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AUTHOR: 
 
 DICKERSON, EMMA 
 
 RICHARDSON 
 
 TITLE: 
 
 JAMES STOKES 
 DICKERSON ... 
 
 PLACE* 
 
 NEW YORK, CHICAGO 
 
 DATE: 
 
 1879 
 
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 Dickerson, Janes Stokes, 1825-1876.- 
 
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 1. DIckersoii. .Tamos Stokes, 1825-1876. i. Kendrlck, Asnhel Clark. 
 1800-1895. joint author. 
 
 S6-19853 
 
 Library of Congress 
 Copyright 1870: 2084 
 
 BX0495.D5D5 
 
 Dickerson, Mrs, Emma (Richardson) 1842- 
 
 Jamcs Stokes Dickerson : memories of his life. By his wife, 
 Emma R. Dickerson, assisted by Prof. A. C. Kendrick ... New . 
 York, Sheldon & co.; Chicago, S. C. Griggs and company, 
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JAMES STOKES DICKERSON: 
 
 MEMORIES OF HIS LIFE. 
 
 BY HIS WIPE, 
 
 EMMA R. DICKERSON, 
 
 ASSISTED BY 
 
 PROF. A. C. KENDRICK, D.D., 
 
 OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ROCHBSTKR. 
 
 NEW YORK: SHELDON & CO. 
 CHICAGO,^' •S.--C.:G1JI&^«: ^Jf£) AOMPANY. 
 
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 1879. 
 
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 Trans, from 
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 Oct. 15.194:0 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, ^Y 
 
 EMMA R. DICKERSON, 
 in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, 
 
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 DONITELLBT, OASajBTSTKi jfc.iaYEl, PRUfTltflS, CHICAGO. 
 
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 ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 
 
 The author of this memoir desires to acknowledge 
 especial obligation, for aid in its preparation, to Prof. 
 A. C. Kendrick, D.D., Rev. J. A. Smith, D.D., Rev. 
 J. D. Fulton, D.D., Pres. M. B. Anderson, L.L.D., 
 Rev. D. B. Cheney, D.D., Rev. E. K. Alden, D.D., Rev. 
 Geo. C. Lorimer, D.D., Pres. H. E. Robins, D.D., Prof. 
 W. C. Wilkinson, D.D., Rev. A. H. Burlingham, D.D., 
 Rev. William Aikman, D.D., and other family friends. 
 
+ 
 
 INTEODUCTIOX 
 
 Macaulay, in one of his brilliant essays, declares that men 
 are prone to extol the virtues and forget the faults of the 
 honored ones who have passed away: that they transform into 
 idols those who were never idolized in life; and often speak 
 of tiiem in such a way that those who knew them best would 
 fail to recognize them. The general truth of the statement 
 may be beyond question ; yet I willingly leave it to the readers 
 of the following memorial to decide whether it is without 
 exception. I feel assured that while, even to many who knew 
 him, this record of the life of one of God's choicest servants 
 will reveal much hitherto unsuspected by them, his inner circle 
 of friends will rise from its perusal with the conviction that 
 the portraiture is one of substantial truth, and yet that scarcely 
 the half has been unfolded. 
 
 I do not undertake this work in the belief that my late 
 husband was one of the great men of his time; but in the 
 conviction that there are comparatively few who, in this world 
 of sin and selfishness, live a life so pure, so beautiful, and so 
 noble as his; few who bring to all who come into contact 
 with them so much of joy and sunshine; few who themselves 
 labor from higher motives, or are a source to others of loftier 
 inspiration; few who in a long career have kept themselves so 
 nearly *' unspotted from the world," or illustrated so beautifully 
 the entire round of the Christian graces. Shall not such be 
 deemed great in that order of things that brings to greatness 
 its proper standard? 
 
 To me, I may say with frankness, my husband seemed well- 
 
 (5) 
 
g INTRODUCTION. 
 
 nigh perfect. To be conscious of his true, deep, ever-joyous 
 love; to lean trustingly on his faithful arm, and bask in the 
 sunshine of his inspiring presence; to be radiant with joy in his 
 companionship, to sit under his attractive and Christ-like min- 
 istry, and in turn to minister joyfully to his comfort amidst 
 perpetual words of loving appreciation - all this was to me 
 little less than an earthly heaven. He was the center and the sun 
 of our happy household. His absence but for a few hours made 
 us sensible of a change of atmosphere. To hear his key in the 
 door was the signal that we should be flooded with sunshine 
 and laughter; that the children would have a good frolic; that 
 words of mingled tenderness and humor would be spoken, and 
 an electric tlirill of gladness over the coming of " dear papa " 
 would run round the whole household circle. 
 
 Yet were this all, it might be well to cherish the happy 
 memories in the quietude of our own hearts and home. Other 
 husbands have made homes happy; other wives have loved 
 them as truly and tenderly; other children have looked with 
 loving reverence to those whom they were proud to call their 
 father. But this was far from all. In his boyhood he was 
 loved by all his companions; in his youth every acquaintance 
 became a friend; in his college days he was, by universal testi- 
 monv, alike with students, professors, and the community, a 
 universal favorite. On entering the world from college, he 
 made friends of all his business acquaintances; was welcomed 
 into every circle, and carried (everywhere not only the light 
 of his beaming smile, of his sunny temper, of his genial and 
 sympathetic nature, but an instant and active response to every 
 appeal oT human need and sorrow to his warm heart and 
 unfailing benevolence; while to the thousands who have sat 
 under his ministry and shared his visits and counsels as pastor 
 and friend, his very name is a talisman to evoke the sweetest 
 associations and the most sacred memories. Loving all, he was 
 loved by all. Living supremely for Christ, the affections and 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 energies which he had consecrated to him he poured out as 
 from a full urn, lavishly and unselfishly, upon the great work 
 of purifying and elevating men. 
 
 The story of a life so intrinsically beautiful, and, tried by 
 the true standard of success, so eminently successful, will be 
 read with interest by those who knew him, and will, I am 
 persuaded, prove to multitudes who knew him not, a source 
 of moral quickening and inspiration. The portrayal of it in 
 its principles and its workings can scarcely fail to be salutary 
 and ennobling. If the evil that men do too commonly lives 
 after them, it is surely our duty and our privilege to endeavor 
 that virtue shall have a like survival, and that the richest and 
 purest Christian graces shall not share the grave of him in 
 whom they were embodied to purify and bless humanity. I 
 sit down, therefore, with a happy heart to the work of perpet- 
 uating the memory of one so dearly loved, and along with 
 this, so far as I may, his Christ-like and blessed influence. 
 For him to live was Christ. May his beautiful life and con- 
 sistent Christian example inspire in me and others the like 
 spirit of consecration; may it urge us to keep, like him, near 
 to the Savior, that ours may at length be, like his, the Apos- 
 tolic triumph that we have fought the good fight, and won 
 the crown of righteousness that awaits us in the day of his 
 appearing. 
 
 With many precious memories of the past, and bright hope^ 
 of the glad hereafter, this little volume is given to the Chris- 
 tian public. 
 
 Emma R. Dickerson. 
 
James S. Dickebson. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BIRTH AND PARENTAGE. 
 
 James S. Dickerson was born in the city of 
 Philadelphia, July 6, 1825. His father, John 
 Dickerson, was a Pennsylvanian by birth, and a 
 prominent man in its most populous city, and also 
 in the county. He had come to Philadelphia when 
 a boy, and learned the carriage-making trade with 
 his brother, and very soon disclosed a remarkable 
 genius for mechanics, for printing, and for music. 
 When he became a man he took many positions of 
 trust in the community ; was elected coroner of the 
 city and county of Philadelphia, and at the expira- 
 tion of his term of office was re-elected for three 
 years. For many years he was a lumber merchant, 
 and invented a rule for measuring lumber, which 
 could be used as a cane. He made the canes him- 
 self, stamped all the figures upon them, and finished 
 them at home in the evenings. 
 
 Although a good business man, and familiar with 
 public and official life, he was even better known in 
 social circles. Prepossessing in appearance, genial 
 in manner, full of humor, and an excellent musician, 
 
 (9) 
 
10 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON 
 
 liEMINISCENCES. 
 
 11 
 
 m 
 
 If 
 
 t ; 
 
 he was a favorite wherever such qualities had scope, 
 and was constantly required, alike at weddings and 
 evening gatherings, to lend the charm of his pres- 
 ence and voice to the entertainment. He composed 
 church music, engraved his own plates, and printed 
 his own compositions. Some of his books are still 
 in existence.' Braham, of England, who during 
 these years was a noted vocalist, when he visited 
 America, went to Philadelphia to see " John Dick- 
 erson, the singer and composer." He was a very 
 conscientious man and one who loved to make 
 others happy. In a large, comfortable building 
 which he owned near his house, he had during 
 winter evenings his singing classes: one, for those 
 who paid him for their instruction a moderate sum, 
 and the other, for the poor. The money he received 
 was spent in buying singing books for such of those 
 whom he wished to teach as were unable to pay, so 
 that all might be able to sing in church correctly. 
 His singing served him many a good turn. Once, 
 while journeying from Philadelphia to Ohio, alter- 
 nately by stage-coach, or canal, or on foot, he stopped 
 for dinner at a farm-house. He had been walking for 
 miles, and had about thirty more to travel before he 
 reached the stage-coach line again. Seeing in a 
 field near the house a fine white colt, he asked the 
 woman, who had just given him a good bowl of 
 bread and milk, to let him saddle the colt and ride 
 these thirty miles. Such was the custom of those 
 days, some one returning over the route bringing 
 back the horse the next day. She refused to let 
 him take it. As he sat resting he began to sing a 
 
 plaintive song, entitled "Joseph and his brethren." 
 Before he had finished the first two stanzas, the 
 woman stopped her work and wept. As he ceased 
 singing she turned and said, with a trembling voice, 
 " Sing me the rest of that song, sir, and you may 
 have the colt." His singing did not quite equal, in 
 its effects, the " redemption " that " rose up in the 
 Attic Muse " when the plaintive strains of Euripides, 
 chanted by the Athenian captives, softened their 
 masters in the Sicilian quarries ; but, at all events, 
 it saved him a hot and dusty walk of thirty miles. 
 
 His conscientiousness was as striking as his music, 
 of which trait a slight illustration is preserved in 
 the following incident of his boyhood. While with 
 his brother in the carriage - making trade he was 
 sent, as they were in but moderate circumstances, 
 with a jug to buy a small quantity of oil. For the 
 dollar which he handed the merchant in payment, 
 he received four silver pieces, each of which he sup- 
 posed to be a quarter of a dollar. As he looked at 
 them, he resolved to keep one of the quarters and 
 give his brother the three to which he was entitled. 
 He had more than a mile to walk: the jug with its 
 rope handle was not an easy thing to carry, and he 
 had frequently to sib down and rest on the way. 
 But the more he rested in body, the more he grew 
 unquiet in his conscience, until when he nearly 
 reached home, the inner burden became heavier 
 than the outer, and forced him with the double 
 weight all the way back. Showing the merchant 
 the coin he had given him, and saying that it was 
 too much, he was asked how soon he had made the 
 
12 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 discovery. He replied, " As soon as I left the store, 
 but I was almost home before I made up my mind 
 to return the money." The merchant explained that 
 the boy was mistaken in the value of the pieces, 
 that the change he had given him was right, '' and 
 here," he added, '' is a quarter dollar for your hon- 
 esty." The incident no doubt strengthened those 
 conscientious principles which became prime ele- 
 ments of his character, and of which another 
 pleasing trait is recorded. He accepted the office 
 of Coroner — then more reputable than it is now — 
 for a definite and noble purpose. It was an old-time 
 custom in Philadelphia for the twelve jurors who 
 held the inquest, to receive, instead of the dollar 
 each, to which the law entitled them, a rousing treat 
 of liquor from the Coroner ; and to do away with 
 the usage, Mr. John Dickerson accepted the office. 
 A reformer before the temperance reformation, he 
 succeeded in abolishing the graceless custom, though 
 at the cost of incurring much displeasure. Yet his 
 weight of character overcame the popular resent- 
 ment, and he was re-elected to the office. 
 
 It will be readily seen where James inherited many 
 of his personal traits, and they were even more pro- 
 nounced in the son than in the father. The humor 
 that played over every subject, and the wit that 
 often flashed like lightning to its core ; the social 
 grace and geniality, the musical taste and talent, 
 and more than all, the stern conscientiousness that 
 refused to compromise with wrong, were in no small 
 degree transmitted to James from his father. 
 
 His maternal descent was equally reputable. The 
 

REMINISCENCES. 
 
 13 
 
 father of his mother, Thomas Stokes, was born in 
 London, England, in 1765, and "was born again," 
 in the hxnguage of his diary, "in 1783.'* Though 
 occupying a position in London which gave him 
 access to the highest and most fashionable circles, 
 his chief pleasures were in communion with God 
 and his people, and his chief activity devoted to the 
 cause of the Redeemer. He was associated with 
 Robert Raikes in originating that characteristic insti- 
 tution of the modern church, the Sunday school ; 
 under the ministrations of Rowland Hill, to whose 
 congregation he attached himself, he was among the 
 first to feel the throbbings of the missionary spirit 
 then awaking in England ; did much by his corre- 
 spondence to promote and develop it ; aided in the 
 formation of the London Missionary Society, and 
 was one of the last to leave the deck of the first 
 missionary ship, " The Duff," that in September, 
 1796, bore twenty-nine missionaries to Tahiti. In 
 1798 he left England for New York ; was baptized 
 in 1807 into the Baptist Church, by Rev. Charles 
 Lahatt, and when, under the then young and elo- 
 quent preacher, Archibald Maclay, the Mulberry 
 Street Church was organized, he became a deacon 
 in that church, which office he held till death. Nor 
 had he left behind him his glowing missionary zeal. 
 He was present at the formation of the Baptist 
 General Convention for Missions in Philadelphia, in 
 1814 ; was for a few years its treasurer, and a fast 
 friend of it till his death. His religious working 
 was equally efficient outside of his own denomina- 
 tion. He was in 1816 one of the founders of the 
 
14 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 American Bible Society ; was associated with Will- 
 iam Ladd, David L. Dodge, and Anson G. Phelps, 
 in founding the New York Peace Society, and in 
 1825 aided in organizing the American Tract Society, 
 of whose Managing Board and Committee on Dis- 
 tribution he was an active member. He died a tri- 
 umphant Christian death in October, 1832. His 
 grandson, the subject of this memoir, prepared a few 
 years ago a small " In Memoriam " volume, a worthy 
 and beautiful tribute to a life of unobtrusive, but 
 active piety, and most efficient and varied service to 
 the cause of Christ. 
 
 He left a large family of children, of whom several 
 are still living in New York as prominent and reput- 
 able merchants. One of them, James Stokes, mar- 
 ried the daughter of Anson G. Phelps, and has long 
 been a member of the well-known firm of Phelps, 
 Dodge & Co. The mother of James, Eliza Ann, 
 was\orn in Sing Sing, N. Y., October 19, 1798. 
 She was married to Mr. Dickerson in 1818, their 
 mutual interest having been awakened while she 
 was attending upon him when received in illness, 
 as a transient guest, under the hospitable roof of 
 her father. She was in every way an admirable 
 woman, of sterling sense and consistent piety, and 
 some of her son James' mental and moral qualities 
 exhibited a fine blending of the maternal with the 
 paternal characteristics. The marriage was a happy 
 one, but of brief duration, she dying a death of 
 Christian peace and triumph, February 11, 1830, at 
 the early age of thirty-two. Her husband survived 
 her six years, and having married again an excellent 
 
 BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 
 
 15 
 
 and loving young woman, by whom he left two 
 children, died in May, 1836, after a short illness, at 
 the early age of forty-four. 
 
 The fruit of the first union was six children. 
 They were Anne Eliza, who afterwards became Mrs. 
 Gilbert Colgate ; Thomas, who for twenty years has 
 lived in Chicago, a member of (Dr. Everts') the 
 First Baptist Church, having been converted a short 
 time before James, under the preaching of Elder 
 Jacob Knapp, in New York ; Sarah Grace, who mar- 
 ried Samuel B. VanDusen, of Philadelphia, but who 
 for many years has lived in New York City ; John, 
 who was brought up in New York, and has been a 
 successful merchant there for many years ; James, 
 who at the time of his mother's death was about 
 four years old ; and an infant that survived its 
 mother but a short time. 
 
 The death of the mother parti^-lly divided the 
 family^for a time, Anne Eliza, Grace, and John being 
 brought to the home of their grand-parents in New 
 York, while Thomas and James remained with their 
 father in Philadelphia. The second marriage of 
 their father reunited them for a season. But the 
 death of their father, in 1836, again broke up the 
 household. Many friends and relatives from New 
 York attended the funeral, among them the uncle, 
 Mr. James Stokes, from whom he was named, and 
 who for many years in after life generously aided 
 and befriended him. He brought James, now nearly 
 eleven years old, with him to New York. James 
 stayed a short time with his grandmother, and in the 
 Autumn was sent with his brother John to New- 
 
16 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 burgh on the Hudson, to attend the Academy in 
 that place. Here they remained three years, board- 
 ing with Mr. James, a Baptist clergyman, and spend- 
 ing their vacations with their grandmother in New 
 York, or with their elder sister, Mrs. Gilbert Col- 
 gate. As their father had left but a small property, 
 their uncles thought it best to invest it, letting them 
 know nothing of it until they should come of age ; 
 they themselves, therefore, paid the bills for the 
 boys' board and instruction, while their grandmother 
 furnished their clothing. 
 
 During all these early years James was known 
 as a bright, kind-hearted, and truthful boy. His 
 word could be thoroughly depended upon, and any 
 plausible excuse for wrong-doing manufactured by 
 his companions was instantly stripped of its dis- 
 guise, and lost, discountenanced, and like false- 
 hood showed, as his honest tongue responded to 
 the paternal appeal, " Come, Jimmie, get up into 
 my lap, and tell me just how it was." The child 
 was father of the man, and rarely has this prophetic 
 quality of childhood been clearer in its utterance, 
 or more sure in its fulfillment. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 EARLY LIFE IN NEW YORK, AND CONVERSION. 
 
 On James' return from Newburgh, his uncles, 
 practical business men, who had achieved their 
 own fortunes, conceived it best for him to enter 
 upon some employment that should prepare him 
 for the business life to which they considered him 
 destined. He was about thirteen years of age, and 
 though small of stature, was active, intelligent, and 
 full of common sense and practical philosophy. 
 His uncles found a position for him in the dry-goods 
 store of a Mr. Thomas Pattison, on the corner of 
 Division Street and the Bowery. Mr. Pattison, 
 though a Moravian, did not carry any Moravian 
 scruples into his business, and was hard and stern 
 toward his clerks, from whom he exacted abundant 
 labor for very scanty pay. It was the duty of little 
 Jimmie, slight and delicate in frame, to take care 
 of the fires, bring up the coal through a scuttle in 
 the floor from the cellar, take down, in the raw, 
 cold mornings, the heavy shutters from the win- 
 dows, keep the store in order, run on errands, wait 
 on customers, and, in fact, do all the drudgery that 
 generally falls to the lot of the youngest and smallest 
 boy in the store. He received for the first year of 
 this service nothing but his board. He slept, during 
 1* (17; 
 
18 
 
 JA.MES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 this time, on the counter, his bed consisting of pieces 
 of cloth, without any pillow ; yet he slept the sweet 
 sleep of youth and labor. He took his meals at 
 Mr. Pattison's, near by, being sent round after the 
 return of the master and the older clerks, to make 
 the best of what was left. It was not long, how- 
 ever, before Mrs. Pattison discovered the loveliness 
 of the character to whose physical wants she was 
 ministering, and nice little -tid-bits" thoughtfully 
 put away for him, and a warm plate-full just from 
 the oven, often evinced her kindness, and called 
 forth his gratitude. As his work was not harder, 
 nor his pay less than that of some of the other boys, 
 he made no complaint. 
 
 James, during this time, rarely saw his relatives 
 except on the Sabbath, when, dressed in his Sunday 
 suit, provided for him by his grandmother, he met 
 them with bright looks and a happy heart. Slender 
 and delicate in health he had pride and pluck that 
 would not admit an inferiority in capacity of work 
 to stouter boys. Though often sickly, and living 
 in conscious orphanage, he was rarely sad or des- 
 ponding. His buoyancy of spirit was almost unfail- 
 inc. ; he was grateful for having something to do ; 
 he had lost his parents too early to allow him fully 
 to estimate their worth, or the absence of parental 
 care; "and," he added, when questioned on the 
 matter, " after my conversion I was happy nearly 
 all the time." Thus his friends could scarcely 
 suspect that he was not comfortably situated in 
 the store, and receiving just the discipline which 
 he needed ; as he told them nothing of his hard- 
 
 EARLY LIFE IN NEW YORK. 
 
 19 
 
 ships, they could not, of course, relieve them. He 
 
 often, indeed, received little presents from them of 
 
 articles of clothing, and sometimes his grandmother, 
 
 or one of his uncles would put a silver half dollar 
 
 into his hands, a much larger sura thirty-five years 
 
 ago than now. Still his supply of money was of the 
 
 scantiest. The tempting doughnuts displayed in the 
 
 shop windows, sold, with their accompanying cup 
 
 of coffee, for Hve cents, he often turned reluctantly 
 
 away from, though beheld with hungry eyes and 
 
 an empty stomach ; as his sensitive and fastidious 
 
 appetite refused much of the food that was indulged 
 
 in by heartier boys, and a substantial boiled dinner, 
 
 or one of pork and beans, but mocked his hunger 
 
 with the mere name of a repast. 
 
 His later habit of prayer was already formed and 
 strictly observed. His closet was a corner of the 
 coal-cellar, and he watched anxiously for the coal- 
 scuttle to be empty, that he might go and have " a 
 little talk with God," and ask Him to keep him 
 patient under continual provocation ; honest amidst 
 the business untruthfulness constantly practiced 
 around him; and successful in pleasing customers 
 and earning his living. The frequent scoldings of 
 his master made him apprehensive that he was 
 duller than ordinary boys, and would never amount 
 to any thing; and this apprehension led him to con- 
 stant prayer for help from above. Many of his 
 friends have heard from him his "parasol story." 
 Two ladies one day came into the store looking for 
 parasols, and Jimmie did his best to display the 
 merits of his articles. The ladies hesitated about 
 
20 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 taking them, as they wanted two not only similar in 
 style, but identical in shade. James saw Mr. Patti- 
 son watching him from the rear of the store, and 
 knew well the sharp words that awaited him in case 
 he failed to make a sale. He had seen parasols at a 
 store near by from the same factory, and told the 
 ladies that if they would select one, he would try 
 to match it, and take them to their homes. They 
 acquiesced and gave him their address. When they 
 had gone, Mr. Pattison said gruffly, " Well, a big 
 sale you made ; you will be a money-making mer- 
 chant." Jinimie replied that he thought he would 
 sell them vet. " Very likely ! " was the half-sneer- 
 ing response ; " don't let the grass grow under your 
 feet while you are gone." Thus encouraged, he 
 hastened away, found a parasol of the desired shade, 
 and started for the home of the ladies. On his way 
 the prayer was constantly on his lips, " Lord help 
 me, do help me to sell the parasols ! " And the 
 boy always believed that the Lord helped him, and 
 it may well be questioned whether his faith was 
 not the deeper philosophy, and whether it is not 
 ricrht and wise to believe that the God who suf- 
 fers no sparrow to fall unnoticed to the ground, 
 did help an honest-hearted praying boy to sell his 
 ■ parasols. At all events he sold them, and when 
 he modestly handed the money to his employer 
 hoping for some commendatory words, the gruff 
 reply was, "Well, you sold them, did you? 'Tis a 
 wonder. " Such were the daily, almost hourly, trials 
 of the tender-hearted little fellow in his faithful 
 and almost unintermitted labors. The store was 
 
 REMimSCENCES. 
 
 21 
 
 * 
 
 ■ W 
 
 kept open until eight o'clock, and on Saturday 
 evenings until after ten o'clock; then he used to 
 mend his clothes, and sometimes even his shoes, 
 as best he could ; and he used laughingly to 
 recount the bitter disappointment with which he 
 once discovered that he had spent a long evenino- 
 in mending his much-worn pantaloons with a blue 
 patch, instead of a black one, making them even 
 more unsightly than before. During the Winter 
 he needed many articles of clothing, but cheerfully 
 went on his way with the few that he possessed. 
 Why the brave little boy did not let his friends 
 know the necessities which they would have hastened 
 to relieve, it is not difficult to imagine. His buoyant 
 spirit made light of these merely outward evils, 
 and his sensitive nature shrank from unduly tax- 
 ing the generosity which, he felt, had already 
 made him so largely their debtor. Meantime his 
 uniformly neat appearance and cheerful manner 
 prevented them from suspecting the straits to 
 which he was driven. 
 
 His strength of principle at this early time is 
 illustrated by the following incident. It was more 
 customary then than now to send goods to houses 
 for inspection, and James was once sent with two 
 pieces of silk to a house on one of the avenues. 
 In talking with its inmates, he noticed their singu- 
 lar deportment, yet in the innocence of his guileless 
 youth failed to understand it. But it suddenly 
 occurred to him that this must be a disreputable 
 house, such as he had heard the larger boys speak 
 of, and further reflection confirmed his suspicion. 
 
22 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON-. 
 
 REMINISCENCES. 
 
 23 
 
 The women ordered a certain number of yards from 
 each piece, and he was glad to get out of the house 
 with his parcel. On returning with the order, and 
 being directed to measure off the goods and take 
 them home, he replied, " I will measure them off, 
 Mr. Pattison, but I can not go to that house again." 
 "What is the reason you can not?'' rejoined Mr. 
 Pattison. " Because, sir, it is a wicked house, and 
 I will not go there again." '' The very reason why I 
 sent you, Jimmie ; you are the only boy in the store 
 whom I can trust to go there." But he would not' 
 go, and — " Thank the dear Lord " — added the nar- 
 rator, " it is the only time that I ever saw the inside 
 of such a place." Few boys of thirteen would have 
 had the principle and courage to obey their con- 
 sciences in refusing to be employed on such an 
 errand; still fewer, perhaps, would have had any 
 conscience about it. 
 
 Shut out largely from the sports and amuse- 
 ments familiar to most boys of his position in life, 
 and doomed through all the seasons to nearly unre- 
 mitted drudgery, he yet had one regularly recur- 
 ring season of purest recreation and unalloyed enjoy- 
 ment. The morning cry of the newsboys with their 
 Sunday papers, breaking on his dreaming ear, sig- 
 naled the return of God's day of Sabbath rest, and 
 he sprang from his counter in the glad anticipation 
 of his twelve hours' intermission from anxious toil, 
 and twelve hours' revelling in the bliss of an earthly 
 heaven. The peal of the church -going bells that 
 followed was responded to with joyful eagerness, 
 and the thrill of delight which they awakened 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 vibrated through all his after experience. The 
 "sweet evening bells" of the poet awakened no 
 such sacred enthusiasm as did in future Sabbaths 
 that morning melody that recalled to him those 
 oases of peace and joy amidst the dreary solitudes 
 of the great city. Nine o'clock found him in the Sab- 
 bath-school, at the Tabernacle, where W. W. Everts, 
 then a young man, was the pastor. He loved to 
 study the Bible, and to join in singing the Songs of 
 Zion. He then attended the preaching service, 
 went in the afternoon again to the Sabbath-school, 
 staying to the prayer-meeting which followed, and, 
 after dining with some of his relatives, returned 
 joyfully to the evening service, with its introduc- 
 tory prayer-meeting. He retired happy in the recol- 
 lections of the day, grateful for the privileges he 
 was favored with, and strengthened, morally at 
 least, if not physically, foi* the struggles of another 
 week. Possibly the religious service was overdone ; 
 yet the revelation of the boy's nature was a beauti- 
 ful one, and excessive religious devotion is, perhaps, 
 in our day too rare to demand severe criticism. We 
 need scarcely set up a warning finger-post at this 
 point of James' example. 
 
 All this time he was any thing but cantiiigly, or 
 even austerely, or even professedly, pious. He 
 overflowed with merriment ; jokes and comicalities, 
 funny stories and witty rhymes were ever on his 
 lips, and everything innocent and beautiful drew 
 forth his heartiest sympathy. Yet he seemed 
 in his nature religious ; he gravitated naturally 
 to the true and the right, and exerted uncon- 
 
 .m 
 
24 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 sciously on all around him a beneficent influence. 
 The clerks in the store, while they spoke lightly 
 of his devotion to the church and the Sabbath- 
 school, yet loved him and respected his princi- 
 ples. One of them, twice his age, having become 
 sick and been obliged to leave the store, sent 
 for James to his home in New Jersey, that he 
 might talk with him on religion. James obeyed the 
 summons, read the Scriptures, prayed with and 
 instructed him, and had the happiness afterwards 
 of learning that he, a lad of fourteen, had been 
 the means of leading his former associate to the 
 Savior. This was after his conversion, yet he would 
 never have been thus sent for but for the confi- 
 dence and affection which his previous conduct had 
 inspired. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CONVERSION. 
 
 To the reader of the last chapter it will appear 
 that James scarcely needed conversion, and the 
 heading of this will seem like a misnomer. Perhaps 
 it is so. Some natures are so finely constituted that 
 it is hard to tell where the religion of nature blends 
 with the religion of grace ; where the " almost '' 
 becomes the "quite;" where the garment of 
 unwonted human loveliness is touched into spiritual 
 beauty by the hand of the Divine Adorner. Such 
 a transformation every believer has undergone ; a 
 John as well as a Paul. The realms of natural and 
 of gracious excellence seem conterminous, yet an 
 unfathomable gulf lies between them, and across it 
 leads only the *' living way that has been sprinkled 
 with the blood of Jesus." Whether our yDung hero 
 had as yet actually made this great transition, or 
 whether his seeming Christian virtues were but the 
 fruits of a happily constituted nature, it is fortu- 
 nately not necessary for us to decide. Enough that 
 James, with all his spontaneous piety, did not yet 
 regard himself as a Christian ; and he looked to the 
 second year of his stay in the store as the eventful 
 period in which he experienced the great change 
 that made him a child of God and an heir of Heaven. 
 
 (26 ) 
 
26 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 CONVERSION. 
 
 27 
 
 Of one who was before so near the kingdom of 
 heaven, it might have been confidently predicted 
 that this blessed consummation was not distant. The 
 happy event took place in connection with the 
 preaching of Rev. Jacob Knapp, who in the Winter 
 of 1839 and 1840, held a series of meetings with the 
 First Baptist Church in Brooklyn. These meetings 
 were largely attended from New York, and among 
 others James frequently attended them along with 
 the family of Deacon William Colgate. The meet- 
 ings were subsequently renewed in the New York 
 Tabernacle, and attended by a powerful revival. 
 James was among the subjects of the revival, and, 
 uniting himself with the church, began not, possibly, 
 a more really, but a more avowedly Christian life ; 
 certainly a life that never henceforth faltered in its 
 devotion to the cause of Christ. But we let him 
 tell his own story in the following letter, written 
 from Wilmington in 1862, to Samuel Colgate : 
 
 Wilmington, March 5, 1862. 
 
 My Dear Friend : How many pleasant and how 
 manv tender associations did the well-known chirography 
 on the envelope of your letter of the 28th ult. awaken! 
 Startincr at the old office in Dutch Street, where I was 
 wont for awhile to " copy " your letters and mail them, 
 I soon ran back to old John Street, where the forms of 
 the loved dead and those of the loved living mingled 
 again in all the social and religious joys of twenty years 
 gone by, and I thought of Ann Eliza, and Gilbert, of 
 William the brother, and that sweet little sister, the 
 youngest of all. But these seemed to have faded upon 
 
 my memory to some extent. Not so your mother and 
 sister Sarah— -two of the warmest and truest friends I 
 ever had, at a time when I needed them, oh! how greatly. 
 Your father seemed ever to me a companion of about 
 my own age, so simple-hearted, so genial and so com- 
 panionable was he. He used always to take my arm 
 when we walked, and with a sort of cosy way which 
 seemed to say, "just we two;" and off we would trudge, 
 he seemingly e.ijoying my talk, and jokes and stories' 
 as much as 1 enjoyed his. These three, mother, father, 
 and Sarah, live in my memory well defined and em- 
 balmed, I think, forever. My happiest hours for years 
 together, were in their company. You have doubtless 
 forgotten that in 1840 — almost a quarter of a century 
 ago — a little boy was found upon his knees, in the old 
 Mulberry Street lecture-room, after most of the audience 
 had retired, sobbing as though his heart would break, 
 and trying to offer one little prayer, " God be merciful 
 to me a sinner.'' Your father asked old Mr. Whitte- 
 more whose boy it was, and he did not know; and as you 
 bent down to give a word of comfort and advice, you 
 asked the convicted little sinner his name, and he 
 sobbed out "James Dickerson." The next day the old 
 Bowery rang with a new song, 
 
 " Oh, how happy are they 
 Who their Savior obey ! " 
 
 By the grace of God I shall sing of those days in 
 heaven! It was indeed the beginning of "a new life" 
 to me — being " born again." So, Sammie, you see it is 
 rather dangerous to touch any chord in my heart that 
 vibrates back to that time, and there are few of my past 
 associations that do not. And now let me answer your 
 letter before I forget it ! * * * Make my kindest 
 
28 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 CONVERSION. 
 
