labor. The next thing he needs is a firm, decided government over him, to which his will shall bow Avithout any reserve, and with cheerfulness. The last thing (though the first in reality and in importance) is piety — a heart submissive and obedient to God. I know that if ever I have accomplished any thing in the world Avorth 19 286 JOHN TODD. naming, it is in a groat measure owing to the fact that I loorked hard in ray boyhood. I am persuaded that most go to college too young. You may not like my notions, but they are the result of experience ; and were they generally adopted, many a good Eli would be spared the sorrow of having sons who are ruined." To a former Parishioner in N'orthampton. "March 25th. "Those Market Street, 'cross-lot, run-over-the-way days! they were the honey-moon of life, and will never cease to live in my memory. Alas that a rainbow can not last ! You can not look back upon those days, dear W , with deejjer emotions than I do. But we are bubbles, tossed about here and there for a few moments, and then we are gone forever. Oh that I could think that I had done one action, one deed, from a motive sincerely and truly good., or one thing that will live and do good when I am gone to the dead ! I am here yet, laboring sometimes amidst dis- couragements exceedingly great, and, then again, with much pleasure and some hope. If I were to live in this world only for this world, and were not a minister, and had no respon- sibility as to whether men went to heaven or not, I should like to live here, and should be very happy. But when it is my duty to see a great congregation prepared for heaven, and feel that I can not begin to begin to do it, the work is discouraging. I do rejoice, toto corde, at the uplifting of the Edwards Church — that child of my heart ! May her banner wave gloriously long after you and I, dear friend, are forgot- ten on earth. No, no ! I have no desire for the West. When I think of rest, I think of a grave under some beautiful tree in dear New England (bah ! my eyes fill with tears at the name, though I do not speak it aloud), where I shall sleep till the great morning of the great day of the great rising." LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 287 CHAPTER XXI. LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA — COntblUed. Revival. — "Truth made Simple."— Difficulties.— Young Men's Association. — A wonderful Meeting.— Quidnunc's Letters. — Billj'. — A Day of Calam- ities. — A fearful Medicine. — " Oh, rise some other such !" — A great Pro- fession.— Quarrels.— Scarlet Fever. — Did what he could. — Five sick at once.— Sermons in the Sick-room.— What a Storm!— A hard Row.— The Place for Usefulness.— Italian Darkness.— A city Church.— Preaching of Doctor Kirk.— Dissatisfied Evangelists.— Abandoned.— The resolving System.— Abundant Labors.— Never so Prosperous. — Varioloid. — A hard Year.— The lost Sister.— Disafi"ection.— Wholesale Lies.— Water on a Rock. —Threads of Gold. " May 6th, 1839. "All the winter and spring, the state of religion among my people has been most lamentably low. I have felt at times as if the waves of worlclliness w^ould go over and drown us. Over a fortnight since, I told my church that it seemed to me that we must perish. I urged them to have a prayer- meeting every evening during the week. They had not life enough to say no; so the meetings commenced, m&xi J feeling opposed to them, many expressing regrets, and more feeling indifferent. The state of feeling was sensibly altered during the first week. One man, a profe.ssor of re- ligion, and captain of a Chinaman, was greatly awakened. He who had never dared to draw a full breath in a religious meeting, broke out and most eloquently described his feel- ings. It was electrical. At the close of the first week, I told my church that I had assumed the responsibility of the meeting for the first week, and now, if they continued, they must assume it for the second. During the last week a great advance has been made. Some of the church have been in deep distress; some have been broken down, and given up their hopes; some have become active and wide awake. All feel that the Spirit of God is here. Yet the work has only just begun. I have an inquiry-meeting, which over twenty have attended. Of these perhaps half a dozen have a trembling hope of their conversion. Their convic- tions seem very deep, pungent, and sincere " 288 JOHX TODD. To Mrs. Lucy C. Brace. "June 3d. "My dear Mothkk, — When I last saw yon, you prom- ised, of your own accord, to read any book which I would write. You probably had no thought how soon you would be called upon to exercise the self- denial. I send you ' Trutli Made Simple,' and shall be glad to know what you think of it ; and if it meets your approbation, I shall rejoice. Oh that I had a mother, whose smile would repay me as I laid at her feet my humble efforts ! But if I had, I probably should not have made an efibrt beyond my profession." " June 7th. "The secret of all the difficulty, and the af>parent cause of my want of success among this people, is the jealousy of a feAV of them. They are not sensible of it themselves. Each one can see how the others are to blame, but see no beam in their own eyes. It seems at times as if I should sink under it. No one but myself knows, or can know, the difficulties of laboring as I am situated; my church eying each other, and each afraid that his neighbor will do less than his part; the whole city crowding against us as inter- lojjers ; the ministers all standing off; my time all cut and cross-cut up: I am down at heart and sick. Still, I must hold on as well as I can, and as long as a wise Director tells me to do so. "I am trying to get up a society of young men in the city, for the protection of young men who come here from abroad. It is to save thousands from ruin. I think it will go ; and if it does, it will be worth a year's labor. I don't know but -mj forte consists in setting things in motion. " I have just had a book-seller from London to see me, to make arrangements to publish ' Todd's "Works,' as fast as they are written, in London. He seemed very much in earnest; and I was sorry that I was so situated that I could not negotiate with him. But so is my fortune. It was pre- dicted of me when a mere boy, that I was born to be poor." "June 9th. "A most wonderful meeting! full, solemn, impressive ! Between sixty and seventy in the inquiry-meeting, and the most solemn meeting that I have seen this year, or since I have been in the city. It took me and the whole church by LIFE AT rHILADELPHIA. 289 surprise. I had preaclicd all day on prayer — a very full house in the morniug, but, owing to the rain, thin this after- noon. But what a meeting this evening ! I was tired, and went in, expecting to preach little or none ; but when I saw the house so full, I could not but preach. I can not but hope it is the beginning of a great work. It seems almost too miich to hope, and yet how easy for God to do what we can not do ! I should hope great things, were there not great obstacles in the way ; but even these can be overcome by the power of God." These hopes were not fully realized. The heats of summer were at hand, and already the peo2:)le were leaving the city. A few weeks later, Mr. Todd sent off his family to their usual summer retreat at his father-in-law's, in Xewington, and himself, in company with his lame broth- er-in-law, took a long journey through the interior of Penn- sylvania. ^Yhile on this tour, he wrote a number of descrip- tive letters which were published in the North American^ which stirred up quite a breeze. "Did you Avrite a cer- tain Quidnunc's 'Letters from the Interior?' They raised a mighty storm, among the Pennsylvanians, about the fellow's ears; but though six big guns were discharged at the fellow through the newspapers, yet I can not find that they hurt him any more than Samuel's rifle did your cat." While trav- eling among the mountains in the interior, he came upon a deer-hunt. The hounds had started a little fawn; and just before he reached the spot, the little creature had leaped for refuge into the arms of a man by the roadside. He at once bought the little thing, and took it with him to his children at Xewington, with whom it was a great pet for two or three years, whenever they visited at their grandfather's. At last "Billy" became so ti'oublesome, and even dangerous, that it was necessary to administer to him " euthanasia." His horns are still preserved among the family relics. The financial condition of the country, which had been improving since the panic of 1837, had now again become very bad, and threatened to be worse than ever. " September 26th. "It is wonderful to notice how in a commercial communi- ty every thing is cramped and straitened by a pressure in the money market. Every thing here looks blue. No mon- ey to be had, no debts paid, and every body feels as if he 290 JOHX TODD. had just been eating new bread and could not digest it. The prosiDect is, there will be fearful times before it is all over." " October 14th. "The banks have all suspended, and we are in a dreadful condition. Merchants are failing, business at a stand, and every thing looks as if we were going to ruin. Wliat will be the result God only knows. It sometimes seems as if my church would sink in the storm." " October 24th. " We live here in a day of calamities. You can hardly, nay, you can not, conceive of the distress into which the commercial world is at the present time thrown. Our banks are all down, our merchants are all stagnating, and every thing is as gloomy as you could wish. All. the money we can get is reduced in value, and, indeed, Ave can hardly get money at any rate sufficient to go to market. The distress must and will go through the country, and every man, wom- an, and child must suffer. As to my church, I have stood looking as coolly as I could while the ship was sinking un- der me, and it seemed as if the next moment she must go down. I have exj^ected it, and calmly went to the helm, anticipating this result. The failure of and the knock- ing-away of some other props let down a debt of twenty- two thousand dollars directly on the church, and nobody to sustain it. No one knew what to do. Some came and con- doled with me, and said very kindly that, when the church was sold, there were friends in the city who would give me another post! In' this emergency my daring came to my aid. On my own responsibility, and without any body's ad- vice, I wrote nearly a hundred notes, and called a meeting. There were over eighty present. I made a statement, and offered a plan of my own. It was a fearful medicine ; but I had made up my mind, and administered it as coolly as you could take a pinch of snuff. Most faint-hearted were the few who had an inkling of what I was at. Very few sus- pected. Most nobly did they meet me. Before we parted, twenty-one thousand dollars' worth of pews were sold. We are now to carry out the plan, and sell the other one thou- sand dollars' Avorth, and tJien the church is afloat ! She nev- er was so well off as at this moment. But it cost me some LIFE AT rUILADELrUlA. 291 slee])less iiiglits, a few more gray hairs, and one speecli the like of which few ministers ever made. So you see I have gone to financiering, and doing the business of this world as well as my own. I have just received a call to go from this post; but though I should like to go back to dear old New England, yet of course I can not think of it. I have pledged myself to stand by the sliip, not only till she floats, but till she is in open sea, under full sail, and not a rock in sight." The sale of pews here mentioned amounted to nothing; the increasing financial commotion ruined some, and cramped others, of the purchasers, and the debt remained unpaid. " October 27th. " We have no change and no money here. I married a lit- tle fellow last evening in my parlor, but can not spend his lee, because nobody can change a two-dollar bill. A sailor came to me lately, to have me tie him to an old woman, and gave me ten dollars in gold. 'Oh, rise some other such !'" " October 28th. " I esteem the pastoral oflice the highest and the holiest on earth, since the apostolic was laid aside. It is one that God has appointed, and it is incomparahhj the most impor- tant in the world. As long as God gives me health, I sliould not dare break ray ordination-vows for any thing else. My heart and soul are in it, if in any thing, and it would -be an unspeakable grief to me to be obliged to leave it." "November 25th. "J is in real distress, without any mistake. He beg- ged for help; and I sent liim twenty dollars in two hours after receiving the note. Bis dat qui citb dat. I have been hard drawn upon this year; and if, at its close, I- have not fallen greatly behind, I shall rejoice and be disappointed; but I shall make it my rule to do for others as long and as far as my power extends, trusting that Providence will re- ward me by taking care of mine. We have received great mercies ; we have health, Ave are surrounded by comforts, and even luxuries ; and why should we grudge to do what little we can to make others happy ?" " December 21st. "I never knew what changes meant, till within a week; and I hope never to see another such week. First, there were two quarrels in my church, which were enough to sink 292 JOUX TODB. it ; and I thouglit tliey -svouUl, and lliey came \qv\ near it, but Ave got over them by God's help. Xext, we have two children now sick with the scarlet fever. This is the fifth day with Martha, and the third with Mary. Martha has been, and is, very sick, I have been with them day and night for the last three days. We expect that John and Sarah will follow next, though jDerhaps a kind Providence will spare us. In the midst of all, this morning our dear little Lucy was born — a fat, plump, sweet child, who promises to bear up her grandmother's name with propriety. Just before all this, came the crash of the Schuylkill Bank — loss over §1,300,000 — and all through the knavery of one man? The mightiest piece of villainy ever practiced in this country ! Thousands and thousands of widows and orphans are ru- ined, for there they had invested their all. We have lost our little all. God grant that such distress may never again fall upon this city. We forget our individual suiFerings in the general woe. My church is shaken to its foundations. Is it not wonderful that the pillars on which my church was reared should be thus swept away ? God only is wise, and good, and to be trusted. I am worn out, and sick of every thing I see ; but so long as God in mercy spares the lives of my family, I will not say one word, I hope whoever writes my history since I have been here, will be able to say, 'He did what he could for that church.' If I can say this from the heart, I shall not need to say more." " December 31st. "Martha continued to droop and droop till she seemed al- most gone; but is, we trust, now recovering, though she can not turn herself in bed. On Friday, I was taken most vio- lently with chills and pains, and for forty-eight hours was in agon}^ Now I have begun to get oiF the bed, and nurse again over the sick. Last night, at midnight, John was tak- en, and, I suppose, must now go through a regular siege of scarlet fever. If our lives may be spared (oh, how easy to be reconciled, when we may thus make one great reserve !), we shall feel that God is dealing with us in great mercy and kindness. We have hwl Jive at present who are confined to the chamber. Of these, three are with me, and over them I hang day and night, I count myself the fourth. If man at his best estate is altogether vanity, what is he at his lowest LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA. 293 and -wcalcest? Did you ever read Charnock on Divine Providence ? I have been tossing on my bed, and reading it in great paiu of body, and yet great mental delight." " January Gth, 1840. " John is very low — so much so that I should not be sur- prised were he to be taken away at an hour's warning. I dare not tell Mrs. Todd how I feel, lest it injure her. The poor little emaciated groaner ! you would not know him. He is out of his head most of the time, but even then tells me that he says his prayers softly. Martha sits up fifteen minutes in the day. I have had my clothes oif but once for eighteen days and nights. I preached twice yesterday, ser- mons that I wrote in this sick-room. Pray for us much, that God would be with us in this hour of darkness." "January 20lh. "John is slowly recovering, though he can not sit up yet. Sarah has just got over the loorst of her sickness. Martha has had a very narrow escape with her life, but is gradually creeping uphill. It is now five weeks since I have had a night's rest. But few of the nights have I taken ofi" my clothes. Here I have staid, and here written my poor ser- mons. But, oh, what a storm we have in my church ! a storm that threatens to sink it, and tcill sink it, without a special interposition of Divine Providence. The fact is, that some of my church have been at swords' points for the last year and a half; and I have been burning up between them. The result, I have no doubt, will be that I shall leave, and my poor church will quarrel and tear each other a while, and then fall into the hands of the Presbyterians. Great efforts have already been made to effect this end. No one knows, or can ever know, the difficulties I have had to meet, since I have been here, from without and within. I am wearing out here with hard labors, all alone, with none to sympathize with me, none to aid me. I am as solitary as if there were not a fellow-minister within hundreds of miles of me. My row has been a hard one ; but I have labored without murmuring ; and if God calls me to leave, I hope I shall do it without a tear." "January 27th. " Were I to go back to my theological life (and oh that I could !), I would do differently from what I did. I would 294 JOHX TODD. not enter tlie ministry as young by four or five years (I was twenty-five). I would then, Providence favoring, settle in some small, pleasant village, make me a convenient and de- sirable home, get me a great pile of books, and there I would stick, dwelling among mine own people, and trying to caiTy them with me to heaven. I have done very differently. I have built three large churches out of nothing, all of which are now strong and powerful. I have had anxieties too great, because upon the success of each church my character has been staked. I have preached in the cottage, and the school-house, and the saloon, and the splendid church. The onediwn is the place for usefulness. 