 29 
 
 regards to Mrs. Colgate, and tell her you all owe me a 
 visit, and I shall be very glad to have you " pay up," 
 for we are needing the visits just now. 
 
 AiFectionately Yours, 
 
 James S. Dickerson. 
 
 About two months elapsed between his conversion 
 and his baptism, some of the deacons feeling that in 
 the case of one so young the genuineness of his 
 change should be attested by the most decisive evi- 
 dence. During this time he labored zealously in the 
 Sunday-school, spoke in the prayer-meetings, talked 
 to his companions in the store of his new hopes, and 
 invited them to the meetings with him, setting, 
 meantime, to all about him an example of truth and 
 purity. His employer sometimes taunted him with 
 the uselessness of this new-found piety and devotion 
 to the church, and intimated that it was spoiling 
 him for business. Yet when James gave utterance 
 to the already conceived thought that he might one 
 day become a preacher, he changed his tone, and 
 reprobated the idea of his exchanging his present 
 business for one for which he had no capacity. In 
 truth, he thoroughly appreciated his excellent quali- 
 ties, relied on him beyond any other of his clerks, 
 reposed in him the amplest confidence, and, when 
 James finally left for Hamilton, offered him large 
 inducements to remain. When James left, he had 
 to employ two persons in the place which he had 
 occupied. 
 
 James had, however, yet some severe trials with 
 him. On the evening on which he was to appear 
 
 „»«. 
 
 before the church, he asked Mr. P. to request one 
 of the clerks to close the shutters and attend to the 
 matters that generally devolved on him, as he was 
 obliged to go to meeting. Mr. Pattison replied: 
 '' No, I will not ; and I should like to know what 
 obliges you to go to meeting." James said that he 
 was to come before the church to relate his religious 
 experience, and the church officers all expected him. 
 ''Very well,'' was the rejoinder, "you can not go. 
 You have had too much religion all \vinter, and it is 
 just spoiling you ; and I may as well put a stop to it 
 now as at any time. You may put up the shutters 
 and stay in the store." " I am sorry to disobey you, 
 sir," replied James, " but it is my duty to go to the 
 meeting, and I shall go." " You can go then," said 
 Mr. Pattison; "I shall not want you any longer." 
 *' Very well," was the reply ; but after a moment he 
 asked: "Shall I come back and spend the night 
 here ? " " Yes, but you may go in the morning, and 
 I will find some one in your place who is less full of 
 prayers and hymn-singing, and thinks a little about 
 business." It was a somewhat dark outlook as 
 James turned from the store, after committing him- 
 self in trustful love to the Master, who would not 
 forsake him, and asking Him to soften the heart of 
 his employer, or open to him a place elsewhere. To 
 throw himself in dependence on his relatives, who 
 might, perhaps, censure his course, was scarcely to 
 be thought of. He went to the meeting, chiefly 
 anxious whether the church would receive him, and 
 be satisfied that he loved the Savior. The question 
 of his worldly fortunes sank into small importance 
 
80 
 
 JAMES S. DTCKERSON. 
 
 CONVERSION". 
 
 81 
 
 !^ 
 
 to the young pilgrim beside the question of his ad- 
 mission into that palace Beautiful, whose inmates 
 were the children of the Great King. Smiles and 
 tears have alternated with each other as he has told, 
 with all his touching pathos, the story of this 
 critical event of his life. 
 
 But one so true to his Savior could not be deserted 
 by Him. In the church all were satisfied as to the 
 genuineness of his religious change, while stand- 
 ing — on account of the shortness of his stature — 
 on one of the benches, he told in his straightforward 
 and childlike way how he had found and loved the 
 Savior, and longed to preach His gospel. The trem- 
 bling with which he waited at the^door for the result 
 of the discussion on his case, was changed to ecstatic 
 joy as he received the announcement that his ex- 
 perience was satisfactory, and that through baptism 
 he was to enter the portals of God's earthly house. 
 The baptism that followed was the symbol of a 
 genuine profession which he never regretted, never 
 dishonored, never ceased to adorn. 
 
 James went back to the store thanking the Lord 
 for His goodness in turning the hearts of the people 
 towards him, and trusting that a path would be 
 opened before him in the morning. When, the 
 next day, he had taken down the shutters and put 
 things in their usual order, he expected, on the 
 entrance of Mr. Pattison, some hard, .unsympathiz- 
 ing words and a hurried good-bye. But something 
 had softened the merchant's heart, and he said: ''I 
 told you you could not stay, Jimraie ; but, as you 
 are going off to that school by-and-by, you may as 
 
 well finish your time with me." The result was that 
 he remained with Mr. Pattison until he left for 
 Hamilton, and was henceforth treated by him 
 with more consideration and kindness, perhaps from 
 the fact that he himself had gone, first from curiosity 
 to hear Elder Knapp, and afterward had become an 
 occasional interested listener. 
 
 James' mind was now fixed upon the ministry, 
 although his wishes were as yet sanctioned by no 
 formal action from the church. He studied the 
 Bible at all spare moments, and thought out sermons 
 as well as he could, which, he said, '' was not very 
 well." He tried his hand on the ''glorious" text, 
 ''For God so loved the world," etc.; but, unable to 
 discuss and amplify it, he finally said, " Well, that 
 is the whole of it; God did love the world, and 
 proved it by sending his Son, and I don't know what 
 more can be said." Still, ^s he reflected that min- 
 isters can and do preach from the text, he fell into 
 doubts whether Mr. Pattison's incredulity as to his 
 preaching capacity was not right after all. He did 
 not then know that such early barrenness is a very 
 common precursor of later fertility. Meantime, he 
 maintained his conviction that God had called him 
 to preach, and cherished a secret hope that the way 
 to an education would yet be opened to him. To 
 the questions of his Sabbath-school teachers and his 
 relatives whether he felt as strongly the assurance 
 of his call, he replied confidently that he did. 
 Among his relatives, many of them not religious, 
 there was much skepticism regarding his fitness to 
 preach. Some scarcely thought the Lord would caU 
 
82 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 i 
 
 boys who had no money to pay for their education ; 
 some liad the common notion that the desire to go 
 to college was little else than a desire to escape 
 work. No doubt, his smallness of stature 
 favored the general skepticism. It was difficult to 
 believe that a frame so slight and delicate was 
 united with a caliber that would be adequate to 
 so weighty an office. When asked if he really be- 
 lieved that he was going to be '*' a smart man," and 
 what were his reasons for the belief, he scarcely 
 knew what to say. He did not consider himself 
 specially gifted, had been for some time out of 
 school, and yet would frankly confess that he 
 thought he had some qualifications for the minis- 
 try, and felt assured that God had called him to it. 
 This was his only solid standing -ground. Nearly 
 all things outward conspired to dissuade him from 
 his purpose ; some thinking his health not strong 
 enough ; many having no confidence in his " boyish 
 enthusiasm," and few giving him an encouraging 
 word. His grandmother did not fully concur in her 
 views witli James; she deemed, with her sons, his 
 undertaking a rash one, yet her excellent sense 
 and Christian feeling, made her cautious in her 
 opposition, and gave great weight to her opinions. 
 One Sabbath when the matter was discussed 
 at the dinner-table, she said: "We must not 
 judge harshly of James and his enthusiasm about 
 preaching. If God has called him. He will 
 open the path before him ; and he may do more 
 for his Master as a plain preacher than if he 
 became a wealthy merchant. Money and worldly 
 
 CONVERSION. 
 
 88 
 
 success are not all that is worth living for ; a much 
 higher ambition is to live above self, for the world 
 and for Christ." After this the opposition to him 
 was less constant and bitter ; and his uncles, think- 
 ing he might be actuated by higher motives than 
 they had credited him with, looked on his course 
 with greater kindliness. 
 
 In relating before the church his experience at 
 conversion, James had distinctly avowed his already 
 kindled desire to preach the gospel ; and even then 
 some had received favorably and treasured up his 
 words. Another formal hearing before the church, 
 in regard to his desire to preach, resulted in disarm- 
 ing all opposition, and securing to him the approval 
 of his brethren in his chosen course, while all felt 
 moved by his love and zeal and his determined man- 
 ner as he declared himself ''bound to preach the 
 gospel." He went now joyfully forward in his 
 work, while awaiting an opportunity to begin his 
 studies. From many friends he met with interest 
 and encouraging words. Miss Sarah Colgate, an 
 invalid daughter of Deacon William Colgate, whom 
 multitudes in New York remember for her many 
 virtues and charities (though she moved only as 
 wheeled about in her chair, and being lifted to and 
 from her carriage when she went to church), and 
 who befriended many young candidates for the 
 ministry, regarded James with especial interest, and 
 won his gratitude by many acts of kindness shown 
 to him through long years. This year, also, he re- 
 ceived for his services in the store fifty dollars in 
 money, besides his board, probably the first money 
 
84 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 that he ever earned. From this sum he bought 
 nearly all his clothes, and gave liberally to missions 
 and to all objects for which collections were taken 
 up in the church and Sabbath-school. He also 
 bought at a second-hand store a few books to aid 
 his religious studies. With their help he sketched 
 plans of sermons, and preached them in the cellar 
 to imaginary audiences. He would tell an amusing 
 incident of one of these preaching services. Having 
 amplified on the several points of his discourse, and 
 proceeding with great animation to his closing 
 appeal, looking up as if to a collection of uncon- 
 verted young people in the galleries, his ear caught 
 a smothered titter, and then a roar of laughter, from 
 a company of boys in an adjoining cellar. The 
 curtain instantly dropped upon the scene, and the 
 abashed young Demosthenes vanished through the 
 scuttle with magical rapidity. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 
 
 James now made his preparations to go to 
 Madison University, the Baptist institution for liter- 
 ary and theological culture, at Hamilton, Madison 
 County, New York, to pursue his studies for the 
 mmistry. From the estate of his father he would 
 receive about fifty dollars a year, which would 
 pay for his board (in the public hall), while he 
 hoped to earn something, as many students did, 
 towards his tuition, clothing, books, and other neces- 
 sary expenses. Of his fifty dollars received from 
 Mr. Pattison he had little left, especially as Mr. P 
 took several dollars from the sum to buy new panes 
 of glass, to replace the broken ones of which none 
 of the clerks knew any thing, and for which James, 
 who had care of the shutters, was held responsible. 
 At their parting, however, Mr. Pattison told him 
 that he had been very serviceable to him, that they 
 all loved him, and that, if he did not like study as 
 well as he expected, he would be welcomed back to 
 a position in the store. 
 
 His good-bye to Mrs. Pattison, when it came, was 
 much more pathetic. The -dear old soul," as he 
 used to call her, cried and sobbed, telling him that 
 she loved him like one of her own children, and 
 
 85 
 
86 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 praying the Lord to bless and prosper him in all his 
 ways. 
 
 Mr. Pattison, in conversation with some of James' 
 uncles, had told them that he perhaps had better 
 go ; he was too honest to become a. successful mer- 
 chant, and mighty religious as he was, become a good 
 preacher. It is hard for the uninitiated mind to 
 conceive a man thus unblushingly stigmatizing both 
 himself and his profession. James' older brother, 
 Thomas, who had been converted a little earlier 
 than himself, though, with others, he doubted the 
 wisdom of James' course, yet, unwilling to deter 
 him from what he deemed his duty, wrote the fol- 
 lowing letter to Mr. J. Edmunds, then financial agent 
 of Madison University : 
 
 New York, August 27, 1842. 
 
 Dear Brother Edmunds : When you were in the 
 city last, I had some conversation with you in reference 
 to my brother James' entering upon a course of studies 
 at Hamilton. His engagement with his present em- 
 ployer being nearly terminated", I am led now to write 
 you on the subject. I believe I informed you that he 
 had about nine hundred dollars in property, and at 
 interest, which bring him in yearly about fifty dollars. 
 He feels willing to spend all he has, if need be, when it 
 comes into his possession, so as to gain an education. 
 What course had he better pursue ? He will, no doubt, 
 come recommended by the Baptist Tabernacle Church, 
 as they have had his case in hand. Any information 
 communicated from you will be thankfully received. 
 
 Yours very respectfully, 
 
 Thomas Stokes Dickerson. 
 
 RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 37 
 
 Some weeks after, Mr. Thomas Dickerson received 
 the following reply : 
 
 Hamilton, September 21, 1842. 
 Dear Brother Dickerson : I have just returned 
 from the West, and found yours of August 'ZUh on my 
 table. I can only speak as au individual member of the 
 board of managers, but I have no doubt that if your 
 brother comes on and can pay his board bills, which will 
 amount to but fifty dollars a year, he will be waited on 
 for his tuition. We must be personally acquainted with 
 him, however, before we can pledge ourselves to any 
 thing. My advice, then, is, if he is determined on pre- 
 paring for the ministry, and the church approve of it 
 that he muster twenty-five dollars to pay the expenses' 
 of the first term, and come on and test his mind to see 
 If he can study. That decided in the affirmative, he 
 will find a way peaceably, or make one forcibly. 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 J. Edmunds. 
 A certain amount of money was then raised, 
 James' clothes were put in order, and he was ready 
 to start. If it seems strange that his friends stood 
 somewhat aloof from his plans, we must remember 
 that, some time having elapsed since he had been at 
 school. It was liy no means certain that he would be 
 successful in his study at Hamilton, and still less 
 certain that he would ultimately be a successful 
 preacher ; that to his uncles, practical business men, 
 not allied with him in denominational sympathy, his 
 quitting the sure path of business for a doubtful and 
 difficult course, leading to a doubtful issue, seemed 
 rash and unwise : and we can not wonder that they 
 
 m 
 
38 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 II 
 
 RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 
 
 89 
 
 endeavored to dissuade him from his purpose, and 
 gave him the alternative of being aided by them in 
 entering on a mercantile career, or struggling as best 
 he might in his pursuit of an education. They did 
 not, and could not, know the moral pluck or the 
 mental caliber of the youth, and few, in his genial, 
 sunny, boyish manner, could read or divine the real 
 strength and manliness of his soul. But persist he 
 would and did. With his hand in his Heavenly 
 Father's, he entered on the path that lay in cloud 
 before him, and never faltered. A slight but char- 
 acteristic incident attended his setting out. His 
 valise was packed with his extra suit of clothes, and 
 his railway ticket bought for Hamilton. With one 
 bill in his purse, which was to pay for some books 
 when he reached his destination, and which he did 
 not like to break, and having no change to pay for 
 getting his trunk to the boat, he went into the 
 street, shoveled in a load of potatoes for some one, 
 and used the quarter of a dollar which he received 
 in getting the requisite conveyance for his little 
 baggage. So narrow was the margin of his pecuniary 
 resources: but trusting in the Heavenly guidance, 
 with the double buoyancy of youthful and Christian 
 hope, he set forth with no misgivings as to his 
 
 future. 
 
 When he reached the beautiful village, and went 
 up the hill to the buildings where in after years he 
 spent so many happy hours, his heart swelled with 
 joy and gratitude. The autumnal season is especially 
 beautiful in Hamilton. The landscape lay in the 
 mild and delicious beauty of early Autumn. The 
 
 hills that girdled the sleeping valley, with their 
 foliage just tinged by the September frosts, and the 
 cool, fresh, invigorating air, seemed like inspiration. 
 During his whole life, as each succeeding Autumn 
 returned, it sent his memory back to those bright 
 fall days at Hamilton. The companion of his jour- 
 ney was John Colgate ; and James went to his room 
 with a heart beating high with glad hopes of the 
 future, yet trembling lest he should fail of the de- 
 sired success in his studies. He laid down his valise, 
 and, kneeling, thanked the Lord for bringing him in 
 safety to the place so long and -eagerly anticipated, 
 and implored His help and guidance in all the work 
 before him. He was seventeen years of age, but 
 looked much younger. John Colgate was his only 
 acquaintance, and amidst the throng of students he 
 felt a stranger among strangers. Still, whatever his 
 surroundings, his heart was in the sunshine. Amidst 
 the darkest troubles he was at once grateful and 
 hopeful. He was sensitively alive to every allevia- 
 tion of the present, and caught with youthful faith 
 every promise of the future. And especially the 
 more he was beset with outward trials, the more 
 constantly did he betake himself to the Ona Sure 
 Friend and Helper, and, rejoicing in the Lord, en- 
 counter cheerfully the perplexities which were 
 thrown across his pathway. He whistled and sang 
 as, in the morning, he unpacked his valise, and went 
 for his list of books and instruction as to his duties. 
 Among the lessons assigned to him was one in the 
 Introduction to the Latin Grammar.' Opening the 
 book, he began to commit to memory the first page. 
 
40 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 
 
 41 
 
 
 It was hard, slow work. His mind, so long unac- 
 customed to study, could not easily get back into 
 the old track. After trying unsuccessfully to com- 
 mit to memory the two first pages, he closed the 
 book in discouragement, and condemned himself for 
 having, dunce as he was, dreamed of qualifying him- 
 self for the ministry. But he returned to the attack, 
 and when, going the next morning with trembling 
 to his class, he found that he had his lesson better 
 than any other member of it, he felt a glad revival 
 of his courage. His experience mirrors a thousand 
 others' experiences both in its despondency and its 
 joy. The following is his first letter to his brother 
 
 in New York : 
 
 Hamilton, October 13, 1842. 
 
 Deak Brother : According to promise, I embrace 
 the first opportunity of informing you of my safe arrival 
 at the Institution on Tuesday night at half-past eleven, 
 P.M. John Colgate and I tumbled into bed about mid- 
 night, and did not get out again until seven o'clock in 
 the morning, when we immediately began the process 
 of fixing our room, which, by-the-by, takes in a very 
 extensive amount of sweeping, dusting, rubbing, and 
 washing. We were glad enough when the merry bell 
 of the Institution rang out its call to breakfast. When 
 I arrived at the Hall (which is the name given to the 
 dining-room), I found some hundred^ students eating 
 away, as papa used to say, as though they had holes in 
 their heads. To look at them, you would take them for 
 a rollicking set of customers ; but I tell you there are 
 hearts among them beating high with love to God and 
 to their fellow men. After, breakfast we resumed our 
 work, and by night had our room looking Uke a palace. 
 
 Last evening we went to the village of Hamilton, and 
 bought a broom, oil, and a few small articles, after which 
 we went into the prayer-meeting. After the meeting, 
 we went up the hill, had worship in our own room, and 
 retired. This morning, for the first time, we assembled 
 in the chapel. Professor Maginnis read the Bible and a 
 hymn, and Dr. Nathaniel Kendrick offered prayer, and 
 aiterwards made a short speech to us. The lessons for 
 the different classes were then given out, and we were 
 dismissed. To-morrow I have a recitation at half-past 
 six, A.M. John and myself have adopted four o'clock as 
 our hour for rising, and the alarm clock has been let into 
 the secret, and performs his part admirably. 
 
 Then he gives an account of his expenses, tells 
 his brother the titles of the books he shall need, 
 being able to purchase most of them at second-hand, 
 " all in good order, neatly covered with black cam- 
 bric." Then he says : " I shall be compelled to buy 
 a standing-desk, which will cost me from two to 
 three dollars, as the older students advise me to have 
 one as necessary to my health." He adds : 
 
 Please put in that guard-chain which is in that little 
 heart-box, as I want something to put keys upon; and 
 think of those drawers, and a flannel shirt, and that large 
 overcoat which 1 forgot ; and I shall want a pair of 
 thick, heavy boots for Winter. I am well, contented, 
 and happy; but I feel there is more need of prayer now 
 than before. When the boat pushed off from New 
 York, I could not help offering up an inward prayer to 
 God, for helping me through so many difficulties ; and 
 when for the first time I entered the walls of the Insti- 
 tution, my heart found its way to the Author of all good. 
 Now, my brother, I know you have a great interest in 
 
42 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 my welfare ; but do I have your prayers? I hope so. 
 Give my love to all my friends, and thank those who 
 helped me to arrange my affairs in getting off. Give 
 my love to Grace and John and all the rest of the rela- 
 tives. Let me hear soon about those books; and pray 
 for Your brother, 
 
 James Stokes Dickerson. 
 
 With his rapidly enlarging acquaintance ''little 
 Jimmie Dick," as he was dubbed by the boys, became 
 a universal favorite — a good singer, a capital mimic, 
 full of fun and frolic, yet never indulging in person- 
 alities or coarseness. His appearance was that of a 
 perfect gentleman. His neat, trim figure, clustering 
 hair, bright, sparkling eye, joyous expression, and 
 genial manner, were constantly remarked and com- 
 mented on. A new life was opened to hira. To be 
 with congenial young men, pursuing the same 
 studies, and many having the same hope and pur- 
 pose with him of preaching the gospel, was a per- 
 petual joy. His round of college duty, and his round 
 of religious duty, were alike delightful, and dis- 
 charged with equal fidelity. His class studies were 
 prosecuted with ease and success, while the meetings 
 for prayer, both in the college and in the town, were 
 faithfully attended, and his old vocation of Sabbath- 
 school teacher was speedily resumed. And Hamil- 
 ton itself, in its quiet, its seclusion, its picturesque 
 beauty, furnishing a delightful contrast to the din 
 and turbulence of the great city, in the heart of 
 which he had been living, seemed almost to lap him 
 in an earthly Paradise, and spread before him "a 
 perpetual feast of nectared sweets." He loved 
 
 RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 
 
 43 
 
 Nature, as a nature like his must, with an unweary- 
 ing affection ; and he often carried his books into 
 the charming groves near by, or wandered alone, or 
 in congenial and glad companionship, over the pic- 
 turesque hill-sides of that lovely spot, and feasted 
 eye and heart on the scenes of varied beauty which 
 were everywhere spread before him. Meantime, if 
 his voice was the merriest, his laugh the heartiest, 
 his speech the wittiest, his stories the drollest, and 
 his fun the most rollicking in all the joyous circle, 
 none but the veriest ascetics and bigots of devotion 
 ever felt any painful or even uncongenial contrast 
 with the unaffected piety which was quick to dis- 
 play itself in seasons of devotion. Undoubtedly, 
 very strongly contrasted qualities formed in him a 
 rare and extraordinary union. His delicate and 
 sensitive nature responded with instant thrill, like 
 an ^olian harp, to every varying breath of impulse 
 and influence, so that transitions which are difficult 
 and unnatural in most men were easy and natural in 
 him. He joined the Adelphian Society, one of the 
 literary fraternities of the Institution, became one 
 of its active members, a frequent writer of sparkling 
 pieces, both in prose and verse, for its paper, and in 
 time one of its best presiding officers and leaders. 
 
 As to his finances, it is scarcely justice to him not 
 to make a few characteristic statements. He went 
 into debt somewhat during his first year, and felt 
 much perplexity as to how he should meet the 
 expenses of the next. He had practiced the most 
 rigid economy, and done all in his power to earn 
 money for his incidental expenses. He took all the 
 
44 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 
 
 45 
 
 I 
 
 care of the rooms, study and bedroom, which he and 
 his room-mate occupied, and sawed, split, and carried 
 in all the wood for their fire. He did the same, also, 
 for other students, receiving for it a small weekly 
 compensation. His books he kept so nicely that, 
 when he had done with them, he could sell them to 
 those in the lower classes for two-thirds of the 
 price, and use the avails in purchasing needed new 
 ones. The ladies of the Tabernacle Church sent 
 boxes of clothing annually for Hamilton students, 
 especially through the efficient influence of Mrs. 
 William Colgate and her daughter Sarah. In these 
 boxes there was often a package for James, and for 
 these, and many more especial and sometimes costly 
 kindnesses, they earned his life-long gratitude. 
 It can scarcely be amiss here to insert a brief notice 
 of these excellent women, extracted from Dr. (jeo. 
 W. Eaton's " Historical Discourses '' on " Devoted 
 Women," published in the Jubilee Volume of 
 Madison University. 
 
 *' I can not refrain from naming in this connection 
 Mrs. Deacon Colgate. She, like her husband, took 
 the institution into her heart, and was in labors 
 abundant, to supply its wants and the necessities of 
 the students. She was evermore busying herself 
 about the Hamilton Institution, gathering funds, 
 endowing scholarships, furnishing rooms, and in 
 other ways contributing efficiently for its benefit. 
 The Female Society in the city of New York, aux- 
 iliary to the Education Society, was for years, through 
 her agency and that of others, a bountiful source of 
 help to the Institution. Simple justice to the facts 
 
 of history require, along with the mention of the 
 mother's name, that of her daughter Sarah, who was, 
 in full sympathy and kindred work, a true yoke- 
 fellow with the indefatigable mother, and when the 
 latter's illness laid her aside, went on bravely with 
 work for Hamilton. She was a remarkable instance 
 in which physical infirmity, that would have seemed 
 to justify an entire cessation from bodily labor, was 
 not allowed to interfere with ceaseless activities for 
 the advancement of benevolent objects in the family, 
 church, and society. In all these she was a ' burning 
 and a shining light.' So deep was her interest in 
 the Institution, that she came to visit it, to attend 
 its exercises, and inspect its rooms and general 
 condition for herself, notwithstanding the peculiar 
 inconveniences to her of travel. She was greatly 
 endeared to many of the students who had enjoyed 
 her counsel and encouragement and good offices in 
 her father's house. She richly deserves special 
 mention among the sisters who effectually served 
 the cause of ministerial education at Hamilton." 
 
 But even with such aids, James' finances were 
 often of the narrowest. An occasional present of a 
 few dollars from friends or relatives, supplied some 
 pressing wants, but the times were not few when, 
 while the wants kept on, the money utterly fell 
 short. On one occasion he was surprised to find at 
 the postoffice a letter from an unconjecturable 
 source, charged with a postage of eighteen pence, 
 precisely the entire amount of his pecuniary store. 
 It was hard to meet so enticing a friend (letters 
 were rare luxuries with him then) in such an 
 
46 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 
 
 47 
 
 if 11 
 
 unwonted spot. It was very hard to deprive his 
 pocket of its last jingle of coin, and he hesitated 
 much between the pleasure he coveted, and the 
 price he had got to pay for it. The social element 
 conquered, as with him it infallibly would. The 
 letter was paid for, opened, and displayed to his 
 rewarded and wondering vision what made him 
 richer than Croesus, at least richer than ten times 
 the sum would have done in later years — a five 
 dollar note. His fancy swam with the thought of 
 the luxuries this sum was going to bring him. His 
 worn coat re-tailored, his winter boots re-soled, a 
 new neck-tie to make himself presentable in church ; 
 a hundred little things — in short, if the well-to-do 
 people knew how often the five dollars which they 
 don't know what to do with would clear up the 
 whole dark horizon of some struggling child of want 
 and worth, how often would the charity be forth- 
 coming which is now thoughtlessly withheld ! To 
 cite an instance in point, from the experience of our 
 youthful student. When he was in New York on 
 vacation, the though tfulness of Miss Sarah Colgate, 
 in asking him about his teeth (which displayed no 
 external defect), and sending him to the dentist to 
 incur at her expense a large bill, secured to him 
 perfect soundness in these essential organs almost to 
 the end of his life. In the above case, the only 
 words accompanying the note were, '' From one who 
 feels a great interest in you." Who was the donor 
 he never knew. The cup of cold water, given in 
 secret, will yet have its open reward. 
 
 James had sometimes from his New York friends, 
 
 as will be seen later, lessons on economy which 
 seemed rather superfluous, and might remind one of 
 the reply of young Sheridan to his father, when he 
 threatened to cut him off with a shilling: "Yes, 
 father, but where is the shilling to come from?" 
 So when tantalized (not to say, tauntalized) with 
 the exhortation to practice economy, he might be 
 tempted to retort, " Yes, but where is the economy 
 to come from ? " 
 
 It is, perhaps, proper to add to these financial 
 details some account of the shifts he was driven to 
 in regard to his wardrobe. If the features it pre- 
 sents lack somewhat in dignity, they will conduce 
 at least to the truthfulness of our portraiture. 
 During the six years of his college life he never had 
 a new suit of clothes, until just before his gradu- 
 ation. Beside the occasional parcels in the box 
 from the Tabernacle, his uncles not unfrequently 
 gave him their partly worn garments, in which, 
 being well made and of good material, he generally 
 contrived to appear respectably dressed. He some- 
 times laughed with them subsequently, over the 
 expedients to which he resorted in adjusting his 
 transferred habiliments. One of his uncles being 
 rather tall, and the other quite short, he would 
 unite the long vest of the one with the short 
 trowsers of the other, and vice versa, and, with the 
 aid of India rubber suspenders, haul up or pull 
 down, as the case required. At one time, receiving 
 a handsome coat with very long sleeves, lined with 
 quilted brown silk, he at first purposed to get the 
 sleeves shortened at the tailor's, but afterwards 
 
48 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 decided to turn the quilted silk back, let it look 
 like a handsome cuff, and quietly pass it off as the 
 latest New York style — which he did. The decep- 
 tion, if there was any, was in the act. At one time, 
 for several months, he wore his room-mate's every- 
 day suit on Sunday, and was thankful for the privi- 
 lege. All this may well be supposed any thing but 
 grateful to the flesh of a young man, sensitive, 
 gentlemanly, social in tastes and habits, a favorite 
 in the best classes. Yet he submitted to it without 
 repining for his Master's sake, received every kind- 
 ness with tenderest gratitude, and yet, while thus 
 humble with a Christian's humility, he never dis- 
 paraged himself or compromised his dignity, or 
 failed to appear the polished gentleman that he 
 intrinsically was. 
 
 One more point may be mentioned here : With 
 his slender frame his stomach was delicate and 
 fastidious, and boarding at a public table (whose 
 cost was but a dollar a week), it may be supposed 
 that he often sat down to unpalatable meals, from 
 which he as often rose hungry (or worse). He 
 thus laid the foundations of a dyspepsia which fol- 
 lowed him through many years, and to which not 
 improbably the local difficulties that for years kept 
 him out of the ministry, might be largely traced. 
 James' trials in regard to food had indeed com- 
 menced earlier ; but for that there was no public 
 responsibility. It would not be beneath the man- 
 agers of a public boarding-house for students to see 
 to it that the supplies are nutritious, healthful, well 
 cooked, and abundant. Both the physical and the 
 
 RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 
 
 49 
 
 mental nourishment go, in nearly equal proportions, 
 to the forming of the future thinker and actor in 
 the world's affairs. 
 
 In entering on his educational course, James had 
 to commence at the bottom. He spent two years in 
 the preparatory department, and then passed through 
 ^he regular four years' collegiate course. He entered 
 in the Fall of 1842, and was graduated in 1848, with 
 the highest honors of his class, the valedictory 
 oration being assigned to him by the Faculty, but 
 declined by him when he found that it was going to 
 provoke ill feeling among some members of the class. 
 His theological studies would have occupied two 
 years longer, and in fact he returned and spent part 
 of the year 1848-9 in them, but an affection of the 
 throat, which seized him before he left college, now 
 became so severe as to compel him to abandon all 
 hope of preaching, and with this to abandon also 
 his further course of theological study. His college 
 studies, amidst all the drawbacks we have referred 
 to, were pursued with uniform delight and success. 
 His vacations were spent in New York, among his 
 friends, who alwa}- s cordially welcomed him to their 
 homes and hospitalities. One of his vacations he 
 spent in the office of his brother Thomas, who was 
 absent in Philadelphia visiting their newly married 
 sister, Mrs. Van Dusen. James had been also 
 invited, but he preferred to forego his own enjoy- 
 ments in favor of his brother Thomas, and during a 
 long and hot summer he attended faithfully to his 
 business while he enjoyed himself in the city of 
 *' Brotherly Love." The brotherly love of James 
 
i 
 
 60 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 cheerfully submitted to the sacrifice, especially in 
 view of the many kindnesses which his brother had 
 rendered to him. 
 
 But few of James' letters are preserved, especially 
 of the later portion of his college residence. From 
 such earlier ones as we have we take a few extracts 
 (chiefly of 1843). They will shed light upon, and 
 receive light from, the preceding details. His 
 brother Thomas, we may premise, being considerably 
 older than himself, thought it sometimes his province 
 to give the younger scion of the house some needed 
 advice, over which they both made themselves merry 
 in later years. In replying to James' first letter, of 
 Oct. 22, 1842, he says: 
 
 * * * * "I hope our correspondence may be a 
 continued one, and prove for mutual improvement and 
 edification. I am not fond of writing for the sake of 
 writing, and fiHing up a sheet with gossip of the day, or 
 such news as in itself is of no value. Mine to you shall 
 be a series of letters of advice, by which I hope to pro- 
 duce some good in the mind of the reader. My letters 
 will be regularly numbered, and the next, No. 2, will 
 soon be sent." 
 
 Then he gives some general advice in regard to 
 the purchase of books, and adds : 
 
 You speak of a standing desk. I have thought con- 
 siderably about it, and am inclined to think it an article 
 you had better not get. You say you can purchase it 
 for three dollars, which I allow is very cheap, but I think 
 I could have a shelf made of a proper height, to study 
 by, which would not cost me one dollar. I am the last 
 person to refuse you any amount you may need, but I 
 
 RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 
 
 51 
 
 want you to commence right. 1 want to impress upon 
 your mind the necessity of practicing the most rigid 
 economy in your situation; of getting only what is 
 absolutely necessary. Recollect that seventeen standing 
 desks will more than 2y(iy your hoard. * * * I shall 
 think of you often. Many eyes will be upon you. 
 Apply yourself closely to study. Live near to God in 
 prayer, and may success attend your path. 
 
 Your brother, 
 
 T. Stokes Dickerson. 
 
 The reply to this letter, dated November 7, 1842, 
 is the only other letter we have of this year, from 
 which we quote a few sentences : 
 
 * * * I was much pleased with your intended plan 
 of writing me a series of letters, and I hope with you 
 that they may prove beneficial to us both ; but, I do 
 hope they may contain some profitable 7ieics, as well as 
 advice and counsel. I think I have great cause to be 
 thankful to the Giver of all good, for kind relatives and 
 friends, who are always ready to impart good advice. 
 As for my feelings I can say I am happy and content. 
 I enjoy pretty good health and spirits, and as for the last I 
 sometimes think they run almost too high; but I hope that 
 when I get well settled I shall be more sober and watch- 
 ful. * * * The suit of clothes that Uncle C. sent, 
 fits me nicely. I shall soon need my winter boots, and 
 if you have an old pair of slippers you do not use, I could 
 find use for them. As regards the standing desk, you 
 must exercise your own judgment about it ; but I feel 
 the need of something of that kind every day. 1 have 
 but little spare time. I rise at four o'clock, and retire 
 at nine o'clock, have a recitation about daylight. I want 
 some good steel pens and letter paper, which you can 
 
52 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 
 
 53 
 
 1 1 
 
 
 
 put in with the other things when you send them, for I 
 must soon write to some of my uncles, Grace, John, grand- 
 ma and aunties. I do not know where to commence. 
 Give my love to them all ; tell them to write ; it does 
 not take me as long to read a letter as to write one. 
 * * * What shall I tell the faculty in relation to my 
 means? Remember me continually at the throne of 
 grace, that I may be devoted to the service of my Mas- 
 ter, and that I may walk humbly and close with God. 
 Your affectionate brother, James. 
 
 January 25, 1843. 
 Dear Brother Thomas: As a favorable opportunity 
 presents itself, I embrace it in addressing a letter to my 
 brother. Day after day T have asked the post-master, 
 Is there not a letter for me? but have received a dis- 
 couraging reply. The answer of my letter to Grace 
 which I expected to receive immediately, has not arrived; 
 and the letters of " advice " promised by you, and joy- 
 fully anticipated by me, have not as yet reached me. 
 But this is enough repining; I shall yet hope to see you 
 a man of letters. I get along very well as regards my 
 studies, the Greek text is rather difficult, but the remain- 
 der of my studies comparatively easy. But " one thing 
 is needful," for which I long and pray daily, a closer 
 walk and communion with Jesus. I realize that how- 
 ever my mind may be stored with useful knowledge, if 
 I have not genuine piety and ardent love to God and 
 my fellow men, " it profiteth me nothing." The revival 
 which has been in progress in the village for some time 
 past, has revived in my soul the wish to be engaged in 
 the labor of the gospel ministry. I now feel a greater 
 desire than ever before to share in the work of the 
 world's conversion. I have attended a number of meet- 
 
 ings at the village, some of which have been very inter- 
 esting. About thirty have been converted, backsliders 
 have been reclaimed, Christians awakened, pastor 
 aroused and encouraged, all moving on in harmony and 
 success, and the Lord is still working among them. I 
 have but little care on my mind now, but oh, my lean- 
 ness in the sight of the Lord! Pray for us (John Col- 
 gate and myself) that we may grow in grace, and that 
 our attainments may be greater and higher. 
 
 I am very thankful for those shirts, drawers, etc., you 
 sent me by Joseph, and the twelve dollars in cash. The 
 shirts were plenty large. I have purchased a pair of 
 thick, heavy boots, and a history; paid my taxes and a 
 number of incidental expenses, and have four dollars 
 remaining. I have not mentioned a small desk that I 
 have bought. It is about two feet high, and placed 
 upon my table answers for a standing desk. It cost me 
 one dollar. I have been at Elder Knapp's several 
 times ; was there the evening previous to his starting 
 for Washington. * * * Give my best love to Uncle 
 James, Aunt C, and family. I desire very much to 
 receive a letter from them. Also my love to grandma, 
 my other uncles and cousins, and friends in the city. 
 Give my love to Grace and John. Tell John he must 
 write me a good long letter. (Since commencing this 
 I have received one from Grace, dated Philadelphia.) 
 I hope in your next you will give me some account of 
 the transactions at the Tabernacle, and how thino-s are 
 proceeding at the new church. And tell me how you 
 ^"joy yourself and what are your prospects in regard to 
 mercantile life. Fill a good, large sheet foolscap^ with 
 anything profitable that will tend to awaken my mind. 
 After a long three months of study, a little wearied 
 with the monotony of college life, to receive a letter 
 
64 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 
 
 66 
 
 t 
 
 from home^ filled with news, seasoned with good advice, 
 what a treat! * * * I need nothing just now but a 
 few handkerchiefs, which I can do without until the 
 Spring vacation, which is about ten weeks distant, and 
 if I do not go to the city, the others can bring them up 
 with them. Professor Conant arrived here safely. The 
 buildintrs on the north and west side were illuminated, 
 as he arrived at ten p. m.; a committee was appointed to 
 brinjr him from the village. He came in a large sleigh, 
 accompanied by Professor Eaton. The students formed 
 one long procession to receive him, many of them with 
 torches, and each " tipping his beaver " as he passed and 
 the professor returning it. 
 
 Your brother in double bonds, 
 
 J. S. D. 
 
 March 20, 1843. 
 
 Dear Brother Thomas : Your painful silence has 
 awakened in my heart disappointment and anxiety; dis- 
 appointment at not receiving j»romi6'6fZ letters from you, 
 and anxiety as to the cause of your silence; whether 
 sickness, business, or whether you had entirely forgot- 
 ten that you had a little brother pent up by the tremen- 
 dous snow-drifts, upon the now bleak hills of Hamilton. 
 Date of your last letter to me, November 23, 1842. No ' 
 comment is necessary. Since that time I have written 
 you, but have received no answer. I find it difficult to 
 write often, and when I do write, and receive no answer, 
 it is rather discouraging. * * * I have been very 
 happy lately, and enjoy more of the presence of Jesus, 
 and often hold sweet communion with my Savior at the 
 mercy seat. Privileges of a high religious nature abound 
 at this institution, and there is no barrier (but a cold 
 heart) which need keep us from a corresponding height 
 
 of religious attainment. There is a great improvement 
 in the state of piety, here. Prayer is more frequent, and 
 more full of faith. Meetings are multiplying; feeling is 
 deepening; and the work of the Lord progressing. Sev- 
 eral are anxious about their salvation, and two have 
 recently found the Lord. The last two meetings of the 
 " Monthly Concert of Prayer," have been very interest- 
 ing. At the last one the students were addressed for a 
 few moments by Brother Bailey, a Baptist minister, and 
 an agent, I believe, for the cause of missions. He was 
 rather an ordinary looking genius, and we did not expect 
 to hear anything interesting from him, but he had spoken 
 but a few moments when the eyes of all were fixed upon 
 him, and silence reigned in the chapel. As he advanced 
 the interest increased, and still deepened as he endeav- 
 ored to arouse the same spirit in the hearts of his hearers 
 that had burned in the bosoms of many, wlib had 
 but recently occupied the seats before him, and 
 were now in other lands, laboring for the heathen. 
 He was fired with his subject, and before he sat down 
 the smothered feelings of those who heard him broke 
 out in sobs, and tears trickled down the cheeks of many, 
 who, it is to be hoped, may yet plant the cross in the 
 midst of a heathen world, and preach Christ crucified to 
 those whose altars are now dedicated to the worship of 
 " unknown Gods." * * * ^he Spring vacation com- 
 mences on the nineteenth of next month, continuing 
 four weeks. I would like to know the wish of my 
 friends as to what I shall do at that time, as of course, I 
 shall be governed by them. If I stay I am obliged to 
 board in the town, as the Hall is closed during vacation, 
 but I can board for one dollar and a half or two dollars 
 a week. I suppose sister Grace has returned from Phil- 
 adelphia. Give my love to her, and remind her of her 
 
t 
 
 ' 
 
 1; 
 is. 
 
 < il 
 
 56 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 
 
 57 
 
 promise to write me the remainder of her adventures in 
 the city of " brotherly love." I long to hear from John- 
 ny; what is he about? Give my love to him, and tell 
 him I shall hope to receive a letter from him soon. 
 * * * My money has all been spent, and I owe a 
 little here. My clothes I can make last till vacation, 
 when, if I should not come down, they could be sent by 
 chum. * * * 
 
 April 4, 1843. 
 
 My Dear Brother: As yet I have received no intel- 
 ligence as to what I shall do during the coming vacation. 
 I expected a letter by Dr. Kendrick, but received none, 
 and feel anxious, not knowing how to act. John Col- 
 gate thinks I had better prepare to come, as you will 
 expect me as a matter of course, but I shall remain here 
 unless' 1 hear from you to the contrary. * * * I hear 
 rather strange news from New York in regard to you 
 and Gracy ; both over head and heels in love. Be care- 
 ful. " Look before you leap." If you would know my 
 authority, it came in a letter to me from the field of 
 action. * * * We had an excellent monthly concert 
 yesterday. There is glorious news coming in from every 
 part of our dear country; thousands upon thousands 
 have been converted. Many of our brethren here, have 
 broken away from their studies, and gone out to aid in 
 preaching the great gospel of salvation, and others ex- 
 pect to be about the same good work during vacation. 
 How I wish I had the ability to preach! I would gladly 
 "go and do likewise." There is a brother here who 
 expects to preach next vacation to some good country 
 church, and says he will take me with him, and that if I 
 can not preach, I can sing and pray. * * * 
 
 April 18, 1843. 
 
 Dear Brother: As I have received no intelligence 
 from the city authorizing me to come home, I shall stay 
 here and board in the village. The postman has been 
 tired out with my frequent calls, and when he sees me 
 coming, before I have time to ask for a letter, he sings 
 out in a husky voice, " Nothing for you," and I trot off 
 with a lip quivering with sorrow and disappointment. 
 I have been looking for a letter so long, to know whether 
 I shall pay you a visit or not, that I really feel down- 
 hearted. * * * I owe something for altering pants, 
 something in the village for fixing a coat, and one or 
 two other debts, in all about three dollars and fifty cents. 
 
 My class will soon be examined by a committee from 
 the Faculty in Latin, Greek, and History, and also 
 Classical Literature and Geography. 
 
 Since penning the above T have received a good long 
 letter from you, and was very well satisfied with its 
 contents. I feel a little anxious in regard to your going 
 into business on your "own hook." But if you pursue 
 a lawful business, lawfully, I think there is little danger. 
 Ask the blessing of God upon every transaction. Move 
 cautiously, deal generously, mind your own business, 
 and avoid law-suits as you would a counterfeit V, and 
 there can be no doubt but that you will be prospered. 
 IHie Bible says, "He that giveth to the poor lendeth to 
 the Lord." If you would be rich in every sense of the 
 word, give to the cause of Christ. Look all around you, 
 and those who have given the most to the poor, or to the 
 church, have received in payment an hundred fold, and 
 are the richest men. I hope and pray for your success. 
 Pray that I may enjoy the presence of God. 
 
 Your affectionate brother, 
 
 James S. Dickersox. 
 
 1' 
 
58 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 
 
 59 
 
 Hamilton, May 27, 1843. 
 
 * * * I received a letter from Gra'cy during vacation, 
 telling me she would get any thing for me I needed, if 
 practicable. You can show her the list I sent by John 
 Colgate if you choose. Should you send any thing, 
 place them in a box on board of one of the canal boats, 
 as that appears to be the safest way. When you ship 
 them, please write me; otherwise they might lie in 
 the store-house without my knowledge. Write the name 
 of the captain and the boat. I need a vest and a pair 
 of pants very much. My vest is very much woryi and 
 mended, and I have borrowed of John and Alvah on 
 extra occasions. I bought a pair of shoes in the village, 
 and had them charged in the name of John Colgate. 
 I spent my vacation very pleasantly, and was glad to 
 see chum when he returned, and all the students appeared 
 very dear to me when they came back to the Institution. 
 I am now well under weigh with my studies. 1 have 
 commenced Bullion's Latin Grammar and Cfesar, which 
 try me considerably, and shall soon begin Xenophon and 
 Sophocles' Greek Grammar. Do not forget to send up 
 my Leghorn hat that I left with you. I want the one 
 with the high crown and narrow brim, colored, and not 
 the one with the broad brim, unless you can send 
 both. And now I would like to ask a few questions, 
 which you will, of course, answer. How do you enjoy 
 religion? This is a question of much importance and 
 solemnity. 
 
 "Religion is the chief concern 
 Of mortals here below." 
 
 How are you proceeding with business? " He that driveth 
 not his business, his business will drive him." When is 
 the next letter of "advice" coming? Acts xx, 35 — 
 
 « So laboring, ye ought to support the weak." Remem- 
 ber that I always feel grateful for advice, and perhaps 
 did you know the good which might result from the 
 imparting of advice and counsel, you would not be so 
 backward. * * * I feel more and more the importance 
 of living holier and aiming higher, and, if I should 
 approach the field of action, and it be found that my 
 talents are ordinary, if I only have the spirit of the living 
 God and the love of Jesus in my soul, and good to my 
 fellows and the honor and glory of God be my motive 
 to action, I know that I shall prosper. Pray that I may 
 be enabled to bring myself, and all that I have and am, 
 as a sacrifice to' the altar of God, consecrating all to 
 Him and His cause. 
 
 Your affectionate brother, 
 
 James Stokes Dickerson. 
 
 A severe epidemic now broke out among the 
 students, called the "black tongue fever," and 
 James was among its victims. His illness, however, 
 was unusually short, owing, as he believed, to his 
 employing homoeopathic remedies. One of the lead- 
 ing physicians of the place had recently become a 
 homoeopathist. James had become much interested 
 in the discussions which had arisen, and became so 
 far a convert to the new practice that he now 
 employed Dr. Douglass, its newly declared champion. 
 The medicines, faithfully administered, worked like 
 a charm ; and James was speedily on his feet, while 
 many were prostrated for weeks, and some disabled 
 for an entire term. He remained through life an 
 enthusiastic advocate of that system, and, when his 
 way was hedged up as a preacher, studied it care- 
 
 111 
 
60 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 
 
 61 
 
 t ' 
 
 'I ; 
 
 fully as a possible profession. He writes to his 
 brother : 
 
 * * * Since last I wrote you, I have been very sick 
 as also my chum, John. He was taken down with a 
 high fever last Saturday, and I on Sunday. I went for 
 the doctor last Sunday afternoon to come up and see 
 John, and when he came he found me also " lying and 
 sick of a fever." * * * j am much better, although 
 still weak. No tidings yet from you in relation to my 
 thinffs. Do write soon and let me know all about them, 
 even though they may not be sent at all. As you write 
 so very seldom, I take it for granted that you attend 
 closely to your business. All this is well, but still one 
 thing recollect, you have a duty to perform to a little 
 brother at Hamilton, beset with temptations of nameless 
 variety, grappling with many difficulties, forming a 
 character, a character for life^ yea, for eternity. 
 
 Hamilton, August 2, 1843. 
 
 Dear Brother Thomas : Again, after so long a 
 time, I place myself in a writing posture to address you 
 a few lines. Of course you are aware that the term 
 closes in two weeks, and therefore we have no time to 
 lose in making necessary preparations. You are also 
 aware from the statements I have sent you that I have 
 no money wherewith to defray the expenses of the 
 journey home; and, when I arrive in New York, I know 
 not which way to direct my steps, or what place to call 
 my home. I hope you will write soon and inform me in 
 relation to this affair. I have entirelv recovered from 
 the effects of the influenza, and now feel as well as 
 before. The influenza has been very prevalent here, 
 and few have been so fortunate as to escape it, thirty or 
 
 forty students being sick at one time. Ten months 
 have nearly spent their length since I left New York, 
 and the dearest friends I have. I hope the time has 
 flown as happily with you as with me. In a few days I 
 shall be examined in all the studies of the year, and I 
 look forward with no little satisfaction, and perhaps 
 some pride, to the title of Higher Academician^ and, 
 after nine months more of study, to that of Freshman. 
 As you, too, have been to college, you can realize some- 
 thing of the many pleasant emotions that are aroused in 
 the breast of every student at the mention of the title. 
 Freshman. But I hope God will ever keep me from 
 those motives that actuate the ambitious student, one 
 who strives to make advancement in knowledge merely 
 from selfish motives. No, while I study the laws of 
 science, may I not forget the laws of God; while I pore 
 over books of philosophy, may I never forget the Book 
 of Books, the Bible. "Get wisdom, and with all thy 
 gettings get understanding." O, may I always remem- 
 ber and obey the injunction of Him who said, "Learn 
 of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart." As I have 
 told you the state of my physical health, I must say 
 someting in relation to the spiritual. I have not 
 enjoyed as much of the presence o: Jesus this term as I 
 had hoped. For the last month T have thought very 
 much about home. Perhaps when reading or writing I 
 would stop, and before I would recollect myself I would 
 have spent some time in thinking about home. But I 
 hope soon to be there, to see my friends and be with 
 them, and my brethren and sisters in Christ too. How 
 rejoiced 1 shall be to see them again, and meet them 
 within the sacred walls of the Tabernacle! May the 
 time hasten on ! This home-thinking has had a ten- 
 dency to draw off 'my attention from serious things, and 
 
62 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 
 
 63 
 
 then again the thought of being among my friends, and 
 my brethren, with the eyes of many upon me, has 
 stimulated me to greater exertion, that my walk and 
 conversation before them might be such as becomes the 
 follower of Christ, and the student for the ministry. 
 And if I would walk well, I must walk in the Spirit. I 
 know that I shall bear a part in your prayers. 
 
 I have got along very well without the things that I 
 sent for, as I received an umbrella, some stockings, 
 bosoms, etc., from the box sent by the ladies at the 
 Tabernacle last winter, but which did not arrive here 
 until this term, being in a boat that was frozen in the 
 canal. But Alvah Buckbee gave me a pair of trousers 
 that were too small for him, and John Colgate has lent 
 me other things that I have needed; so you see 1 have 
 been well taken care of. I would like very much, 
 Thomas, to have you come and spend the last week of 
 this term here, and I know you would enjoy yourself. 
 *** * * **** 
 
 I suppose Gracy has returned from her Niagara trip, 
 with the rest of the company. Give my love to them 
 all, and to other friends and relations in the city. I 
 hope you will succeed well in business. I have made 
 your attention to business the imaginary excuse for 
 your backwardness in writing to me. John Colgate 
 expects his father and mother here at Commencement. 
 How is my brother John, and what is he about? Has 
 he made his usual trip to Newburgh this term? I sup- 
 pose he is as wild as ever, and enjoys himself as much 
 as ever. I wish him success and enjoyment, but above 
 all I wish that his feet were off from those slippery 
 places. I would rather see him in the ark of safety 
 than, if death should come, struggling under the 
 eternal weight of God's wrath. Have we done, and 
 
 :'^ 
 
 are we doing our duty in respect to him? Should he be 
 taken in death, as soon at the farthest he must be, are 
 our skirts clean from blood? 
 
 Your ever affectionate brother, 
 
 James S. Dickerson. 
 
 We might enlarge much upon his residence at 
 Hamilton, a happy and eventful six years of his life. 
 But what we have said has, perhaps, embraced the 
 most prominent points, and we can only say further, 
 in general, that, as a student, a Christian, and a 
 man, in every relation, he bore with him constantly 
 the confidence, the esteem, and the affection of all. 
 We can not more fittingly close this imperfect sketch 
 of his life at Hamilton than with the following por- 
 traiture furnished by his classmate, the Rev. A. H. 
 Burlingham, D.D., as just and truthful as it is dis- 
 criminating and tender : 
 
 New York, April 28, 1877. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Dickerson: My acquaintance with your 
 late husband began in Hamilton in the Spring of 1843. 
 He entered the Institution there in the Autumn before, 
 and in the Autumn following we became classmates, and 
 remained such through a long course of study. I can 
 not claim that I was more intimate with him than were 
 others of our classmates, yet I may say that we knew 
 each other well, and were much together in our student 
 days. As, during this period, he exhibited the same 
 striking and noble traits of character as in after years — 
 traits which will be elsewhere more appropriately dwelt 
 upon in the memorial you are preparing — it would be 
 out of place for me to attempt any exhaustive treatment 
 
64 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 
 
 65 
 
 
 of them in the few lines you have asked me to con- 
 tribute, and which I tender as a service of love. 
 
 In looking back to the student days of my friend, I 
 think of him first, perhaps, as a genial^ enjoyable com- 
 panion. He had that flow and goodness of nature which 
 made him agreeable. There was that indescribable 
 something in his organization which drew people to him. 
 There was no resisting the attraction of the cheery 
 pleasantness and genial humor which he ever displayed. 
 He was a universal favorite in the college. His associ- 
 ations were not limited to his class, but he was sought 
 alike by advanced men and by beginners among the gen- 
 eral body of students. No one was better known or more 
 beloved by the whole college brotherhood than was Mr. 
 Dickerson. The peculiar elements essential to popu- 
 larity inhered in his nature. He did not try to impress 
 himself. His influence came without exertion; it was 
 spontaneous and unconscious. He charmed by a mag- 
 netic soul, and sweetly bound the men to him by his 
 svmpathies. Herein lay the secret of his marvelous 
 power to fasten people to him. No meeting of his class 
 was complete without him. To the general social life 
 of the Institution his contributions were always large 
 and welcome. His spirit was chivalrous. His sense of 
 honor was intuitive, and therefore delicate. He knew 
 the meaning of justice. Kindness and largeness of soul 
 ever characterized him in his student relations. We all 
 loved him for his good nature and full-heartedness. We 
 all respected him for his manhood and for his fidelity to 
 principle. There was that talismanic quality in his being 
 which threw a spell around every one in his presence. 
 That his companionship was a perpetual enjoyment the 
 general judgment and experience of the men with him 
 in college would affirm. 
 
 Mr. Dickerson is also remembered vividly and grate- 
 fully by his fellow students in Madison University 
 because of his irrepressible humor and wit. Love of 
 fun was a most marked element in his organism, and his 
 student life can have no adequate portraiture unless this 
 element be brought into prominence. His college 
 friends would not recognize the likeness with this touch 
 absent. He readily responded to the challenge of mirth 
 in others, but as well, and perhaps better, enjoyed 
 making others happy by the sallies of his own. He 
 certainly possessed great power and was the master of 
 great facilities for provoking merriment in others. This 
 ability in him often rose to the rare fascination of 
 genuine wit. The ludicrous side of things he saw 
 quickly and keenly, and often portrayed them with 
 consummate effect. In the class, in the public meetings 
 of the college men, in the literary societies, before the 
 professors, in the more retired but no less memorable 
 gatherings of the few in rooms where innocent enjoy- 
 ment crowned the hour, Mr. Dickerson, if the proprieties 
 of the occasion allowed it, was not expected to open 
 his mouth without throwing: all within reach of his words 
 into a state of mirth, to say the least. In this he always 
 succeeded admirably well. There was a facetious vein 
 in his being, a laugh-witchery which was contagious. 
 Into the atmosphere which he created when this element 
 was dominant and working, none could come without 
 being made brighter and better. In hits, in repartee, in 
 a story, he was notably happy. But he was too kind to 
 be severe, too true a gentleman to wound, and too pure 
 a Christian to be vuljjar or coarse in his wit. 
 
 While he was piquant, sometimes quaint, in his inter- 
 course with students, successful in his take-offs, boiling 
 over with proclivities to allowable mischief, he was ever 
 
66 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 
 
 67 
 
 the considerate gentleman, and the courteous and kind 
 Christian in all his college associations. Underlying 
 this pleasantry, this fascination coming from a mercurial 
 touch and tone, which God so graciously gave him, Mr. 
 Dickerson had an earnest, stunhj, strong nature. This 
 was as apparent in his student days as in his perfected 
 manhood. His convictions were ever serious, bravely 
 pronounced, and stoutly defended. His life purj)ose 
 when a student impressed the men of the college as 
 being well defined and thoroughly honest. Whenever 
 any thing decided and bold, especially if it were useful 
 and needful, was to be done, he was never found want- 
 ing. He was always among the foremost and most 
 aggressive in projecting and executing measures for the 
 benefit of his class, his literary society, and for the more 
 public good of his college. No one could charjre him 
 with selfishness. In his ambitions, he was honorable; in 
 his spirit and action, he was benevolent; in his connec- 
 tion with classmates and students generally, he was 
 generous and self-forgetful. Hold to his point he ever 
 would. From maintaining what he considered rio-ht 
 positions in cases ever arising in the college, he never 
 shrank. He was tenacious of what he thought right 
 and quickly inventive in expedients and arguments for 
 defense and aggression. When thrown, he had the 
 happy ability of striking upon his feet; for he was intel- 
 lectually nimble, withy, rebounding. His vigor, his 
 varied resources, and ready command of them; his 
 fluency, aptness and strength of speech, made him pow- 
 erful in the advocacy of any cause he espoused. If 
 sometimes simply from generous impulse and enlisted 
 sympathies he took a position, he was as fair and honest 
 as he was strong in all attempts to carry his point. With 
 the staunchest and most stalwart of his fellow students 
 
 he did not hesitate to measure swords when he thought 
 himself right, and when any suffering interest needed 
 his help. He was heroic. He had in him, in extraor- 
 dinary degree, that rare but needed thing we vulgarly 
 call pluck. He did not propose to be defeated in any 
 ffood work he undertook. In the execution of a cher- 
 ished purpose, involving his own or the welfare of 
 others, he was self-sacrificing and indomitable. He 
 went on doing, daring, suffering, till he reached the goal 
 he sought. The college life of my dear friend, though 
 the retrospect is had by looking over the multifarious 
 work and teeming memories of over thirty years, looms 
 up to me, and to his class, and all the men of the " Hill," 
 as a grand life. It was earnest, true, purposeful. It 
 was full of the glowing prophesies of which his signal 
 life-career was the sublime fulfillment. As a scholar, 
 Mr. Dickerson made creditable attainments in all the 
 branches embraced in the curriculum of study. He 
 graduated with honor to himself and to his "Alma 
 Mater." While a student, he proved himself to be a 
 thinker vigorous and inventive, a writer able and 
 brilliant, a speaker eloquent and effective. 
 
 In moral and religious character, Mr. Dickerson was 
 (when at Hamilton) a young man of salient excellence. 
 The morale of his character was striking. That it 
 never suffered d eterioration amidst the peculiar influences 
 and temptations of college life, is the highest proof of its 
 settledness and strength. In thought, in language, in 
 conduct, during his entire course of education, he 
 evinced the possession of a most refined moral sense, 
 and the most unswerving moral principle. In respect to 
 religion he did not fail of maintaining a character con- 
 sistent with the most avowed profession. He was 
 conscientious. He had genuine piety, but not a particle 
 
68 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 I 
 
 of cant. In class and general prayer-meetings, he was 
 a ready and refreshing participant. Jn every way, 
 viewed as a Christian, he was cheerful and helpful. 
 With his nature he could not have been otherwise. 
 Religion hallowed and toned his natural exuberance, so 
 that he took on a type of Christian character which 
 goes far to explain the secret of his great usefulness 
 through hfe. 
 
 Many of the class of '48 have passed away; some of 
 us still are toilers in the vineyard; but none, living or 
 dead, were more beloved and honored in their academic 
 years than was our dear brother, the now sainted James 
 S. Dickerson. Yours very truly 
 
 A. H. BURLINGHAM. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 LIFE IN NEW YORK. 
 
 For some time previous to James' graduation, his 
 throat was so seriously affected that he feared he 
 should be unable to enter upon the work of preach- 
 ing, even if the way were providentially opened. 
 To his great sorrow his fears were realized. Not 
 only did his physicians forbid his speaking in public 
 at present, but some declared that he would never 
 be able to preach. He went, therefore, into the 
 office of Deacon Colgate, where he remained for two 
 years, rendering, amidst a circle of loved and trusted 
 friends, good and thoroughly appreciated service. 
 During this time he became engaged to Miss Julia P. 
 Spencer, the adopted daughter of Julius A. Spencer, 
 of Utica, New York. He had met her at the house 
 of a common friend, Mrs. J. Osgood Pierce, in Ham- 
 ilton, where her beauty, her musical abilities, and 
 her lovely character, had won his heart. Her 
 parents were Episcopalians, and naturally opposed 
 to their daughter's allying herself with a Baptist 
 minister. Their personal opposition, indeed, disap- 
 peared with an acquaintance ; yet his non-connection 
 with "the Church" was still an insuperable obstacle 
 to the union. The parents thus remaining inflexible, 
 for nearly a year all correspondence was dropped 
 
 69 
 
 >l 
 
 i 
 
 uriiniilii-i iHrriiii 
 
70 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 LIFE IN NEW YORK. 
 
 71 
 
 ! 
 
 i 
 
 between the lovers, who, however, were devotedly 
 attached to each other. In this, as in all things, 
 Mr. Dickerson's course was straightforward and 
 honorable. He kept up no concealed correspond- 
 ence, and sought no clandestine meetings. He 
 could trust this, as all other matters, to the Lord 
 with the assurance that if it was His will, they 
 would, in His own time, realize their hopes and 
 wishes. His fiiith was not disappointed. 
 
 In 1850, Dr. M. B. Anderson, then a young pro- 
 fessor m Waterville College, Maine, but who was 
 driven from his post by an affection of the throat, 
 somewhat similar to that which had compelled James 
 to withhold himself from his chosen profession, 
 came to New York for the purpose of purchasing in 
 part, and taking the editorship of the New York 
 Recorder. In conversation with Deacon Colgate 
 regarding his plans and prospects, he one day asked 
 the deacon if he could introduce him to some capa- 
 ble and trustworthy young man who could become 
 joint proprietor with him of the paper, and take the 
 management of its business interests. The mind of 
 the latter immediately recurred to James, who was 
 at once sent for and introduced to Professor Ander- 
 son. As the result of the interview they soon 
 became partners in the enterprise, and amidst many 
 trials and discouragements labored together for four 
 years m conducting what speedily became one of the 
 ablest religious journals in the land. The extraor- 
 dmary ability of the then youthful editor — giving 
 splendid promise of the capabilities which he has 
 since exhibited in other fields -were admirably 
 
 seconded by the business tact and sagacity, the tire- 
 less industry and the admirable judgment, of his still 
 younger partner, so that the paper speedily lifted 
 itself into a power recognized not only by the relig- 
 ious body of which it was the immediate organ, but 
 by the entire Christian public. To the special 
 obstacles which the paper liad to encounter it is 
 unnecessary here to refer : it is enough to say that 
 the two co-laborers working harmoniously and effi- 
 ciently, each in his own sphere, were by their joint 
 labors placing the paper on the basis of permanent 
 usefulness and prosperity, when the call of its chief 
 editor to another, and possibly more important posi- 
 tion, as head of the Rochester University, terminated 
 the relation which had existed so pleasantly between 
 them. The following letter from Dr. Anderson, 
 referring specially to this period, sheds its light also 
 on Mr. Dickerson's general character: 
 
 My Dear Mrs. Dickersox: My eyes are so weak 
 that I am unable to work at night; and, as the night is 
 almost the only time which I can command, apart from 
 my official duties, for this reason I shall not be able to 
 do what you ask of me in connection with the memoir 
 of your husband. Since I left New York, twenty, years 
 ago, I have met Mr. D. but seldom, and our paths of 
 labor have been entirely apart from each other. Our 
 connection in New York seems to me like an inade- 
 quately remembered dream. 
 