'Society,' says Sam Slick, ' is like a pork-barrel : the middle is good, but the top and bottom are apt to be a leetle tainted.'' What we call 'common folks' are the backbone of all that is good, and among such, were I Horace, I would seek to spend my life. Let him stick to his books, make all he can his own, save every thought in his power; it will all be needed, and come in use hereafter. Let him live near to God in the closet ; it is worth more than all the world besides." "February 3d. " I consider J a young man of first-rate mind in most respects, and of uncommon attainments. There seems to be but one great defect in him — a certain Italian darkness — a stern withdrawing from every human thing, and making his own soul the repository of its own confidence and secrets. This is well, if not carried too far. If it increases upon him, it will be unhappy,and eventually lead tomisanthropy; but should it pass away, as the cloud passes from the sun, lie will be a bright man. I trust that he will outgrow it, and that eventually it will become only an independence arising from native energy of character. It is owing very much to orig- inal temperament; and I know what it means, for I have a spice of it in my own constitution." " February 5th. "Till I came here, I never knew what icorJc, what trouble, what anxiety meant. The ship in which you are sailing is continually under strong headway and foi'ever in sight of the rocks. You can not sleep a moment, you can not relax a moment, you can not cease to labor a moment. It is for this reason that so many break down in cities. My poor LIFE AT rHILADELnilA. 295 Iiead lias turned gray faster here in one year than in any ton vcai's of my life before I came, and yet I have been exceed- ingly prosperous. But ah ! the wear of such eternal labor, such sleepless vigilance ! I can truly say that for comfort, for health, for personal enjoyment, I would prefer the small- est country parish in good old New England to any great church in any great city. In a city it is all luxury and all misery — no such thing as comfort; and the more splendid the church, the greater your misery. But add to all this tliat I stand alone^ have no minister to sympathize with me, none to associate with me. I have been sustaining a load enough to crush shoulders broader than mine, and the mo- ment that Provi-dencc allows, I shall lay it down, or it will sink me into the grave." At about this time Rev. E. N. Kirk, then at the height of his popularity and success as an evangelist, visited the city, and preached in several of the churches to immense audi- ences. A general religious interest was excited, in which the Clinton Street Church shared. "My people are begin- 'ning to pray, as I believe, Avith great earnestness, and are asking for a blessing. The last two Sabbaths I have thrown aside my notes, and preached right down upon and at the people. There is already a very unusual solemnity upon my congregation." In these circumstances, Mr. Todd wrote most urgently to Mr. Kii'k to come and labor with him. He came, but soon became dissatisfied with something, and left abruptly, after having " preached a few times without much effect." "Mr. Nettleton, too, is here — has drunk tea with us. I have tried very hard to get him to preach for me, to attend some meetings, to visit with me, but he will not. When shall we be done with the idea that we may pout,* and refuse to eat, if every dish is not served just to our lik- ing?" Thus abandoned, Mr. Todd, already exhausted by sickness and watching in his family, had to shoulder the whole burden of the work of the revival. " March lOtli. "I have preached, or exhorted, in public over sixty tinu's in the last four weeks, and am much worn down. My nerves are in such a condition that I can not sleep at night. There have been over one hundred and twenty in the inquiry-meet- ing; of these perhaps fifty are my own people; the rest are 296 JOHN TODD. wanderers, strangers, any thing. The most distressing part of it is, that the work is superficial. They want to be con- verted on the resolving system — to leap into the kingdom without a pang of sorrow or remorse, or a single view of sin. They want to be excited a little, and then coaxed into the kingdom, and at once raked into the church." "April 13th. "I have been so ill for the last three weeks that I have been able only to drag through daily pressing duties. I have had, and still have, a severe pain in ray breast, and have, at times, thought of dropping all till better. Still, I have held on, and am trying to do Avhat I can for my flock. I have preached, and talked, and labored most abundantly. More than two hundred have been in my inquiry- meet- ings, of whom one half were members of my congregation. We shall probably have nearly or quite fifty added to our church at our next communion. Most of these are young, and nearly one half are young men. In many respects ray church Avas never so prosperous as at this hour. The money-aiFairs are in a dreadful condition: if we live through" this storm, we shall, as I hope, have a clearer sky. Two or three times I have been on the point of laying down the bur- den and running for my life, and should have done it, were it not that persevei-ance is a part of my character and a part of my religion. The Presbyterians stand off more and more." "May 24th. "We are but indifferently well here. I have not been out of the house myself for nearly two weeks. While at Xew York, I had chills, and, on my return, a severe attack of bilious fever, added to a touch of the varioloid, which I took in visiting a poor miserable creature dying with the small- pox — visiting her officially, after six other ministers had re- fused. I have suffered much pain, but am now better. We have just had all the walls of our lecture, Sabbath-school, and conference rooms taken off, and an entire new coat of hard white plastering put on, and it looks very inviting and cheering. Things have gone wonderfully well with my people this spring, so far; but it is about time to have trou- ble of some kind or another." "July 5th. " Early in the morning I expect to send off all my treas- LIFE AT rillLADELrniA. 297 ures. She who thirteen years ago Avent off alone with me will now return to you, for a short season, with her five children ! I hope they may have Divine protection on the way, and during their stay. It is a great tiling to be thus obliged to break up every year, and leave my people for so long a period ; but I am almost worn out. The past is by far the hardest year I ever had. I could not go through another such without sinking under it. Every possible ex- ertion is made to make me pull down the Congregational flag; but I have nailed it to the must. Jean not change: I have not been used to it." Having thus sent off his family to Newington, he again started, with his lame brother-in-law, for a journey into the interior of the State. Their route led them through the coal region, where they visited some of the mines, through the beautiful Wyoming Valley, and up the Susquehanna into New York State, whence, after a short visit among friends in the lake country, and a brief halt at Saratoga Springs, they returned home by the way of Newington, bringing the family with them. It was on this journey that the facts re- specting Wyoming Valley and its history were collected, which Avere afterward embodied in the little book called "The Lost Sister." " September 22d. " On coming back to my flock, I found almost every thing wrong and out of order, and God only knows whether it will ever be otherwise. The disaffected seemed to have matured their plans to turn the church into a Presbyterian church. To effect this, nothing was too bad to say about me, my family, preaching, talents, etc. My course was, first, to see how the great body of my church and congregation stood ; for it now became a question, what should be the fate of my church. I found shortly, that, as a whole, the church were unitedly and firmly knit together, and that they were firm friends to me and to Congregationalism. I found, moreover, that if I left, it would distract and break up my church ; and, at all events, it would not do to leave them at present, unless I Avas willing to see the church utterly in ruins. My course was soon fixed, and from it I have not deviated a hair. I at once stood aloof from every body. I have let them say just lohat they please, and as they please, 298 JOHN TODD. and when, they please. I liave taken no notice of stones or slanders, violence or threatenings (which have been most abundant). I have preached as good sermons as I could pos- sibly get time to write, have visited the sick, and made eight regular family visits every week. I have quarreled with no- body, and I loill quarrel with nobody. I shall stay as long as seems to be my duty, and leave the very moment when duty to my trust will seem to admit. If there were any thing that I had done or said that could be got hold of, the most that couldhe. made of it would. Fortunately such timber has hitherto been very scarce. I should ask and take a dismission at once, were it not that in so doing I should endanger, and probably ujDset, Congregationalism in this city for a long time to come. And yet it seems as if I could not live here in this state much longer. I get used to it, just as the eels did to being skinned. I have tried to feel right, and to do right, and, so far as I have, I am sure God will shield me. I admire one sentence in one of Lu- ther's letters to Melancthon : 'Monendus est Philippus, ut de- sinat esse rector mundi.' " "November 14th. "I have been driven almost to madness by the conduct of some of my people. I do not believe that Edwards ever had so bad things said of him, such wholesale lies told. But I go on, and, though I have been brought into close corners, yet I have outgeneraled all so far, by standing still and doing nothing. I have no plans for the future; all is in the hands of Providence." " December 29th. " We have trials with our people, and such, at times, as it seems as if we should sink under. Nobody except those on the ground can conceive of the methods taken to annoy us. The disaffected disgust and keep people away ; they give the impression through the city that we are going to ruins ; they try to jDcrsuade those now with us to leave us ; they keep people from joining us, who would do it other- wise ; they seem determined to destroy the church. I spare no health, strength, heart, or soul in preaching and in labor- ing ; but it would do as much good to pour water upon a rock. It is now six months since I have received a cent of salary ; the whole church is in a state of heart-sinking ; LIFE AT PHILADELrUIA. 299 and God must deliver us by his special interposition, or tlie churcli is gone to ruin." It was in such a furnace that Mr. Todd's character was tried and made more perfect, his ambition and pride humbled, his meekness and ])atience increased, his experience of hu- man nature enriched, and his courage, his indifference to men, his composure and endurance, wrought out for the work of the ministry that yet lay before him. Not a few of the threads of gold that gleamed in his later character and life were drawn and woven in these fires. 300 JOHN TODD. CHAPTER XXn. LIFE AT PHILADELPHIA — Continued. A kind Publisher.— Scalding Water. — Great Cities. — The Pension.— Char- acter attacked. — A severe Ordeal.— Insults. — A boyish Heart.— Dajs of Anguish. — Temporary Peace. — Vacation. — Burlington College. — First Glimpse of Adirondacks. — The Backing -spider. — Philosophical Fog. — Winking. — In the Woods. — Eestored.— Welcome Home.— A mortgaged Church for Sale. — A distressed People. — A solemn Birthday. — Dismission asked. — Postponement. — Efforts. — Tears. — All over. — A Cradle overhung ■with Gloom. — In a Hall. — How far a Failure.— Causes. — How little lacked. — Presbyterian Generosity. — Congregational Liberality. — A heavy Blow. — Character saved. — Invited to Remain. — The scattered People. — Farewell to Philadelphia. To J. II. Butler, his Publisher. " January 15th, 1841. " I do not know how much longer I shall feel it to be my duty to stand my ground here, to be scorned, and slandered, and abused beyond all description. I should let go in an hour, but the moment that I do the ship is all a wreck. I have not received"a cent of salary for more than six months ; and had it not been for thee, thou good friend, I don't know but my babes would have starved. Many thanks, dear B., for your many kindnesses to me and mine. You have no idea how much you live in my memory, or how much I value your friendship. May the Lord bless you ! and if you do as well as you know how, he certainly will." To Rev. G. R. H . "January 20th. "I have been in water scalding hot ever since I saw you, and have been scalded all over; but as I keep perfectly still, I heal up fast. There is an onset made — an effort which I have never seen equaled for violence, for slander, for cruelty, for virulence — to upset the ship, discharge every hand, throw the cargo into the sea, and hoist another flag. What the re- sult will be, will depend entirely upon the will and designs of a wise and gracious Providence. I can not think that I and my church will be allowed to be killed. But if we are, LIFE AT FHILADELrHIA. 301 it will be open murder: we shall die hard ; and you will hear our death-throes even in New York, noisy as you are. I could tell you a tale that would amaze you. I have a Mon- day-morning prayer -meeting of ministers at my study weekly, and have ten ministers of seven difierent denomina- tions, but not one of them is a Presbyterian. I am deliver- ing a short course of lectures on ' Great Cities,' which are making a noise here, and drawing great crowds." Evidence having been put into Mr. Todd's hands, about this time, that his father had served in the Revolutionary War, he made an attempt to secure for his mother the pen- sion to which she was entitled. 2h Rev. and Mrs. S. N. Shepard. " February 4th. "Dear Brother and Sister, — I have run a curious course since I saw you. On reaching home, I pushed on at once to Washington, and pushed here and there ; but push- ing did no good. They would not begin to begin to give me'-a pension; and so I came home with my finger in my mouth, having spent just fifty dollars in the two journeys, and liaving become perfectly satisfied that no star shines propitiously on my path." [At a later day, a small pension was secured.] " We have had trial upon trial since I saw you, and I don't suppose you will be particularly delighted with their recital. It is enough to say that I have been the butt at which there has been sharp and hard shooting. Some of my good folks, and those who were bitter enemies to each other a few wrecks since, have banded together, and have had caucuses about every evening. One says this, and an- other says that, and the rest swear to it. I had about made up my mind to leave them at once and cut clear ; but just at this time they attacked my moral character; said that I was a liar and a slanderer, and that my moral character was both of these in New England ; and showed the backside of a letter which they said would prove this, etc. I then made up my mind to die hard. I simply said, 'There is my char- iioter, which I have been twenty years in earning ; take it, make the most of it, impeach it, if you please. I am ready to try any issue between you and me you choose. • I only demand that you bring your charges, and that they be tried 20 302 JOHN TODD. before the strongest ecclesiastical council the land can af- ford.' They then tried to buy me off — would give me a year's salary to leave. No, I can't be bought. The hawk has taken the cat up in the air, to eat her up ; and when he finds that puss w'on't be eaten, he says, 'Let go, let go.' 'No,' says puss, 'you must first carry me back to the place where you took me up.' They are now daily and nightly plotting. They say, ' Why doesn't Mr. Todd discipline us for slandering him? Will he lie under such imputations?' I reply, ' Cool, cool, gentlemen ! you may pick at my char- acter all the day, and all the year, and I shall have enough left. You don't trouble me, and I am not in a hurry.' So I stand perfectly still, and let them work. I am sometimes amazed at my own coolness; but, then, I know that I am ou the riglit side, and they on the wrong ; that all the praying part of the church are against them; that all the rest of the church and congregation are united and firm ; that the com- munity will go against them ; and that on their part it is merely a determination to triumph over one po*^!* w^^nx. of the dust. What will be the result I know not. I have thrown myself upon that Providence that has ever taken care of me, and leave it all in his hands. I shall aim to fol- low that Providence. In the mean time, I go on, through evil report and through good report, unmoved. I wish that I could get away, if it be God's will ; but I dare not do it of myself In the mean time, the sympathies of my people are gathering around us more and more. I have pledged myself not to run, come what will, and I think they will stand by me. It is the most severe ordeal and the most severe trial that I ever passed through, and God grant that it may do me good. I think it has done me good ; for though I shalfnot break, or flinch, or sink, till I die, yet it has led me to throw -myself more upon God, and by prayer to commit my destiny unto him. My head whitens fast, and my nights are sleepless ; and yet I can laugh as heartily as ever, and feel no more discouraged than on that buoyant morning when I left Boston on foot, with my worldly goods under my arm, for Yale." To W. K. B , in Paris. "February 8th. "I am insulted daily, in the house of God and everywhere LIFE AT PHILADELFHIA. 303 else : Mrs. Todd, too, comes in for her share of reproach and contumely, and it sometimes seems as if we must sink under it. But God has been gracious hitherto, and he must be praised and confided in. I think that I should have left and gone to dear New England, had they not so violently at- tacked my moral character; but when they did that, I said, 'I don't go at present.' I have suiFered all that the tongue can inflict, and henceforth every new infliction will be less and less felt. I have often said, 'Oh that I had one true New England heart with which to commune !' What a world this is, that one's friends should turn against him ! and what a world will that be, out of which all that is sin- ful shall be cast ! I have tried to be still, to return good for evil, and blessing for cursing, and on no occasion to be thrown ofi" my guard. My church and congregation, as a whole, are united, and would be cheerful and happy, were it not for 'men.' But I Avill leave all till I see you. I will only add that you may expect to be amazed. I have worked as hard since I have been in this city as a man ought ever to do. I have put up with as much, and have been will- ing to do any thing for the prosperity of my church. A thousand changes have taken place since I saw you, a thou- sand new developments made, and a thousand new things have turned up. But the heart is the same, the heavens over us are the same, and the hopes of the good man are unchanged. You, too, I learn, have been touched by sorrow and disappointment. May you receive good from it. Can you evei-, in your gay city, send your thoughts across the great waters, and think of such a place as the White Mount- ains, and the pure, green, murmuring Saco, born up in the very solitudes of nature ? Boyish heart, this of mine ! It might travel the earth over, and see every thing upon which the sun shines, but never could memory let go that vision! Shall we ever again see it in company ? Is there any air in La Belle France to be compared with that of our own native hills? In all the world, is there such a spot on which to die and be buried, as under the shade of one of our own trees, where our native birds would sing over our rest ?" " March 2od. " Since I last wrote you I have passed through more trou- bles than at any time in my life during the same period. 