 I first met Mr. Dickerson in New York, in the Winter 
 of 1849-50, at the time when we were negotiating the 
 purchase of the N'ew York Recorder, In the Spring of 
 that year I removed to that city, and from that time until 
 
 J 
 
 ftS 
 
72 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 I went to Rochester we were intimately associated 
 m business and labor. We were both without exper- 
 ience—he in the business, and I in the editorial man- 
 agement of a paper. As the older man, the serious 
 responsibility of shaping the policy of the paper and 
 preparing editorials, devolved upon me, while he attended 
 to the finances of the establishment. Circumstances 
 which I do not care to recall, made our position exceed- 
 ingly difficult. Some feared, others hoped, for our 
 failure; and our courage and powers of endurance were 
 severely tried. I believe that each of us did the work 
 ordinarily accomplished by two men. We reduced our 
 expenses to the lowest point, and entered with all our 
 energies upon the task before us. In all our difficulties 
 your husband was always hopeful and loyal. Until his 
 marriage he resided with us, and he always threw around 
 him an atmosphere of good humor and cheerfulness 
 which made him the light of our home. 
 
 In all our relations, I do not now recall the slightest 
 want of harmony of feeling or action. He developed in 
 the business the skill and tact which characterized him 
 through his life. The experience in business, and the 
 knowledge of men which he thus acquired, were doubt- 
 less one source of his success in the pastoral relation in 
 subsequent life. His unfailing kindness of nature, and 
 his facility in seizing the humorous side of life, relieved 
 him from much of the friction which often wears out less 
 happily constituted natures, and left him the control of 
 all his capacities for effective action. His quick sym- 
 pathy with the joy or sorrow of others gave him influence 
 over all with whom he came in contact, and made hini 
 then, what he always continued to be, a universal favor- 
 ite, whether in business or social circles. While we 
 were associated, his time and strength were absorbed in 
 
 LIFE IN NEW YORK. 
 
 78 
 
 the business department of the paper, and he wrote but 
 little. His capacity as a writer and preacher was devel- 
 oped subsequently to our acquaintance. 
 
 His success as a preacher and an editor came to me 
 in the light of a surprise, and gave proof of latent 
 capacity whose existence I had hardly been aware of. 
 I know of few men who have possessed faculties readily 
 adapted to so great a variety of work. He seemed 
 equally at home in every place which he occupied in his 
 somewhat checkered career. He had in perfection the 
 " practical " intellect, and this developed into what may 
 be best designated as administrative power. I never 
 heard your husband preach, and I can give no analysis 
 of the elements of his success in the pulpit; but I can 
 readily understand the causes of his success as a pastor. 
 He seized the characters of men whom he met almost by 
 instinct. His wide experience in business enabled him 
 to appreciate the temptations and trials of an average 
 congregation, and meet their religious wants in a man- 
 ner of which few men are capable. He was strong where 
 most men, whose training is that of the study alone, 
 are weak. 
 
 That knowledge of men, that round common sense 
 which never can be obtained from books, is one 
 of the strongest elements in the typical pastor. Ten 
 men fail from want of the pastoral capacity and train- 
 ing, where one fails as a preacher. The study of the 
 mind and heart, which is necessary to make a good 
 pastor, is the best preparation for writing a gospel ser- 
 mon. I imagine that the sources from which your 
 husband drew the best elements of his pulpit power 
 were the unwritten experiences of the plain men and 
 women who form the bulk of every Christian congrega- 
 tion. That combination of mental and moral traits 
 
74 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSOISr. 
 
 LIFE IN NEW YORK. 
 
 75 
 
 i 
 
 which made him the favorite in social circles, and the 
 successful negotiator in business, gave him control over 
 the minds of his congregation, and made him the natu- 
 ral leader and organizer in all the work of his church. 
 The great success of the Christian pastor is found not 
 so much in what he does, himself, as in what he induces 
 others to accomplish. These elements of mind in Mr. 
 Dickerson were rendered effective, and received their 
 direction and impulse, from a warm-hearted and unselfish 
 devotion to the cause of Christ and the well-being of his 
 fellow men. This resulted in an earnest and cheerful 
 piety which irradiated his whole nature and made all his 
 capacities, natural and acquired, completely available 
 for Christian labor. 
 
 My intimate association with your husband is one of 
 the memories of my life which I recall with sincere 
 satisfaction. That the impressions which he left on 
 others, in the various relations of his later life, were 
 equally pleasant I have not a doubt. That the absorb- 
 ing desire to do his duty by serving God and his fellow- 
 men, which he showed when young, continued to affect 
 him through life is obvious to all who have watched his 
 career in maturer years. How cheerful and self- 
 sacrificing, how affectionate he was in private life, 
 those only, who knew him intimately, can fully under 
 stand. 
 
 Regretting that I can not render you more efficient 
 service in the memorial you are about to rear in 
 honor of your husband, 1 am 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 TT^ , M. B. Anderson. 
 
 Rochester, April 28, 1877. 
 
 After a time James' wooing affairs, thanks to his 
 excellent character and business fidelity, began to 
 
 prosper. Mr. Spencer, the father of the object of 
 his attachment, meeting him occasionally in New 
 York in company with Mr. Anderson and other 
 leading Baptists ; seeing the important position that 
 he was holding, and how thoroughly he commanded 
 the confidence of his associates, found his objections 
 to one who was outside of "the Church" gradually 
 melting away, and at length entering his office made 
 the welcome announcement that he was at liberty to 
 resume his suspended intercourse with his daughter, 
 adding that he was increasingly assured of her genuine 
 and deep affection for him. James' heart bounded 
 with a lover's exultation at the permission thus 
 accorded ; he lost no time in making a journey to 
 Utica, and that he came back with a happier heart 
 might well be believed by those who knew the thor- 
 ough loveliness, both in person and character, of the 
 lady to whom he was now affianced. About a year 
 after (June 9, 1852) they were married. They took 
 and fitted up pleasant rooms with a family in Brook- 
 lyn, where they lived more than a year, and until 
 after the birth of their first child, J. Spencer Dick- 
 erson. They then removed to New York City, 
 where Ada, their eldest daughter — through life a 
 suffering yet patient invalid — was born. 
 
 During Mr. Dickerson's connection with the 
 Recorder^ he not unfrequently went on tours of col- 
 lection, and for the purpose of procuring new 
 subscribers for the paper. In these excursions he 
 sometimes walked hundreds of miles, stopping as 
 occasion served, and finding often poor lodgings and 
 very indifferent meals. He never, however, yielded to 
 
76 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 LIFE IN NEW YORK. 
 
 77 
 
 
 discouragement, maintained an unfailing buoyancy 
 of spirit, and wrote letters so full of humorous and 
 racy descriptions of his varied experiences, and 
 repeated them orally on his return with such infinite 
 zest and drollery, that the laborious and self-denying 
 tour would seem to have been but the sportive frolic 
 of a student's vacation. We mention this because 
 it was a characteristic of his life. The shadow to 
 him always had its sunshine ; every event turned 
 out to his happily constituted vision its briglii:er 
 aspect ; and what seemed an unmitigated evil was, by 
 the alchemy of his joyous nature, transmuted into a 
 blessing. 
 
 It may be descending a little below the dignity of 
 our narrative, yet we can scarcely forbear giving an 
 instance, furnished during his New York residence, 
 and while he was connected with the paper, of that 
 almost rollicking humor which was inwrought into 
 his nature, and in a thousand innocent and merry 
 ways was perpetually coming to the surface. Quick 
 to discern the ludicrous, and gifted with great 
 powers of mimicry, he of course almost always con- 
 fined their exercise to the small inner circles in 
 which he was thoroughly known, and in no danger 
 of being misunderstood. None can doubt that the 
 temperament is a happy one, if not unduly indulged, 
 and always controlled, as in his case it invariably 
 was, by thorough kindness. On the occasion we 
 allude to, he stepped a little out of his ordinary 
 bounds, and made one of his brothers the subject of 
 his fun-loving propensities. The incident under the 
 name of " the ferry affair," has become one of the 
 
 
 
 stories of the family. His elder brother, Thomas, 
 on whom he played the joke, and who lived near 
 him in Williamsburgh, thus relates it: 
 
 I had trouble with two Englishmen, "Jones and 
 Lacham," and .James knew about it. One night, about 
 ten o'clock, I was returning from New York, and, just 
 as the boat was landing, the night dark, and the wind 
 high, a man wrapped in a cloak and wearing a slouched 
 hat, pressed through the crowd and addressing me, said: 
 "Have you much acquaintance here? I have just 
 arrived from Europe, and was directed to Williamsburgh, 
 on Long Island, to find my friends, .Jones and Lacham." 
 His voice was on a high key, and his manner and tone 
 quite imperative. I told him I knew the family. They 
 lived on Grand street, about two miles awav. He asked 
 me if I would not go there with him. I told him " No, 
 you can find it by my directions." He was noisy and 
 demonstrative ; found fault with the customs of the 
 country, and said that in England the people were more 
 polite, etc. I concluded he was an English snob, with 
 plenty of beer about him. I went with him to the 
 corner and showed him his way. He kept his cloak 
 about his face, and I was a little suspicious as to what he 
 was, but did not suspect James. We parted. I hurried 
 on toward home, and had not gone more than two blocks 
 before he came switching around the corner from an 
 opposite direction, and, coming abruptly up to me, stood 
 in my way in a threatening manner, saying, " Sir, you 
 have deceived me; I want you to go with me, and at 
 once." He was dancing around me about ten feet ofi", 
 making all kinds of gesticulations, and calling me a 
 fraud at the top of his voice. I got angry, told him 
 to clear out, and charged him with being drunk; said 
 
»1 
 
 78 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 I had nothing to do with him, etc. " Yes you have," he 
 replied, " and I will make it hot for you. You have got 
 my relatives, ' Jones & Co.,' in your power, and I will 
 fix you." He would not let me pass, but as I went 
 toward him, determined to strike him down and get by, 
 he jumped into the street, threw his cloak about him 
 and showed fight. I thought it best to retreat, think- 
 ino- the man was a drunken lunatic. I ran, he 
 after me. I made for my house, ran up the steps, 
 locked the door quickly, and looking through the window 
 blinds at the follow on the sidewalk, got a glimpse of 
 him that led me to believe for the first time that it 
 might be James; but I was not certain about it, till he 
 put on the cloak and cap, and imitated the voice of the 
 Englishman, as he did on the ferry-boat. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 xlESIDENCE IN PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 At the end of four years the transfer of Dr. 
 Anderson to the presidency of the University of 
 Rochester, dissolved their relation and made neces- 
 sary the selling of the paper. Mr. Dickerson now 
 engaged in the business of bookseller and publisher, 
 and established himself in Broadway, New York. 
 Here he continued for two years, when circum- 
 stances requiring him to sell out, he became associ- 
 ated in the same business with Sheldon, Blakeman 
 & Co. In 1856 he was appointed secretary of the 
 American Baptist Publication Society ; he accepted 
 the appointment and removed to Philadelphia. 
 After holding this office for four years, he became, 
 in 1860, proprietor and editor of the Christian 
 Chronicle of Philadelphia. During most of his life 
 in Philadelphia he was a member of the Eleventh 
 Baptist Church, of which Dr. D. B. Cheney was 
 pastor. Dr. Cheney has kindly furnished an account 
 of those years in which they so harmoniously worked 
 together. 
 
 Mrs. J. S. Dickerson — My dear Madam: You ask 
 
 me to contribute a few reminiscences of your late 
 
 lamented husband's life in Philadelphia for the memorial 
 
 79 
 
I 
 
 
 80 
 
 JAMES 8. DICKERSON. 
 
 volume soon to appear. To no similar service could I 
 be called that would be more congenial to my own feel- 
 ings, or to which my heart would respond with greater 
 delight. And yet, after the lapse of so many years, I 
 fear that I may be able to recall but little of interest to 
 the general reader connected with that uneventful period 
 of Dr. Dickerson's life. 
 
 As an attached personal friend, and as the pastor of 
 his sister's family in Philadelphia, he very naturally 
 looked to me for information when the question of his 
 removal to that city was first presented to him. The 
 American Baptist Publication Society needed a deposit- 
 ory agent who should have in charge the business inter- 
 ests of the Society. Members of the board, myself and 
 others, named Mr. Dickerson as the man of our choice 
 for the place. News of this reached him in New York. 
 Friends from Philadelphia called upon him, and in an 
 unofficial way urged his favorable consideration of the 
 subject, should it assume a definite form, as it gave 
 promise of doing at an early day. At this stage of 
 the proceedings Mr. Dickerson wrote me a long confi- 
 dential letter of inquiry that now lies before me. It 
 bears date June 11, 1856, and was written from the well- 
 known book-store of Messrs. Sheldon, Blakeman & Co., 
 of New York, with which he was then connected. After 
 referring to the facts stated above, he wrote : " I sup- 
 pose my friends, I mean my worldly business friends, 
 would think me insane to talk or think of such a thing 
 as accepting this appointment. But while my business 
 prospects are bright and promise something for the 
 future, I feel that I ought not to be satisfied with the 
 amount of good I am accomplishing now. In the way 
 in which business is now driven, especially in New York, 
 a young man is almost necessarily so absorbed as to 
 
 RESIDENCE IN PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 81 
 
 unfit him for present usefulness, and his only hope, if he 
 really desires to do good, is to do his best in a limited 
 way, and after a while, when riches come, deal them out 
 bountifully, and thus compensate* for past inactivity. 
 This is the reason why I do not feel exactly satisfied 
 with my mode of life." 
 
 The italics in the above are his own. This letter 
 reveals a marked characteristic of his whole life ; an 
 earnest desire to engage in present work for Christ and 
 His cause. Soon after this, as chairman of a committee 
 of the board, it devolved upon me to conduct the cor- 
 respondence with him that led to his removal to Phila- 
 delphia in the Autumn of 1856. Though I have none of 
 the many letters that passed between us now in my 
 possession, yet 1 have this distinct recollection that his 
 desire to engage in direct Christian work seemed to be 
 his governing motive in accepting the place opened 
 before him. In a long personal interview I had with 
 him, he told me of his great disappointment in not being 
 able to enter upon the work of the ministry, to which he 
 had earlv consecrated his life, because of his bronchial 
 troubles ; and said that next to preaching the gospel, it 
 seemed to him that he could best serve Christ and His 
 cause by helping to create and circulate a Christian and 
 denominational literature. That he entered the work 
 of the Publication Society under the full conviction 
 that he could there more directly labor to advance the 
 cause of Christ than in the private walks of business 
 life, I entertain not a doubt. And he was right in this 
 view of the case. He was there at once brought into a, 
 close connection with a great number of Sunday schools 
 throughout the entire field of the Society's operations. 
 The Society had not then, as now, depositories in Boston 
 and New York, Chicago and St. Louis. Hence the 
 
82 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RESIDENCE IN PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 83 
 
 Sunday schools, East and West, secured their supplies 
 largely from the depository in Philadelphia. Mr. Dick- 
 erson at once saw that through this agency he could 
 extend a helping hand to Christian workers over a vast 
 field. And though he had never entered the ministry, 
 yet his heart was in full accord with the work of the 
 ministry, and he believed that in this place he could be 
 a helper to many of his brethren who were toiling in 
 poverty and in obscure places, with few opportunities 
 for their own personal improvement. As it was a 
 department of the Society's work to furnish to poor min- 
 isters libraries and other helps, it appealed at once to 
 the best sympathies of his heart. It was this prospect 
 of beinif brouo^ht into direct contact with Christian 
 work that induced him to enter the service of the 
 Society. 
 
 How genial and attractive he made our " Baptist 
 headquarters " in that city it would be superfluous for 
 me to state to any who knew the man, or who ever 
 entered the " Rooms " while the business department 
 was under his control. He was at once the welcome 
 companion of the most cultured of his brethren, and 
 knew how to sympathize with those whose lot was 
 among the lowly. I think I can safely say that no one 
 ever went to him, while there, for counsel and sympathy 
 in vain. While abounding in genial humor and a play- 
 ful cheerfulness, he at the same time was a wise, earnest, 
 and safe counsellor. These characteristics early gave him 
 a large place in the love and confidence of his brethren 
 in that city. That he was a popular and successful 
 officer of the Society I think would be the unanimous 
 testimony of those now living who were then members 
 of the board. I remained associated with him in this 
 relation until the Summer of 1859, and I do not remem- 
 
 ber that his administration was ever criticised. We all 
 felt that the work intrusted to him was in safe hands and 
 was well done. 
 
 But Mr. Dickerson was brought into a closer relation 
 to me, and my heart prompts me to speak of him in 
 that relation. Upon his removal to the city he at once 
 became a member of my church, and his home was but 
 a single square from my own. Though he had been 
 educated for the ministry, and in early life licensed to 
 preach, yet he was known among us as a Christian lay- 
 man. While his relations to the public caused him to 
 be often called upon for special services by the churches 
 and Sunday schools of the city and vicinity, yet I have 
 always looked upon him as a model layman in his rela* 
 tions to his own church. 
 
 He was loyal to his own church. He recognized the 
 fact that church membership involved obligations : that 
 his covenant with his church was a reality, and not a 
 mere form. Though he was poor and his income small, 
 he at once assumed his full share of the financial bur- 
 dens of the church and met it promptly. He also 
 shared liberally with his brethren in meeting all the 
 calls of benevolence that were addressed to them. The 
 appointments of the church he regarded as including 
 him. He gave his pastor the support of his presence, 
 and his earnest attention and sympathy twice on the 
 Sabbath, and twice during the week. Whoever else was 
 absent I always expected to see him in his pew Sabbath 
 morning and evening, and in his seat at the Wednesday 
 evening lecture, and Friday evening prayer meeting. 
 If called to go elsewhere to do Christian work his habit 
 was to inform me, that I should not be disappointed 
 because his place was vacant. In the prayer-meeting 
 he was one of the best helpers I ever knew. He knew 
 
; 
 
 84 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RESIDENCE IN PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 85 
 
 how to speak ''a word in season." He displayed 
 wonderful tact; the power to adapt himself to the needs 
 of a meeting. When the pastor introduced a thought 
 or subject for the meeting, he was ready to follow in the 
 same line. His rapid thought and ready utterance, his 
 genial spirit and deep Christian love, gave him great 
 power in a prayer-meeting talk. Some of the most 
 fervid, stirring, melting appeals 1 have ever heard fell 
 from his lips in these services. 
 
 He was with us, during a rich harvest season in the 
 church. For three years we had constantly in the con- 
 gregation anxious inquirers and rejoicing converts, and 
 baptisms occurred almost monthly during the entire 
 time. The work began in the Autumn of 1855 and 
 culminated in the great revival season of 1857-8. In 
 carrying forward this great work after the first year, 
 Mr. Dickerson was my constant and faithful helper. 
 He taught a young ladies' Bible class, for whose religious 
 welfare he labored most earnestly. He was with me in 
 the inquiry meeting, among the converts, and in the 
 more public services. That he won many precious souls 
 to Christ during that remarkable season of relijrious 
 interest, who will at last shine as stars in his crown of 
 rejoicing, 1 have no doubt. 
 
 As may readily be inferred from the above Mr. Dick- 
 erson was loyal as a layman to his pastor. He knew 
 how to hold up the hands of his pastor, and how to 
 encourage his heart. He was not afraid or ashamed, on 
 the one hand, occasionally to speak an appreciative 
 word of a sermon or even of a prayer-meeting talk, or, 
 on the other, to make a suggestion to the pastor privately^ 
 upon any point where he thought the public services 
 could be improved. He was constant and earnest in 
 
 his endeavors to make his pastor strong in the church 
 and the community 
 
 One chapter in the life of Mr. Dickerson, perhaps 
 more than any other, endeared him to me and revealed 
 the true manhood of the man. In the Spring of 1858 
 I found myself broken down from overwork, and my 
 church gave me leave of absence for a half year to 
 recruit. I at once determined upon a tour in Europe. 
 Mr. Dickerson cheerfullv consented to act as chairman 
 of the committee on pulpit supply during my absence. 
 His position in the Publication rooms gave him peculiar 
 facilities for doing the work. Before leaving home I 
 arranged with the pastors of the city so that it was easy 
 for him to supply the pulpit the first half of the time 
 of my absence, but the supply of the last half was 
 practically left in his hands. I had often talked with 
 him about making the trial of preaching, as I knew how 
 his heart yearned for the work, but his bronchial trouble 
 was so constant tUijj^he feared to make the attempt. Even 
 the prayer- meeting talks mentioned above often gave 
 him nights of great suffering. In talking with him about 
 the supply of the pulpit during the last months of my 
 absence, 1 said : " Brother Dickerson, preach yourself." 
 When he urjred the condition of his throat as a reason 
 why he could not attempt it, I replied that he was 
 ainonir his friends who honored and loved him; that he 
 need not go beyond his strength; that a brief service, 
 such as he could conduct, would be much more accept- 
 able to the people than other supplies that he might be 
 obliged to accept. Months passed; the pastoral supplies 
 for which I had arranged were exhausted; and Mr. Dick- 
 erson found it not easy to meet the demands of a large 
 congregation from Sabbath to Sabbath with such sup- 
 
 \^\ 
 
86 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 I 
 
 I ; 
 
 plies as he could secure. At length a Saturday came 
 when he had no supply engaged for the next day nor 
 did he know where to find one. When considering: 
 what he should do he remembered the words " preach 
 yourself," and he resolved that he would make the 
 attempt. As he said to me afterwards, " 1 thought I 
 could but fail; if my voice left me the people would 
 know why I did not complete the service, and, in any 
 event I should show my good will." For years he had 
 been accustomed to make notes or outlines of sermons 
 in connection with his Bible-reading, for his own grati- 
 fication (so fully was his heart in sympathy with the 
 work of preaching), with no thought of ever being a})le 
 to use them in the pulpit. He went early to his home 
 that Saturday and made what preparation he could from 
 some of these notes or outlines for the next dav. 
 
 The Sabbath came, a beautiful autumnal Sabbath, 
 and a large congregation met him. He preached with 
 unexpected ease to himself, and to #» great delight of 
 the people. After the labors of the day, he said he 
 suffered less than he had often done after a simple 
 prayer-meeting talk. This settled the question of sup- 
 plies. The people took the matter into their own 
 hands; they rallied around him with a new interest; he 
 preached Sabbath after Sabbath with increasing ease to 
 himself, and to the great satisfaction of the church. It 
 was like a revelation to him that he was so far able to 
 surmount his bodily infirmity as to engage in the work 
 to which he had early given his life, but from which he 
 had been so long deterred. He was preaching to a 
 church where his personal popularity was almost 
 unbounded, and when the pastor was thousands of 
 miles away. And here he revealed his true manhood. 
 No service was allowed to pass without the most aflPec- 
 
 a^Il. !!«.«. WUIL J 
 
 RESIDENCE IN PHILA-DELPHIA. 
 
 87 
 
 tionate remembrance of the absent pastor. He sought 
 in every way to keep the pastor in his true position in 
 the church, and to prepare the way for him to resume 
 his work on his return. What he had been in my 
 presence he was in my absence, and even more. On my 
 return he was the first man to greet me with a "welcome 
 home," and none seemed more glad than he to see me 
 again in my own pulpit. 
 
 After this Mr. Dickerson was frequently invited to 
 preach for diff'erent churches, and I have always regarded 
 this experience as helping to prepare the way for his 
 entrance upon the work of the ministry, to which he 
 devoted the best years of his life, and in which he 
 enjoyed so signally the smiles of Heaven. 
 
 In talking over our experience in Philadelphia, as we 
 have often done in later years. Dr. Dickerson has said 
 to me more than once in his humorous, playful manner: 
 " My dear brother, I could easily have unsettled you in 
 the Eleventh Church when I was preaching there, and 
 you were in Europe. ' Possession is nine points in the 
 law,' and I had possession while you were so far away 
 that you could not interfere;" and then he would add 
 seriously, " I should have despised myself while I lived 
 had I not been true to the trust you reposed in me." 
 I may add that absent pastors do not always find such 
 fidelity in those whom they leave behind. 
 
 Mr. Dickerson bought the Christimi Chronicle and 
 became its editor and publisher. He was engaged upon 
 this when he began to preach for the church in Wil- 
 mington, and continued it until he was satisfied that it 
 was safe for him to settle as pastor, and devote himself 
 wholly to the work of the ministry. With his surrender 
 of the Chronicle he closed his labors in his native city, 
 henceforth to take his place in the ranks of settled 
 
 

 88 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 i 
 
 pastors, leaving behind him a great number of warmly 
 attached friends, not a few of whom preceded him to 
 the heavenly land. 
 
 I have thus complied with your request to furnish 
 you something of the life of your lamented husband in 
 Philadelphia, for the memorial volume. You are at per- 
 fect liberty to use it or not as will best serve your 
 purpose. Yours fraternally, 
 
 D. B. Cheney. 
 
 Chicago, October 5, 1877. 
 
 / 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LAST YEAR IN PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 In the year 1859, Dr. Cheney, Mr. Dickerson's 
 pastor, was given leave of absence for six months 
 to travel in Europe, a committee being appointed to 
 procure supplies for the pulpit during his absence, 
 at the expense of the church. Mr. Dickerson, effi- 
 cient as he was, and a favorite in the church, was 
 made chairman of the committee. To relieve him, 
 however, of care. Dr. Cheney himself, before his 
 departure, saw a number of the Philadelphia pastors 
 and engaged a supply for nearly three months of 
 the time, Mr. Dickerson being expected to notify 
 them of the day of their expected service, and for 
 the remaining period of the pastor's absence to take 
 himself the responsibility of procuring the required 
 supplies. It happened that, soon after the previously 
 engaged sources of supply had been exhausted, 
 there came a time when no preacher could be found 
 for the coming Sabbath. Plenty of clergymen 
 "looked in" at the editor's office during the week, 
 and assisted him abundantly in consuming with 
 pleasant chat his valuable time, but none of them 
 was found " available " for his needs on the Sabbath, 
 as each had his own flock to look after. On Saturday 
 afternoon Mr. Dickerson found himself obliged, as 
 the only solution of the problem, to face the alter- 
 
 89 
 
90 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 
 native of entering the pulpit himself. This was not 
 exactly what he had bargained for with the absent 
 pastor: long disuse had made preaching look for- 
 midable, and wellnigh an impossibility. But there 
 was no escaping it. He went home Saturday 
 afternoon, made his appeal for help to the well- 
 known and faithful Helper, selected for the next 
 day and re-studied a couple of sermons of which he 
 had prepared the outline in former years, and on the 
 following dav, with a brave but trembling heart, 
 ascended to the pulpit. His Helper did not fail him : 
 the church were so delighted with the sermons that 
 they immediately voted to request him to continue 
 to preach for them until their pastor's return. He 
 complied with their request, and thus re-entered, in 
 a providential way that seemed accidental, that form 
 of Christian work which had formerly been the 
 object of his warmest aspirings ; which for years past 
 he had looked upon regretfully as a closed Eden ; 
 but which from this time was to be the joyful 
 occupation, and to task the highest energies, of his 
 life. The sermons which he preached on this 
 occasion had been roughly sketched at Hamilton, 
 and in breadth and power fell far below multitudes, 
 perhaps the average, of his sermons in later years ; 
 yet we venture to give a few paragraphs from them, 
 as furnishing some idea of the impressiveness of 
 thought and diction, which so many delightedly 
 remember as associated with an equally earnest and 
 impressive delivery. In his highest and best moods 
 Mr. Dickerson not unfrequently became in the 
 pulpit almost sublimely eloquent. 
 
 
 LAST YEAR IN PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 91 
 
 ' 
 
 
 One of the two sermons was from the text, " In 
 the place where the tree falleth there it shall be ;" 
 the other from the words, ^' I would not live alway." 
 In the former, after describing a forest where were 
 living and dead trees, some decaying where they 
 had fallen, he says : *' Such is the beautiful figure' in 
 which inspiration has stated the solemn and momen- 
 tous truth of our text. And what is that truth ? It 
 is this : Men are likened unto trees, and death the 
 power whicli fells them. And as men die, so they 
 must forever be. Whatever the moral condition of 
 a man when he falls in death, that will be his moral 
 condition forever. * * * This was the sublime 
 truth enunciated to the rapt evangelist when the 
 apocalyptic angel cried, '' He that is filthy, let him 
 be filthy still ; and he that is holy, let him be holy 
 still." * * * 
 
 Then he unfolds the truth of the text under two 
 propositions : 
 
 1st. The tendencies of man's moral nature are 
 downward ; and 
 
 2d. That death in no way affects the operation 
 of this law : that it can neither stop nor change its 
 action. In the summing up, he says : 
 
 If a person die whose nature has been renewed by 
 divine grace, then forever will this new principle be 
 developing in that soul in higher and still higher forms 
 of moral perfection. But if the contrary be true, what 
 then? If man's nature is downward, if death does not 
 change that tendency, then if death overtakes us while 
 yet in our sins, eternally beyond the grave will our 
 natures be unrenewed, and that law of degenerate pro- 
 
 h 
 
92 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 I 
 
 gression be in perpetual exercise. We are not speaking 
 of the eternal putiiskment of the wicked, but of their 
 eternal enmity to God. That enmity is gross during their 
 lives, but at death it begins a career of unrestrained and 
 increasing perversity, growing more and more bitter, 
 more and more malignant as the ages of eternity unfold. 
 But think you there can be happiness for such a spirit in 
 anv realm of Heaven? Would not such a spirit make 
 Hell its chosen hiding-place? Say you such a soul will 
 be punished, but not forever; it will be purged, and 
 purified and fitted for Heaven! Sad and fatal delusion! 
 Tell me, if ye can, how long will be the duration of 
 such an experiment? Unfit for Heaven at death, the 
 soul will be turned into perdition — and, if at death 
 deserving of flames, and if in its nature becoming worse 
 and worse, sinking deeper and deeper in the gulf of the 
 lost, tell me, I pray you, how long this terrible progress 
 in all that is vile shall deepen its guilt before it will be 
 pure enough for Heaven? How long shall the banished 
 spirit urge its downward flight in the deep, dark, bottom- 
 less abyss before it shall reach the shining portals of the 
 heavenly city? 
 
 No, no, no; Mercy, blessed messenger of Jesus, knows 
 no such way to pilot souls to Heaven as takes them 
 through the burning tide of some future Hell! On this 
 side the grave she calls them with the sweetest tones; all 
 the day long she pleads, and her mantle is wet with the 
 damps of the night, and the dew of the morning. 
 
 Cold mountains and the midnight air, 
 Witness the fervor of her prayer. 
 
 She cries after men down to the very borders of the 
 grave, but there she pauses— they pass beyond her reach 
 — she looks after them across the dreary waste of eternal 
 years — she weeps— but can not follow! All her many 
 
 7 
 
 LAST YEAR IN PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 93 
 
 
 4 
 
 gracious influences which rendered life one long 
 continued season of pleading and restraint she now 
 withdraws forever. Oh, dear sinner, remember, remem- 
 ber, that when the second death shall stretch its pall 
 over thy condemned spirit, all these calls and oppor- 
 tunities of mercy thou wilt forever miss! In vain wilt 
 thou look through the gathering gloom for some ray of 
 light. The heavens which stretched above thine 
 earthly pathway, were radiant with ten thousand starry 
 hopes, but now every star has faded from the sky — 
 and when at death the last one set — hope for thy soul 
 went out forever. 
 
 I can see him as with a sad face he stated these 
 solemn truths, and then his countenance brightening, 
 with a beaming, winning smile, he said : 
 
 But, thanks be unto God, ye are not dead, but 
 living. Still it is a time of hope ; still unto you 
 the messages of mercy are given, and Jesus stands with 
 open and inviting arms. Will you not fly from sin and 
 danger, and through Jesus secure the hopes which now 
 hang suspended upon the brittle thread of time? Oh, 
 decide wisely, decide now! For while death 5ea/6^ our 
 opportunities, the Spirit sometimes leaves us eve?i before 
 ice die, and we thus anticipate our doom before we hear 
 its awful decisions thundering in our guilty ears. How 
 fearful will be that trumpet blast as the scenes of the 
 judgment close, and the wicked dead shall hear the angel 
 cry, as they rise from impenitent graves, " He that is 
 filthy, let him be filthy still." And the ages, as they 
 roll their unending cycles through eternity, shall but echo 
 God's approval of the verdict, " Filthy still, filthy still; " 
 while the tormented spirit, ever conscious of its 
 increasing and malignant hate of all things pure and 
 
94 
 
 JAMES S. DTCKERSON. 
 
 ^ 
 
 LA.ST YEAR IN PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 95 
 
 beautiful and true, will mutter with weeping and wail- 
 ing its verdict and its doom, " Filthy still, filthy still! " 
 
 In the sermon from the text '' I would not live 
 alway," after describing Job, his afflictions and his 
 patience, he divides his subject thus, under the gen- 
 eral theme, ''Why is it that the Christian often 
 exclaims — I would not live alway? " 
 
 1. This is a life of sin. 
 
 2. This is a life of trouble. 
 
 3. This is a life of labor and toil. 
 
 4. Death has no terrors. 
 
 5. Finally, his reward is in the life to come. 
 
 We quote from under the two last heads, one of 
 which, where he describes the death of the Christian, 
 was prophetic of his own. 
 
 4. Death has no terrors. 
 
 To the natural heart, death is indeed the King of 
 Terrors; among all the ranks of the ungodly, none can 
 be found who dares to meet him. At his approach the 
 lips of the boldest blasphemers turn white with fear; the 
 stoutest knees will tremble, the stoutest heart will quail. 
 AH that appertains to death is regarded with instinctive 
 (]read — the death chamber, the shroud, the coffin, the 
 mournful knell, all strike apprehension to the uncon- 
 verted soul. And it is not str<uuje ! Who would 
 not tremble as he sees the last coil of time running out 
 that is to leave him amid a starless night, adrift, upon the 
 trackless, shoreless ocean— Eternity ! Who would not 
 tremble as he is about to approach that great white 
 throne, and sees already the lightnings of God's wrath, 
 and hears ringrinsc in his ears eternity's awful knell — 
 depart! depart! Yes, yes, the impenitent sinner may 
 
 :/■ 
 
 i 
 
 ' 
 
 well tremble here! In the enjoyment of God's bless- 
 ings, in life and in health, he could put on courage, and 
 set all irood influences at defiance ; could smile at the 
 entreaties of God's people and make their prayers a 
 jest ; and could resist with much apparent boldness 
 God's pleading Spirit. But when death approaches, he 
 cries aloud with alarm; he shrieks in terror ; his 
 affrighted and guilty spirit flutters like a bird in the 
 hands of the fowler, and he dies in fear. But who 
 is this that amid all the solemnity of life's last scene, 
 when the dying hour is almost spent, when earth is re- 
 ceding from his view, and the realities of eternity are 
 dimly reflected in his glassy eye; who is this that 
 whispers, "Death has no terrors?" Who is this that 
 grows calm, while others mourn and are troubled? Who 
 is this that smiles, while others broken-hearted weep in an 
 agony of grief ? Need I say, it is the Christ-pardoned, 
 Christ-supported one? To him death is a vanquished 
 foe; dying is the last struggle which secures the 
 crown; the cutting of the cord which binds his fluttering 
 spirit, struggling to be free ; the crossing of the Jordan 
 to "that happy land of pure delight, where saints 
 immortal reign;" and amid the overflowings of the 
 cold waters, he shouts triumphantly, " I would not live 
 alway." 
 
 5. But finallv, his reward is in the life to come. 
 
 Although the true and faithful Christian is abundantly 
 repaid even in this life for all the sacrifices he is called 
 upon to make, he is taught to expect hereafter the far 
 more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. The 
 heaven of his hopes stands ever before the eye of his 
 faith, as did Canaan in all its varied loveliness before the 
 ravished eyes of Moses, as from the summits of Pisgah 
 he wishfully looked forth. 
 
 d 
 
96 
 
 JAMES 8. DICKERSON. 
 
 We have spoken of this life as one of sin, but the 
 Christian's life to come is one of perfect holiness. All 
 the sinful propensities of our nature which here are the 
 occasion of so much pain, will there be purged, and the 
 motives and emotions of the soul will be of the purest 
 and loftiest nature. The service of God, so imperfect on 
 earth, will be exchanged for the purer and nobler 
 employment of the redeemed in the presence of 
 Jeliovah ; and all the inhabitants of that celestial empire 
 will be engaged in them ; their eyes will no more see 
 sin, nor their hearts feel its anguish. Sin can never 
 enter there, but perfect holiness shall reign forever and 
 ever. 
 
 We have said that this life is one of trouble; the life 
 beyond is to the Christian infinite in its enjoyments. 
 All tears will there be wiped away, no trouble there — 
 no partings — no bereavements — no bitter disap- 
 pointments — no sad regrets. * * * '^q jarring 
 word will be .heard in all their acclamations of 
 praise ; no discordant note in all their songs of 
 joy. But noblest, richest, rarest pleasure of them all, 
 Christ Jesus will be there^ Christ the glorified, and 
 Christ the triumphant. But will He then remember 
 and love His earth-born people? When on His glorious 
 and all - resplendent throne, when all the myriads of 
 angels, the cherubim and the seraphim, the flaming 
 spirits of His august court, the countless ranks and 
 armies of the skies are about Him as a pavilion, will He 
 then remember me? a poor sinner of earth, saved only 
 by His extremest grace! O, yes, oh, yes! and as His e3'e 
 of love shall fall on me, and as he hears mv feeble crv — 
 hushed will be the rustling of angelic wings, hushed 
 their voice of praise, hushed every echoing harp, and 
 Heaven shall be still. Then in His presence, at his feet, 
 
 LAST YEAR IN PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 97 
 
 '\ 
 
 will I, as a thousand times before, repeat my simple 
 
 prayer, 
 
 Just as I am, without one plea, 
 But that Thy blood was shed for me, 
 And that Thou bidst me come to Thee, 
 O Lamb of God, I come, 1 come ! 
 
 Then when my Christ shall say, " Come in, thou 
 blessed of the Lord," the listening host shall shout a 
 glad " Amen," and Heaven shall be joyful in its praise 
 of that grace which could save a wretch like me. Such 
 a welcome, brethren beloved, awaits us all. How 
 natural and how delightful to anticipate the crowning 
 glory of that expected hour ! We have spoken of the 
 present as a life of toil ; that upon which we hope to 
 enter, is one of everlasting rest. Not of indolence or 
 sloth, but of happy exemption from wearisome labor and 
 exhausting toil. The powers of the soul will all be 
 enlisted, but in that alone which will contribute to its 
 highest development and its greatest felicity. He who 
 from the heights of Heaven looks back upon earth will 
 remember it as the place where his work was finished. 
 When there, all was labor and toil, but when earth 
 passed away, those labors ceased. The good seed had 
 been sown; the harvests of redemption had been gath- 
 ered, until the millennial splendors burst upon the 
 astonished world, and angels shouted their "Harvest 
 Home." But now the tired workman may rest within 
 the garner of his Lord, and enjoy the full fruition of his 
 earthly toil. 
 
 Is this then the Christian's prospect, the Christian's 
 hope, the Christian's rich and sure reward? O, how can 
 he but anticipate and long for it? And how delightful 
 and tranquilizing must the influence of this expected 
 heritage be upon his spirit while suffering the bondage 
 
98 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 of time ! Oh, my brethren, let us not cling so eagerly 
 to life ; let us not stand so in fear of death ; let us not 
 hesitate at sacrifices, or shrink from the labors and 
 duties of time, but take hold of and by faith enjoy all 
 that is laid up in store for us through the abounding 
 mercy and goodness of the Saviour ! Thus will our 
 affections be weaned away from eartli and placed on 
 Heaven, and on Him whose presence, majesty, and love 
 lend to Heaven all its charms ! 
 
 To the satisfaction and indeed the delight of the 
 church, Mr. Dickerson continued his preaching for 
 them until the return of Dr. Cheney, who then 
 playfully informed him that he considered there 
 was little chance for himself, as his temporary sub- 
 stitute had entirely led captive the affections of the 
 people. Mr. Dickerson, however, was not a man to 
 encourage division ; the returned pastor readily re- 
 sumed his place in the hearts of his people ; and 
 Mr. Dickerson, cheerfully resigning his lieutenancy, 
 found ample occasion for continuing his preaching 
 in pulpits temporarily vacated through the sickness 
 or absence of their habitual occupants. 
 
 Soon after this, in 1860, he received an invitation 
 to supply the pulpit of the Second Baptist Church 
 in Wilmington, Del., for six months. As Wilming- 
 ton was but an hour's ride from Philadelphia, and 
 as he had experienced no apparent ill effect in his 
 throat and lungs during the several months of his 
 recent preaching, he accepted the invitation. He 
 preached for the church regularly, except when occa- 
 sionally giving way to persons who came to preach 
 aa candidates, but with no thought of appearing as 
 
 ^ 
 
 LAST YEAU IX PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 99 
 
 ^ 
 
 a candidate himself. He found, indeed, to his sur- 
 prise that, notwithstanding the expressed judgments 
 of physicians that the state of his throat would 
 never allow of his permanent public speaking, he 
 yet did not suffer sensibly from the practice, but 
 sometimes found himself rather better '' for a 
 good preach," and on the whole seemed to be 
 gaining in health and vigor. Matters at length 
 came to a decision. Toward the close of the year 
 the Wilmington Church held a meeting to discuss 
 the claims of candidates, but found none among 
 those who had appeared before them whom they 
 could unite in calling. At length the question arose 
 whether it might not be possible to induce him who 
 was now filling their pulpit temporarily to change 
 his relation into that of permanent pastor, the 
 opinion being expressed that they could unanimously 
 vote for him, as he was universally loved, and his 
 preaching was universally acceptable. The strong- 
 est doubts, however, were expressed as to thepossi- 
 bility of his being obtained, as it was well known 
 that he had relinquished his purpose of preaching, 
 and taken his present position, under very decided 
 medical advice. The church adjourned its meeting 
 therefore with little or no hope of securing him. 
 
 On the next day as Mr. Dickerson was on his way 
 to Wilmington he fell in with one of the most influ- 
 ential members of the Wilmington Church, who 
 informed him of the discussion of the night previ- 
 ous, and asked him if he would consent that his 
 name should come before them for the pastorate. 
 He replied that preaching was his delight beyond 
 
t 
 
 100 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 any other work which he could engage in, yet he 
 should hesitate to sell his paper, as in case of failure 
 it might be difficult for him to re-establish himself 
 
 in business. 
 
 "But," replied his friend, "you have been 
 preaching for us almost regularly for six months, 
 and you yourself declare your health to be better 
 than a year ago. What reason for supposing 
 that if you exchange your work as editor for that 
 of the pastorate, your health will be likely to 
 
 suffer?" 
 
 " That is a new view," said Mr. Dickerson, " and 
 something for me to think about. It may be that 
 God is opening the way to me for a life of preach- 
 ing." 
 
 He did think about it, and so did the church ; or 
 rather with no further thought about it than simply 
 to find him not indisposed to listen, they gave him, 
 Dec. 10th, 1860, a unanimous call, and he became 
 their pastor. He accepted it in January, the accept- 
 ance to take effect March 1, 1861. He had the 
 privilege of retaining for a year his newspaper, and 
 spending three days of the week in Philadelphia. 
 His income from the paper was $1,600.00 in 
 gold, and at the close of the year he relinquished 
 this for a salary of $1,000.00 in currency— not, from 
 a wordly point of view, a very profitable exchange. 
 But he sought — and we doubt not obtained — 
 the " durable riches" of righteousness, the treasure 
 in heaven that fadeth not away. The salary he 
 received during this period, however, he paid over to 
 
 LAST YEAR IN PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 101 
 
 J 
 
 Rev. Dr. J. Newton Brown, who became associate 
 editor of the paper. His arrangements being finally 
 completed, he removed, in the Spring, with his family 
 to Wilmington, and assumed the pastorate of the 
 Second Baptist Church in that city. 
 
 i 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BESIDENCE IN WlLlvnNGTON. 
 
 Mr. Dickerson had been but a short time in Wil- 
 mington before it became evident, both to himself and 
 others, that Providence had ordered the steps which 
 brought him thither, and was vindicating and stamp- 
 ing with its seal of approval, that crowning purpose 
 of his life which had linked it with the ministry 
 of the gospel. He speedily became the most popular 
 preacher in the place ; his Sabbath audiences in- 
 creased constantly ; the Sunday-school nearly dou- 
 bled itself ; and he was called on to speak on all 
 Sunday-school anniversaries, and other occasions of 
 public and religious interest. 
 
 Mr. Dickerson had, however, other duties which, 
 if, to the Christian minister, less ultimately and 
 transcendently important, were of even more obvious 
 and pressing public interest. To one who marked 
 carefully the course and issues of events, it could 
 scarcely be doubtful that the hand of God had 
 guided him to Wilmington, not only to promote 
 great spiritual, but also great public and patriotic 
 interests. The country was in the agony of an 
 opening civil war ; the powerful gripe of a great 
 armed rebellion was fastening itself upon her throat, 
 and under the alleged right of secession the South- 
 
 RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 103 
 
 i 
 
 
 ern States were rapidly banding themselves against 
 the Union. Mr. Dickerson had scarcely been a 
 month in Wilmington when the cannon fired upon 
 Fort Sumter plunged the nation into the dire reality 
 of civil war. Delaware was a slave State, and, 
 although in the northern county of Newcastle there 
 was a small Republican majority, and the population 
 was less intensely Southern in feeling and sympathy 
 than in the middle and southern counties, still Wil- 
 mington had many prominent citizens who were out- 
 spoken in their advocacy of State sovereignty and 
 slavery. So pronounced was this feeling in the com- 
 munity that amidst the excitement consequent upon 
 the fall of Sumter many loyal men were intimidated 
 into silence by the open sympathy of influential and 
 wealthy citizens with the rebellion. It was not so 
 with Mr. Dickerson. Young in years and small in 
 stature ; gentle, genial and kindly in manner and 
 disposition, he would have been judged by those 
 who knew him superficially as likely to be conserva- 
 tive in temper, shrinking from the advocacy of un- 
 popular views, and timid in resistance to the en- 
 croachments of wrong. No opinion could be more 
 erroneous. His small body enshrined the spirit of 
 a hero ; his genial manners, that seemed gentle as a 
 summer breeze, were united with a principle as sturdy 
 as the oak that defies the tempest ; and he speedily 
 came to be recognized as among the boldest men in 
 the State, unflinchingly sustaining the cause of the 
 Union, advocating loyalty to the Government, and 
 inspiring with its spirit his fellow-citizens. On Fri- 
 day, April 12th, Fort Sumter was attacked, and on the 
 
104 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 105 
 
 following Saturday such a wave of excitement swept 
 over the land as had probably not been known since 
 the days of the Revolution. On the afternoon of 
 that day Mr. Dickerson went to his study with a 
 heart fired with loyal zeal, and fully alive to the 
 character and magnitude of the struggle that had 
 commenced between freedom and slavery, loyalty 
 and treason, government and anarchy. He laid 
 aside the sermon which he had prepared for the com- 
 in^r Sabbath, and made full notes of a discourse on 
 " The Duties of the Hour." In the evening he saw 
 some of his members, who were loyal to the coun- 
 try, and informed them of the topic which he pro- 
 posed to discuss on the morrow, and requested that 
 the pulpit might be wreathed with the American 
 flag. Some opposed the fulfilling of his purpose ; 
 others were favorable, but timid ; while two or three 
 were willing, at the hazard of whatever sacrifice, to 
 stand by the Government. 
 
 It was quite a different matter in a city hovering 
 on the very verge of secession, and with a large and 
 powerful sentiment outspoken in its favor, to preach 
 a sermon of this kind, from what it was to preach 
 a like discourse in a Northern city. Even there the 
 patriotic support which the pulpit rendered to the 
 Government, the ready zeal with which the great 
 body of the clergy lent their powerful influence to 
 the cause of union and freedom, was by no means 
 to be lightly esteemed. But the eloquence that 
 found itself borne up, inflamed, and even anticipated, 
 by the burning enthusiasm of an entire congrega- 
 tion, and of an almost unanimous community, had 
 
 f 
 
 J 
 
 a far easier task than that which, with the very 
 billows of secession dashing angrily around it, was 
 poured out upon a timid, half-hearted, divided con- 
 gregation in which for a man to be an avowed and 
 unshaken Unionist was to be consciously a hero, and 
 
 SECOND BAPTIST CHURCH, 
 
 WILMINGTON, DEL. 
 
 possibly a martyr. Such were the elements that 
 surrounded Mr. Dickerson, and amidst which he 
 instantly, unflinchingly and unwaveringly took his 
 stand for the cause in which he deemed were bound 
 up the best interests of his country, A few, and 
 but a few, rallied nobly to his support. Some of his 
 members, knowing the excitement that prevailed in 
 
 
WBBBSSSSSmaB 
 
 ;£Qg JAMES S. DICKERSOK 
 
 the community, asked him if he woula nke to have 
 an armed guard by him in the church. He dechned 
 the proposal, preferring to trust to God and the right 
 for his protection. Some of the brethren, however, 
 without his knowledge, arranged that an armed force 
 should be present, both to shield him from attack, 
 and the church from threatened injury. He had the 
 theme of his sermon as widely advertised as possible, 
 hoping that it might benefit many outside of his 
 own congregation. 
 
 The Sabbath morning came, looked forward to by 
 many with great trepidation. A large assembly 
 gathered in his spacious church, and in the words of 
 another, '' with his pulpit decorated with the Na- 
 tional banner, and underneath the stars and stripes, 
 he met the great throng of his fellow-citizens ; and 
 to him belongs the honor of sounding out the first 
 notes of loyalty to his country's flag heard in the 
 city of Wilmington. His great popularity at the 
 time, and his words of ringing eloquence were a 
 mighty power for leading the public mind in the 
 ricrht direction." He stood up before the audience 
 (^mong whom he recognized many of his violent 
 opposers), and with his clear, musical, ringing voice 
 read the hymn beginning : 
 
 Lord, while for all mankind we pray, 
 
 Of every clime and coast, 
 O hear us for our native land, 
 
 The laud we love the most. 
 
 After an earnest, fervent prayer for the country, 
 especially in this dark hour, for the President and 
 all in authority, for the people that they might stand 
 
 KESIDEXCE IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 107 
 
 true and loyal, and cherish the heritage bought by 
 the blood of their fathers, another stirring hymn was 
 sung, and the preacher announced as his text Rom. 
 
 xiii. 1. 
 
 The sermon met the exigency ; it was thrillingly 
 eloquent. A few, during its delivery, evinced their 
 displeasure by leaving the house, the preacher paus- 
 ing in recognition of their withdrawal ; but no dis- 
 turbance occurred, and at the close the great assem- 
 bly rose, and in billowy chorus sang, as they had 
 never before sung, the patriotic hymn : 
 
 My country 'tis of thee, 
 Laud of the noble, free, 
 Of thee I sing. 
 
 We have enlarged a little on this scene as strik- 
 ingly illustrating Mr. Dickerson's fearlessness in 
 time of danger, and his fidelity to principle under the 
 most trying circumstances, as well as because it ini- 
 tiated a series of loyal and valuable services ren- 
 dered by him to the country during the dark times 
 that followed. In Wilmington and its neighbor- 
 hood, by unceasing patriotic and Christian activity ; 
 at Fort Delaware ; at the front as an oflScer of the 
 Christian Commission ; — everywhere that his bodily 
 or mental activity could make itself felt, he labored 
 for the country and the Union until the war closed 
 in the crushing of the rebellion. His service was 
 recognized widely in the State, and in remoter quar- 
 ters from which he dreamed of no such recognition, 
 rhe Government learned to value a loyalty to the 
 Union at once so staunch, so active, and so judicious ; 
 and President Lincoln paid him probably no more 
 
 !H 
 
EH 
 
 108 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 than a well deserved compliment when he said, 
 - That one, little, loyal, clear-headed Baptist minis- 
 ter of Wilmington, James S. Dickerson, saved Dela- 
 ware to the Union." Undoubtedly the little State 
 of Delaware, cast into the doubtful and trembling 
 balances of loyalty and secession, could scarcely add 
 a preponderant and decisive weight, to turn the 
 scale, and determine the issues of the great struggle. 
 The conflict was of too vast proportions for that : 
 half a continent was echoing with the din and reel- 
 ino- under the terrific shock of war. Yet, even then 
 it was no little thing — no small service rendered to 
 the cause of right and truth, to hold one small State 
 firm to its moorings that would otherwise have been 
 swept ofP by the raging tide of secession. This, it 
 is scarcely too much to say, Mr. Dickerson effected ; 
 and when it shall stand registered against his name 
 that in this dark hour of his country's peril and 
 agony " he did what he could," that what he could 
 will be found to have earned him from all who 
 rightly estimate noble deeds, a rich reward of grati- 
 tude and praise. We may add that Mr. Dickerson's 
 course here in Delaware in this political crisis was 
 but of a piece with his entire course of life as a 
 Christian minister. He did not reserve either his 
 zeal, his boldness, or his discretion, for a war of but 
 temporal, even though national, interests. It was m 
 the great battle between spiritual truth and error, 
 between holiness and sin, between moral freedom 
 and slavery, between the powers of eternal life and 
 eternal death, that he had primarily enlisted, and 
 that his supreme energies were called forth, and in 
 
 RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 109 
 
 behalf of these great interests alike now and in all 
 his later career, his devotion, his courage, and his 
 prudence never failed. Rarely, very rarely, indeed, 
 has there been so happily constituted a nature. The 
 genial and frolicksome companion was a moral hero. 
 His temper was buoyancy itself, his heart was affec- 
 tion, and his principles were adamant. 
 
 For months after the preaching of this sermon 
 Mr. Dickerson labored strenuously to instill into the 
 minds of the citizens loyal principles, by speeches at 
 mass-meetings, by editorials in the Wilmington pa- 
 pers, and by other means which his earnest patriotism 
 was fertile in suggesting. Thus, to his personal in- 
 fluence, his magnetism, and his eloquence, it was 
 very largely owing that in the following year, in 
 spite of the fiercest opposition, a Republican Gover- 
 nor was elected and inaugurated. 
 
 There was also one form of warlike experience of 
 which those of us who lived far in the Northern in- 
 terior can have little conception — this is the con- 
 stant excitement of a people through whose city 
 troops were almost daily passing on their way to the 
 field of action, while in reflex movement, and in too 
 nearly equal proportions, trains loaded with wounded 
 men on their way back to Northern hospitals, 
 stopped to secure for their suffering occupants rest 
 and refreshment. Wilmington, lying nearly on the 
 border land of the seat of war, was such a city. 
 For months the bell of the City Hall rang out daily, 
 and sometimes twice in the day, its well-known peal, 
 summoning the people to gather at the depot with hot 
 coffee, tea, and food for a train of wounded men ex- 
 
110 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 Ill 
 
 pected shortly to arrive ; and from all quarters of the 
 city of some twenty thousand inhabitants, loyal men, 
 women, and children were seen coming with their 
 baskets of food and cans of hot coffee, to comfort 
 and refresh the weary travelers, often crowded to- 
 gether on the floors of cattle-cars, often mutilated, 
 always sufFering, but generally patient, cheerful, and 
 heroic. Whatever happened to be cooked in the 
 houses for family use was at once taken to these sol- 
 diers, and delegations of noble women came with 
 cordials, bandages, and whatever was required for 
 their solace and refreshment. It happened that on 
 one Sabbath the Court House bell rang out just as 
 the church bells were summoning the people to the 
 house of prayer. The call of the former was of 
 course imperative ; the church-goers, taking their 
 nicely prepared Sunday dinners, turned their steps 
 towards the depot, and works of necessity and mercy 
 to the faint and suffering were undoubtedly accepted 
 on high in place of the pealing anthem and the 
 utterances of prayer and praise in the great congre- 
 gation. Audiences in the house of worship that 
 morning may have been -fit," but they certainly 
 were '^few." Mr. Dickerson preached to about 
 twenty persons, closed the service shortly after eleven 
 o'clock, and alike the pastor and his fragment of an 
 audience, hastened to join the larger body of good 
 Samaritans at the depot in offices of kindness to 
 these sufferers who, by more than the ordinary tie, 
 were their ''neighbors." 
 
 During the four years, from 1861 to 1865, Mr. 
 
 Dickerson and his wife were constantly active in de- 
 vising and carrying out plans to aid the soldiers. 
 Mrs. Dickerson was the treasurer of a society of 
 women who spent much time in preparing for them 
 articles of clothing, and who in a union effort worked 
 assiduously in preparing a table of useful and beauti- 
 ful articles for a great Sanitary Fair in Philadelphia, 
 in which Wilmington was most handsomely repre- 
 sented. Mr. Dickerson spent much time in visiting 
 the hospitals in Wilmington, conversing with the 
 soldiers, giving them religious counsel and reading, 
 and ministering in various ways to their personal 
 comfort. During one of those years he, with Gov. 
 Cannon and several other officials, was appointed to 
 escort President Lincoln in a special car from Wil- 
 mington to Philadelphia. He had much conversa- 
 tion with the President on the subject of the war, 
 and the latter treated him alike with fraternal 
 familiarity and as an honored guest, and publicly 
 recognized the valuable service which he had ren- 
 dered to the Government. 
 
 But while Mr. Dickerson's entire political sym- 
 pathies were thus enlisted on behalf of the Govern- 
 ment, and he was what might be called a radical 
 Republican, as a Christian minister he knew no po- 
 litical or party lines. To all, of every shade of 
 opinion, he was equally anxious to furnish the bread 
 of life. Some thousands of rebel prisoners were 
 confined in the neighboring Fort Delaware, and to 
 these he desired to give spiritual comfort and 
 instruction. He asked, therefore, from the military 
 
RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 113 
 
 '] 
 
 \ 
 
 112 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 commander in Wilmington the privilege of going to 
 the Fort for this purpose, and received in response 
 the following document : 
 
 Headquarters Military Commander, 
 Wilmington, Delaware, July 22, 1803. 
 
 Brigadier General A. Schoepf, 
 
 Comma?iding Fort Delaware. 
 General : The pious zeal of the Rev. James S. 
 Dickerson has induced him to ask to be permitted to 
 visit the Fort, and, with your sanction, offer to the rebel 
 prisoners such ghostly comfort, loyal counsel, and reli- 
 gious reading as may best conduce to their temporal and 
 spiritual welfare. He has been appointed by Col. Mc- 
 Comb as chaplain to his regiment, but was never regu- 
 larly mustered into service. He is the pastor of one of 
 the" Baptist churches of this city, and a gentleman in 
 whom I have every confidence, and for whom I entertain 
 sincere respect. Very respectfully, 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 
 Henry B. Judd, 
 
 Major U. S. Army and Military Commander. 
 
 On Wednesday Mr. Dickerson received this per- 
 mission to go to the Fort, and on Friday he went 
 there, remaining until the following .Tuesday. He 
 talked with very many of the prisoners, gave them 
 good counsel and good reading, and held one ever- 
 to-be-remembered service on the Sabbath. There 
 had been ten thousand prisoners there; withm 
 a short period three thousand of the number 
 had been exchanged, so that there were still 
 seven thousand within the enclosure of the fort, 
 and a sadder-looking, and more disconsolate 
 
 company could scarcely be imagined. On Sunday, 
 the 26th of July, one of the most sultry days of the 
 season, he proposed preaching to them all, but on 
 account of the intense heat could not gather them 
 together in the open court until near sunset. As they 
 filed into the enclosure by hundreds until about seven 
 thousand men wearing the gray uniform stood ready 
 to hear the gospel from the lips of an anti-slavery, Re- 
 publican, loyal minister, the commander of the Fort 
 stepped up to Mr. Dickerson and asked him how 
 much of a guard he would like about him as he went 
 into the enclosure. He replied : . 
 
 '^ I don't want any guard at all." 
 
 '' You know where you are going, don't you — 
 among seven thousand rebels ?" 
 
 '' Yes," he replied, '' but I am not going there as 
 a Northern man against Southerners, or as a loyal 
 man against rebels, but as a Christian minister to 
 preach the gospel of Christ. Just send in a big dry- 
 goods box that I can stand on, so that they can see 
 and hear me, and that is all I want." 
 
 The box was carried in. and Mr. Dickerson 
 climbed upon it. Before he began to preach he told 
 the prisoners who he was, a minister from Wilming- 
 ton, and a man loyal to the Union. 
 
 ''But," said he, " I have not come to talk to you 
 as rebels, nor to discuss political questions. State 
 rights, the Confederacy and the Government. But, 
 as we are all rebels, both the blue coats and the gray 
 ones, the Northerners and the Southerners, against 
 the Lord of Hosts and His government, I have come 
 to tell you how you can be reinstated in His favor, 
 
 t \ 
 
114 
 
 JAMES S. DICKEKSON. 
 
 become His willing subjects, and, enlisting in the 
 army of King Jesus, whose armies are the only ones 
 that are victorious over every foe, come off con- 
 querors at last." 
 
 " And now," said he, '4et us sing together one or 
 two sweet hymns in which we can all join, which you 
 have heard many a time in your Southern homes, 
 and sung perhaps by your own happy firesides. I 
 have chosen those which I think you will know, and 
 now let everyone that can sing join with us in that 
 grand old hymn ' Jesus, lover of my soul.' " 
 
 He commenced it, while the men, many of them 
 with husky voices and tear-filled eyes joined with 
 him, even to the remotest lines of the assembly. 
 He then gave out another, "There is a fountain 
 filled with blood," which they sang most heartily. 
 He then preached to them a plain and practical ser- 
 mon from the text '' There is joy in the presence of 
 the Angels of God over one sinner that repenteth." 
 His power of graphic description, and familiar and 
 forcible illustration ; his fervid earnestness united 
 with a graceful and impressive elocution, sent the 
 great truths which he uttered right home to the 
 hearts of the hearers. The great audience listened 
 thrilled and spell-bound to the close, and to the final 
 appeal in which he pleaded with them to forsake the 
 service of sin and enlist under t)ie banner of the 
 cross, thus bringing joy alike to the heavenly 
 hosts, and to many dear ones far away, who might 
 even then be praying at their bereaved hearths for 
 those who were exiled at once from their earthly 
 and their heavenly home. Many of the hearers 
 
 ? 
 
 RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 115 
 
 melted into tears, and when he asked that all those 
 who loved the Savior and were enlisted in his ser- 
 vice should raise their hands, hundreds were up-r 
 lifted ; and when again lie asked that all who would 
 wish to begin a new life, and take Jesus as the Cap- 
 tain of their salvation, should raise the hand, through 
 the whole immense throng a sea of upraised hands 
 could be discerned amidst the gathering shadows. 
 They then sang successively the hymns, " Come, ye 
 sinners, poor and wretched," and " Children of the 
 heavenly King," (the latter always a favorite,) after 
 which he told them how glad he was of this oppor- 
 tunity of addressing them, thanked them for their 
 quietness and attention, and, promising to visit them 
 again, proposed that they unite in singing the hymn : 
 
 All hail the power of Jesus' name, 
 
 Let angels prostrate fall ; 
 Bring forth the royal diadem, 
 
 And crown him Lord of all ; 
 
 which they did, and from multitudes of lips and 
 hearts that glorious Coronation hymn floated on the 
 evening air over this vast assemblage of imprisoned 
 exiles. Many hearts were drawn towards him in 
 tender sympathy ; they gathered around him as he 
 descended from his extemporized pulpit with stream- 
 ing eyes and grateful words, and followed him 
 (whom a little before it was deemed necessary to 
 shield from their hostility with an armed guard) 
 with loving looks as he passed from the enclosure to 
 his apartments in the Fort. This was his first visit 
 to them, but by no means his last ; although he did 
 not again address here so large an audience. 
 