304- JOHN TODD. Tlie determined and avowed attern|)t has been made for months to destroy my Christian and ministerial character, in my cliurch, out of my church, and through the city. I liave spent sleepless nights and days of anguish. I have been lacerated and worn down; and you know that 'oppres- sion maketh the wise man mad.' I have almost wished for the grave as a resting-place. I have not retorted or thrown back. I have stood still and waited upon the Lord. In the mean time I have worked hard, have attended five meetings between the Sabbaths every week throughout the season, have not lost a half day this winter, have written my lect- ures on Great Cities, and preached them twice over in the city to immense audiences." About this time his opponents determined to measure their strength in a church meeting. The result showed that they could command only their own less than half a dozen votes. Greatly chagrined at this signal defeat, they at once withdrew from the congregation, leaving the church to enjoy a temporary peace. "April lOth. "Every day shows tliat the world turns round very rap- idly. The death of Harrison filled all hearts with deep gloom and sorrow. It is real, even in a great city ; and the impression is so deep that the very streets are saddened. Our churches are hung in mourning, and the nation grieves. Hardly had we recovered from the shock here, when the dis- closures came respecting the United States Bank. Every thing is now prostrate here, and all is in distress." To Samuel J^race, his Brother-in-law, in Yale College. "May 5th. "I congratulate you on your appointment, which certainly speaks well of you as having character. I think father and mother have great reason to be proud of their children — of all except my poor self. I am not what God made me, nor what man made me ; merely what I made myself, with no model to work by. I shall send you my little new book ('Great Cities'), and you must, tell me how you like it. I don't know that I shall stop writing till Noah Webster does. It's a vexatious business ; but a French writer says, ' He who has written once will write again.' The only pleasant thing, LIF£J AT nilLADELPHIA. 305 by Avay of relaxation, tliat I liave had since I saw you was, that this morning I shot a large rat in my cellar in the dark, and he upon the jump. Can you beat that?" To Hon. W. II . "May 24th. "It is difficult to unite all needed qualities in any one man. He who shall possess character, heart, piety, and in- tellect sufficient to leave the marks of a powerful ministry in after-years upon a community can hardly be expected to be the most popular for the present moment ; and the boat tliat sails beautifully upon the smooth waters with soft breezes can hardly be expected to have a build and a strength that can weather a gale and outride storms. I feel that the right man, in a position like yours, ought to have the power of do- ing as much good abroad, by character and influence, as at home. But you have lived too long not to know that ineu are very imperfect creatures. Charity comes with age," The severe trials through which Mr. Todd had passed, to- gether with the sickness in his family, and the excitement and labors connected with the revival, had so worn upon him, that when the hot weather and the time- for his annual vacation came on he found himself seriously out of health. He had engaged to deliver an oration at Amherst and Bur- lington colleges. Leaving, therefore, his family in their usu- al summer retreat, he hastened to perform this duty before seeking entire rest. From Burlington he writes : "August 2d. "This place is indescribably beautiful in location and scenery. It stands on the side of a hill running parallel with Lake Champlain. On the top of a hill, facing west and east, stands the college, just a mile from the lake. You look down west, and the beautiful village, containing five thou- sand inhabitants, and all embosomed in trees, lies at your feet. You look over it, and there is the lake, curving along toward Canada, just ten miles wide, and apparently not a quarter of that width. Opposite Burlington, some three miles off, a rock rears up its form, like a tall hay-stack, na- ked, cold, and solitary, and beautiful. Then, beyond, are four little islands, exactly alike, called 'The Four Brothers,' covered with trees and foliage. They rise up apparently seventy-five or one hundred feet, and then are covered and 306 JOHN TODD. crowned with a most beautiful green. Beyond the lake is a horizon of mountains, from twelve to fifty miles oflf, in dif- ferent ranges and tiers ; and among them, some forty miles away, rises Mount Marcy, over five thousand feet high. That whole region is a wonder, and, in other years, I have often tried to pierce it with the eye and see what is there. No pen can describe the beauty of those blue mountains, apparently withdrawn from the world that they may com- mune and live together. It is a region of wilds, and lakes, and rivers, and steeps, and precipices, and the place where Nature walks alone, without any troublesome people to fol- low her to gaze at her naked limbs, or to take the measure of her footsteps. From the college you also look east, and there are my own native Green Mountains, most symmetric- ally beautiful. They are twenty miles off, but you would not think them over three. They have also a veil of Wue over them, so that you can not exactly see what is going on there. ' Mansfield ' is the name of the peak directly east of this ; and it is the highest peak in the whole range." "Au^ast 3d. "Last evening I delivered my oration before the college, in the large Unitarian church, and under the pressure of such a sick headache as almost killed me. I had the most undivided attention, and I believe it went off Avell ; but I feel awfully on this most beautiful morning. My head rolls, and plunges, and twitches, ' with a hobble and a hitch,' and goes each way like a ' backing-spider.' " "Evening. " I lay on the bed all the forenoon. Dined at Professor W 's, in company with several gentlemen. This after- noon I heard an oration before the literary societies, and also a poem. The oration, as I prestmie, was deep, but it was the dryest of all fodder. The poem was a long string of rhymes and good pious feeling. This evening \'Q shall be in a better one, w^here the burdens of life will all be laid down, and the weary one at rest. Shall 7" ever be there ? I seem to feel that there are few so unlikely, and few so far from it, if moral fitness and holiness be the condition. Alas ! my Father's house is seen no more plainly than when I began to ascend the hill of life, and the mists and shadows that hang over the inheritance of God's children seem to be no nearer being lifted off. Is my title-deed safe? God bless you and yours, my dear friend, and may the golden dust of the angels' wings every day drop in your path !" To his Sister Elizabeth. "May 15th. "I have intended, every day, to write; but every day had new sorrows, or troubles, or duties. I have had much to do ; for, though there has been no revival among us, I have at- tended ten or eleven meetings every week. In the next place, I have been very much out of health, have been under the surgeon's tender mercies three times, and am hardly able to say that I am better." 382 JOHN TODD. To B. B. C . "June 23d. "My courage and self-reliance are failing continualIj\ Though I have no new theories in religion, and hold to the old landmarks, and preach the same old doctrines that I did when we were together, yet I sometimes catch a new thought, and have a new ray of light break in upon me from, I humbly hope, the Father of all lights. I should re- gret to have you draw from my letters that I am discon- tented or unhappy ; if I am, it all arises from imperfections and sins within, and not from outward circumstances. In money I am poor, and always shall be. In position, I have enough to do, responsibility sufficient to bear, and all the respect and influence that I deserve. And yet the Avarfare within is not terminated, the victory is not yet achieved, and the song of triumph is not yet sung. I am too often trying to hold a light for other footsteps, while my own are in the dark. But Berridge says that the name of him who plucks us from the burning is Holdfast I wish that I had sometliing to return for all your kindnesses ; but when shall I have ? I belong to the great family of Debtors, a very old, if not a respectable, family, and it's too late for me to deny my relationship." "October 6th. "It makes me sad to go and come and not have my peo- ple know that I have been away. Not a soul bade me good- bye ; not a soul came to welcome me back. I do hope that when I die they will bury me with great propriety." To M. H. F . "November 8th. " It is a long time since I have written to you ; but it has only been put off in the hope, from time to time, that I should be able to command more time, and do the thing up with more propriety, and more to my own satisfaction, if not to yours. But leisure never comes to me, and seasons and flashes of inspiration are too seldom; and you might as well expect the old wheel-horse of the mountain stage to play the colt, and run and kick up his heels, as to expect me to break out in strains eloquent, original, or interesting. The angel of poetry, if he ever flew near me, has long since shaken out all the gold-dust he had in his wings." LIFE AT riTTSFIELD. 383 To Sarah and Lucy, teaching in Kentucky. " November 24th. "Do tell nie all about your tableaux, and your Thanks- giving, and your calls, and your visits, and your teaching. I hope you are faithful tlierein, and eminently successful. See every thing you can, without sacrificing the character of a lady. Don't feel that you are to be affected by the question of money, as they are around you ; but remember that xce stand on character^ For more than ten years, Mary, his eldest child, had been slowly sinking under the power of an unknown disease. Ev- ery possible remedy had been tried ; she had been sent, at immense expense and sacrifice, to medical institutions of every kind ; and physicians of every school, and some of them among the most eminent in the country, had been sum- moned to prescribe for her ; but all in vain : it had now be- come evident that, so long as she lived, she would be a help- less suflferer. "December 25th. "Mary is about the same; but the angel of ho2:)e, as he looks in upon her, shakes less and less gold from his wings, and the poor thing has come to the conclusion that she will never again walk a step in this life. Thank God, she is cheerful, and sheds fewer tears than I do over her situation, though neither of us tells the other the secrets and the sor- rows of the heart. While / live, the poor thing will be cared for; and when I am dead, will not some kind hand be raised up to minister to her ? Why should I distrust ?" To B. B. C . "February 7th, 1859. "At the close of the services yesterday morning, I said to my congregation that it was an uncommon thing for a min- ister to introduce his own son into the ministry; that, dur- ing the seventeen years that I had been their pastor, I had had trials which I had not designedly been forward to ob- trude upon them, and also blessings for which I hoped that I had been thankful ; that I proposed in the afternoon to in- troduce my son to preach his first sermon, and perform his first public service before them, and besought their kind sympathy toward youth and inexperience. I wanted to dis- arm criticism. The people thought me almost mad to do it, 384 JOHN TODD. and him mad for doing it; even Doctor 11 thought it would be better to have him preach somewhere else first. So in the afternoon my great church was crowded with peo- ple, and all in a state to sympathize. What would I not have given to have you present ! You can't think wdiat a time it Avas ; how he went through the services amidst more tears than I ever saw shed in that house before ; and how I was as cool as a wooden clock till it was all over, and then — the tears — they would come ! "I thank you for Mr. Barnes's 'Sixty Years' Sermon;' and when you meet him, I want you to thank him, in my behalf, for that cheerful, gladsome light in which he sees things, and which he so beautifully sheds all around him. It is truly a luxury to find o?ie man at three-score who has not become in the least acid, and who can allow that all that is good and great and bright on earth is not clean gone forever. To me men and things look smaller and smaller; but, in every light in which I can look at it, the kingdom of Christ looms up larger and more important." To B. B. C . "September 12th. "At the present time we are very anxious about Lucy, and are sparing nothing to obtain the best medical skill for her. She must receive help soon, or my bright flower fades. It is a fearful time when you see the angel of woe poised on his wings near you, and you are watching to see if it is upon your family that he is to pour his vial. We shudder lest he fold his wings and pause before our door. Take all the comfort you can with your children now., I pray j^ou, for as they grow up your anxieties will be immeasurably aug- mented." To his Brother Willkon. " February 16tb, 1861. "I have been very sick with the diphtheria, and am just creeping up, though weak and feeble. For a long time I had two doctors twice a day, and twice a day had my throat excoriated Avith nitrate of silver; and when that was some- Avhat better, I had such a prostration of strength, that it seemed as if I could never rally. It seems all a troubled dream to me, but it was undoubtedly a narrow escape from the grave." LIFE AT riTTSFIELD. 385 On account of his prostration, liis pliysicians prescribed great quantities of brandy. One morning one of his parish- ioners met another who loved a joke, and asked, anxiously, " How is Doctor Todd getting along, do you know ?" " Pret- ty well, I believe," was the reply; "the only danger now is — delirium tremens." "Does it seem possible to you that I am sixty years old, and have been thirty-five years preaching the Gospel? What a dream is life ! And how little in the field that we have been cultivating now looks green and fair ! '■'■Bid you and I ever expect to outlive the union of our country? Is the whole world mad? Did you ever see the W'Orld so full of fools, all as mad as March hares ? Where we shall drift to, or where come out, the Lord only knows. Well, I mean to plant a few potatoes, and make my gar- den as usual, and leave the country and the world in God's hands." In the month of April Doctor Todd was called to part with two venerable ministers, who had for years been his parishioners, and had always found him respectable, affec- tionate, and fliithful as an own son. They had enjoyed the evening of life, and now finished tlieir course, together. The venerable Doctor Humphrey was the first to go ; and he was followed, after a short but painful sickness, by Doc- tor Brace. Of the latter. Doctor Todd wrote : " When I first knew him, he was in the glory of his days, nearly six feet high, straight, tinely built, strong, and vigoi*- ous. His hair was curling and beautiful. His teeth even, and very white. His eye large, black, and brilliant as a diamond. His forehead was lofty and commanding. His lips somewhat compressed, and the whole impress of his character was, that he M^as a man decided and hard to be moved, capable of great mental labor, quick of apprehen- sion, and devoted to his one work. To see him, in the mel- low ripeness of years, so calm, so bright, so cheerful, and so loving, you would have no idea of the rough, stern, and hard materials out of which that character was formed. To see him denying himself almost in clothing and in comforts, that he might annually give more in charity to spread the Gospel than many whole churches, you would not think that he did this contrary to strong natural tendencies. His 38G JOHN TODB. character was one of great simplicity. He made conscience of every tiling, great and small. He would often ask if he had any duty, or if he had done his duty, as to this or that. This conscientiousness embraced his dealings, his studies, his dress, and even his sleep. Religion was the work of his life ; and it pervaded, transformed, purified, altered, adorned, and beautilied the whole man. He spent most of his time for the last six years in studying the Scriptures, meditation, and prayer. His love for the \Yord of God exceeded that of any other man that I ever knew. He daily read it in dif- ferent languages, in five of which he was nearly perfect. He began the study of Hebrew at forty-five, and for the last thirty-five years has had a familiarity with that language seldom equaled. During his last sickness, when his mind was clouded on other subjects, the Scriptures lay in his soul like a well of pure, deep waters, every few moments gushing up with unrivaled beauty. He would even then mention a verse in English, and then put it into Greek, aud next into Hebrew, with entire accuracy. In prayer he brought in the Scriptures so appropriately and beautifully, that it seemed like weaving a cloth of gold without the coldness of the brilliant metal ; and I have often been astonished to hear him take such jjassages as the Hebrew names in Chronicles, and use them in prayer most naturally and instructively. You seemed to feel that the very thorn-bushes were loaded with fruit, and wondered that you had never seen it before. We seldom, if ever, heard his equal in prayer. We have heard others pray as earnestly, as tenderly, and as fluently; but we never saw the man who was his equal in lifting an audience up to the very throne of God, and holding them there till they felt the very dews of heaven falling fast and cool upon them. His last sickness was one of terrible suf- ferings; the pains which others suiFer all the way through life seemed to be condensed and laid upon him. Much of the time his mind was overpowered by disease, and always in ag- onizing pain, but even then his spirit was beautiful and child- like. Xot an expression escaped him inappropriate, or which you would wish altered. Much of the time was spent, even in these circumstances, in quoting the Scriptures and in prayer; and every thought was in the line of religion. He wanted pi'ayer in his room even longer than he could command his LIFE AT FITTSFIELD. 38V thoughts to follow it fully. And when at last, in the silent, Imshed chamber, the messenger came, in the arms of his children he breathed out his soul as softly as the rose shuts her leaves at night. For many minutes we knew not in which world to think of him. Oh, father dear, dear ! we, thy children, will try to take up thy mantle, and walk in thy steps, and feel that thy warm breath is upon us, while we seek to follow thy example." It is evident that from a father whom he held in such estimation, and with whom he had been in constant and in- timate correspondence and communication for nearly forty years, the son must have received many influences which went to form and modify his own character. "April 16th. "Last Sabbath morning, in the pulpit in the first prayer, I gave out, and stopped — a dizziness in the head and brain, and a cold sweat over the whole body. I had presence of mind enough left to tell the congregation that I was over- Avorked, and could not go on. The gentlemen helped me down from the pulpit, marched me out, carriaged me, and brought me home. The doctor pronounced it over-mental labor, gave me no medicine, and ordered me to go out and work on my farm ; but there has been, and is, and is to be, I fear, such a horrible snow-storm here that there's no such thing as getting out." "May 6th. "All mind, and thought, and feeling here are absorbed in the war; and I am afraid that even good people are too blood-thirsty in their feelings and prayers." "June 3d. "It may be true that I don't tcrite to my friends as often as I would, but they may feel assured that they live in my heart as warmly, and in my memory as freshly, as if I wrote every week. Indeed, I consider it one of my infirmities that I can't forget my friends." To B. B. C . " September 9th. " We talk, we read, we think, we dream of nothing but the war. Xow, my good friend, don't you think that if you and I had the ordering of things, we should order them very differently ? Truly we should. But, could we see the end 388 JOHN TODB. from the beginning, so as not to get all things so snarled up, that, to move or to stand still, would be a wide ruin ? Dear me ! if we can't manage our own heart and conscience and will, what should we do if we had a nation or a world to manage ? Xow, don't you wish that you had wealth, so that you could retire, and get away from all this noise and strife and struggle, and have quiet? Ah yes, but instead of being my C , whose face I look at in my parlor every day, and who is now so kind, so humble, and so generous, you would be some old, avaricious, sour fellow, who would feel like an old pigeon which had gathered a great heap of grain, and must now flutter and fight over it, to keep all the pigeons in the land from picking it away from him — whom nobody would love or esteem. Now, you don't have to worrj- about an estate which you may lose in a day, nor about a coun- try which is already dishonored, and may be a ruin within a week, nor about battles which are the fulcruras on which the destinies of unborn ages are poised, nor about a Govern- ment which is in danger of being crushed by its weakness, or of becoming an iron despotism in its strength. Xo, you are not troubled by any of these things; for you have a pavilion, even faith, into which you may enter till the in- dignation is overpast. Good Father Brace went down be- fore the war; and, if he has heard of it, he is so near the throne, that the roar of cannon doesn't trouble him. I do Avant to see you and yours, and to unite with you and thank God that he reigns, that he doeth all things well, and that he is leading us to a kingdom that shall never be moved." " October 24th. " Our ladies here are greatly engaged in knitting for the soldiers, and think of making the charity richer by dancing to close the exercise?, so that the feet need not have the hands say, 'Ye are idle.' " To 21, 's. Lizzie II Todd, after the Birth of her first Child. "December 23d. " I am greatly pleased with the name,' not for my present great admiration of the state of Virginia, but because it is a long prefix to a short name. It sounds and reads well. I have thought much of you, dear Lizzie, in having this little creature to awaken in your heart anxieties that are new, LIFE AT PITTHFIELD. 389 that are great, and inereasinglj^ so as long as you live. The French proverb is full of truth: " ' Tendresse ruaternelle Toujours se reuouvelle.' " If her life is spared, her education will commence before she is six months old, and every day of life after that is a day of discipline. I \vant you to lay the dear little one on the altar of baptism, and in the arms of Christ, at an early day, and to feel that she is only loaned, to be recalled at the wise pleasure of her Maker. I anticipate that, as a mother, you will be all that a relation so tender and sacred can demand." " October 27th, 1862. "As for the war, I've preached over it, and talked over it, and prayed over it, till the thing has got too big for me to manage, and too big for any man or number of men to con- trol ; and now I am fast coming to the place where I can leave it all in the hands of God, and let him manage it. I look upon it all as a deep river of God's providence, whose waters no human being can hasten or retard ; and I look upon battles and proclamations as nothing more than little chips cast ashore here and there, to show that the river is in motion. I have not yet seen a ray of light revealing the cle- sig)i of God in permitting all this. It is all dark to me. My great joy is, that the Lord God omnipotent reigneth. "As to the disease with which you are afflicted (I mean a weak and lean ministry), I hardly know what to say. \Yhen good men remove, or seek a new home for their families, they are not always anxious, like Abraham, to journey toward Bethel, where he knew there w^as a good altar. Patience and prayer are the best remedies you can use for the pres- ent, as it seems to me. I hope, my dear, good friend, you are growing in all that is really of any consequence in this M'orld — the knowledge of Jesus Christ, admiration for his glorious character, love to his person, and communion with him through the Holy Spirit. Let me, dear fellow, share in your warmest, best moments of prayer. Do eternal things groio upon you, come nearer to you ? Shall we soon meet — over the river?" "May 8th. " I am delighted to hear you speak so well of L 's 390 JOIIX TODD. economy. Toll her it's Avhat I've been studying all my life; and though I have not attained, nor am already perfect therein, yet I continue to reach forward, and expect soon to attain it. Don't discourage her, as you do mo, by insinua- ting that she really has not got it in her." " December 31st. " Were you to see me at about half-past eleven o'clock daily, you would see my hair whiter, my face older, and the cares and burdens and sori-ows of life lying heavy upon me; but you would see me mounted on a Avild, noble, four-year- old colt which few would dare ride, and taking my exercise irrespective of cold or heat. I ride about an hour daily, and thus am able to bear my burdens." The following letter was written in reply to one from a minister at the West who had, when a little boy, been baj)- tized by Mr. Todd during his first pastorate at Groton. To J. K. X . , " May 5th, 1864. " I should like to know what kind of a man J. K. X is! to Avrite to me — a man Avhoni he never remembers to have seen, and of whom he, probably, by the merest accident heard — and to wu-ite about his own father and mother and old grandfather, and fill the soul with the memories of other days long since gone past, till the heart swells, and fills, and wells over through the weeping eyes ! Pray, what right has this Rev. J. K. X to make one look over long years and recall the imperfections of early manhood, and to see the forms and faces of the dead pass before the eyes of the mind? Among the many letters I have received, I never received one like that ; and, moved by the insinuations therein, I lost no time in communicating it to my flock; for I knew they were always ready to sympathize with their pastor, and, if need be, avenge his wrongs, so far as they judged best. The result has been, that they have directed me, in their name, to administer the reproof which the said X deserves. This I do by inclosing a draft for one hundred and ten dollars, to aid your faithful church people in completing and paying for their church edifice. I have only to add, that the Sab- bath of our collection was a rainy one, that we had three collections on that day, and a heavy one on the Sabbath pre- ceding, and that forty dollars of this sum is the gift of our LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 391 Sabbath -school, and is therefore, like the honey collected from the white clover of the spring, peculiarly precious, and should be made to go as far as possible. And now, dear sir, having administered the reproof which you deserved, let me say, that, though I may never meet you or any of your peo- ple in this world, my warm affection will travel the thousand miles that lie between me and them ; and all I have to ask is, that I, going on the hill-side of life that lies toward the set- ting sun, and my dear people, who seldom refuse any thing I ask, may be remembered in your best moments and your most fervent prayers." To his Brother William. " November 2Sth. "It has been a hard year for us, Mrs. Todd was sick, tlie first six months of it, with nervous prostration ; and then James was violently seized with rheumatism of the heart, which threatens to destroy life; and then, just after receiv- ing your letter, our invalid Mary, who has not walked a step for over ten years, and who for the last year and a half has not sat up for an hour, suddenly broke her thigh-bone. She was lying on the bed ; and it was done in moving the limb. Ever since, for over two months, we have had noth- ing but watching, and care, and anxieties on our j^art, and, on hers, pains, spasms, and agonies." For a time it was hoped that the sufferer would be re- stored to at least her previous condition ; but as the year drew to a close, the shadows began to deepen on the walls of " Mary's room." "December 16th. "My poor child doesn't rally, and I am trying eveiy hour to say, cheerfully^ 'Thy will be done.' You can't think how we cling to her." "January 5th, 1805. " Several times we have thought she was nearly through, and then she has rallied, and come back to pain and suffer- ing. She has clung to life with a tenacity unexampled, and with a desire to live, that has given us inexpressible pain ; but now she bows to the divine will, and is resigned to die whenever God calls. Her life has been a wreck, so far as this world is concerned; yet we can not but hope she is one of those who will have come out of great tribulation, and 392 JOHN TODD. washed tlioir robes in the blood of the Lamb. You will, perhaps, wonder why we cling to the poor suiferer so ; ah ! il" you ever have a bright child sick for eighteen years, and loving you only for thirty-six years, you will find the heart heavy enough if 2)laced where mine is." Extracts from a private Note-hook. '■^Jamiary 8th. — Poor Mary — thrush begun !" "January 13th. — Mary low — living by inhaling chloro- form. A day of great distress to us all." '•'•January \bth. — Preached in great anguish of spirit. Four ounces of chloroform daily !" '•'•January 22d. — A day of teai's to us all." '•'•January 28th. — Sufferings very great. Immense quan- tities of chloroform." '■'•January dOth. — Poor Mary — slept." To Lucy. " January 30th. "Our dear Mary is novv' at rest. We have followed her through all her untold sufferings, hanging over her day and night, till half-past twelve o'clock to-day, when she was re- leased. Such sufferings you never dreamed of. And Avhat a vacancy in our household !" The vacancy was felt elsewhere than in the household. The invalid had for many years drawn to herself the sympa- thy and love of a wide circle of friends, and indeed of the whole people ; and they had testified their interest by great and unnumbered kindnesses to her, which are gratefully re- membered in the flimily. The father never fully recovered from this blow. The brilliant mind and long suffei'ings of his oldest cliild had taken hold of his very heart-strings. Months after her death he wrote: "In the removal of our dear Mary, the very cen- tre of the house was darkened, and the sunlight seems shut out forever." For years he lased to dream of her almost every night, and often woke in tears. In his own last sick- ness, he remarked that the person above all others whom he longed to meet in the eternal world was — Mary. "They have printed one hundred thousand of 'In Memo- riam,' and are now talking of making it into a tract — 'Pol- ished Diamonds.' Perhaps her mission is not yet ended." LIFE AT PITT;SF1ELD. 393 "My poor suffering one is at rest. We liave buried her. I was never aware that we did much or little for her while she was with us ; but I can not now recall one thing more that we could have done for her. I sit alone, and think. She seems to be going farther and farther from rae, and faster than I can follow. Shall I ever overtake her? When I come to the border-land, will she be far off? " I sometimes walk in the garden of Hope ; and it seems as if I could see her form now and then gliding among the trees, and her face turned toward me, and saying, 'Why, father, I'm your own Mary still !' " 26 394 JOHN TODD. CHAPTER XXVIII. LIFE AT piTTSFiELD — continuecl. The fatted Calf— Message to a Prayer-meeting. — Sick. — At Saratoga. — Sec- ond Meeting of the American Board. — "Vanity Fair." — An honorable Character. — A John Gilpin Time. — Chronicles. — Billy in the Pnlpit. — Ring-tailed Monkeys. — The Power of Prayer. — Raflling. — A great Matter. —Thanks.— Trip to California.— The last Rail.— A holy Fossil— The Mor- mon Temple. — Weak Consciences. — Sermon before the American Board. — Times of Paul.— New Lecture-room.— Swaying Bedclothes.— How to deal with Temptation. — A Pocket-pistol.— Rutland Ceutenuial. — The Res- ignation. To B. B. C . "February 5th, 1866. " We were greatly disappointed, and almost grieved, that you did not come to us last summer. We were told by Doctor M that you so calculated, and so we put on the best ' bib and tucker,' and killed the fotted calf, and dressed up the angel of welcome and placed him at the front door, and directed him to hold it wide open and bring you all in ; and wife got up her best cap, and I wn-ote — oh, a most mag- nificent sermon, or, at least, I selected a beautiful text, and we set every wire and spring in order, intending to have a glorious visit, and to recall old times, and read over the last chapters in the history of our lives, and to turn the tele- scope toward the future, and talk over our meetings and feel- ings a thousand years hence. So we calculated, and so we were disappointed. "Our children are so gone that, for the present, wife and I are alone. We are not so young as we once were, but w^e try to be as comely in each other's eyes ; and if, perchance, we see that the hair grows whiter and the wrinkles more abundant, we are careful not to notice it, and dream that when warm weather comes we shall be as young and as fresh as ever. For variety, I have a broken arm" [in conse- quence of a fall on an icy sidewalk], " w'hich I carry round done up in boards, heavy and useless, unless its continual achings are good to remind me what a beautiful thing pa- tience is. LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 395 "But I do want to see you, and to talk over many, many things; to compare notes, and to take the latitude and lon- gitude of life's voyage. I want your advice and good judg- ment ; but, ah me ! how many things I want which I can't have ! One thing I hope, dear fellow — that we shall never spend twenty-four years separated again — never !" "March 19th. " I am working, aching, sighing, and wearying, all in the superlative degree. The Lord won't do as I want him to, and as I exhort him to do ; but he ^c^ll move in his own way, and lets the wise and prudent remain in darkness, while he reveals himself to babes. " If I only had two well arms, and teeth that wouldn't ache, and legs that wouldn't tire, and feet that wouldn't shuffle, and eyes that could see, and a ie\Y other like wants, I should be quite young." "April 22d. "I have been down — much on the bed, but managed to preach once — the most solemn audience I ever saw in that church. I feel very much as does, that the Lord can't do without me ; else I should drop all and rest at once. Our meetings were never so interesting and important. To us the whole subject now is religion. I am hoping for a great work of grace. I number one hundred and five Avho have been to talk with me." The following was read at the morning prayer-meeting, May 4th: "Since God has brought us into the situation that we must now chiefly depend on prayer and individual efforts for the salvation of men, I beg leave to say to my dear brethren and sisters, that in our united prayers we should be careful and earnest not to listen to the prayers as we Avould to preaching or music, but earnestly and intently make every petition our own, and every prayer the full in- dividual prayer of every heart. As to personal efforts, the Spirit has now so far prepared the Avay, by soffefening the heart, that you may safely ask every one to come to these meetings, and even to Christ, without offense, and with hope of leading to Christ. I can not but believe that there are at this time many Nathanaels praying under the fig-tree, who would be glad to be led to Jesus. My spirit and my heart are with you in every meeting, though I am confined to my bed." 396 JOHN^ TODD. To his Brother. " Saratoga Springs, Maj' 29th. " Between seventy and eighty have united with my church since January came in. But I have had to work with a broken, shattered arm, which even now can not be used ; and then I have been sick, very sick, so much so that the doctors had consultations togetlier, half a dozen at a time. I am better, but have not preached for many weeks. I am here on a furlough, with Mrs. Todd to take care of me, I don't expect to be able to preach again for at least two months, and I sometimes feel that my work is about done. All that I can claim, in looking back, is, that I have worked hard." In the fall of this year the American Board again held their annual meeting in Pittsfield. Of course. Doctor Todd was again the chairman of the committee of arrangements, and performed an incredible amount of labor in preparing for the entertainment of four thousand guests. His eiforts were abundantly successful, and the second meeting at Pitts- field was, like the first, long remembered with pleasure by those who attended it. " February 6th, 1867. " I have been reading Thackeray's 'Vanity Fair,' or, as it might be called, a book describing the selfishness of the hu- man heart. Its efiects are not at all pleasant, albeit it has been praised so much. It always hurts ?we to keep bad company, whether in my house or on the pages of a book." To J. K. JS' . "February 19th. "I have been sorry to hear of the continued feebleness of Mrs. Celeste, and am sorry not to be able to do something for her worth mentioning. I have spoken to some of your and my friends, and the result is, that a small box goes to- day for you, containing remembrances ; and if I have not put in all that I would, you can guess why. Now, you know the hardest thing in the world is to feel grateful, and the next hardest is to express gratitude, and I will cheerfully re- lieve you of all such oppression, so far as I personally am concerned. By-the-bye, I have them come here for all sorts of charity, saying that Mr. N told them how rich and how liberal the Pittsfield people are. Now please stop that, LIFE AT riTTSFIELD. 