116 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 117 
 
 In April of this year he was enrolled as chaplain 
 of the Fifth Delaware Regiment. The next year 
 (May 12, 1864) he was appointed by the U. S. 
 Christian Commission to go to the front to care for 
 the wounded soldiers ; and he spent about two 
 months in and near Fredericksburg. Some few of 
 his notes it may be interesting to glance at, which 
 he jotted down hastily in pencil, wherever it hap- 
 pened, in the hospital or in the field. 
 
 Mrs. Ehzabeth H. Stuart, Jackson, Michigan. Hus- 
 band wounded on the right side, below the shoulder, not 
 very seriously — is getting along well. Will try to get 
 a furlough. John H. Stuart. 
 
 George H. Sears. Write to Mrs. Cor. Sears, his 
 mother.'' N. Adams, Mass. Wounded in left thigh — 
 serious but not dangerous, on Thursday, the l-2th — get- 
 ting on pretty well— love to F. and M. - and little 
 Elk and Charlie. Clings to his hope in the Savior. 
 
 Write to Pike Mills, Potter Co., Pa. Elliot Kilbourn, 
 to his father, Jno. M. Kilbourn — wounded on the 12th, 
 right leg off above the knee - getting on bravely — is 
 in^'a store. Love to all, especially little Hattie. Won't 
 be discharged till my time is up, three years from April. 
 Don't be discouraged, father. 
 
 Samuel Steen, to his mother, Mrs. Ann Steen, New 
 Castle P. O., Pa. Right leg off above the knee — look- 
 ing brighter to-day — tell his mother and brother *' don't 
 fret about me" (tears rolling down his cheeks). 
 
 Asa Hamrick (rebel) to his wife, Mrs. R. C. Hamrick, 
 Shelby, N. C. Was wounded in the left leg — off above 
 the knee. Care of Gen. Winder, Richmond, Va. Is 
 well treated and getting along. 
 
 Ira C. Kitch, to his wife, Martha J. Kitch, Anderson- 
 
 ville. Pa. In the right shoulder — serious, but not dan- 
 gerous - getting along pretty well. Has four children 
 — his hope is strong. He prays for you. I gave him 
 Ada's Testament. 
 
 Buried to-day, H. W. Reider, 1st Reg. Me., died May 
 22 18G4. On Monday went to the battle ;. on Tuesday 
 in the hospital ; on Sunday dead. 
 
 S. J. Allen, 17th Vermont Reg't, May 22, 1864. Se- 
 verely wounded in the leg. Alive at 11:35 a. m., 
 buried at 5 p. m. His wife, Mrs. Mary Allen, Morris- 
 
 ville, Vt. , .. 1^ w 
 
 An Indian, from Ottawa. Simon Geshey, Co.. K. ist 
 
 Mich. Sharpshooters, and Peter Buckshot, from the 
 
 Seven Nations, 0th N. H. 
 
 Scene in Quartermaster Boyd's tent, when the mail 
 came in with letters for several dead officers and men. 
 
 The Indian warrior. Severely wounded in the ab- 
 domen. I talked with him, and he said with clasped 
 hands, " Yes, the Heavenly God " — and died. 
 
 "Rally round the Flag."— The poor fellow, under the 
 influence of chloroform, after a little wavering, moaning 
 and groaning, sang " Rally round the flag, boys," while 
 the amputation was going on. 
 
 The 1st Maine, and also a Mass. company, in magnih- 
 cent array on Monday, and on Tuesday broken, wounded, 
 dying and dead in our hospitals. 
 
 Belle Plain. A man struck and wounded with a shell. 
 He asked for a testament and gave his heart to God. 
 
 Temperance. The man whose back was ploughed 
 with a shell from his shoulder to his hip —it was dressed 
 without a murmur or a groan— not a drop of whisky 
 
 would he take. , 
 
 The singing up stairs in the hospital. Hearing the 
 sweet strains led a man to the Savior in the room below. 
 

 118 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 The sick soldier in the Convent Hospital, Fredericks- 
 burg. Wounded — faint — perhaps dying. " Will you 
 have something to drink ?" " O no, sir, I can't drink 
 
 rum. 
 
 ?> 
 
 These, no doubt, are similar to the notes of all 
 the officers of the Christian Commission, but will 
 give an idea of the work he was doing there, and 
 show what a strain there must have been on his deli- 
 cate body, and his sensitive and sympathetic nature. 
 Shortly after his return to Wilmington the Phil., 
 Wil. & Bait. Railroad was threatened, and on Sunday 
 morning notices were sent to all the churches like 
 the following, which Mr. D. received: 
 
 Headquarters Military Commander, 
 Wilmington, Delaware, July 10, 1864. 
 
 Citizens are earnestly requested to enroll their names 
 and organize into companies of not less than eighty-two 
 men for the defense of the Phil., Wil. & Bait. Railroad. 
 
 Companies will be accepted for thirty days or the 
 emergency, and will be mustered as sood as the proper 
 number of men is reported to this office. Immediate 
 action is necessary. 
 
 Henry B. Judd, 
 
 Major 17. S. Army and Military Commander. 
 
 Note. — The City Hall bell will be rung for a meeting 
 of citizens at the hall at 12^ o'clock to-day. 
 To the Pastor, 
 
 2d Baptist Church, Wilmington, Del. 
 (Please read this at the close of the services.) 
 
 A letter written by his wife soon after to the editor 
 of this memoir speaks of the general excitement, of 
 
 RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 119 
 
 ■(► 
 
 
 the ordering off of the Fifth Delaware Regiment on 
 a Sunday, and the strange appearance of the city as 
 they came from church, while the drums were beat- 
 ing, the fifes playing, soldiers marching, and every- 
 thing utterly unlike a Sabbath day. She adds that 
 Mr. Dickerson has overworked, has been holding 
 two or three meetings a week at the hospitals, and 
 doing so much in every way that he must have a 
 long rest. 
 
 During these years there was no one who labored 
 with Mr. Dickerson so constantly and so loyally as 
 the Rev. Dr. Aikman, pastor of one of the Presby- 
 terian churches in Wilmington. From Aurora, New 
 York, Dr. Aikman sends me the following letter, 
 which portrays the political condition of the State, 
 and gives some account of the loyal work which 
 was done by these two congenial spirits. In a note 
 accompanying the letter Dr. Aikman writes : '' I am 
 painfully apprehensive that what I have been able 
 to write in regard to Mr. Dickerson will not be 
 satisfactory to you, even as it is not to me. My 
 relations to, and affection for, your husband were of 
 such a nature that what I prepare for the publixj eye 
 necessarily appears very inadequate. I do not know 
 how to help it." 
 
 Aurora, N. Y., July 5, 1878. 
 
 My Dear Mrs. Dickersox : It was in " the solemn 
 and eventful days of the war" (so he impressively 
 described them in his last letter to me), that I 
 became acquainted with Dr. Dickerson. The peculiar 
 circumstances in which we found ourselves, as well 
 as our most perfect accord and sympathy on the 
 
ff 
 
 120 
 
 JAMES 8, DICKERSON. 
 
 great questions which were then shaking the land and 
 making the air tropical from love or liatred, ripened 
 the acquaintance almost at once into an intimacy and 
 friendship which was very precious to us botli. 
 
 Delaware was a slave State and a border State. That 
 single sentence has in it a volume of mea;ning to those 
 who had their homes there when the rebellion came on. 
 A great party had held the political power of the State 
 for years; its whole sympathy was with the seceded 
 States, and it would gladly have taken Delaware into 
 the so-called Confederacy. 
 
 At first it was extremely doubtful whether Delaware 
 could be kept in the Union. Everything was critical 
 and uncertain. At the head of the street on which I 
 resided, and just round the corner from Mr. Dickerson's 
 home, rebels were under arms and drilling. Opposite 
 my residence Union men were drilling, while a sentinel 
 with loaded rifle was keeping guard. No one could say 
 when a collision might occur. As we walked abroad, 
 or looked in the faces of passers by, it was with a feel- 
 ing of entire uncertainty whether or not the man we 
 might meet was an enemy who would gladly have our 
 life. The parties were so evenly balanced that it was 
 impossible to say in advance which would be in the 
 ascendancy. 
 
 In the all wise ordering of Divine Providence almost 
 every pulpit in Wilmington, the largest and most 
 influential city of the State, was filled by a Union man, 
 and several by the most prominently Northern and 
 anti-slavery men. So it was that as the first mutterings 
 of the coming storm were heard, these pulpits began to 
 speak, and when it burst, their tones were familiar for 
 the right. 
 
 Among this band of patriotic men, who were fighting 
 
 c: 
 
 RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 121 
 
 a battle for the country with perhaps not less heroism 
 than that which summoned others to the field, Mr. Dick- 
 erson took his place, and from the first hour of his 
 coming stood in the front line of the combat. 
 
 In these memories, which come up with their oppres- 
 sive sadness while I write, Mr. Dickerson and his heroi'c 
 wife are blended. She not less than he holds her 
 place in my admiring memory. She passed away from 
 earth before the war closed, worn down by work and 
 care at home and abroad, but her memory" is green in 
 the heart of many a soldier, or widowed soldier's wife 
 to whom she gave her very life. In the hospital, among 
 the sick and wounded, she was an angel of mercy, and 
 in all the ways in which a true woman can be a benefi- 
 cent power she was eminent. Both in him and in her 
 were seen frailty of body that yet bore up in untiring 
 and unselfish labor to preserve the nation's life and 
 minister to its defenders. 
 
 At this distance of time my recollections enable me 
 to speak only in the most general way of my friend's 
 work. Scenes and incidents, all full of quivering inter- 
 est then, have grown dim and faded now. I recall our 
 solitary walks in which we mingled our common hopes 
 and fears and sympathies, our communings joyous and 
 sad in each other's studies, our recreations, when, on our 
 skates and with our children, we sought to throw ofi* 
 for a little while the weary cares that oppressed us as 
 the war went on. 
 
 Mr. Dickerson was active and energetic in every 
 labor that the exigencies of the time demanded. I 
 find his name on calls for public meetings in the church 
 in which I was pastor, and his voice there and every- 
 where gave no uncertain sound, while his facile pen was 
 ready with words of hope or warning. 
 
122 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 The times were not the easy-going times of peace. 
 There, within almost the sound of the battle - field, 
 everything took the cast of the excitement which was 
 abroad. We lay down at night with the probability that 
 before the dawn rebel cavalry would be in our streets, 
 for we knew that the powder mills three miles away 
 would naturally draw the attention of the enemy. The 
 lines between man and man were sharply drawn, old 
 friendships were cast aside and companionships aban- 
 doned as men took either side, for or against the govern- 
 ment. So, while those who stood for it were drawn by 
 peculiar ties more closely, those who hated it were 
 rano-ed ao-ainst them in a hostility that needed only an 
 
 IT 
 
 opportunity to culminate in violence and death. It was 
 not strange that such a man as Dr. Dickerson should be 
 cordially hated by the enemies of the country, and he 
 took willingly and joyfully the enmity which was sure 
 to follow patriotism as out-spoken and energetic as his. 
 
 Devoted husband and father as he was, and with much 
 to occupy both head and heart and hands at home, he 
 was ready with help for the sick and wounded at his 
 door and ready to go abroad also for this work. I 
 remember him as we met in the streets of Fredericks- 
 buro-, he in the service of the Christian, I in that of the 
 Sanitary, Commission, and I knew that with his ready 
 hand and glowing heart he was shunning no labor in 
 that scene of suffering. 
 
 I have before me now an editorial from one of the 
 papers of Wilmington, giving then, as they are now, 
 my heartfelt convictions regarding the man and his 
 work in Wilmington : 
 
 "In the community Mr. Dickerson has made for 
 himself an abiding impression. With others, here 
 before him, he has been from the first intensely 
 
 RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 123 
 
 loyal, never fearing to speak or act when anything 
 could be said or done to aid the cause of the 
 country. He has given no doubtful utterances in rela- 
 tion to slavery or the rights of the black man. On all 
 public occasions he has identified himself with those 
 who were foremost in patriotic efforts to crush the 
 rebellion, not hesitating to throw the whole weight of 
 his influence, and in every way, against treason open or 
 covert. It must be a satisfaction that he goes away " 
 (the article was written just as Mr. Dickerson was 
 leaving Wilmington) " at a time when the labors of 
 these years of anxieties are crowned with such glorious 
 success. 
 
 ^ "Having endeared himself to a very large circle of 
 friends outside his congregation, he bears with him their 
 fervent wishes for his prosperity and success, and leaves 
 behind him only pleasant recollections of a genial, open- 
 hearted, earnest, and able man."— 2>6/ai(jare Republican^ 
 May 8, 18G5. 
 
 And what I wrote for the public is a very cold and 
 formal expression of the abiding admiration and affec- 
 tion with which my friend was enshrined in my heart. 
 I shall hold him forever in memory as he was, in the 
 bright joyousness of his spirit, the high nobility of his 
 soul, when we walked and worked together, and re- 
 joiced in homes and companionships which were like 
 the joys and environments of heaven. 
 
 In a letter received from one of the members of 
 the church in Wilmington, the writer says: "All 
 my recollections of Dr. Dickerson, as pastor, 
 brother, and friend, are pleasant; and none more 
 so among the memories of those on earth, or of those 
 that with him have gone to the joys of a better world. 
 
124 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 
 I look back upon the five years that he was our pastor 
 as the best years of my life ; when I did more efficient 
 service for the Master, under tlie guidance of Dr. 
 Dickerson, than ever before or since. * * * Q^^ 
 church liad been retrograding for two years, both 
 spiritually and financially, when he came to Wil- 
 mington ; but from that time everything moved on 
 more hopefully in all respects. The congregation 
 and Sunday school increased in numbers, and we 
 had one "jreat revival while he was with us. During: 
 the five years over three hundred persons united 
 with the church by baptism. The first year he 
 was with us the pew-rents increased nearly a 
 thousand dollars, the church was united and har- 
 monious, and Dr. Dickerson was looked upon as a 
 leader in every good thing. * * * j have seen 
 him under many different circumstances, and he 
 always had the love and respect of those by whom 
 he was surrounded. He was sought for to speak to 
 all the Sunday schools in the city, and wherever he 
 went he received a most hearty welcome. Every- 
 where he was a friend and a true helper. What he 
 did for the countr}'- can hardly be realized, except to 
 those who lived here, and knew the value of his 
 services. 
 
 " Was there a victory for our army ? we were sure 
 of loyal inspiring words from one who was in 
 sympathy with it. When there was a defeat, and 
 some one was looked for to discover a bright side 
 and cheer us. Dr. Dickerson was always the one 
 called for. At the bedside of the sick, or in the 
 house of mourning, he ever brought words of cheer 
 
 i 
 
 fm 
 
 RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 125 
 
 and comfort ! As chaplain of the Fifth Del. Reg't., 
 of which I was a member, he was a most faithful 
 man in his place ; was with us at Fort Delaware, 
 while guarding the prisoners, and every one felt they 
 had in him a true friend. Several of our number 
 died from exposure; one a young man whose 
 parents were members of the Society of Friends. 
 Although it was never their custom to have anyone 
 speak at the funeral service. Dr. Dickerson was 
 asked to attend, and was told that if he felt inclined 
 to say anything there would be no objection to it 
 whatever. Such an innovation made quite a stir ; 
 but was most acceptable to all. 
 
 " One incident during his pastorate here will ever 
 be remembered by those who witnessed it. It was 
 the giving of the hand of fellowship one Sabbath 
 morning, to more than a hundred recent converts. 
 They were ranged all around the church, and I 
 thought, ' Surely the pastor can not have a word for 
 each one this time.' (He was always so happy in 
 his reception of members ; having a most appropriate 
 word for each.) But he stood on the platform and 
 they moved slowly by, while he took the hand of 
 each, and said something which was adapted to each 
 case. It was a wonderfully tender scene. * * * 
 Some of his sermons we shall never forget. He had 
 unusual talents for a public speaker, and was so true 
 and devoted a Christian that his sermons had a 
 powerful influence; and in the prayer-meetings I 
 have never seen his equal." 
 
 From a letter received from another member of 
 the same church, who did much active service for 
 
. 
 
 t 
 
 126 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 the country in hospitals at the front during the war, 
 we quote a few paragraphs. She speaks of his work 
 for the church in the same general way as in the 
 letter above quoted, and then says : — " Dr. Dickerson 
 was earnest and active in the temperance cause ; 
 often lecturing on this subject to large and apprecia^ 
 tive audiences, over wliom his eloquence had 
 wonderful power. He was also an Anti-Slavery 
 man ; always ready to plead the cause of the poor 
 and oppressed. When Fort Sumter was attacked 
 it was feared that Delaware would secede with the 
 other Slave States ; for our senators were secession- 
 ists, and tried to have our legislature unite with the 
 South ; but most of the ministers of every denom- 
 ination were faithful to their countr}^ and I have no 
 doubt that their earnest pleadings and labors saved 
 our State from rebellion. Among these none were 
 more loyal, no one so brave as the pastor of the 
 Second Baptist Church of Wilmington, Delaware. 
 He was true and firm to the end ; regardless of 
 friend or foe. And it was not all talk with him — 
 he acted his sentiments. He went down to the 
 front, during that most horrible of battles, the 
 ' Battle of the Wilderness,' and worked as few men 
 did. I met him at Fredericksburg. He was among 
 the faithful. And he was not one to offer merely 
 spiritual consolation, where there was so much 
 bodily suffering. He helped to prepare nourishment 
 for the sick and wounded, to dress their wounds, 
 and to minister to their comfort in many ways. I 
 recall to-day how untiringly he would stir in the 
 farina to the large kettles as I poured it in, pound 
 
 RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 1 
 
 127 
 
 after pound. Although not strong, nor able to 
 endure hardships, there were few men that worked 
 so hard as he did, and none harder. * * * He 
 left Wilmington the year the war ended, with the 
 resrret and sorrow of hundreds besides those in his 
 large church and congregation." 
 
 tmmmmmmmfmmi^ 
 
f 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 LAST YEAR IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 j1 
 
 ^1 
 
 Mr. Dickerson's pastorate in Wilmington con- 
 tinued five years — years of faithful and almost 
 unceasing toil, alike for his country and for the 
 church. That his intense patriotism had not 
 swallowed up his piety, or diminished his spiritual 
 fervor, there are abundant attestations. During the 
 last year of his pastorate, especially, there was a 
 very powerful revival in his church, prepared for 
 by his faithful labors, but occurring largely in 
 connection with the co-operation of Rev. Jacob 
 Knapp, who aided him during six or eight weeks of 
 the Winter of 186-4-5. The number of converts 
 was very large, and over two hundred persons, I 
 think, were added as members to Mr. Dickerson's 
 church, while several other churches received 
 considerable additions as the fruit of this revival. 
 During Mr. Dickerson's entire ministry here, the 
 accessions to his church were over three hundred. 
 
 Regarding this last work. Elder Knapp repeatedly 
 declared, that he had never labored more happily, 
 nor received from any pastor more cordial and 
 sympathetic co-operation than from Mr. Dickerson. 
 It will be remembered that Mr. Dickerson received 
 his first decided impulses to a Christian life under 
 
 128 
 
 
 j 
 
 t 
 
 
 LAST YEAR IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 129 
 
 the preaching of this distinguished evangelist, and it 
 was most natural that his heart should ever turn 
 toward him with interest and affection. The last 
 letter which Mr. Knapp ever wrote was written to 
 Mr. Dickerson, in reply to one of sympathy from 
 him, after hearing of his severe illness. We give 
 this letter, in the belief that it will be of interest to 
 many of our readers. 
 
 RocKFORD, Feb. 25, 1874. 
 
 My Dear Brother Dickerson : How delighted I 
 should be to be associated with you in another glorious 
 revival ; but that I never expect until we pass over 
 Jordan, and then there will be no fatigue, no souls to 
 convert, no backsliders to reclaim, but an eternal day, 
 when we shall reap the fruits of our labors here. 
 
 I think I am standing on the shore, and often exclaim: 
 " O, come, ye white-winged angels, and convey me away 
 to my eternal home." I should be happy to write you a 
 good, long paternal letter, but I am not able. I can 
 only write a few minutes at a time. My lungs, throat, 
 and head are inflamed, and all I have been able to do 
 has yet failed to remove the difficulty. Last Summer 
 I almost recovered, and preached several Sabbaths with 
 ease to myself and comfort to others. But I then took 
 a sudden cold which has brought me down worse than 
 ever. I am pained exceedingly for breath, and can do 
 nothinsr at all. It is with difficultv that I can ask a 
 blessing at the table. Still my doctor thinks if I can 
 get along until warm weather I may be restored again 
 to health. I will remember you, and your family and 
 church in my feeble prayers, and beg yours for me and 
 mine. The religious papers have been as silent as 
 death about my condition. I have been excluded from 
 
130 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 LAST YEAR IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 131 
 
 the house of God most of the time for two years, bal- 
 ancing between life and death, and yet scarcely an 
 allusion has been made to it : no prayers requested for 
 me. One or two Boston papers have given me a kind 
 remembrance and some political papers. O, how worth- 
 less and unstable is the applause of men ! When we 
 are leading on God's sacramental host from victory to 
 victory, shaking cities, convulsing continents, and 
 scarcely in need of sympathy, we are exalted to 
 Heaven; but when worn out with hundreds of successful 
 campaigns, standing on the verge of eternity, in great 
 pain and solicitude, we are passed by as a worthless 
 thing. I thank God for the great change which He 
 has brought about in my day, no matter whether by me 
 or somebody else. He has done all the work, and to 
 Him be all the glory. I feel as I am nearing the eternal 
 world, that God is all and in all, and I am nothing. 
 I see more to regret in my past history than ever before, 
 and nothing in which to glory cave the cross of Christ. 
 Give my love to your dear wife and children, and to all 
 the brethren and sisters in Boston. I am tired out and 
 must bid vou ffood by. Jacob Knapp. 
 
 P. S. All my family remember you with ajFection. 
 
 This letter — the last of Mr. Knapp's letters — 
 was written a day or two before his death. His 
 daughter accompanied it with one describing her 
 father's peaceful death, and stating how much com- 
 fort he had received from Mr. Dickerson's kind 
 words of remembrance. Such acts were character- 
 istic of him. Alike to the near and the distant who 
 were in suffering, he was constantly giving tokens 
 of his unforgetting sympathy. 
 
 The time was now rapidly drawing near that was 
 
 
 to close Mr. Dickerson's labors with the church in 
 Wilmington. He had received, in February, 1865, 
 just before the coming of Elder Knapp to Wilming- 
 ton, an invitation to preach for the First Baptist 
 Church in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He accepted 
 the invitation, and his sermons were so well received 
 that, in a short time, he received from this large, 
 important, wealthy, and flourishing church a unan- 
 imous call to become their pastor. Daring the 
 revival which followed the coming of Elder Knapp, 
 his acceptance of it was necessarily delayed. He 
 was, however, seriously contemplating its acceptance, 
 and in March he wrote to one of the members in 
 Pittsburgh with whom he had had some correspond- 
 ence, a letter, from which the following extracts will 
 show at once his own state of mind, and the con- 
 dition of his flock in Wilmington. 
 
 I little thought when I left you a few weeks ago that 
 before the first of April, I should have the precious 
 privilege of baptising over a hundred persons into the 
 fellowship of my church. Every day has brought its 
 labors, its anxieties, and its triumphs; and as it has been 
 at times impossible to drive either the people of God, 
 or rejoicing converts, or pleading, broken-hearted sin- 
 ners away from the place of prayer, our meetings have 
 continued very late, and it has sometimes been twelve 
 o'clock before I could lay my poor, worn-out body down 
 to sleep. Elder Knapp has, however, done all the 
 preaching; while the exhortation, singing, talking, etc., 
 etc., has been fully enough to wear upon my strength. 
 
 From this you see that with services every day and 
 evening, and other duties outside, I have been able only 
 
 U 
 
132 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 to think, pray, and almost weep, with regard to Pitts- 
 burgh. Headed by Elder Knapp the friends here are 
 unanimous that I ought not to think of going, that I abso- 
 lutely ca)i?t go ! Salary shall be made up to $2,000, and 
 new support and sympathy are proflfered, while the outside 
 community threaten to turn a spring freshet into Pitts- 
 burgh for daring to call the Baptist dominie away from 
 Delaware. In fact, my dear brother, it would have 
 been a great relief to me if you or brother R. could 
 have happened in to consult with me, and give Pitts- 
 burgh a fair chance. Some of my members saw in the 
 National Baptist of last week that I had received the 
 call, and on Sunday I told them from the pulpit that T 
 was considering the question, and asked them to pray 
 that we might all be rightly directed. Were con- 
 venience or even the question of salary to turn the case, 
 $2,000 here would be much better than the same amount 
 at Pittsburgh; but I want to settle the case on other and 
 far higher considerations, and 1 am willing to trust all 
 my pecuniary affairs with my friends in either church. 
 * * * I find mv mind leaninor toward Pittsburgh, but 
 I have not as yet gained the consent of my judgment 
 to say ." yes " to your call. 1 am getting myself in 
 readiness to go, provided that should seem to be the will 
 of God. * * * I am rejoiced that you have " put 
 your hands to the plow," and sealed the bargain for the 
 church lots. May God's blessing attend you at every 
 step. Put your laborers right to work, and get under 
 weigh at once. Every day lost is one day longer to 
 wait for the happy hour when you can present your new 
 edifice as an offering to God, and as an altar where 
 sorrowing souls may taste His grace ! Oh, may your 
 new edifice be filled with the glory of God, and become 
 the very " gate of Heaven " to many wandering ones ! 
 
 LAST YEAR IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 133 
 
 I am a little at a loss as to going to the anniversaries at 
 St. Louis in May. I am a member of the Executive 
 Committee of the Board of the Missionary Union, and 
 ought to be there, but really I do not see how I can go, 
 as I am now fixed. Give my kindest regards to all your 
 friends, and especially to your good wife and family. 
 May God's blessings abide with you, and may salvation 
 come to your house, my dear brother, and may all your 
 family be of the household of faith. 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 James S. Dickerson. 
 
 A few weeks after this he came to the decision 
 that it was his duty to accept the call to the 
 Pittsburgh church, and he wrote accordingly the 
 following letter : 
 
 Wilmington, April 12, 1865. 
 
 Messrs. Eversox, Strickler, and Stephenson, 
 
 Committee of First Baptist Church, Pittsburgh, Pa. 
 
 Dear Brethren : After careful and prayerful con- 
 sideration of all the circumstances involved in your 
 invitation to the pastorate of the First Baptist Church, 
 Pittsburgh, I have arrived at the conclusion that it is 
 my duty to accept your call. You will therefore convey 
 to the church my acceptance, and urge them to renewed 
 prayer that the Great Head of the Church may set the 
 seal of His approval upon their choice, and upon my 
 decision. 
 
 While I leave behind me a united, prosperous, and 
 affectionate church, T go to my new field of labor with 
 large hopes for the Divine presence and blessing, and 
 with great confidence that I shall receive the sympathies 
 and hearty co-operation of all the members of my 
 new church. 
 
134 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 LAST YEAR IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 135 
 
 O, that coming years of happy, prosperous, vigorous 
 growth on the part of your dear church, and larger 
 measures of usefuhiess in the work of God by both 
 pastor and people may attest the true wisdom of what is 
 now consummated ! That grace, mercy, and peace from 
 God our Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ, and the 
 Communion of the Holy Spirit may abide with you all 
 forever, is the earnest and sincere prayer of your 
 Aflfectionate friend and brother in Christ, 
 
 James S. Dickerson. 
 
 Mr. Dickerson did not leave Wilmington until 
 after the first Sabbath in May, and was permitted 
 to receive into the church on that Sabbath, multi- 
 tudes of hapjiy believers. Among the number then 
 baptised and received was his wife, who had hitherto 
 remained in the Episcopal communion, although for 
 some time a Baptist in belief, and attending regularly 
 with her husband the ordinary services of the 
 church. With her, too, he baptised his eldest son, 
 then twelve years of age, and his daughter Ada, 
 whom, as for many years the afflicted lamb of his 
 houseliold flock, he saw with peculiar pleasure 
 gathered into the fold of the Heavenly Shepherd. 
 On that Sabbath they all sat down together — along 
 with the large congregation of believers — for the 
 first time ; and no earthly eye could foresee, and no 
 earthly heart could divine, that it was for the last. 
 He could not know and did not dream that she, who 
 had been for so many years the light of his home, and 
 the joy of his heart, and whom he had just now 
 welcomed into a more perfect Christian union, would, 
 on the morning of another Sabbath, be lying on her 
 
 dying bed ; and that, on the day after, he would be 
 gathering his motherless children — too young fully 
 to appreciate their loss — about her grave. And if 
 he had known it, though it would have lent to the 
 present festive scene an indescribable pathos, yet 
 faith would have looked through the agony of the 
 parting, and the darkness of the tomb, to the 
 triumphant awakening, the glad reunion, and the 
 eternal life beyond. Thus bright is the heavenly 
 hope that irradiates the dark river of life, and the 
 scarcely darker river of death, towards which is its 
 sure and steady course. 
 
 But now the messenger of fate, though near, was 
 unseen and unsuspected, and nothing clouded the 
 gladness of the occasion but the general sorrow 
 over the loss of the pastor, whom all so thoroughly 
 esteemed, and so warmly loved. Mr. Dickerson was 
 not the man to be five years in any community with- 
 out binding many hearts to him with the strongest 
 ties of affection. A character naturally loveable had 
 been touched into higher beauty by grace, so that 
 esteem, based on the most thorough confidence in 
 his moral integrity, was blended with the attachment 
 which his winning ways uniformly inspired. The 
 church was crowded to overflowing to hear his 
 farewell sermon, and witness the reception of the 
 large number of converts. In the afternoon a large 
 assembly gathered again at the Sunday school anni- 
 versary, where beautiful presents were given, both 
 to the Pastor and his wife, as tokens of the love 
 alike of teachers and pupils. Mrs. Dickerson had 
 for a long time taken charge of the infant class, and, 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 'i 
 ? 
 i 
 
 ■^ 
 
 I 
 
jgg JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 beiixr a good musician, had assisted greatly in the 
 church music, both vocal and instrumental. She 
 was a woman of much natural humor, genera ly of 
 great vivacity of spirits, and was universally loved, 
 both by young and old. Having for some t.me beeu 
 a Baptist in her general convictions, aud saUsfied 
 that she could aid her husband more effectually y 
 a closer union in the church, she determined to alee 
 the step before her husband entered h.s new field of 
 .labor. That anticipated field of labor she did not 
 
 ^'''iVreCrd to the Sabbath school celebration, we 
 make hom the Delaware Journal and Statesman, 
 May 12th, the following extracts : 
 
 Washington Jones, Esq., read his report, which 
 showed th^t the school had made large accessions to Us 
 number during the year, and that many of tlie pupds 
 hreTrofessed religion and connected themselves w.h 
 the church. Then follows a full report, after wh ch the 
 
 uperiLndent addressed the pastor in these words: 
 " Mv Deau Buothkk akd Pastok: I should be doing 
 
 ou :arm:st affection and ^V-^V^^^y.^^'l'^Zi^ZZl 
 of entire confidence in you as a minister of the Lo d 
 
 T fphrist You have ever faithfully and earnestly 
 ^LSt trlhs of the blessed Oospe^ ->;^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 favor or fear of man, and have not failed to preach 
 rsin in hi<.h places as well as low, nor to denounce 
 
 treason and slavery, as well as otlier vices^ J^Zl^ 
 
 in God to-day that that noble flag, draped on tins altar, 
 
 LAST YEAR IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 137 
 
 has never been dishonored in this pulpit, but has been 
 defended with a veneration as strong as the love of life 
 itself. * * * You came to us, my brother, about 
 five years ago with fear and trembling, lest your health 
 might not bear you out in the discharge of your onerous 
 duties; but God has abundantly blessed you, and set 
 the seal of his approval on your labors, by permittino- 
 you to receive into the church about three hundred 
 members during your pastorate. My brother, we shall 
 miss you from this pulpit where we have so often 
 listened to you with profit and pleasure; we shair miss 
 you at the desk below, where we so often gathered at 
 the lecture and for social prayer and conference; and in 
 the Sabbath schools, O, how much we shall miss your 
 pleasant countenance, your words of hope and encour- 
 agement to the teachers, your entertaining and instruc- 
 tive addresses to the children, and your aid to the 
 superintendent. And last, but not least, we shall miss 
 your social visits to our families, which were alwavs of 
 the most pleasant character. In conclusion allow me to 
 say that the prayers of the church will ascend to the 
 throne of Grace, invoking the richest of God's blessino-s 
 upon you and your dear family, and praying that He 
 may make you even more happy and useful in your new 
 field of labor, than you have been in the one you are 
 leaving." 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Aikman then followed with some 
 remarks, referring in pleasing terms to the labors of 
 Rev. Mr. Dickerson, both as a minister of the gospel 
 and a citizen, and expressed great regret at the loss the 
 community will sustain in his removal from our city. 
 