397 or else we shall have too much of the superior blessing of giving. "I am about again, writing poor sermons and attending to pastoral duties, and getting ready for the 'great occasion,' the only John Gilpin time wife and I have ever tried to get up. I send your invitation by this mail, and most truly wish you could both be here and show a specimen of my baptisms. "As to your leaving, it is a very grave question. You will bear in mind that sometimes a church and a community, which have depended on the breath of one man, may run down very quickly if that man leaves. You must not lose the water which your dam has gathered. Bear in mind, also, that while, if you have a thousand dollars in money, you can transfer it, and it will be worth as much in one place as another, it is not so with character. That can't be trans- planted. You must begin anew, and work it out and up again. It takes a long time to become, in a new field, what you were in the old. I am confident that the most useful men in Xew England have been those who staid in one place. The question of leaving the West is a very impor- tant one. I consider a home missionary a very honorable character. Of one thing you may be sure, and that is, if it be the will of God that you go to another field, he Avill open the door and make it plain to yon. Don't put your hand on the latch to open the door yourself. Let Providence open it, if he chooses. Work on hard, and if you are not in the right niche, you will be put into it without your efljorts. "Let us live in your prayers that we may be right, /eeZ right, and do right in age and in the twilight of eternity, and especially that it may be the twilight of eternal day." The "John Gilpin time" referred to in the foregoing was the fortieth anniversary of the marriage of Doctor and Mrs. Todd, which was celebrated by the family and the people with considerable demonstration. It was also the tenth an- niversary of the marriage of the oldest living daughter, and was selected by the youngest daughter as the time for her own marriage to a young Pittsfield physician. "At half- past seven o'clock (March 11th) the wedding party entered the church, while the organ sent out in melo- dious strains, ' Mendelssohn's Wedding-march.' The parents, brothers, and sisters of the bridal pair were in advance, fol- 398 JOHN TODD. lowed by the groomsmen, the brides - maids, and last, and most admired of all, the bride and groom. Doctor Todd's five grandchildren were also in the procession, and a lovelier sight is seldom seen. The party advanced to the pulpit, and remained standing while Rev. Doctor Brinsmade, of Newark, New Jersey, the predecessor of Doctor Todd as pastor of the First Church in this town, and his classmate in Yale College, offered the anniversary prayer, when the marriage ceremony was performed by Doctor Todd, under the deep and perfect silence of the great cloud of witnesses. At the close of the ceremonies in the church, a reception was held at the par- sonage. To the eight hundred invitations issued, at least five hundred responded in person. The presents to Doctor and Mrs, Todd and the bridal pair were numerous and ele- gant. Quite one-half of them came from friends out of town. A peck-basketful of congratulatory letters was also received from friends who were unable to attend the triple wedding. One of these is a fair sample of the rest : " ' In common with a great multitude of all ages, in both hemispheres, we greet you as, on your way up to the top of Pisgah, you come out to view, and stand together on one of its lower peaks. We congratulate you that God has given you strength for the journey thus far, and that he now gives you so wide a horizon and so fair a prospect on every side. We rejoice in what you and we now see, that even while clambering up rough defiles and dark ravines, the great arch above and around you was silently spreading, and the air growing more and more pure. Our heavenly Father, who tenderly spares his own sons that serve him, grant strength and sunshine through the remainc^er of the ascent, giving you at length, although we hope late, from the summit to see, with undimmed eyes, the Canaan you have both so long loved, to which you have pointed so many, and whither so many follow.'" [From a newspaper of the day.] " Chronicles of the Todd Family. "And it came to pass, a little after the summer solstice was passed, that the old priest of the hill country with Mai-y his wife, received by the swift runner (swifter than Ahimaaz and Cushi, the ancient runners in Israel), a loving message from their kinsman Robert. Now Robert dwelt in the LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 399 pleasant valley, on the banks of the long river, and near the ancient deer-crossing where the caribou was wont to pass ; hence it was called Hart-ford. And then did Robert say pleasant words, written on soft paper of great price, thereby showing a heart greater than the heart of the behemoth, and a spirit sweet as the dew of Hermon, and rich in fruits as the valley of Esdraelon. And so it was that when they read the letter, they did say one to another : " ' Mary, thou seest that my kindred have the spirit of love and goodness as well as thine.' " ' Yea, John, how wonderfully does the good Lord pour the streams of his mercy in upon us, at times and in ways we looked not for. I Ao/^e we shall not have all our good things in this life.' '"And what shall we do with these new treasures? There's the carryall not paid for, and there's the — ' " ' Hush, John, we shall pay for the carriage ; let us carry this to the exchanger's and get us a bond, and keep the same ; so that if the time comes when we are old and have no home, it will be so much toward getting the vine and the fig-tree, under whose shadow we can sit and see the sun of life go down, Avithout anxiety — better off than the good One, who had not where to lay his head.' " ' Daughter of prudence, thou hast well spoken, and it shall be according to thy word. Thy counsels are to me ever as the wisdom of Ahithophel before he counseled to do evil. And now that we have scrip in our purse, we may not hold our heads high, but we will write to our kinsman Robert, and certify to him that he hath poured oil on our face, and we will thank the good Lord that he hath made Robert a fruitful bough, even a fruitful bough by a well, Avhose branches run over the wall, and drop fruit into the basket of his neighbor. And, moreover, concerning Robert nnd his wife we will ever say, " Blessed of the Lord be his land, for the precious things of heaven, for the dew, and for the deep that coucheth beneath, and for the precious fruits brought forth by the sun, and for the precious things put forth by the moon, and for the chief things of the ancient mountains, and for the precious things of the lasting hills, and for the precious things of the earth and fullness thereof, and for the good-will of him that dwelt in-the bush.'" 400 JOHN TODD. (" In answer to a note from my cousin, R. B , contain- ing two drafts for Mrs. Todd and myself.") " December 30th. "Alas ! when I got home I found my beautiful, ray gentle, ray knowing Billy Avas dead ! I never loved a horse before. He never got into the pulpit till yesterday, but yesterday I could not keep him out. Whether the Lord has another horse created for me is more than I know, and I shall not inquire at present; but I am a deep and sincere mourner." "January 11th, 1868. "As to the women's speaking, I would pull out the plug .and let the waters out. They will swell, and burst, perhaps. They all know that you do it under protest, and that yoic don't expect to be edified. It won't last long, and it will soon empty the pond. I believe it unscriptural, and against Scripture; yet there are some things the Gospel bears with and winks at, till better light comes, I Avould make no proclamation of a change in the programme, but silently let the dear sisters ventilate. "I'm crawling into my shell, drying up, making my study into a ' Growlery,' and coming to imbecility as fast as pos- sible. Still, I try not to groan aloud, or make up fiices at people, but take it as it comes. Every thing is so dear, that I am almost afraid to ask for ray daily bread." "May 13th. " I deeply sympathize with you in the low state of the purse, and can truly say I have never passed through a quar- ter Avithout having agonies of the same kind, if not deeper." In July he Avas invited to speak before the "Litchfield County Foreign Missionary Society," in Connecticut. The following was his reply: "July 27th. "My dear Sir, — I can't conceive of an audience coming too-ether at ten o'clock a.m. on Wednesday ! to see or hear any thing short of a hand-organ and a ring-tailed monkey ! But my Avife thinks if I decline any call, folks Avill think I'm "•rowing old ! So I'll try to meet your Avishes." "January 4th, 1869. "I have more faith in the Mliller theory than I once had. I certainly have had in my own experience many striking illustrations and confirmations of it." LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 401 " Jauuary 19th. "I believe more and more in Providence, and in the power q{ prayer to modify Providence. Light comes from above; we must look up for light and direction. In the next place, when we don't know lohat to do, we must stand still and do nothing till we do know. This is a hard and trying duty; for, when in trouble, we want to be relieved as soon as pos- sible. The concordance will surprise you by the encourage- ments to ' wait ' quietly and patiently when we are at a loss what to do. It is also my experience, that if we can refer the questions to the Master, and confidingly 'wait' for him, his providence Avill make it all plain." To John. " March 4th. "I have never worked so hard as this winter, and with results so unsatisfactory that my people are as cross as sin. They feel that I ought to have converted the whole town. There have been, perhaps, sixty conversions in my congre- gation. I Avish I could see you. I feel the need of some- body to lean upon. That somebody must be one's own child, or nobody." To Rev. Mr. . " March 5th. "In reply to your note, I would say that I know of no orthodox Congregational Church in Massachusetts who ad- mit or permit raffling, and therefore it can not be common among our churches. I deem it wrong in jDrinciple, wrong- in execution, and wrong in results. It is gambling — nothing more, and nothing less. A French fiddler was once con- verted, and he wanted to honor Christ, and so he got a Christ painted with a fiddle under his chin ! And so, one wants a Christ who will fiddle; another, a Christ who will dance ; another, a Christ who will go to the billiard-table ; another, a Christ who will handle a pack of cards ! Poor sinners like you and me want a Christ to save xis from our sins. Oh, when will the Church redeemed by his blood learn that she is a consecrated, converted, holy thing; not to be the instrument of bringing Christ dovm to the world, but of bringing the world %ip to him ; that selling him for money is a poor way to obtain his blessing ? If we can't raise money for good objects except by pious gambling, Christ 402 JOHN TODD. can do without our money. I speak deeitledly, because it is one ste}) among many of our day toward overwhelming the Church of God Avith the spirit of the world. I may not have met your question, but my words cost you little. Stand near and firmly by the cross. If the children of Wis- dom are but few, they will justify her and all other con- sciences will do the same." To John. "March nth. "You have, I doubt not, many warm friends; but among them all there is no one who will or can feel with and for you like a fatlier; and though I can hope to aid you very little by advice, yet my warm sympathy and humble prayers shall be yours. Sympathy, like Falstafl^'s ' instinct,' is a great matter." "April 5th. "There have been some rumors about my people's send- ing me for a month across the continent to California, but I don't know as it will amount to any thing." To Mr. cmd Mrs. T . "April 14th. "When Paul was in prison at Rome, he wrote to liis friends at Philippi that he would send the faithful Timothy to them as soon as ' I shall see how it w* ill go with me ;' i. e., I suppose, w'hether he should lose his head or not. I am so far in the apostolical succession, that I have to ' wait ' to see how things will go with me ; and, waiting to know the prob- abilities of my California journey, and being yet in the dark, I may delay no longer to write, lest you think me what tlie Scotch call 'a vera unritch' of ingratitude. When my kind boy, Frank, slipped your united card, with the accompani- ment, into my hand, at Mr. B 's, I had no idea what he was 'up to,' and gave him the passing civilities of the hour. I had no idea that he was placing a weight {not burden) of obligation on me which I must carry through life, and, as I liope, remember forever. Now, you loving ones, don't you know the luxury of having a pleasant secret which you com- municate together, and gloat over together? Even so I sur- prised my wife, on my return, by revealing the godsend ; and we sat down and enjoyed it, as two children would to- gether suck a huge sugar-plum — she entering into my joy, LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 403 and I crowing that we still have such kind friends. And what do you think the good creature said ? Why, ' that her faith was strengthened that when I could preach no longer, if my people, on my leaving the parsonage to my successor, and my salary ceasing, did not take care of us, God would raise us up friends as we needed,' And this was not said, according to the Frenchman's definition of gratitude, ' a keen sense of favors to come,' but in simple, child-like faith. Now, if I go to California, I shall most assuredly need, use, and consume your kindness; and if I do not go, I shall put it into a little building-lot which I have purchased on credit, in the possibility that I may hereafter make a short home on Jubilee Hill, before going to dwell on the higher hill, that of Zion. In either case, I am more grateful to you than I can remember words to express ; and I pray God to put every cent of it down to your credit and that of your children. And now, good friends, among other things for which you thank God to-night, don't forget to thank him for giving to you each a kind heart, a generous disposition, and a hand that opens easily. God bless you and reward you a hundred-fold, and make me all the better for his and your remembrance of me. My best love to dear Mrs. R ; may every blessing wait on her ! and to the lovely children ; may they one day become so many angels !" The journey to California was undertaken early in May, in the company of quite a party from Pittsfield, the gifts of generous friends having made it possible. It so happened that the party arrived at the junction of the Central Pacific and Union Pacific railroads just in time to witness and take part in the laying of the last rail in the great line from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and to enter California on the first train that went through from the East. The ceremonies of laying the last rail took place at Promontory Point. "The day was clear and beautiful; and the little gather- ing of less than a thousand people representing all classes of our people, from the humblest citizen to the highest civil and military authorities, met to enact the last scene in a mighty drama of peace in a little grassy plain surrounded by green-clad hills, with the snowy summit of the Wasatch Mountains looking down on the placid blue waters of the inland sea of America in the distance, formed a scene which 404 JOHN TODD. can not be fitly described, but can never be forgotten by the beholder. " It was now announced that the last blow was to be struck. Every head was uncovered in reverential silence, and Rev. Doctor Todd ofiered the following invocation, which was telegraphed to all the i:)rincipal cities in the Union as fast as it was uttered : " ' Our heavenly Father, and our God, God of the creation, of the waters, and of the earth, in whom we live, and move, and have our being, we acknowledge thee to be the God of the creation of the human mind, with its power and its suc- cesses. Now, on this beautiful day, in the presence of these lonely hills and golden summits, we render thanks that thou hast by this means brought together the East and the West, and bound them together by this strong band of union. We implore thee that thou wilt bless this work of our hands which we have now completed, this monument of our labor; and that thy blessing may rest upon it, so long as the hills remain among which the ends have been bound together. We thank thee for the blessings thou hast conferred on us and other nations ; bless our future, and those whom thou hast appointed to conduct us in it. We again acknowledge thy power, and beseech thee to bless the waters that Avash the shores of our land, the Atlantic of thy strength and the Pacific of thy love. And to thee and to thy Son, Jesus Christ, shall all honor and glory be ascribed, world without end. Amen.'" [From a newspaper of the day.] In California Doctor Todd found many old friends, and was cordially welcomed everywhere. To Mrs. Todd. May 23d. "I can not begin to tell you how kind every body is to me, receiving me as a kind of holy fossil, to be handled with care. I am getting the hang of things here, and they hang very queerlj^ I am honored for above all my deserts, as well as my expectations. I have become ' very remarka- ble,' ' very gifted,' ' of long experience,' ' of national reputa- tion,' ' one of the most eminent,' etc., etc. What icoidd they say, if they only knew you, the creator of all these wonders !" One large church went so far as to offer him a call with a great salary ; but he was wise enough to decline it. With LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 405 all his ago and infirmities, he was not to be deterretl from the laborious journey to the Yosemite Valley, and to the great trees ; nor could he, on his way home, pass without visiting the Mormon city, where he was invited to preach in the great temple. On his return home he announced his intention to deliver a short course of lectures on what he had seen, in acknowl- edgment of the kindness of his friends in sending him. The lectures were delivered on successive Sunday evenings to immense crowds; but some tender souls being scandalized by such a profanation of the Sabbath, he preferred to sus- pend the course rather than offend weaker consciences. The rest of the course was delivered in a hall on week-day even- ings, for the benefit of the Young Men's Association. There being an admission fee, the attendance was, of course, much reduced. "August 13th. "My closing lecture went off far beyond my expectations; the people were so excited that they fairly cried. It was the largest and best audience I have had since the lectures ceased to be free. At the close, I thanked the friends here and in California for their kindness, and the community for their attendance, and then said, that I was glad I could do something for the young men ; that I should receive no com- pensation at their hands; and then said that I wanted to give them one word of advice: if ever they tried to do good, with their consciences satisfied that their motives were good, and if they should be abused while doing it, not to mind it! What shouting and clapping of hands ! It carried the audi- ence off their feet. If they are mad, they can't help them- selves. Now I have delivered the seven lectures, with a continually deepening impression : the success is a fixed fact, and I am as tickled as a boy with a new top." At the meeting of the American Board at Pittsburg, this fall. Doctor Todd was the preacher, appointed two years previously. His sermon was on " Missions created and sus- tained by Prophecy," and was a characteristic and much- admired discourse. "September 26th. "I preached my American Board sermon' this morning to my own people, havuig rewritten every word of it since you 406 JOHX TODD. saw it. I think it took well, and it gives me confidence iu the thing. Thank God, our sermons don't seeiu to others as they do to us." " October 22d. "You know that I have entered upon my seventieth year, and the last of my active ministry. It is a dreary, sad spot to reach, but I do hoj^e I shall have grace to behave right. The feeling that you are doing this and that for the last time is a strange one. The most that I can hope to do is, to behave appropriately. I believe that after Thanksgiving I shall commence a course of lectures to ray young people on the life and times of St. Paul. Of course, Couybeare must be the foundation. How does it strike you? I need a good theological library. I want to carry my ministry out full to the end, and stop rather than be stopped." To J. K. N . "November loth. "I thank you for your kind thoughts and plans, and letter of Avishes for my welfare. It is possible that a year hence I may have courage to go to work to build something, not knowing whether it will come out a scow or a barn, a maga- zine or something else. But it now seems as if I should use up all my courage in bowing my spii'it to my fortunes, and learning to behave well when stripped of the priest's gar- ments, as Aaron was, and learning and feeling that the world can get along without me, and that I am not needed. But I intend to be cheerful and bright, and neither mourn nor whine. I have no plans whatever." "November 29th. " Our new chapel is beautiful ; seats six hundred, and by opening doors will seat two hundred more : cost over twen- ty-one thousand dollars. " We have a literary club here, limited to twenty-five, all graduates but one or two. We meet every Monday night ; hence its name — The Monday Night Club. It meets at the members' houses in turn, with an oyster and coffee entertain- ment at half-past nine. It goes well — that is, the eating does." To John. " November oOth. "Now, my dear John, we must take these disappointments and mortifications, and resolve them into a discipline which LIFE AT riTTSFIELD. 407 God weaves around us, not always makinf^ us wiser and better, but designed to do so. We must all go through these bruisings, if we ever do any thing ; and the difterence be- tween a fool and a wise man is, that the one is brayed in the mortar to no good results, and the other is made better by the pounding. Churches, and congregations, and things, and, indeed, the age we live in, sway this way and that, like our bedclothes at night, nobody knows how or why; but they go, and leave us half naked and quite cold. I am sure I sympathize witli you enough ; and if I don't seem to see your troubles looking as large as they do to you, it is be- cause I have learned that nothing is as great as I once thought — always excepting the Bible and its contents. To J. K. iV . " March 31st, 1870. "If I didn't suppose you a man brimful of truth, I should doubt about my owing you a letter. However, I find it the easiest way to let people thin/c the j are right; as the old Scotch lady said, 'I ken the easiest way to deal with temp- tation is just to yield to it.' "As to ' copyright,' Ave who use the quill, and tap the brain for the world, are wholly in the hands of publishers, and they are men : ' Beware of men ;' for, as my unmarried Irish girl says, ' Sure enough, these men are as dape as the say.' "I am giving a course of lectures on the life of Paul, with maps, views of cities, etc., which I get from London. "I have loaded my pistol, and it's in my pocket; and if it doesn't hurt my people, it will kill me dead. I have written my resignation, and shall present it, if I live, some time in the course of the summer. The poor worm, as he spins his cocoon, doesn't know that it is to be his shroud and grave ; nor does he know of the resurrection, when he will come out in new life, with Avings ! But I'm not intending to whine or whimper more than I can help ; and, as my powers decay, I want to take joyfully the spoiling of my goods. I love to hear from you, and hope for often letters. They cost but three cents each." To B. B. C . "April 13th. "I'm pleased that you remember your old friend and write 408 JOHN TODD. to him, and woucler why he doesn't write to you. I Jiave set the time, and times, when I would ; but I've so much to do, and withal have not as much courage as Daniel had when they tumbled him in among the lions. "If to forget and think meanly of one's work is a mark of humility, I'm sure I must be quite humble; for I can not see a single spot in my past history or deeds, in the review, which is not marked by sin or folly, or both. "At t-he close of this year, before I get old and foolish, and not able to tell when my faculties decay, I am going to lay down my burdens and retire from my responsibilities. Then, after a life-work of nearly fifty years, I shall be without a house or a home, and as poor as need be ; but I trust to the kindness of the Master whom I have tried to serve. What, if any thing, my people will do toward making the old worn- out minister comfortable, I don't know. I try to cast all my cares on Him who careth for us. My own experience is, that when I have needed, I have found the ass tied, or had the fish bring money in his mouth. As to the great future, wh)'^, if I had in any degree, the very smallest, to depend on my own goodness or works, I should despair. The hardest thing I have to attempt is, to realize that I can live and be conscious after I am dead." "August 8th. " Next month is the time I have fixed upon to read my resignation. As the time draws near, of course, it brings sadness. They all say that I never preached better, or with more profit to, them, but I have had no wavering in my own raind, or judgment, or determination." "August 28th. " My congregation was never so large, and, externally, so prospered, as at the present time; and it gives me great comfort to think that I have not been left to see decay written upon any thing pertaining to the concern." To B. B. G . "September 30th. "Rutland, Vermont, is my native town. "Rutland is just one hundred years old. "Rutland was my father's home. "Rutland celebrates, next week, her centennial. " Rutland wants me to preach the centennial sermon. LIFE AT PITTSPfELD. 409 " Rutland says that as I was not present at her starting, and as I may not be there at the next centennial, I must come; and so, "Rutland will keep me from the meeting of the Board, and also from your most delightful hospitality. " What a visit we did have at your house ! It is even now like the odor of one of Lubin's phials, almost as rich as when the phial was full of essence. "You will see by the inclosed paper that I have thrown myself upon my friends and a faithful Providence. It was a sad and melancholy duty, but God helped me to go man- fully through it." " To the First Church and Society, Pittsfield : "Dear Brethren and Friends, — The aggregate expe- rience of men seems to indicate that the mental and bodily powers may usually be relied upon to sustain us under the duties and responsibilities of life up to about the age of three-score and ten years. In certain cases they hold out longer, and now and then a man retains a good measure of vigor till seventy-five, and even longer; but such cases are exceptional, and should not be presumed upon. Although the winds of autumn have for some time solemnly murmured around your pastor, y«t he finds it difficult to realize that he is so near the goal at which wisdom would admonish that the work of his life is nearly done, and its heavy responsibili- ties must be laid down. Should I live to the close of this year, I shall have come to that age, after reaching which heavy labor is usually a burden to the minister, and most likely unsatisfactory to his people. If he labors much be- yond that period, he is in danger of having his powers decay without being conscious of it, and unwittingly trespassing on the kind forbearance of his flock, "I hardly need say here that, while I have given you the best of my strength and life for nearly a generation, it is a matter of unspeakable gratitude that there has never been an unkind feeling on my part toward my people, nor an unkind act on yours toward me. Few men have ever had more to be grateful for in this respect than myself I have given myself to you and to the ministry, without seeking this world. When I came to you, now nearly thirty years 27 410 JOUX TOLD. ago, I put niysolf unhesitatingly in your hands, and you have never abused this confidence. And no tliauks, how- ever warmly expressed, can exceed what I feel toward my flock. And it is no more than justice to my people to say that the present movement is wholly from myself. I have not heard a whisper from my people that leads me to make it.'' The w^riter then proceeds to indicate his Avish to be re- lieved of pastoral duty and responsibility, to be permitted to retain nominally the position of pastor, to spend the re- mainder of his days with his people, and at last by their liands to be gently laid in the grave. He refers also to the necessary trials of an aged minister, and invokes the kind consideration of his friends. He then speaks of his circum- stances, his inability to do more than support and educate his large family, and meet the extraordinary expenses of years of sickness, alludes to his repeated refusals to enter- tain invitations to leave them for more lucrative positions, and throws himself upon his people's sense of what is fitting. "And as my feelings toward my people are like those of a father toward his children, may I not confidently hope that the children will never feel that the old man, worn out in their service, is a burden I ask your charitj'^ and for- giveness for all my many imperfections; and, again thank- ing you for all your forbearance and numberless kindnesses, I close this communication by solemnly invoking the richest of heaven's blessings on you and your children, and asking your fervent prayers in my behalf, "Your affectionate pastor, Jxo. Todd." LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 411 CHAPTER XXIX. LIFE AT PITTSFIELD — Continued. The old Ship.— These Wives.— Fern Pastures.— Brealiing of Heart.— The sick Child. — A sad Baptism. — Vale. — The Kainbow. — Spirits in Prison. — Frozen together. — The Decrees. — An active old Man. — Alarming Attack. — Duties relinquished. — Kindness of Parish. — To a bereaved Brother. — To Saxum Magnum. — The deceased young Minister. — To his Successor. — A mere Babe. — Turning into a Shadow.— Trip to Philadelphia.— Green Remembrance. — The last Communion. — The last Baptism. — To the Presi- dent of a University. — A Letter of Consolation. — The last Sermon. To J. K. N . " December 12th, 1870. "The old sliip was coming into the harbor, with masts and spars battered and broken, the sails rent, and hull worn and covered with barnacles, and hojjing to cast anchor and rest ; but, before she could do it, the steam-tug grappled her and towed her out, to be tossed on the sea and again beaten by storms. In other words, I sent my resignation of active duties to my people, proposing to stop work with this year ; and they, when I was vacationing, met, and coolly and unan- imously accepted my proposition — to take effect January, 1873 ! They made no explanation, nor any promises for the future ; only that the old horse seemed to have too much work in him to be turned out to browse just yet ! So here I am. I replied to them that I would attempt to meet their wishes, on condition that, if my bodily powers gave out (of which I must judge), or if my mental powers failed (of which they must judge), I would stop at any time. They made no promises or allusions to any support or kindness when they have used me up. I should have been pleased to have some allusion to that point ; but perhaps it is better to walk by faith, especially for me I am always glad when I receive a letter from you and that Celeste-ial being who is your good angel. Oh these wives ! what should we do or be without them ? When you become old, and go down the hill together, and together look toward the sunset, you will understand this better than now We, my good 412 JOHN TODD. boy, plan to do so and so; but the hand that holds and guides us doesn't let us do so and so — we must do his will ; and the more we make our will like his, and ourselves like him, the better. But it seems almost like blasphemy for such a poor creature as I am to talk about being like God — the mote like the planet Jupiter ! But I do sometimes long to be like Christ Oh, how did David, with so little knowledge of his Son, ever ' pant after God,' as he surely did ? He must have been taught by the Holy Spirit, whom he knew not by name. I am preaching and laboring for a revival, not because I can make one, but because God seems to lead my heart that way. When I want it for his sake, and not mine, won't he send it? You must understand that my house and my heart are full of mercies; and I can hardly make out a want, before God sends to meet it. Am I having my portion all here ? God bless you, dear N" , and make you happy in your work, and blessed in success. But if he tells us to rake in the fern pastures, and our hearts are right, we shall be and feel blessed. Don't forget or neglect, when you bring your wants to the throne of God, to bring me also. You hit it exactly; '7" am thy exceeding great reward ' — nothing short of this ; and I don't suppose {hat Abraham understands it as well to-day as he will four thousand years hence. Ever yours, truly and lovingly." Although the foregoing letter, like others written at about the same time, expresses disappointment in the action of the parish, and though the writer ^oas unquestionably disap- pointed in the absence of encouragement from his people that he would not be allowed to want in his declining years, yet it was very evident that the postponement of his retire- ment was an unspeakable relief and joy to him. So thor- oughly was his work entwined, not only with all his habits in life, but also all his tenderest affections, that, while his reason and judgment counseled him to retire, and his will sustained him in the resolution, yet the very thought of it was heart-breaking to him. There is little doubt that the action of his people in postponing his retirement for two years prolonged his life by so much ; and that when he sunk at last, it was more from a silent breaking of heart under the surrender of his work and flock, than from any other cause whatever. LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 413 The spring of 1871 brought another great affliction. Aft- er several years spent in acquiring familiarity with busi- ness, the youngest son, James, had opened a store in Pitts- field, with a small capital furnished by his father and friends, and by dint of great exertion and self-denial was beginning to find some success. Two years previous to this, he had married and established himself in a little home of his own. But, near the close of 1870, he was suddenly attacked by a peculiar disease of the heart, originally induced by rheuma- tism. For many weeks he lay very near the grave, suffer- ing indescribable agonies ; and during all this time con- stantly visited, nursed, and supported by his anxious par- ents. At last he began to recover, though with the pros- pect of being a cripple for life. During his convalescence he read and thought much, and manifestly matured rapidly in intellect and in Christian character. Before he was able to rise from his bed, he was presented with a little daughter, whom he named Mabel, and for whom he cherished many bright hopes. Only one week after this, while his father was watching alone with him one night, he suddenly uttered that cry which so often accompanies death from heart-dis- ease, and expired in his father's arms. Extracts from a private Note-hook. "May 17th. "My dear son James died in my arms this morning at half-past four o'clock ; — a noble creature, never had been well ; prepared, I believe, by the long and hot furnace in which he had been lying, for the great change. He died in my arms, leaving a young wife, and a babe one week old. " Oh for grace, for submission, for faith !" "May 19th. " Buried our dear James ; age, twenty-two years and ten months. Funeral large, kind, sympathizing. Doctor Strong officiated, and exceedingly well. Services began at his house, where, over his coffin, I baptized little Mabel. Sing- ing there, ' Flee as a bird,' etc. At my house, all my chil- dren present; all went to the grave; singing soft and good. R. P took charge of the funeral, and every thing went like a clock. " O my noble, affectionate, generous, suffering child ! A child of God ! To die is gain ! VaU, vaUr 414 JOHN TODD. It was a terrible blow to the toncler-liearted fixther, from which lie never fully recovered. For months that cry rang in bis ears. To 3frs. E. J. W . "June 20th. "It is so natural, when the heart is full of a?iij thing, joy or sorrow, to want to pour it out upon others, that I fear, were we noio to see you, you must justly feel that we were burdensome; but 'a friend is born for adversity.' "After more than five months of most terrible suffering and pain, after his faithful mother had gone to him day and night, all that time, as none but a mother could do, after hopes and fears (we now wonder how we had any hope), our dear James, in his twenty- third year, was taken from us. He was our beautiful staff, and it was broken without a mo- ment's vv'arning at last. I was alone with him, and he died in my arms, leaving a little daughter just a week old. He lived just long enough to give her her name — Mabel Todd. His was the largest, brightest intellect among all our chil- dren, and the most loving disposition. ' The whole commu- nity loved James Todd ;' and when his funeral took place, every store was voluntarily closed. He was a member of ray church, and secretary and treasurer of our Sabbath-school. During his sickness he ripened fast. As the leaves of the tree fell off, it was seen that the bird had built her nest in a strong place. When we laid him in our beautiful cemetery, the heavens were dark and the thunders loud ; but hardly had we laid him in his resting-place when a full, complete, low rainbow was flung upon the cloud in the east, bright as the smile of God. Forgive this long moan, dear Mrs. W ; sorrow knows not where to stop." In this last year of his ministry he preached very often in the new jail, Pittsfield having just been made the county town. "September 19th. "I'm preaching to the spirits in prison; and, as many who don't go to any church crowd in to see the prisoners preached at, I have made them contribute, and have already one hundred dollars to begin a jail library. I don't believe any other fifty men in the county receive half the attention and expense that those fifty rascals do." LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 415 "Later. " I preacli three times on the Sabbath ; once to the jDi-isou- ers in the jail, a, punctual and attentive audience, and with whom I am so popular that I may get a call when I have done in ray parish. I have been the means of getting them an organ and a library." To Jliss E. M , England. " December 15th. "My dear Miss M ,— Our mutual friend, Mr. P , informs me that you have lost your aged mother, and were with her when the unseen hand lifted the latch and beckoned her away. I congratulate you that you have now a living mother (' Whosoever keepeth my sayings shall never die '), who can die no more. I congratulate you on the fact that she knew, and you know, whom