 At the conclusion of the exercises the teachers and 
 scholars thronged around the Rev. Mr. Dickerson to 
 take leave of him, and the tears which gushed from 
 
138 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 LAST YEAR IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 139 
 
 many an eye, testified the deep hold he has upon the 
 afFections of those to whom he has ministered in spirit- 
 ual thin.iTs, during the past five years. He has labored 
 in the cause of Christianity and education with a zeal 
 worthy of the cause. The soldier has ever found in 
 him a constant and steadfast friend, and whether in the 
 camp or hospital, or far away on the field of strife, he 
 was ever ready to lend a helping hand to mitigate his 
 sorrows or relieve his wants. To his agency our brave 
 volunteers are indebted for many comforts which served 
 to render them happy even amidst the toils and the 
 cares of the tented field. May his future life be 
 attended with prosperity and happiness, and in the new 
 field of his labors, may he meet with abundant reward. 
 
 From the Delaware Republican of May 11th, which 
 gave an account of the farewell to the church, we 
 quote a few lines: 
 
 In the morning the house was filled to excess, and 
 Mr. D. in concluding his sermon referred to the troubles 
 of earth, the parting with dear friends, and remarked 
 that these things should make us all tliink of the happy 
 meetings in Heaven. " There is not in my heart or 
 mind a single feeling of dislike toward anyone, and 
 there is not one upon whose head I do not sincerely 
 invoke the blessing of God." 
 
 On the Wednesday following these farewell ser- 
 vices, they started for Philadelphia, purposing to 
 spend a single day and night with their friends, Rev. 
 Mr. and Mrs. J. Hyatt Smith, and then immediately 
 resume their journey to Pittsburgh. Providence 
 ordered it otherwise. Their proposed stay of a day 
 and a night was lengthened into one of several days 
 
 and nights, and when it was over, Mrs. Dickerson 
 had left her husband for her heavenly home, and he, 
 leaving his children behind him in Philadelphia, set 
 out, bereaved and lonely, for his new destination. 
 The blow, unlooked-for as it was, could be traced 
 back to some obvious causes. Mrs. Dickerson, a 
 few weeks before their proposed removal, had had a 
 number of teeth extracted ; from the use of ether 
 at that time she had been made ill for several weeks, 
 and when sufficiently recovered to be about, she 
 naturally overworked in her preparations for the 
 coming journey. Though sensible of overworking, 
 yet she had uniformly enjoyed so good health, that 
 she had no apprehension of serious consequences 
 from a few days of unwonted fatigue and care. 
 When the strain and excitement were over, however, 
 she again became somewhat ill; yet she refused to 
 yield to disease, and made herself a cheerful and 
 agreeable inmate of the family of one of their deacons. 
 On arriving at Philadelphia, her malady returned in 
 an aggravated form ; and, on the Monday following 
 the Wednesday on which they arrived, it ended in her 
 death. The following letter, written in June, 1865, 
 to the editor of this memoir, gives an account of 
 these last sad days. 
 
 My Dear FmENo: How much your words of loving 
 sympathy tended to comfort and console me, you can 
 hardly imagine. 'Tis passing strange and yet terribly 
 true, that the very ones whose love and sympathy in 
 hours of sorrow make us the most conscious of our 
 losses, are the very ones to whom we imploringly look 
 for consolation. I find myself groping around, not so 
 
 
140 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 LAST YEAR IN WILMINGION. 
 
 141 
 
 much to find and to test my friends, as to gain access to 
 the loving hearts that knew and prized my dear, departed 
 Julia. To have loved her so as to miss her now, so as to 
 have valued all the treasure of her noble qualities of 
 heart and mind, and all the wealth of her pure, joyous, 
 and unchanging love — this appreciation which makes 
 them to feel that my grief is inconsolable — this con- 
 soles me. That nothing can or ought to comfort me— 
 this is the sweetest comfort that I get, save that which 
 is found gushing in its mysterious depths and solitude 
 from the heart of Julia's Saviour and mine ; who knew 
 her, loved her, saved her for Himself and me, and loves 
 us both so much, that infinitely to bless her and me, He 
 took her to Himself and Heaven. Though T am very 
 desolate and lonely, I am sweetly sustained of God. 
 Every hour of the day and every watch of the night 
 brings its thoughts of the happy tender past ; every 
 box I have unpacked, every book she owned or loved, 
 every song she sung— her wedding slippers and her 
 bridal dre^s, still fresh and unfaded, while my darling 
 that wore them is far away ;— her body cold, silent, 
 dead, amid the shadows of Laurel Hill; her spirit 
 making the atmosphere of Heaven brighter and happier 
 by her^'redeemed smile and voice ;- all this constitutes 
 the trial of my situation. What must the joys of the 
 heavenly inheritance be, when in the contrast, such 
 tremendous sorrows and griefs as these are pronounced 
 but "light" afflictions! If by such sad formulas God 
 teaches"the soul the depth and power of earthly friend- 
 ship, O, what shall be the sway of that pure and power- 
 ful passion of the soul, the love of Heaven, towards its 
 angels, its recognized friends of earth, and towards the 
 infinite, and glorious, and loving God, our Saviour ! 
 
 ^ 
 
 Here then indeed, my dear sister in Jesus, we can rest 
 satisfied until 
 
 Faith is changed to glad fruition, 
 Hope to sight, and prayer to praise. 
 
 Heaven certainly seems nearer, more blessed and 
 real than ever before; and no doubt rich blessings to 
 myself and others will grow out of this deep and appar- 
 ently unmixed calamity. 
 
 On the Wednesday after the first Sabbath in May, we 
 all left Wilmington at 4 p.m. In the morning Julia 
 seemed as well (save a slight complaint of loss of 
 appetite and an inward pain, which neither of us 
 thought worthy of any special notice), and as cheerful 
 and happy as could be. Hut just as she reached the 
 depot, she seemed to be sinking into lassitude and 
 weakness, and, as the cars started, a nervous chill came 
 upon her, which however soon abated, and when we 
 reached Hyatt Smith's we had the fullest hope that an 
 hour or a night of rest would restore her fully. But 
 pains, like those of severe rheumatism, inward, and 
 through her limbs, racked her all Thursday ; but the 
 evening found her better. Friday the pains left her 
 limbs, and fell like lightning on her brain. Saturday 
 she became unconscious, and so remained until Monday 
 night at 11:30, when she sweetly fell on sleep. By the 
 side of my dear mother and father, in a bed of spring 
 flowers in Laurel Hill, we laid her away on the following 
 Thursday. Never was there more genuine heartfelt 
 grief than was manifested over her coffin and grave. 
 Friends from Wilmington, New York, and Philadelphia 
 gathered around, and admired her even in death— for 
 she looked like an angel dreaming, among beautiful 
 flowers, of going home. Spencer and I came hither 
 
142 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 LAST YEAR IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 143 
 
 soon after. My new church welcomed me with that true 
 delicacy of tenderness which sings, 
 
 The heart feels most when the lips move not. 
 
 They have said little, but manifested a great deal. 
 The three younger children came later in company with 
 a sort of maiden aunt (a sister of my brotlver- in -law's 
 brother's first wife— do you get the close relationship ?). 
 "Aunt Jane" is a lovely Christian woman; a sweet 
 character indeed; gentle, kind, and judicious, and with 
 age which has brought her much experience. How long 
 I can command her services I hardly dare inquire. She 
 comes to help me through. I have thus given you all 
 the particulars of the trying scenes through which 1 
 have passed. They form a strange contrast with the 
 joyousness which has reigned in my family circle, when 
 you have been one of our number. Let this appeal to 
 your sympathies stir you to remember us all in your 
 prayers, and from your happier standpoint reflect some 
 light, and joy, and comfort on us. 
 
 Your friend and brother, 
 
 James S. Dickersox. 
 
 From the Delaware Republican of May 22, 1865, 
 we quote the following article on the death of Mrs. 
 Dickersou : 
 
 Death of Mrs. Dickerson.— The funeral services of 
 Mrs. Dickerson, wife of Rev. J. S. Dickerson, late of 
 this city, were held in the Eleventh Baptist Church of 
 Philadelphia, on Thursday morning. A large number 
 of persons from Wilmington were present, to show 
 their respect to the memory of the deceased, and their 
 sympathy with the bereaved husband — among them 
 Rev. Mr. Wisvvall and Rev. Mr. Aikman. Addresses 
 
 <} 
 
 were made bv the Rev. Mr. Aikman of this citv, and 
 Rev. Messrs. Jeffrey and J. Hyatt Smith of Phila- 
 delphia. The interment was made in the Laurel Hill 
 cemetery. 
 
 It is rarely our duty to record a more melancholy 
 bereavement than that which is made in the above 
 announcement. After a highly successful ministry in 
 this city, Mr. Dickerson was removing to Pittsburgh, but 
 on the day of his leaving, his wife was taken ill, and 
 was conveyed to the house of an intimate friend, where, 
 after a rapid and uninterrupted sinking, she died last 
 Monday, having been for the most of the time entirely 
 unconscious. Before she herself or her friends were 
 aware of the fatal nature of the attack, she was bevond 
 the reach of relief. We can but inadequately express 
 our deep sympathy with our stricken friend, or our high 
 appreciation of the character of his devoted wife. It 
 does not become us to speak of the lovely traits which 
 made her home radiant, and the scene of untiring and 
 self-sacrificin<r devotion — that belongs to the inner circle 
 of those who knew the beneficence of her daily life. 
 
 Mrs. Dickerson has been, during her residence here, 
 always among the foremost in every good work in this 
 city, especially in everything which concerned the wel- 
 fare of our soldiers. As the efficient treasurer of the 
 Ladies Aid Society, and alw^ays active in its work, she 
 will not be soon forgotten. With engrossing family 
 cares, and much wearing anxiety, she found time, if not 
 strength, to labor beside the most earnest workers, and 
 in a spirit of entire self-forgetfulness. Indeed these 
 public cares, together with the toil that came upon her 
 as a pastor's wife, we have reason to believe w^ere not 
 among the least of the causes, which brought her life 
 to so sudden a termination. In the church and in the 
 
144 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 Sunday school she was a very able helper of her hus- 
 band, and his late people owe a debt of gratitude to her 
 memory. A woman of rare energy, of devoted piety, 
 and cultivated mind, dilFusing blessings wherever she 
 moved, she will long be remembered by this community 
 where her last days were spent. 
 
 Other papers in Wilmington gave similar accounts 
 of her death, and her characteristics. 
 
 We bring to a close our account of Mr. Dickerson's 
 residence in Wilmington, by extracts from two or 
 three of his letters to Rev. Dr. Aikman. The first 
 was written soon after he became pastor in Pitts- 
 burgh, in July, 1865. 
 
 Wilmington sometimes seems to have drifted away, 
 as though separated by long periods of time, long 
 leagues of distance; and your family seem to me to 
 dwell under its fair skies, touched by its sunlight, and 
 fanned by its fragrant air. And then I, for a moment, 
 and my family, my dear Julia, seem with you as close 
 neighbors ; both of us interested in all that pertains to 
 each other's usefulness and happiness. Our almost boyish 
 glee in walking, talking, and skating with each other, 
 has a merry, joyous laugh to it, like the shout of inno- 
 cent chii(hc3n at play. These memories, even these, so 
 mingled with imperfections, and so transient in their 
 stay, — even these have features which should, I think, 
 remind us of Heaven, where all that is truly noble and 
 good in our present social joys will be preserved^ all 
 that is ill will be purged away, while that which is par- 
 tial and transient will be lifted to the infinite and eternal. 
 Then, too, how our capacities for enjoyment will be 
 intensified and expanded, while we shall have none for 
 Borrow or for sin ! Heaven is bound to be a happy, 
 
 LAST YEAR IN WILMINGTON. 
 
 145 
 
 happy place. Thank the Lord that each of us are stock- 
 holders, and that we have alreadv accrued interest due 
 us there! We are all as well as usual. I am sometimes 
 very sad, but my cheerfulness is rallying, and my large 
 hope seeing things brighter, and faith k)ioici)ig what sight 
 as yet can not clearly discern. God is daily showing me 
 His goodness. Paxson, they tell me, has resigned — 
 now if there is any stone that can be turned to get you 
 here, let me know it. I'm vour bov. I'm in. What 
 are you going to do this Summer? I propose to go off 
 for a while ; but don't know where, yet. * * * May 
 God preserve you and your children from afflictions 
 which He has found necessary to place upon me. God 
 bless you all. I see good brother Alrick and Mr. Dupont 
 have gone. So, soon we shall pass away! 
 
 Affectionately Yours, 
 
 James S. Dickersox. 
 
 Another was written during his vacation, when he 
 had been expecting Dr. Aikman to join him at a 
 Summer resort. He writes : 
 
 I was right glad to hear from you, but disappointed in 
 not seeing you. I did want you to come; but that dear, 
 sweet wife of yours has the first claim. May you have 
 a happy and health-imparting vacation! This is a beau- 
 tiful place, but I am lonely without some dear friend to 
 commune with ! (Then he speaks of the children, 
 where and how they are, and adds:) They are all much 
 saddened by their mother's death; but take singularly 
 clear and Christian views of their bereavement, and talk 
 of their mamma with upturned faces and quiet voices, as 
 if they thought her near enough to be pained by any of 
 our murmurings or complaints. Ada seems joyful in 
 the thought that, more than likely, she will get the first 
 7 
 
146 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 i"- 
 
 reunion kiss from the lips of the angel mother. As for 
 myself, I am getting on slowly. Lack of sleep and a 
 dreadful loneliness are my most inveterate enemies. I 
 sleep good naps, if I take them in the day; but the 
 moment I go to bed at night — no matter how sleepy — 
 the moment I get fixed for sound sleep, I am as wide- 
 awake, as full of thought, of mental activity, as I vainly 
 wish to be in the daytime. Orations, sermons, stump 
 speeches, repartee, are turned off with amazing facility. 
 Then m^'' church, my lost darling, my little motherless 
 children, all come in turn; my head throbs, my heart 
 beats so as to be heard, and I turn over and over; get 
 up: try to change the current of my thought, and then 
 going to bed again repeat the same service until two or 
 three o'clock in the morning. * * * Yesterday 1 
 went fishing^ and came back with a fisherman's abun- 
 dant rewards in everything save fish. That we nar- 
 rowly escaped. We burnt our faces, blistered our 
 hands, tired our arms and backs, to say nothing of 
 getting our fundamenta honoris quite sore on the hard 
 seat of the row-boat. But we had a " gay " time. 1 
 getting off magnificent puns, jokes, etc., which some 
 of the company, though college boys, didn't see; they 
 on the other hand were so obviously witty, that a 
 man would be a fool to laugh at their attempts — they 
 laughed. * * * How I wanted somebody all day 
 long to help me think, talk, see ! I believe you were 
 the very chap. But good-bye, old boy, until we meet 
 again. May the favor of Heaven brighten over yours 
 and you until at length its finished joys and glories 
 shall emparadise us — all of yours, and all of mine, and 
 the people of God everywhere and forever. 
 
 Affectionately, your brother and friend, 
 
 James S. Dickerson. 
 
 ,■■ n 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 
 
 
 Our previous narrative has reached the point of 
 Mr. Dickerson's departure from Wilmington, with 
 the sudden illness and death of his wife in Phila- 
 delphia, when he had started for Pittsburgh. I may 
 here, perhaps, return a little upon my steps to 
 introduce some specially domestic and personal 
 matters. His little daughter Ada, during the year 
 now closing (1864), had suffered severely from her 
 sore hip ; abscesses frequently gathering and caus- 
 ing her intense pain, so that she was obliged to take 
 frequent doses of morphia to quiet her. Mr. Dick- 
 erson's own health, too, was far from good. His 
 throat troubled him somewhat, his appetite was 
 poor, and his nights often were nearly sleepless. 
 Yet he hid his pains and griefs under a cheerful 
 face, and however heavy were the burdens he him- 
 self was carrying, would scarcely allow them to 
 detract from the happiness of those around him. 
 For them he rarely had anything but words and 
 looks of cheer and comfort. 
 
 Christmas had always been a happy time in the 
 family circle ; the children being generously remem- 
 bered by distant friends and often bv members of 
 his flock, while the father and mother trimmed the 
 
 147 
 
148 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 merry Christmas tree, and contributed their utmost 
 to the festivities of the occasion. But this was a 
 year of "war prices;" even the necessary provisions 
 were so high that, deprived of his old income from 
 the Chronicle it looked as if the customary 
 Christmas luxuries must be largely dispensed with. 
 The following letter, written some time after to his 
 aunt Caroline, wife of James Stokes (the uncle who 
 had so often generously aided him), describes this 
 Christmas, the last enjoyed together by the family, 
 since before another came she who constituted so 
 largely the attraction and joy of this had been well- 
 nigh "a year in Heaven." The letter was written 
 from Pittsburgh where its writer was then settled. 
 
 My Dear Aunt Caroline : We were all both 
 gratified and surprised at the appearance of a nice little 
 note, and a package from you at Christmas. Accept 
 the thanks of a delighted and grateful circle of little 
 folks. 
 
 Holiday week was one of hallowed memories to 
 me. Pleasant songs were ringing in my ears, but all 
 seemed to close with strains of tender and almost mel- 
 ancholy sadness. 1 thought of the many happy times 
 when dear Julia bought the toys and helped to trim the 
 Christmas tree. And Fll tell you now what, perhaps, 
 I never referred to before. Last year — that is, the year 
 which closed with Christmas a year ago — had been one 
 of the very hardest that dear Julia and I had ever seen 
 together. Prices were so high that with all our economy 
 we were running behind-hand. As Christmas approached 
 things looked rather blue, but we tried to keep cheerful 
 hearts and faces. Julia wanted a pair of blankets, but 
 I told her to use my traveling shawl, and so she did. 
 
 A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 
 
 149 
 
 i 
 
 She needed some articles for herself, some nice gaiters 
 and several little things; but I told her to wait until 
 after New Year's, and then we should not have to pav 
 for them until our next salary came in. So she waited. 
 And w^e kept wondering whether Uncle James' finances 
 would turn out so propitiously as to afford his generous 
 present of several years preceding. But it had not 
 come, and things looked a little bleak at the parsonage. 
 Soon, however. Uncle James' gift came, larger than 
 usual ; but I kept it a secret. The Union State Com- 
 mittee of the State of Delaware, wrote me a note saying 
 that there were in their treasurer's hands $100, and the 
 committee had unanimously voted to present it to me, 
 as a token of their appreciation of my services to the 
 State and the country. This I kept secret. So on 
 Christmas morning we had our tree, a very pretty one, 
 trimmed mostly with the previous years' ornaments, 
 but, otherwise, our own contributions to the Christmas 
 stock were very small. But kind friends remembered 
 the children, and when Julia examined the presents, I 
 had bought her a nice pair of blankets, a beautiful pair 
 of gaiters, and several other articles she wanted. In 
 the toe of the gaiters were the letters and presents from 
 your dear husband, and the Delaware Committee. The 
 surprise was complete, and we laughed and cried 
 together. It made, indeed, a very " merrie Christmas," 
 and ushered in a Happy New Year. 
 
 My dear aunt, I do sincerely thank you and uncle for 
 all your acts of kindness, and all your thoughts of love 
 to Julia, to me, and the children. My poverty is volun- 
 tary and for Christ's sake. Three times have I declined 
 very eligible positions of profit, and twice have T been 
 offered a handsome interest in a large and prosperous 
 business. But I am happy ^ cofttented now, and should 
 
150 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 r 
 
 be very unhappy out of the ministry. I sometimes cry 
 for joy when I realize that I am a minister of Christ — 
 honored of Him, approved of Him. I feel at times very 
 lonely, and, when not just well, I feel discouraged. 
 The terrible loss of .Julia, while I know it was in 
 infinite wisdom and unbounded love that she was taken 
 away from her children and from me, has a depressing 
 influence upon me. But I always strive to be, or at 
 least to seem, cheerful. My surroundings here— all but 
 the smoke and soot — are very pleasant. My church are 
 united in me, and are, in general, a kind, thoughtful, 
 and liberal people. * * * Our new chapel will be 
 done in the Summer; the main edifice, we hope, the fol- 
 lowing Spring. The whole afi'air will be fine but not 
 fantastic. Our congregations are increasing, and are 
 more than double what they were when I came. Several 
 have been recently baptized; some are ready for the 
 ordinance, and others are serious. Do pray that God 
 may greatly bless my labors here. The children are 
 about as usual. Ada has had one of her poor turns, 
 but is now better. She and Lulu are making good 
 progress in music, and the latter is going to be quite an 
 adept at the piano. The two boys are well. Give my 
 love to Uncle James. His kindness and love toward 
 my dear family have embalmed his memory in my heart. 
 Give my love also to each of the dear children at home 
 and abroad. 
 
 God bless and keep you, and reward your life and 
 labor of love to many whom you have helped to make 
 happy, of whom, perhaps, I am chief. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 James S. Dickerson. 
 
 This letter is one among the numberless illus- 
 trations of his unfailing resources of buoyancy and 
 
 A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 
 
 151 
 
 brightness of temper ; how he was cheerful where 
 others were despondent, and hopeful where others 
 would be despairing. 
 
 The course of the narrative has now reached a 
 point where reference to herself personally, in view 
 of relations subsequently formed, has become a 
 necessity to the author of this memoir. The reader 
 will appreciate the delicacy of this part of the 
 writer's duty, and will pardon the detail which 
 could not well be omitted in the history of a life 
 with which her own became so closely and tenderly 
 united. 
 
 Mr. Dickerson's second wife was the daughter of 
 Professor J. F. Richardson, who filled the chair of 
 Latin in the Hamilton Literary and Theological 
 Seminary, subsequently Madison University; also, 
 in his later life, the same professorship in the Uni- 
 versity of Rochester. She was born in 1842, the 
 year in which Mr. Dickerson went as a student to 
 Hamilton. He had known her, therefore, as a very 
 little girl ; while, naturally, she retained no recollec- 
 tion of him. They did not meet, after that, until 
 1862, when she was teaching in Dover, the capital 
 of Delaware, whither she had gone, a total stranger 
 in the State, as instructress in a ladies' school. Mr. 
 Dickerson, happening to be in Rochester in the Fall, 
 called upon his old Hamilton instructors, and among 
 them upon Professor Richardson, who had then 
 resided twelve years in Rochester. Learning that 
 the little girl whom he remembered having tossed in 
 his arms at Hamilton, had now reached the dignity 
 of a Delaware school-mistress, he said that, as he 
 
 i 
 
 .^1 
 
152 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 i, 
 
 was soon to be in Dover, at the meeting of an asso- 
 ciation, he would call upon her. He was prevented, 
 however, from coming, and about Christmas time, 
 sent the following letter : 
 
 ■ Wilmington, Del., Dec. 19, 1862. 
 
 Miss Emma Richardson — My Dear Sister: It has 
 been for several weeks my intention to make a visit to 
 Dover, if possible, that 1 might renew a very pleasant 
 acquaintance, made with a shy little girl of your name, 
 twenty years ago. I have thus far been prevented from 
 realizing this desire. But "as the mountain would not 
 come to Mahomet, so Mahomet must needs go to the 
 mountain," and it has occurred to my wife and me, that 
 your present few days of vacation (I suppose you have 
 one at holiday time) might be pleasantly spent with us at 
 Wilmington. If you can make it convenient, we shall 
 be very much pleased to have you spend the week at 
 our house. If you will let me know the day and train 
 on which you leave, we will meet you at the cars. 
 With many wishes for your success and happiness, and 
 hoping soon to greet you at our " parsonage," 
 
 Very truly your friend, 
 
 James S. Dickerson. 
 
 P. S. — Should any other time suit you better, we shall 
 be glad to have you accommodate yourself. You will 
 always be welcome. 
 
 The invitation was accepted, and the time stated 
 at which the person so invited would reach Wilming- 
 ton. It was natural that there should be some 
 perplexity of mind in considering how, under such 
 circumstances, a mutual recognition would be possi- 
 ble. The woman whom Mr. Dickerson was to meet, 
 
 A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 
 
 153 
 
 , 
 
 'f 
 
 \ 
 
 could scarcely offer much resemblance to the child 
 of six years, whom he had known in Hamilton. 
 To her, on the other hand, he had simply been 
 described as a neatly-dressed, dapper little fellow, 
 with a handsome face and with very curly hair. 
 She, of course, was in expectation, simply, of meet- 
 ing one who should answer to this description. On 
 arriving at Wilmington she took her seat in the 
 waiting-room, and began to scan the comers -in. 
 Soon a young and handsome gentleman made his 
 appearance, who seemed so evidently the original of 
 the picture in her mind, that she at once said to 
 herself, '•'• That is, certainly, Mr. Dickerson." He 
 stood near the entrance, looked all about the room 
 inquiringly, and then, with a disappointed air, slowly 
 walked out. *' He will be back again, soon," was her 
 thought ; and so he was. He came, this time, to the 
 center of the room, took his position there, and 
 slowly scanned every person sitting in the seats on 
 three sides of it. As it came her turn to be 
 inspected, she saw that his eye rested a moment, 
 and he looked as if he were saying : '' It must be, 
 but it can't be she I" She looked directly at him ; 
 he came toward her, touched his hat, and in the 
 most polite manner, said : *' Madam, are you from 
 Dover?" ''Are vou Mr. Dickerson?" was the 
 reply. He immediately extended his hand, arnd with 
 a most cordial look and grasp, said, '' Well, Emma, 
 I suppose you did not expect to see such a little 
 man as I am, and I am sure I did not expect to see 
 such a great woman as you are." 
 
 These details of our introduction may be allowed 
 
I 
 
 154 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 here. The indulgent reader will permit them to 
 one who is in subsequent pages to record incidents 
 of a relation, so happy and endearing, into which 
 she was led by the hand of a kind Providence — a 
 relation which, while it has involved painful and 
 solemn duties, has abundantly counterbalanced them 
 by joys which, to the end of life, will be a store- 
 house of happy memories. The writer soon found 
 herself very much at home at the parsonage. Julia 
 and herself were ever after, during the brief 
 remaining life of the former, close friends and cor- 
 respondents. 
 
 Adopting, now, the first person m speaking of 
 these events, I may mention that I had been visiting 
 in Philadelphia during the Winter that Mr. Knapp 
 preached for Mr. Dickerson, and spent the week 
 previous to his coming, with Julia, while her husband 
 was in Pittsburgh. He returned home on Saturday 
 evening, and I left on Monday morning for New 
 York. Late on that Saturday evening, after the chil- 
 dren were all asleep, we three sat and talked together 
 about Pittsburgh. As my opinion was asked on many 
 subjects relating to the removal thither, I made 
 several suggestions, adding the familiar language, 
 "If I were in your place, I should do so and so in 
 your new house." How little did I dream that I 
 actually was, in the Providence of God, to take 
 Julia's place in that Pittsburgh home, and that I was 
 planning for myself instead of for her. When, on 
 the following Monday morning, I bade her good-bye, 
 it was under a promise that she would come in the 
 Summer, with Ada and her husband, and visit us in 
 
 A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 
 
 155 
 
 I 
 
 Rochester ; but the visit was not made, and I saw 
 her no more. She had gone, ere the Summer, to 
 her new but Heavenly home. 
 
 I here make some extracts from letters received 
 during the few years of my acquaintance with Julia. 
 I sent her at one time a handsome velvet pincushion, 
 with a silk-lined slipper upon it, and as she was in 
 New York with Ada when the gift and letter 
 arrived, Mr. Dickerson answered it for her. Here 
 is the letter : 
 
 Wilmington, April 22, 1864. 
 
 My Dear Emma : Your beautiful present, and long, 
 good letter, came duly to hand. Mrs. D. was away, but 
 that does not make the sliijhtest difference. Zread the 
 letter, every word of it, and appreciated it, and am now 
 answering it. My wife always leaves home with the 
 idea that everything will go "by sixes and sevens," in 
 her absence, but I think I can "run the machine," and 
 answer letters to young ladies, just as well as she 
 can. And, in fact, if I have received anything like 
 correct information on the subject, the ladies like to 
 have me do it. There may be a breeze, however, when 
 Mrs. D. comes home. She has been gone two weeks, 
 and Spencer and I are alone; Martha, the colored cook, 
 being all our society. I am managing aflfairs splendidly, 
 and Martha and Spencer seem to be the only dissatisfied 
 persons about the entire establishment. Spencer thinks 
 that " hash '* and roast apples three times a day for two 
 weeks, is not as great a variety as they have at the St. 
 Nicholas; and Martha is full of odious comparisons if I 
 happen to over-sleep in the morning, or forget to send 
 home any apples or meat. And for the inadvertence of 
 leaving the cellar without coal for a couple of days, I have 
 
156 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 ■ 
 t ■ 
 
 been treated by her with very dark looks, and a general 
 coldness. But I think our domestic arrangements are 
 quite serene, and if my wife expects that everything is 
 going to be knocked into ";?r' (Spencer would rejoice 
 at such a consummation, if they were of the right ti/pe) 
 while she is gone, she will be profoundly mistaken. 
 Still I do not think house-keeping is exactly my forte, 
 yet I never yield that I can^t take care of things when 
 Mrs. D. is away, although I have been convinced of it 
 for years. 
 
 With this "Apology for Letters," I will enter more 
 at large and formally upon a reply to vour welcome 
 favor of the 13th inst. It was quite in accordance with 
 a custom of great antiquity, that you should throw a 
 shoe after my wife, as a sort of God-speed on her jour- 
 neyings and visit to that great and wicked city. New 
 York. The only mystery is that it should have fallen so 
 gracefully and securely on the elegant cushion. But, as 
 the mystery is with you, and the beautiful^c^^ are with 
 us (locked up in my wife's lower drawer, with her crape 
 shawl and other valuables too nice for the common eye), 
 we should not be over curious. Accept my thanks, and 
 my good Julia's thanks, too, for a gift which so nicely 
 memorializes your good taste, and your love to us. Julia, 
 I know, will assert her independence, and write you 
 a letter of acknowledgement in her own name, and 
 expressing, more happily than I can do for her, all her 
 appreciati(m of your thoughtful kindness. Her princi- 
 pal object in going to New York, was to consult with 
 the best doctors in regard to Ada. I think from all she 
 says in her letters, that a severe and rather dangerous 
 operation will be recommended, to take place next Fall. 
 This, of course, will never relieve Ada's lameness, but 
 perhaps stop the further progress of the disease — a 
 decay of the hip bone. 
 
 A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 
 
 15T 
 
 . 
 
 « 
 
 We are all in usual health, save the present " presiding 
 elder " of the domestic institution of 909 Market Street. 
 His principal trouble is the sleeps, which take him at all 
 hours of the dai/, but are never dangerous at night. Tn 
 other words, I am a little bit run down, and want rest 
 from care and brain work of any kind. My sympathetic 
 nature is drawn upon too much in all my professional 
 work, simply because it is natural to me ; and second, 
 because 1 am not in vigorous health just now. If the 
 way opens, I am resolved upon a trip over the water ! 
 So Hattie's married ! May bright and Heavenly bles- 
 sings attend her ! When I first saw her, she was a shy 
 little roll of pretty calico, with a modest little face at 
 the top, and a nimble pair of feet as motors. She and a 
 very pleasant little sister, used to play under a magnifi- 
 cent and wide-spreading tree, in front of a white house 
 with green blinds, in Hamilton. 
 
 Pleasant days those to us all. Hard and poorly remu- 
 nerated days to that father and mother of yours, Emma, 
 but happy, I know, even to them. To me, those were 
 my brightest, happiest hours. And although there 
 hangs (to me, and I dare say to you) a cloud over 
 Hamilton's later history, so far as pertains to the joy and 
 brightness which once reigned there, yet my Hamilton 
 course dwells in my memory like the sweet fragments 
 of some delightful music not altogether forgotten. 
 And the friends of Hamilton are the ones I love to-day. 
 Aside from its greatness as a glorious denominational 
 enterprise, which has ever challenged my respect, and 
 received my heartiest co-operation, what I love most at 
 Rochester is what was transplanted there from Hamilton. 
 Of course Dr. Anderson's family have peculiar ties in 
 my heart. But I must close (without wanting to). In 
 church matters we are rather at a standstill ; very good 
 
 m 
 

 
 158 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 congregations, but few coming to « the Fountain of Life." 
 I am not enjoying the same freedom in my pulpit work, 
 as I do when converts are multiplying. I long for a time 
 of refreshment, for myself and my people. Oh, what a 
 glorious work preaching is, when sowing and reaping is 
 , all done at once ! Give my love to father, mother, and 
 the children generally ; accepting a generous allowance 
 as your share. May God's blessing be with you all. 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 James S. Dickerson. 
 