she believed, and that the aged pilgrim has reached her home; the old ship, with spars broken and sails rent, has entered the harbor, and storms will no more beat upon her, nor waves of doubt toss her, nor midnight darkness settle over her. Mourning is not the word to apply to such partings. I congratulate you once more that you have so many memories left, and among them the recollection that you had the honor of ministering to her last days and years, and i:)robably were in her last earthly thoughts. God knew the trials of ministering to age, and therefore gave the command, ' Honor thy father and thy mother,' with the promise of present reward. Happy the child who can feel that she met this requirement faithfully and cheerfully. Now I seem to feel it impossible, even if I were not a stranger, to send off a letter of sympathy over the great ocean, and for thousands of miles, and have any thing left in it, when it reaches you, but the chill of the ocean and the faintness of distance. It seems like a kind of polite mockery ; and yet, my gentle friend, were I with you, I could say no more, feel no more, nor comfort any more than I now can. For the first year, after my friends are gone, they seem to be going ^/j•o»^ me ; after that, to be com- ing toward me : on the same principle, doubtless, that cars which do not move seem to be coming to us, when really it is our cars that are going toward them. It must be the old soldiers, who come out of many battles and struggles, and the aged disciples, who come out of 'great tribulation,' who 416 JOHN TODD. wear robes very wliite. God bless you, good friend, and re- ward you for all that you have done or will do for human- ity, whether it be in the form of mother, or that which is only related to Christ. Yours, in the love of Jesus," " Marcli 20th, 1872. "I would not have thought that I ever could lose my courage and resolution to the degree that I have. I tried hard, from the week of prayer, to get up a revival and to convert men, but I couldn't, and the Lord wouldn't, and so we are Just so — very united, because frozen together." To J. K. N . "April 5th. "I am always more than glad to receive a letter from you ; and if I don't write so often, you must remember that I am an old man ; that it takes the old mill longer to grind out the poor weekly sermon than it once did ; that I have ray great parish still on me ; that I have a great many letters to write ; and, finally, that I am incorrigibly lazy We are sorry to hear about the ill health of your good wife. What weights God has to put on us to keep us down ! We who have had so much sickness in our family, and who have stood at so many graves, know how to sympathize with you all, and hope and pray that the cloud may soon turn into a shower that shall make your home brighter than ever As for me, I write and preach, and preach and write, and seem to be like an aid frigate rolling in the trough of the sea, not quite in harbor, and not in a condition to bound off on a new voyage. My people throw up their caps, and cry, 'Oh, he never preached so well as he does now !' But I know better; and I know that if I live nearly nine months longer I shall drop all responsibility, and own up that the world can do better without me than with me. Then I shall leave the parsonage, but where to go I know not. I have no house or home, and my people have not yet stirred about it. But I have no fears. God will give me just what he wants me to have. I believe in the decrees, and wish there were more of them, even such as would convert ray hard-hearted ones before I die. Won't it be a new feeling, that you have done your poor work of life, that you have nothing more to which to look forward, and are now like a piece of soiled foam lying upon the waters, only waiting to have the waves LIFE AT PITTSFIELB. 41 7 recede and leave it to dry up on the sand ! Well, I only pray that I may have grace to behave well — to do and to be just what the divine Master wishes We have had a terribly hard winter; the mountains are still white, and the ice is thick, and the frost is six or seven feet in the ground, and Spring dare not show the tips of her fingers, lest they be cut oifas boy's fingers are in the cutting-machine, \wish I could see you ! I have the feeling that it would make me ten years younger. Who knows where I shall go or be after December 31st, 1872. Now, don't go to pity me as a vener- able, bent, crooked, trembling, whining, feeble old man ; for I walk without a cane, write and read Avithout my glasses, write and study in my shirt-sleeves, have the Nirarodic fever once a year, and hie away into the forests, carrying prog and gun, and — do many other things equally ministerial and pu- ritanic. My glorious old girl unites Avith me in a profusion of love. Amen." His release from pastoral duty came sooner than he an- ticipated. To John [in pencil]. "April 16th. "A week ago to-night, while attending the installation- services of Mr. T in New York, I was taken numb ; went out, found I could not walk ; had a very sick night at the hotel ; next day with great difficulty got home ; have not sat up since. I ani better, but weak and tottering ; still, I can walk. I shall at once ask my people to release me from all active service, and make such arrangements for the future as they deem right and proper. Not unlikely I have preached my last sermon." " Later. "The parish have unanimously voted that I have the house in which I live as long as I live (I prefer it altogether to any house they could procure), and tliat my salary be continued unaltered. I do think this is kind, generous, and noble — a high compliment to me, and an honor to them." For many years he had been expecting a stroke of paraly- sis, and on this account he was perhaps unnecessarily alarmed by the symptoms of this attack. Relieved from pastoral labor, and from all anxiety for the future, he soon regained comfortable health. •W8 JOHN TODD. To his Brother IVilliam, on the Loss of his Wife. " May 6th. "How little did we think, when we were boys, what our path in life would be, or through what waters we should be called to wade ! Your letter came to-day, and I hasten to give you the assurance of ray warmest sympatliy and love. It is a matter of thankfulness (and in our sorrows we must not forget this), that you have had this true and faithful friend with you and by you so many years, to share all your joys and sorrows — the best friend a man can have. I have always had a great esteem for her humble, sincere, and true piety, and have no doubt she has gone to dwell among those meek and quiet spirits ' which in the sight of the Lord are of great price.' I do earnestly sympathize with you in your loneliness and almost helplessness. You will live over and think over the past, and, doubtless, recall much that you wish had been otherwise; but all these memories will soften the heart, and keep you from dwelling too much on the pres- ent. Were it not that the cup of life has bitter dregs as we come near the bottom, we should be too unwilling to have it taken from our lips. In a few weeks, after the first waves of sorrow have rolled over you, you will begin to feel, not that she is going from you, but that she is coming toward you, and you will soon meet. This w^as sudden ; but old people usually fall suddenly; as the aged trees of the forest fall, not in the crashing storm, but after the storm is j^ast and all is still. You won't feel this wind prostrating you ; and yet you may find that it slowly but surely is undermin- ing your strong constitution. Oh, it gives me unspeakable joy to feel that all our father's family belonged to Christ, and will, I hope and pray, all meet again, where God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes I feel that my life-work is done, and that I can only present to the Master a few withered leaves, instead of the great sheaves of wheat, which I ought to have brought him I mingle my prayers constantly with yours, that you may have the rich- est consolations of Christ. Keep near him ; there is none like him.'''' At the meeting of the trustees of Williams College, in June, Doctor Todd resigned his seat among them, and Rev. Mr. Flint was chosen his successor, the title of D.D. being LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 419 conferred upon liim at the same time. The following an- nouncement of the change was sent by the retiring trustee to his successor : " June 8th. '■'' Reverendus Ephraimus Flinty A.B.^ A.JI., D.D., Curator, etc., etc., etc. : " O Saxum magnum ! thee, Doctor illustrissime, i congrat- ulate, doctissime et illustrissime, that thou, by the uplifting of thy friends, hast risen to the sublime position of Doctor DiviNiTATis ! How hard they lifted and tugged to attain this, i shall not now relate ; but i, i, laid down and stripped off my honors, that thou mightest become Curator Coll. GuiL., and take thy seat among the great, while i, at the end of twenty-seven years' service, return to that obscurity which is my natural condition. Do thou valiantly in Israel, and possess the gates of thine enemies ! and, O Saxum mag- num ! when thy head is lifted up into the bright sunshine, do not thou forget the humble friend who did what he could to bring thee out of the prison of Ignotum. Great Doctor, i sit down at thy feet, most humble, and shall ever rejoice to see thy shadow enlarge ! " Dear Doctor, i am thine truly and humbly, " Jxo. Todd." The death of a promising young minister in the neighbor- liood, near the close of the year, called forth the following- letter to his father : To Mr. C . " October 28th. "My dear Sir, — I feel so little acquainted with you, that I fear you will feel that I am intruding, while I simply ex- press ray deep symi)athy with you and your family in your recent deep, long-to-be-continued affliction. To think how that young prophet has been born, trained, educated, en- tered and honored the ministry, completed his work, and entered into his rest, and all since I have been a pastor in this place ; to think how much we need humble, earnest, and able workmen in the Master's vineyard ; to know how quali- fied he seemed to be, and what large promise he gave of great usefulness, by his natural lovely traits of character, by his thorough education, by the magnetism of his manner, by 420 JOHN TODD. bis humble and yet manly piety ; alas ! it makes it all seem a dream ! I mourn for the Church of God, and for the cause Avhich lay so near his heart. ' Verily, thou art a God who hidest thyself.' He does not explain, or lift the curtain be- hind which he conceals his providences. 'What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shall know hereafter.' "The first thing I want his father and mother and family to do is, to bow in silence, submission, faith, and hope, and believe that God is wise and good, even when clouds and darkness surround him. The next thing I want you to do is, to thank God that he gave you such a son to give back to him. Then I want you to feel that he is not far from you, but so near that you will be the better for his life and death, as long as you remain on earth. Don't ask that the cloud be ever entirely taken up from your home; it never will be; but it may become so luminous that you can see bright stars through it. Forgive my intrusion, and receive my warm and deep sympathy, and my earnest prayer that, as you pass through the fires, the flame may not consume, and through the deep waters, they may not overflow. I have no right to claim any title here other than that of stranger, and yet I venture to subscribe myself your sympathizing friend." To John. " October 22d. " I am distressed about Lucy's going off" to Europe alone with her children, and you all wonder why I don't go with her. Xow, you can't realize that with age comes timidity, and a want of what the English call pluck. I have a great dread of being sick away from home — a great dread of any change. I want to creep along near the shore, where I can run into a harbor when the wind blows or the storm comes. I can't describe it, but it is a feeling of uncertainty as to every step, and of dimness that is drawn over every object." Toward the close of the year, the church and parish in- vited the Rev. E. O. Bartlett, of Providence, to become Doc- tor Todd's successor, and the retired pastor wrote him as follows : " November 5th. "My dear Sir, — My eyes are in a state so unusual, and so unusable, that the doctor forbids me to use them at pres- ent: I must, therefore, make my say a short one. Before this LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 421 you will have received a communication from my flock in- viting you to become their pastor. It seems as though your entrance here was providential, and I can not but hope it is all under the special direction of God. I need only say that a people who could bear with me over thirty years, and not have a single unpleasant thing occur, must be a remarkably good people. Sometimes there have been nearly forty col- lege-educated men in my congregation — a congregation dis- tinguished for education, wealth, refinement, and nobleness. The church is sound, and every thing in a most desirable condition, "Were I now at the age of forty, I would prefer this post and this position to any one I know of. "But I took up my pen simply to say that, if Providence inclines you to come here, you will find 7ne, I trust, broad enough, and man and Christian enough, to welcome you, and to be to you all that you could wish. It is my prayer that I may behave well and do no hurt ; if I can't do so, I think God will take me out of life, or I shall take myself out of town. At all events, you will account me a helper, and not a hinderance. I have no fear but we shall both wish to get along well together, and succeed in our en- deavors. You can hardly imagine how intense is my inter- est that my people have a man consecrated, pious, sound, and thorough in theology — a devoted and common-sense man. Excuse my fast writing, and believe me cordially and afiectionately and truly yours." The installation took place on the first day of the new year, and the retired pastor delivered the " charge " in the same tender spirit of cordiality; and it is believed that he never failed in any respect to keep these promises. To Ms. W . " January 6th, 1873. " I have three or four different kinds of feelings in my heart; one is of great loneliness, having just seen my suc- cessor settled over my flock. I feel like one attending his own funeral, and seeing another man coming and marrying his own wife — like standing bolt upright, and seeing one's self turned into a shadow — like the commander of a great ship seeing himself turning into a figure-head." On the 3d of February, the thirty-first anniversary of his settlement, he preached, by request, a historical sermon, giv- 422 JOHX TODD. ing a sketch of the First Cliurcb and its pastors from its be- ginning. From his statements with reference to liis own pastorate we learn that, during the thirty-one years, he had administered over five Inmdred baptisms, attended over nine hundred funerals, labored in six great revivals, and admit- ted over one thousand to the church, "and had those who thought they passed from death unto life at Maplewood (Young Ladies') Institute made a profession here, the num- ber would have amounted to twelve hundred at least." Early in April, Doctor Todd and his wife made a trip to Philadelphia, and received a most cordial welcome from their many friends in that scene of their former labors and trials. " We have been amazed how many hold us in green and warm remembrance. The papers say I have re- turned after a 'fortnight's' excursion, 'in fine health and spirits.' What would the papers not say, if they knew' all the attentions and kindnesses we received while away ! Why, types wouldn't begin to describe it ! I have re- turned stronger, in better health and spirits, with more hope and courage, laden with sweet memories, and oppressed by a sense of the kindnesses received. Mrs. T. has been so ' set up ' by the journey that I have Aveighty fears lest she would not be able to come down to 'common doings.' Please greet all who may ask after us; and take a cathedralful of love and thanks for yourselves, till Mrs. T. writes, which she will shortly do, and with an appropriateness that makes my very pencil tremble." On his return, he spent a week with each family of his children in Ansonia and New Haven, Connecticut, preaching in both places. In the former place he administered the communion for the last time, and in the latter he administer- ed baptism for the last time, giving a name to the youngest of his grandchildren ; and those who were present will not soon forgot the group of parents and babies, the font filled with rose-buds, or the prayer of the aged father, so appropri- ate and touching in its allusions, so tender in its feeling, so fragrant with the breath of the faith and love and hope of an imperishable youth. Soon after his return he wrote to his friend, .J. K. N , who had become president of a university in Mississippi, as follows : LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 423 "May 20th. "I have long been wishing to write to yon, but you are so far away it wearies me to carry or follow my letters so far; and I have so much to say, and know not what to say, that days and weeks rush by, and still your good letters re- main staring me in the face, and crying out, 'P'or shame! for shame !' The most important thing in the world is one's self, and so there I begin, I am doing nothing ; i. e., I only preach about two sermons on the Sabbath, here and there, write weekly for the Congregationalist, some for the Observer and Sunday School Times, and loaf, and groan that Samson must grind in the mill, when he wants to be pulling down the very pillars of Dagon's temple. Wife and I have just returned from a journey to New Haven, New York, Phila- delphia, and Delaware, where we had ii kind of 'Zo triumphe'' all the way, and were feted and toasted till my wife is so ' set up ' that I can hardly board with her since. She is pretty well, as handsome (only sixty -seven years old) as ever, worries greatly to see me set aside, feels that light, and wisdom, and greatness (wives never dare say much about the goodness of their husbands !), and judiciousness, will and must and shall die with her husband; and though she has not exactly convinced me of all this, yet I begin to feel that ruin to our churches and to the world can't be so far off as it used to be ! " So you are changed into a man-of-all-work, to fill your new field, sowing and tilling, and reaping full ears and blasted. Well, I can't judge for you; and every man must )>addle his own canoe in his own way, only remembering that it should go forward, and not backward or sideways Now, don't scowl, and purse up your lips, as if I were hitting the dignity of the President of Tougaloo University. Far be that from me ! I take off my hat, and reverence such a title and commission, though written on birch-bark and hung on a thorn-bush. I am delighted at the idea of your com- ing to Williamstown. I have resigned my trusteeship; so I can't stand in the way of any honors, or break any eggs that the good old hen may want to confer or lay. President Hopkins and I are enjoying (?) ''otium cum dignitatem Ah me ! how Latin revives in one's memory when writing to the president of a university ! Why, I almost want to talk it. 424 JOHN TODD. Three babies ! how fast you grow rich ! Blessings on tliem ! I have just baptized my twelfth living grandchild : think of that — and be humble ! . . , . I'm as ignorant as ' Nicodemus, who built the ark' of all your section of country ; but I imag- ine a poor, illiterate, kind, stupid, prejudiced population, half- civilized in habits and three-quarters barbarous; the mud- holes inhabited by crocodiles, flamingoes, cranes, and mosqui- toes — the woods, by squirrels, owls, and turkey-buzzards (no gophers !) ; the waters stagnant and sluggish, inhabited only by bull-heads and blood-suckers, though called rivers ! Now, isn't that the right picture ? I may well say here, that I write with a pencil, to designate that I know my letters are not worth preserving, and because my hand goes stead- ier, and my (what you profanely call) hieroglyphics are not quite so bad. My wife sends love, greetings, and every thing but money to you and yours. As you value your word or your life, don't you fail to come and see me this summer. Would you think that the snow is still lying on our mountains in vast drifts, in sight of my study ? I wish you had it ; 'twould refresh you." To Mrs. W- , on the Death of her Brother. " May 15th. " Dear, dear Mrs. W , — We were so detained by a sick grandchild, that we have but just reached home; and here we find your letter, so heavy with sorrow that we could hardly hold it up long enough to read it. I had had such strong hopes that j-our dear brother had not done his life- work, and that he was to be lent to earth longer, that I was surprised, even to a shock. How unlike our ways are ^His ways.' We, were we to select, should not strike down the strong, gifted, noble, almost perfect man, at the very noon- tide of life! But I am talking about only one side; about ' striking down,' when I ought to be thinking of the noble warrior called home, the faithful servant promoted, the earth- born becoming as the angels of God, the weary one gone to rest his head on the bosom of Everlasting Love. I don't know what I can say, my dear friend, to comfort you : the loss is too great, the wound too fresh, the grief too deep, for human sympathy; and yet we love to know that Ave are surrounded by an atmosphere of sympathy, and that we mourn one so LIFE AT PITTSFIELD. 425 important that, as at the falling of the lofty tree, the ground trembles far around. You know I consider you all as a fam- ily of nature's nobility, and so I feel that 'a prince is fallen in Israel.' I am sorry for his afflicted wife, favored as few wives have been ; and I am sorry for those fatherless chil- dren ; and I am sorry for you, who now seem to be bending under a second widowhood ; and I am sorry for the brother, who feels as if one-half of himself were smitten down; and for the sister, also a widow. What memories must crowd upon you as you meet together ! How much to recall in the past ! and how much to hope for in the long future before you ! Every day you are nearer to them than you were yes- terday. Ah ! these our precious earthly jewels are falling away ; but we know that Christ is making up his crown. They, doubtless, wonder at our sorrow if they know it; and we should have no sorrow could we see how much they have already become like the Redeemer. Letters, my dear Mrs. AY , are cold ; they have no tones that are tendei', no breathings that warm the heart, and no power to go di- rectly to the soul and comfort it. But there is a Comforter who can do all that, and far more ; and I pray that you may hear Christ say to you all, ' I will not leave you comfortless; I will come unto you.' " Soon after his return, he preached once more, and for the last time, to his old flock. This last sermon that he ever wrote had been 'prepared with special care. His theme was that which had all his life been most precious to him, and on which he had best loved to speak — the divinity and glory of Jesus Christ. "The Word was made flesh." Could he have foreseen the events of the next three months, he would hard- ly have wished to change the closing sentence : " Oh, the re- deemed ! the redeemed ! they shall see the King in his beau- ty ; they shall walk with him in white garments; they shall drink of the river of pleasure which will forever flow at his right hand ; he will meet his brethren, as Joseph did, and say, ' Come near to me,' and so they will be ' forever with the Lord.' Oh, the last look we give on earth, we want fixed on thee! and the first look we give in eternity, we want fixed on thee! the last song on earth, and the first in heaven, we want to be — Praise to the Lamb who was slain for us, and who washed us from our sins in his own blood." 28 426 JOHN TODD. CHAPTER XXX. HIS STUDY. A pleasant Room, — The Library. — Missionary Magazines. — Positively Dis- graceful. — An omnivorous Reader. — Guns. — The Wood-nymph. — Drawers of Sermons.— Canes.— The Golden Wedding.— The sick Child.— Two old Pastors.— The hard Man.— Jerusalem.— The lame Brother.— Mementoes. —The Fisherman's Lounge.— Pain.— The Desk.— The stolen Knife.— The Clock. — The Chair. — The inner Life of Imagination, Memory, Hope. — Sources of Power. Let us pay a visit to Doctor Todd's study. It was here tliat most of his hard work was done, and, in fact, most of his life was spent. It is a large, pleasant room, up one flight of stairs, on the south side of the house. In the winter — and much of the year is winter in Berkshire — the sunshine lies warm upon the carpet, and an open coal lire glows brightly in a large soap-stone stove. At the farther end of the room a broad arch opens into a second room as wide, and half as deep, as the first, which contains the library. In the middle of its west wall the book-cases part for a window, adorned somewhat with stained glass, which looks out toward the sunset, and the surpassingly beautiful outline of the Tagh- conic hills. The library contains two or three thousand vol- umes, and is of a mixed character. At the first glance there seems to be very little that is modern or valuable. A re- cent visitor, giving his impressions upon a cursory survey, writes: "The book-shelves were well filled with books, but they were all old books by Puritan authors, abounding with bound volumes of tracts, missionary magazines, etc. I did not notice a single volume of current literature, art, science, or theology. He Avas emphatically a man of the old school." The remark shows that the writer's observation was hasty or careless; for nestling among the old brown -calf books are many of the most recent and most advanced publica- tions on all subjects. Doctor Todd did not draw the fresh- ness of his thoughts from old "tracts and missionary maga- zines." In his reading he kept abreast of the times. But HIS STUDY. 427 the general appearance of the library is antiquated ; and, as a whole, it is not a choice collection. Doctor Todd himself felt it. " My library is positively disgraceful ! Oh, for books, books !" Its condition is easily accounted for. In the fire which destroyed his house and most of his ef- fects, when he first went to Pittsfield, the library which he had been selecting and purchasing for many years with great cost and care was mostly consumed. In their overflowing ODD s !5rLD\. sympathy, his friends made him a great many presents of books ; but, strange to say, they proved to be, in general, better adapted to fill his shelves than to store his mind. Then there were old volumes given him by aged pastors of the preceding generation, preserved as keepsakes rather than for their intrinsic value. Here, for instance, are a few vol- umes from the library of his father-in-law, musty relics of the theology of almost a century ago. And here are the "bound tracts" referred to; they are a small collection of the publications of one of the London Tract Societies, which, 428 JOHN TODD. after publishing and republishing his writings for many- years without the slightest acknowledgment of their author, at last made him this precious donation as a substitute for copyright money. Doctor Todd did not use such books much ; but he referred to the more recent works in his li- brary constantly, and he read a great deal more than was to be found there ; for after his great loss he made little ef- fort to accumulate a library. Indeed, he was an omnivorous reader, devouring every thing that he could lay hands on, not only with reference to theology, but that had any bear- ing upon his various pursuits of fancy, or any thing in sci- ence, literature, or art that was of interest. " Deep are my regrets that I have not read less and thought more. We waste, or rather never accumulate, the strength that might be ours, by not demanding it. Many a writer popular for an hour has spent his life in shooting sparrows with fine shot, because he was too indolent to carry a rifle with a calibre sufiiciently large to bring down the buffalo." This figure may have been suggested by a glance at the entrance to his library. "As you stand in my study and look into the adjoining library, you notice that over the door are several things that have an untheological look. There is a long, small, iron-pointed javelin, which came from Africa. Near it is a long, double-barreled gun — ' ray Secesh gun.' What is its history? I don't know. It was made in Liege, Belgium, for so says the engraving on the barrel. But whether the man Avho made it is alive or dead, I know not. It is a powerful gun ; has two barrels, which are near- ly four feet long. It weighs twelve and a half pounds. It has a bruise on the breech. The two locks, and indeed the whole thing, seem to be in order. It was taken on the field of battle at Baton Rouge, and the man who carried it out was probably killed. It was sent to me by a young captain, a friend of mine." Near-by are several other guns and pis- tols and revolvers, some of them of the best and most recent manufacture, others mere curiosities, from their antiquity or associations. Here, for instance, is an old flint musket, man- ufactured long ago in Pittsfield by a parishioner now passed away. It found its Avay down to North Carolina, fired its last shot at " the boys in blue," and was picked up on the field of Newbern, and sent home to the Doctor by one of the HIS STUDY. 429 brightest and most promising young men of his congrega- tion, who never came back himself. Up in one corner of the collection hangs a pair of snow-shoes, brought home from Canada, on which, it is tolerably certain, the owner never walked. At one foot of the arch are piled two or three shells, sent from the South, one of them, perhaps, still unex- ploded. At the opposite foot of the arch " you see an eight- sided, pillar-shaped thing, with a marble - colored basin, and a pure marble top, the top being several inches larger than the pillar, which also is eight-sided. The whole height is, two feet and nine inches. Then, on the top of all this is a glass cover about two and a half feet high, and large enough round to more than cover the basin. In the centre of the basin is a little brass jet, containing nearly forty little holes in a circle, each hole just large enough to admit a very fine needle. Then, outside of the glass, and on the marble top, are three little statuettes, white as the driven snow. They are about eight inches high, and each is intently looking at the little jet. One is ' Winter,' pausing on his skates, as if in astonishment to see the sight ; for I have only to touch a little brass cock, and up leaps the water through those little holes, nearly forty little streams, and each springing two feet into the air, and then turned into a myriad of silver drops, bright as diamonds, leaping, and laughing as they rise and fall, and dropping into the basin with the sweetest, ring- ing, singing sound ever heard. It seems as if the fairy daughters of music had got under my glass cover, and were each playing on her own harp. I can think of nothing but pearls dropping into a well, or golden balls falling into cups of silver. With what profusion the jewels are tossed out! And yet Winter is gazing, and he seems to forget to put down his foot with the skate on it. On the other side is 'Autumn,' with his sheaf of grain, leaning against a bee-hive, and with great satisfaction and admiration looking at the fountain. On another side still is a gentle girl coming to the fountain with her pitcher in her hand, and a dove perched on her shoulder. These all seem to stop in admira- tion of what they see. I never tire of this beautiful thing, I hear its noise, and I seem to be in the woods on the mount- ain-side, listening to the brook as it glides between mossy rocks, and then leaps over stones, and dances down into the 430 JOHN TODD. deep basin below. I seem to be on the little stream in the deep woods, where, in childhood, I used to wander, and list- en to the sweet notes of the wood-thrush. I have many me- morials of kind friends in my study which are beautiful; but the stranger hardly notices them, he is so much delighted with my tiny fountain — the wood-nymph whom I have coaxed to come in here in the second story, and to pause long enough to sing her wild song, and to dance in her robes of light. There it stands a living fountain. Nobody can see how the waters get there, or how they are carried away. Thei'e it leaps and rings day and night, never weary, never pausing, never other than beautiful. I sometimes almost imagine my fount- ain to be the very one spoken of by the prophet — a fountain for Jerusa- lem and the house of Ju- dah. I almost imagine it ilie fountain of life, and my little marble men to be angels 'desiring to look into' it. But, ah me ! that fountain was opened thou- sands of years ago, and has been gushing up ever since; and it will still gush up when I and my dear little fountain shall be forgotten. But a few can ever see mine ; thousands will see that, and rejoice in it forever. O fount- ain of life ! opened by the Lord Jesus Christ, not to bless one solitary study merely, but to well up in every sanctuary, and in ten thousand human habitations. The dancing feet of childhood pause, and the silvery voice is hushed, as the child THE FOUNTAIN HIS STUDY. 431 gazes at my fountain ; but the waters of life cause tlie lame to leap like the hart, the dumb to sing, and the song of hope and of faith to rise up loud and sweet, till its echoes are re- turned from heaven. O my little fountain, speak to my read- er, and whisper in his ear, ' The waters of life, the waters of life! Whoso drinketh of them shall never thirst.'" Within the library are nine large book-cases, two of them made by his own hands during his first settlement. Every book-case is open, the opening being made to arch overhead by corner pieces of black walnut sawed in open work, hung on hinges, and enlivened with strips of gilt, and has in the lower part of it three large drawers, filled for the most part with manuscripts. " In forty-six years I have written over four thousand sermons. The full drawers on hand, even now, astonish me." The walls of "the study" are covered with pictures, some of them really fine chromes and engravings, others of no merit, or worse ; but every one of them has its history and associations which have made it sacred. Everywhere there are articles which have each its story, and which have fur- nished each a leaf in his published writings. In one corner stand a dozen canes. One of them, a very handsome gold-headed ebony stick, was presented to Rev. Heman Humphrey, D.D., ex-president of Amherst College, and a predecessor, and, later, a parishioner of Doctor Todd's, by his children when, with his wife, he celebrated his golden wedding. It bears the inscription : ^'■Hodie Bacuhim. Cras Corona. 1858, April 20th. Rev. Heman Humphrey, D.D., Pittsfield." After his death it was sent to Doctor Todd, with the fol- lowing note : "Mt dear Dr. Todd, — We have all felt that in the breaking-up of our home here we should like to leave some- thing M'ith you which would be a slight expression of our appreciation of your kindness shown to our family through so many years and in manifold Avays. We have selected this cane, because Ave have thought that its associations with our dear father, to whom it belonged, might give it additional value to you. It was one of the gifts of love presented to him at his golden wedding (bearing that date), 432 JOHN TODD. and was often carried by him during his later years, until, at the Master's call, he dropped ' the staif,' and passed over the river to receive ' the crown.' " You may, perhaps, like to give it a place in your collec- tion of articles of association and interest. Wherever our broken family may be scattered, we must always remember with sincere gratitude all that you have ever done for us in the varied scenes and experiences of our dear Pittsfield home. Most sincerely yours, S. W. H." " Did I ever feel worthy to have that glorious old minister sit at my feet for twenty years ? Do I feel worthy to own this gift of love on which he once leaned ? No, no ! The cane seems to say, 'You know, sir, that he bore fruit even to the end of life, and when he fell at eighty-two, he was found watching and at work. The blossoms on the tree in autumn were hardly less beautiful than those of spring. I notice, sir, that you never pass his grave in the cemetery without cast- ing your eye on his tomb. The very sunlight that falls upon it seems softer and purer than what falls elsewhere; and no one ever passes this grave without feeling, if he knew him well, that there rests the dust of the most perfect char- acter it was ever his lot to know.' Yes, good cane, I know all this, and often feel humbled that I so long shared his confidence and friendship without imi^roving more by them ; and often mourn that I can recall so many things by which I might have done more for his comfort ; but I can truly say I honored him as a son, and reverenced him little less than I should a prophet. Go back to thy nail, staff of beau- ty ! I shall probably never lean upon thee, or carry thee out of my study ; but thou wilt awaken memories tender, sad, and yet thrilling. I doubt if thou couldst have fallen into the hands of one who would prize thee more, thou memorial of a great and good man, and of a remarkable family. This simple chaplet I weave, and hang upon the old minister's cane." The next cane, " a great, heav}', black, club-like fellow," belonged to the Doctor's eldest son when in college. The next, a light, white stick, of no value in itself, was once pur- chased and carried for a little while by the younger son, be- fore he died. "The next — that beautifully mottled cane — HIS STUDY. 433 was born in Florida. I believe it is a species of thorn; smooth as silver, and about as hard. It has a large, preten- tious ivory head, wrought octagonally. It was sent to me by a sick child, when away from home " [his invalid daughter, Mary]. " It is a beautiful cane, valuable to me because con- nected with memories and anxieties which have left their deep marks upon me, but which are not to be spoken of. I shall probably never use it ; but I could not spare that cane." The next cane was carried for many years by his father- in-law, Doctor Brace, till he was called away from Doctor Todd's own house, and left it behind. The next was not only owned for fifty years by Doctor Brace, but carried for sixty-five years more before that by Rev. Joshua Belden, his predecessor for that length of time in the pulpit at Newing-