 We give below a letter from Mrs. Dickerson, in 
 which reference is made to her husband's work for 
 the State, and in the hospitals ; and which, in many 
 respects, is a characteristic one : 
 
 Wilmington, Friday, June 25th. 
 
 My Dear Emma : I wonder what you think of me ? 
 I know it is really shabby of me not to write sooner ; but 
 really I did intend to, only somehow the intention was 
 not enough. I have thought of you so often, and wished 
 I could expect you here again. I hope you may be 
 fixed so as to be near here another season. 
 
 Of course I have been very busy! Am 1 not always? 
 If I did not have stockings to mend, and, equally 
 important, babies to look after, I should go off as a 
 foreign missionary, and make myself famous. * * * 
 1 am regularly installed now as organist, director-in-chief 
 of music, etc., etc. ! ! * * * Mr. Dickerson preached 
 at the Hospital two weeks ago, and had family prayers 
 there twice on Tuesday and Friday. The city ministers 
 are to take turns holding services there. A short time 
 ago Mr. Dickerson went to Chicago, and while he was 
 gone I went to house cleaning, and was nearly through 
 
 f 
 
 A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 
 
 159 
 
 when he came home. You can imagine I was busy 
 then. Bridget took it into her head to get sick one 
 Saturday, and I had all the baking, cooking, and work 
 to do for three days, and Mr. Dickerson sick all the time. 
 
 0, but I was tired ! We had a most delightful visit 
 over at Mrs. L's the other day, when they fairly stuffed 
 us with strawberries and cream, and sent us some three 
 different times besides, and splendid ones, too. M. spoke 
 of you, and wished you were there with us, and so did 
 
 1, for I knew you would have enjoyed it. Delaware is 
 now well represented in the army. The last send-off 
 was rather a joke ; a sorry joke for some, too. The 5th 
 Delaware, of which my respected partner is chaplain 
 (the glory may be great, but the pay is small), was 
 suddenly ordered off to Fort Delaware, with about an 
 hour's warning. It was composed mostly of gentlemen 
 in business here, and it made the greatest excitement. 
 Some had to close their places of business entirely, 
 others leaving them in charge of a boy. It was amusincr, 
 though, for all. The Sunday schools are pretty much 
 deprived of male teachers; and the choir of the church 
 over the way had not a man left in it. It took from the 
 Dupont Mills one hundred men, and from other places 
 accordingly. A part of the regiment left on Saturday, 
 and the remainder were as suddenly ordered off Sunday 
 evening. When we came out from church, the street 
 was so crowded we could not get to the pavement for 
 some time. The drums were beating, the fifes playing 
 Yankee Doodle, and it was altogether unlike Sunday. 
 The church over the way had quite a shaking up on a 
 recent Sabbath. A young man preached a strong Union 
 sermon, and a few of the " Coppers " could not stand it, 
 and seven of them got up and went out, among them 
 our next door neighbor. It has made a great deal of 
 
..«(to.»-i,».,-SI»,»_ 
 
 I 
 
 160 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSOK. 
 
 fun. Ada has been sick for a week back, with a mild 
 kind of typhoid fever, but is getting better slowly. Her 
 leg is very bad and painful. She just begins to sit up 
 now. Spencer has gone off on a sailing voyage with his 
 friend, Le Roy Webster, to Cape Henlopen. 
 
 How I do wish you lived near us ! I kinder sort o' 
 feel that I have a claim upon you ! When are you to be 
 married? The coming Winter? Mr. Dickerson wishes 
 particularly to be remembered to his friend Emma. 
 Remember me kindly to your father, mother, and sister. 
 
 As ever, Julia. 
 
 All these letters will show how poor and precarious 
 Mr. Dickerson's health was, and yet how constantly 
 he kept at his work. We give an extract from 
 another one, from him, written in October, 1864, 
 after a stay of a day or so in Rochester during his 
 Summer vacation: 
 
 My Dear Emma: Your letters, ever welcome, will be 
 still more so now that I have revived the pleasant 
 associations of the past, as they gather about your much 
 loved family circle. My last visit has recovered much 
 that seemed lost to memory, besides adding new treas- 
 ures to my store. I did have a very pleasant visit, and 
 I can not wait until the close of this letter to send my 
 love to father, mother, and all the children. May God's 
 infinite goodness be round about the household, as an 
 angel of mercy and guidance to the better land, where 
 we all, in Christ, shall happily and eternally meet! Since 
 my return, our little Ada has seen many dark days and 
 nights of intensest suffering. But for several days she 
 has been free from sharp pain— the abscesses having 
 broken— and she enjoys tolerably good sleep, either with 
 
 A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 
 
 161 
 
 or without an opiate. She has a famous appetite, which 
 we sit by and feed with all the delights of parental 
 cainiibalism. And to be sure of the path of duty, it is 
 " not by bread alone," but by chickens, birds, chops, and 
 all the delicacies of the season which we can honestly 
 lay our hands to. This is the only hopeful sign in her 
 little sky, so strangely darkened and disturbed. But 
 she is patient always, and, when not in the very pinch 
 of pain, quite happy and contented. The rest of us are 
 as usual. I am pretty well, although I had a sort of 
 bilious knock-down a week or so ago, in which I think I 
 rather got the worst of it. I don't care to try it again. 
 My eyes are decidedly better. All send love. Julia 
 will write soon. Affectionatelv vours. 
 
 James S. Dickersox. 
 
 It will be seen how tenderly, in this last letter, 
 he speaks of Ada, who was, indeed, a constant suf- 
 ferer. Her afflictions had commenced when she 
 was two years old. Recovering from an attack of 
 sore eyes, she had a severe fall which injured her hip 
 and sent the disease there. It gradually increased 
 in severity until repeated abscesses were formed, 
 and when she was nine years old there were five or 
 six open sores .upon her hip. For weeks while they 
 were forming, she would often scream from the 
 intense pain; while her father and mother, often 
 through long and weary weeks, were night and day 
 unremitting in their attentions. Ada was a child 
 alike beautiful in face and lovely in character. Her 
 constant association with older people rendered her 
 more than ordinarily mature ; she was gentle and 
 loving, grateful for every kindness, and disposed to 
 
 f 
 
162 
 
 JAMES S. DICKER80N. 
 
 do all in her power for herself. She was devotedly 
 fond of reading, enjoyed having her mother read 
 aloud to her, and listening to the stories spun from 
 the fertile brain of her father ; stories of the Revolu- 
 tion, of the Indians, of everything, often exquisitely 
 humorous, often ingeniously and delicately inculcat- 
 ing some moral useful lesson ; and, in their racy droll- 
 ery, as interesting to the grown folks as they were 
 to the children. Ada, too, inherited much of her 
 father's cheerfulness and playfulness of spirit, of his 
 humor and his wit, as well as of his uncomplaining 
 patience and fortitude amidst suffering. Yet well 
 might the sunny cheerfulness often give way to 
 pensive sadness, when sometimes she was for weeks 
 so sore that she could only be moved on a sheet, 
 and the jar of a footstep in the room threw her into 
 a nervous torture. 
 
 She had a natural ear for music, caught tunes 
 readily, and was the dependence in singing of the 
 infant-class in the Sabbath school ; so much so that, 
 when she was prepared to enter the main school, she 
 was retained in this as the head singer. Thus her 
 musical talent seemed the handmaid of piety ; and, 
 when a very little child, sleeping in a trundle-bed 
 near her parents, she awoke them one night by sing- 
 ing, in a clear, ringing voice, the hymn containing 
 the words, 
 
 Let 113 walk in the light, 
 In the light of God. 
 
 From some notes made by her father reffardin<y 
 her with the purpose of embalming her history in a 
 Sabbath school book, I make a few extracts : 
 
 A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 
 
 163 
 
 Ada, though she was not a natural Christian, loved to 
 read her Bible and to hear it read. She had a pretty 
 little Testament, and in May, 18G4, as I went to visit 
 the wounded soldiers of the Republic, she lent it to me. 
 I gave it to Ira C. Ritch, from Hendersonville, Pa. He 
 was shot in the shoulder; had a wife and four children 
 at home. " My hope is strong in Jesus, but I miss my 
 Bible," he said. I gave him Ada's, and her satisfaction 
 was unmingled when I told her about it. She soon was 
 presented with a Bible, which she often kept under her 
 pillow, and in which she marked many passages she 
 loved. Her favorite chapter was the 14th of John, 
 beginning: " Let not your hearts be troubled: ye believe 
 in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are 
 many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told 
 you. I go to prepare a place for you." 
 
 Feb, 12, 1865. I preached in Pittsburgh — went home 
 to a glorious revival ! 
 
 March 9. Sydney Ross, our children's nurse, gave 
 her experience. Ada was converted shortly after. Her 
 experience on Monday evening. May 1, 1865. How she 
 spoke, leaning on her crutches ! Among other things, 
 she said, " I think I ought to love the Bible more ! " 
 Her mamma and oldest brother baptized with her on 
 Wednesday evening. May 3. How sweetly she acted in 
 the baptistry, as the deacons lifted her down to me, and 
 lifted her from my arms after baptism! while the choir 
 sang. 
 
 Thou hast said, exalted Jesus, 
 
 " Take thy cro»s and follow me." 
 Shall the word with terror seize us? 
 Shall we from the burden flee ? 
 
 Lord, I'll take it. 
 And rejoicing— follow thee. 
 
 This hymn was ever a favorite with her and with me. 
 
164 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 
 
 165 
 
 May 7. I gave them the hand of fellowship. We 
 gathered at the Lord's table. It was the first, and— on 
 earth— the last time we were all together. The next 
 communion was in Pittsburgh! Spencer, Ada, Sydney 
 Ross! Again the hand of fellowship — o/i6 was not 
 there. 
 
 Thus much from her father's notes. Ada believed 
 that if she had not been "afflicted" she should 
 have continued to go - astray ; " that to the sorrow 
 of her hfe she owed her life eternal. Of her con- 
 version she said : - I put my head under the covers 
 that night and asked God to forgive me, and he did." 
 Her prayers were habitually earnest, direct, full of 
 simple faith— like her father's. One incident, in 
 this record of a child, we may be pardoned for nar- 
 rating : 
 
 One cold winter night, kneeling by her father to 
 say her little prayer, and appreciating her warm and 
 comfortable home, she prayed: "And now, O 
 Lord, bless the poor people. If they are hungry 
 give them food to eat ; if they are cold, give th'^m 
 clothing, and send them some coal ; and, even if 
 they are naughty. Lord, do bless them, do." When 
 she rose from her knees, she said, - Now, papa, I 
 suppose that, to-morrow, when the Lord sends the 
 coal and the other things to the poor people, they 
 will think that some big folks, like you or mamma, 
 prayed for them. They will not think it was a little 
 lame girl, will they?" The next day in Phila- 
 delphia, Mr. Dickerson met a city missionary with 
 whom he was well acquainted, and told him of Ada^s 
 prayer. He said, " Well, go home and tell your 
 
 little girl that the Lord has answered her prayer 
 and helped the poor people, and that, too, when 
 they were naughty and had very little faith." He 
 then related to him how, that morning, when he felt 
 that he could not look presentable on the next Sab- 
 bath in his very shabby suit, and yet knew not how 
 he could get a better one ; when he needed coal and 
 food and necessaries for his family, he had come to 
 the city, and, walking down Chestnut Street, had 
 fallen in with a wealthy Baptist, the proprietor of a 
 large clothing establishment. This gentleman knew 
 him well and the good work he was doing in the 
 city. He said to him, after a few minute's conver- 
 sation, '' I want to know, now, if that is the best 
 suit of clothes you have." He replied that it was. 
 '* Well, come with me, and I think we can improve 
 your appearance." He took him to his store, fitted 
 him out with a new suit and overcoat, gave him 
 money for a hat and boots, and a check for the pur- 
 chase of some home necessaries. Ada was delighted 
 at hearing the story, and believed that the incident 
 was a direct answer to her prayer. Perhaps we may 
 share her faith, even though the term '' naughty " 
 did not quite hit the mark that she intended. She 
 certainly was not thinking of praying missionaries. 
 But the great Prayer-hearer is sovereign in His 
 answers. 
 
 These incidents give a glimpse of Mr. Dickerson's 
 home life, of the burdens he had to bear, while they 
 show some of his own traits reproduced in the char- 
 acter of his child. Unfortunately he was not soli- 
 tary in those sad domestic experiences. How many 
 
n' 
 
 ^ffff^fywrnffifi'if^ 
 
 
 1G6 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 a life shines out in brightness upon the public from 
 a darkened home and a burdened heart I But with 
 few has there been greater harmony between the 
 public and the domestic life than with him. When 
 the light did not shine round him from without, it 
 sprang like a living fountain from within. 
 
 The illness of his daughter was not his only afflic- 
 tion of this nature. The last letter given from him 
 of October, 1864, referred to an improved condition 
 of his eyes. He had been through a very severe 
 attack of typhoid pneumonia, in which his phy- 
 sicians had given him over, and he lay seemingly on 
 the verge of the grave. His children had been sent 
 away; bells in the neighborhood were muffled, and 
 all was shrouded in the gloom of impending death. 
 A little incident so inconirruous with the circum- 
 
 o 
 
 stances, seems yet so characteristically fitted to him, 
 that we can scarce avoid narrating it. His children 
 had been separated from him for more than a week. 
 In an hour of a little relaxing of the severity of 
 the disease he had them sent for, and as the little 
 ones gathered around the bedside, he asked them if 
 they could not sing a little song for papa. They 
 readily complied, but with a child-like obliviousness 
 to the tragic character of the scene, and to his 
 laughing horror, instead of the expected " I want to 
 be an angel," or *' There is a happy land,'* they 
 piped up, in animated chorus, 
 
 A frog went a courting; he did ride, 
 Sword and pistol l)y his side, 
 
 and so on through all the frolicking stanzas. The 
 uncontrollable laughter from which, in his weakness, 
 
 A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 
 
 167 
 
 he feared disastrous consequences, proved, perhaps, 
 a good medicine, and illustrated in a way that the 
 "Preacher" never thought of, the truth of his 
 apophthegm that '' there is a time to laugh." 
 
 On his recovery his eyes continued for a long time 
 so weak that he could scarcely use them at all in the 
 evening. My father, learning his condition, wrote 
 to him, proposing that he should join my sister and 
 her husband in a trip to Colorado and Utah, as likely 
 to prove very serviceable. He replied as follows : 
 
 July 6, 1804. 
 
 To Prof. J. F. Richardson.— Jfy dear friend : Your 
 kind letter to me of a recent date, and that to Mrs. D. 
 from Emma, are at hand and duly appreciated. The 
 interest you both evince in my personal welfare is a 
 source of true satisfaction to me, as I feel that our old 
 friendships are still warm. As for Emma, my entire 
 household has long since marked her as a rare specimen 
 of " the true, the beautiful, and the good," and her 
 appearance in our circle knocked one of my favorite 
 proverbs high as a kite; viz., that about valuable fabrics 
 being done up in small packages. 
 
 As to going to Utah, my wife seems to think that you 
 have got the idea into your heads that she is in poor 
 health, and that, therefore, the matrimonial atmosphere 
 of Salt I^ake is recommended to me. She says her eves 
 are not yet impaired, and " she don't see it " at all. Our 
 arrangements are all completed for a different trip; so, 
 much as I should delight in being one of the merry 
 party to Salt Lake City, I shall not be able to undertake 
 it. I go for a few days to the seaside, starting next 
 week. I shall leave Julia and my little sick girl there, 
 and, with the others, go to New York and spend a few 
 
' r^lT 
 
 (I 
 
 I I 
 
 168 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 weeks on Long Island Sound at my brother's. I may 
 get to Rochester to Commencement. I must have a 
 good, long rest, and my church have voted me two 
 months if necessary. With love to all, I am, 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 James S. Dickerson. 
 
 In reply to a letter from me, written in the 
 Summer of 1865, after the death of his wife, he 
 says: 
 
 Your letter of the 2')th ult., intended to strike me at 
 Pittsburgh, glanced and reached its mark at New York 
 City, just as I was "on the wing" for the hills of Con- 
 necticut. A good shot ! How much I thank you for it; 
 it seemed as though it revived some of the dead music 
 of the past. Just as I have had some faintly lingering 
 echo come to me, lontj after the sound which had 
 evoked it and all its answerinor echoes seemed to have 
 died away. The truth is, i/ou know more of the happi- 
 ness of my inner home-life as it was, than any other of 
 the dear friends who have yielded me their sympathy 
 m correspondence ; consequently, I welcomed your 
 letter as I would one from mv own sister Grace, Mrs. 
 Van Dusen. (Then, after telling where he has been, 
 and where he spends the remainder of his vacation, he 
 says) : My health is much improved, and I am getting 
 a better appetite, both for food and sleep. I am also 
 trying, not only to get, but to reflect more of cheerful 
 sunshine. I feel very unworthy the smile and favor of 
 the Saviour, but I do not the less value them — rather 
 the more. I feel more than ever a desire to work on 
 faithfully, hopefully, cheerfully. Any common bird can 
 sing when the sun shines; but it requires a gay-songed, 
 a heaven-aspiring lark to rise from dark and rain, and 
 
 A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 
 
 169 
 
 sing above them. I feel that God, in great love, has 
 left some work for me to do. O, that I may do it, and 
 all the better for the sad training through which he has 
 called me to pass. Give my love to your father and 
 mother, and each member of the family circle. My 
 own little ones are well — Ada better than usual. Spen- 
 cer is with me; the three youngest are with Aunty Jane 
 on a farm near Pittsburgh. With sincere good wishes, 
 
 I am, 
 
 Affectionately, your friend and brother, 
 
 James S. Dickeeson. 
 
 *...Jfcit.'":i:!r:i3 
 
RESIDENCE IN PITTSBURGH. 
 
 171 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 RESIDENCE IN PITTSBURGH. 
 
 To this " smoky city," but to an intelligent and 
 excellent church, Mr. Dickerson came in May, 1865, 
 with a burdened and sorrowing heart. He had come 
 in the exercise of his characteristic faith. Just after 
 the burial of his wife, as he was sitting with his little 
 ones about him in the house of his friend, to his sis- 
 ter's inquiry, " Well, James, what are your plans ? 
 what are you going to do?" he replied, "I hardly 
 know ; I have not quite got my hand into that of 
 Jesus, but he will guide me." He did guide him. 
 The aunt to whom we have referred, went with him 
 and remained more than a year ; his family was cared 
 for, and he came into the bosom of a thoughtful and 
 sympathizing people. Of his reception in Pittsburgh 
 we have already written. 
 
 He found the church engaged in the work of rais- 
 ing money for their new chapel, while worshiping in 
 a public hall in the center of the city. He put aside 
 his own private griefs, and immediately placed his 
 shoulder under the common burden. The church 
 labored with him in hearty sympathy, and, in the 
 following winter, the handsome stone chapel, with 
 its large Sabbath school-room containing a beautiful 
 fountain, and the very tasteful audience room above, 
 
 170 
 
 seating between five and six hundred persons, was 
 dedicated. 
 
 From his first coming to Pittsburgh Mr. Dickerson 
 took a high stand, alike as a preacher and a Chris- 
 
 FOURTH AVENUE BAPTIST CHURCH, 
 
 PITTSBURGH, PA. 
 
 tian citizen interested in all good works. His genial 
 disposition and fascinating manners, his ready sym- 
 pathy with every form of goodness and of suffering, 
 his uniformly easy, graceful, and earnest eloquence, 
 made him a general favorite, and constantly sought 
 
172 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 for on public occasions. In Sunday-school gather- 
 ings, and temperance societies ; in asylums, peniten- 
 taries, and for the various charitable institutions, his 
 voice was often heard and always with delight. The 
 church grew in numbers and in strength, the Sab- 
 bath school steadily increased, the prayer-meetings 
 became larger and more earnest, and the small audi- 
 ences of the public hall enlarged, until the average 
 Sabbath attendance of the chapel rose to above four 
 hundred. The already completed chapel and tower, 
 with the lot upon which the contemplated church 
 was to stand, cost altogether $80,000. This amount 
 was all paid while Mr. Dickerson was pastor, and 
 only the excessive pressure upon the manufacturing 
 interests of Pittsburgh prevented the erection of the 
 church building itself during his pastorate. As it 
 was, it was not dedicated until 1875. 
 
 Mr. Dickerson did not believe that because a 
 church had contracted a debt, it was authorized to 
 curtail its gifts for benevolent objects. He held that 
 the Lord would prosper it in its domestic finances in 
 proportion as it proved faithful to all the claims of 
 Christian benevolence and charity. Statistics will 
 show how his teachings in this regard were acted 
 upon. The contributions of the church to benevo- 
 lent purposes during the first year of his pastorate 
 were $290.00 ; during the last year, the fifth, they 
 were $1,137.00. The average contributions during 
 these years, including payments on the chapel, were 
 $14,000.00. 
 
 To a Presbyterian brother clergyman, an old 
 friend, who he thought was not happily situated in 
 
 RESIDENCE IN PITTSBURGH. 
 
 173 
 
 his church, he wrote soon after entering on his 
 pastorate : 
 
 Your letter had a rare welcome. If you want an 
 appreciative correspondent, I'm your man ; you need 
 look no farther ! I have often thought of you .since we 
 filled ourselves with beef -steak and melon at your 
 cousin's expense. It's well to teach these laymen prac- 
 tical lessons as to what it costs in these days to keep a 
 "clergyman." Poor soul! I hope he does not judge 
 of "the cloth" generally by the illustration which was 
 at my right hand that day ! You did do splemlidly. I 
 almost envied you your appetite. But a man may have 
 too much of a good thing— as your astonished cousin, I 
 doubt not, inwardly soliloquized. You'll never catch 
 him opening a boardino--house for clero-ymen. * * * 
 How I do wish you could get into a newer, fresher, and 
 more encouraging field ! Would that your church appre- 
 ciated your faithfulness and devotion ! God bless you, 
 and keep you faithful, even if they are cold and heart- 
 less. Your time will come; and if you will patiently 
 let God fix it, you will say when it arrives, " Tliank 
 God that it did not strike an hour sooner." We can 
 not, we ought not, to shield or apologize for cool, criti- 
 cizing, half-hearted, or hindering brethren and sisters; 
 but, to a certain degree, I suppose we ought to stomach 
 them— for the Gospel's sake; but the Lord knows it's an 
 awful g^^gy dose ! 
 
 Here, I have a large salary in dirt, smoke, etc., etc., 
 but my brethren are coming up to the mark, and seem 
 to think that I am ''the gem of the seas," and they are 
 brethren of excellent judgment ! We shall soon begin 
 to build. We have fine lots; but I have sometimes 
 wished that every member of the First Presbyterian 
 Church here would have the jumping tooth-ache, until 
 
174 
 
 JAMES S. DICKEKSON. 
 
 they voted that we might have their house and lot at 
 prime cost. I judge from your silence that your son 
 experienced no severe hurt from the stone thrown at 
 him. I am glad to hear of his improved health. God 
 spare him for health, happiness, and usefulness; and as 
 the merchant said in his prayer for his children, " Ditto, 
 Lord, for all the rest, assorted sizes ! " 
 
 Oh, when skating time comes, how 1 shall think of 
 you, and long and pine for the days of " Auld lang 
 syne ! " Ah me ! Give my love to your dear wife. I 
 think I would fight about as quickly for her as for any 
 living mortal. If she asks for any stronger evidence 
 of my fraternal interest and aflfection, I should despair 
 of satisfying her. 
 
 As ever, yours, 
 
 James S. Dickerson. 
 
 As he closed the letter, I presume it occurred to 
 him that he had not mentioned the children, or said 
 much to satisfy a woman's inquiries, so he added : 
 
 Yes, there is lots of news in this letter, too, Mrs. B. ! 
 The children are well; I am better; butter is seventy- 
 five cents a pound, chickens one dollar and twenty-eight 
 cents per pair; the weather really delightful; I am 
 going to Philadelphia soon; I hope to get another house 
 April first; shall have a nice parsonage if I live long 
 enough; I am expecting my sister, Mrs. Van Dusen, 
 here soon to get the children ready for Winter. Thank 
 the Lord for good women ! 
 
 Mr. Dickerson 's Pittsburgh pastorate was natur- 
 ally less eventful than that in Wilmington, and will 
 require less detail. He spent much time in pastoral 
 visiting, and the more as his people were scattered 
 
 RESIDENCE IN PITTSBURGH. 
 
 175 
 
 over an unusually wide area. The smoke and soot 
 of the city had driven many of the citizens to the 
 suburbs, and some of the most influential families in 
 his church lived from five to ten miles, and some even 
 farther still, from the church. He averaged about 
 five hundred visits a year during the five years ; and 
 the results were seen in the enlargement and pros- 
 perity alike of the church and the Sabbath school. 
 And when those whom the pastor had instructed 
 and comforted in their homes, found their steps 
 drawn to the sanctuary, they did not come in vain. 
 His sermons were inspiring, and (as with most good 
 preachers) to know his pulpit power was to hear 
 him among his own people. He rarely wrote an 
 entire sermon ; but he put more thought into them 
 than is found in many a written sermon, and to 
 careful and thorough preparation he added an easy 
 elocution, and a directness and earnestness of 
 address which were exceedingly impressive. He 
 combined two essential constituents of eloquence; 
 intensity and clearness of conviction, an unhesitat- 
 ing flow of language and an unfailing instinct for 
 concrete and pictorial expression. He spent, gener- 
 ally, five or six hours a day in his study, and his 
 intense application during this time made a heavy 
 strain upon his vital powers. This, with his frequent 
 visiting, and almost incessant calls from without, 
 so taxed his energies that only the great buoyancy 
 of his temper, and almost hilarious flow of spirits 
 saved him from much earlier exhaustion. He 
 wrought the labors of a man with the enthusiasm 
 of a boy ; and, when wearied by duties which no 
 
 4 
 
176 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 amount of enthusiasm could prevent from being 
 wearisome, he always found refreshment and invig- 
 oration in the sympathies of a happy home. Here 
 he could relax the tension of his soul, throw off for 
 the time his burdens, and, in almost frolicsome 
 unbending, gather strength for the next morning's 
 toil of intellect, and the next afternoon's round of 
 pastoral duty. 
 
 Besides his other labors, he wrote almost weekly 
 for some of the religious denominational journals ; 
 his faithful and facile pen was ever ready in expo- 
 sure of what he deemed error, or advocacy of some 
 important truth or duty. He also accepted a virtual 
 challenge from a Methodist clergyman, who stated 
 in one of the Pittsburgh papers that he had repeat- 
 edly affirmed that immersion was not scriptural bap- 
 tism, and that no Baptist had ventured to contradict 
 him. Mr. Dickerson determined to relieve this 
 Goliah of the trouble of any similar challenges in 
 future. He carried on a controversy with him in 
 the National Baptist for about three months, main- 
 taining his positions with cogency and learning. The 
 argument resulted in the defection of quite a num- 
 ber of the adherents of Methodism to the Baptist 
 ranks. 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 MAJiRIAGE AND HOME LIFE IN PITTSBURGH. 
 
 Mr. Dickerson went to Pittsburgh in May, 1865. 
 He remained a widower until the Autumn of 1866, 
 when the friendship which had for years existed 
 between him and the present writer, took a tenderer 
 and more intimate character ; and, instead of com- 
 plying with an invitation to teach in Vassar Female 
 College, I accepted (as he playfully informed Dr. 
 Raymond, and as I was not wholly indisposed to 
 deny), " a better position ; " and, following out the 
 acceptance, I accompanied him to Pittsburgh. I 
 was entering an untried sphere indeed, but a familiar 
 family circle, and one in which all my associations 
 had been peculiarly delightful. I had reason to 
 anticipate the happiness which I found, and every 
 day and year only developed and heightened the 
 congenial sympathies which first drew us together. 
 In him I found only love, and tenderness, and care ; 
 all the thoughtful regard for my wishes and opinions 
 that the most strong-minded asserter of the privi- 
 leges of the sex could ask. From his children I ever 
 had loving obedience. Just after our engagement he 
 wrote, " A happy, delightful day ! May thus it be, 
 'walking together' till life's journey ends, and the 
 Heavenly Sabbath dawns ! " 
 
 12 
 
 177 
 
 B w l wU li L i - iiew w !- i» ' .i«t'W i 
 
^3gy »1 S « tf» n y-rj 
 
 178 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 He adds in his diary : 
 
 Tuesday^ Sept. 4, 1866. The marriage notice. Started 
 for Niagara Falls. Thank God for hopes and home ! 
 
 Tuesday., Sept. 14, 10:40. Reached home ! May God 
 make the happiness of myself and family redound to 
 His glory. 
 
 Aorain : Bless the Lord for all His unusual and 
 precious gifts and tokens of favor of which I feel so 
 unworthy. 
 
 The years 1867 and 1868 brought to our hearts and 
 home both joy and sorrow. In November, 1867, 
 our first child, Florence, was born. She was a 
 beautiful chikl, becoming early full of fun and frolic, 
 and looking very much like her father. Her coming, 
 a joy to us all, was an especial delight to Ada, who 
 would amuse herself with her for hours. In con- 
 nection with this one, I may record an instance of 
 Ada's sinsfular unselfishness. She had in December 
 one of her periods of intense suffering, which could 
 be allayed only by large opiates, but in all which she 
 was unfailingly patient, now and then in her parox- 
 ysms, praying, ''O Lord, please stop this dreadful pain, 
 and come and take me to Heaven." Yet, when little 
 Florence became ill and I was attending upon her, 
 while her father was at Ada's bedside, soothing her 
 with songs and stories, she said to him, " Poor tired 
 mamma, she does not get any rest, night or day. I 
 wish I could take the baby's pain, for I am used to 
 it and could bear it better." 
 
 But ere long the blows of death came in rapid 
 succession. In February, 1868, after a long and 
 painful illness my father. Prof. J. F. Richardson, of 
 
 •^.i 
 
 MARRIAGE AND HOME LIFE. 
 
 179 
 
 Rochester, passed away. He was just sixty years old, 
 and being blessed with an excellent constitution — 
 this was his first serious illness within my memory — 
 he was in his full physical and mental vigor. This 
 is not the place to record his eulogy. But a daugh- 
 ter may bear testimony to the thorough integrity of 
 character, the uniform uprightness of conduct, the 
 high sense of duty and of honor which won for him 
 universal esteem, and even more emphatic testimony 
 to the gentle virtues, the unfailing sympathy and 
 kindness that illuminated and gladdened the sanctu- 
 ary of his home. It was where he was best known 
 that he was most esteemed and loved. 
 
 The first agony of grief for my father was scarcely 
 over, when Ada suddenly began to fail. Her appe- 
 tite, which had been excellent, was gone, and she 
 herself became conscious that her end was near. 
 Her child-like faith, however, was strong, and she 
 loved to hear of Heaven, though she would some- 
 times say, '' How can I leave you all, and our dear 
 little baby ? " Her pain could be alleviated only by 
 large doses of morphia. One night, her father coming 
 home late and exhausted from his labors, and finding 
 her in distress, went for the accustomed dose of 
 morphia. The bottle had been forgotten and was 
 empty, and the place for replenishing it was a mile 
 distant. He told her about it, and, kneeling down, 
 asked her to join him in a prayer that God would 
 give her rest and sleep without the morphia. After 
 a soothing song she fell asleep and rested until morn- 
 ing ; and, as she saw her father in the morning, she 
 said, " The prayer was just as good as the morphia, 
 
180 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 MARRIAGE AND HOME LIFE. 
 
 181 
 
 
 wasn't it?" Her father, a believer in prayer, pro- 
 bably thought it was; yet would not have been 
 tempted by the belief to forego a fresh supply of 
 the medicine. God, he believed, gives answers to 
 prayer, but not to presumption. 
 
 Toward the last of May Ada failed fast, was 
 much of the time unconscious, and talked incoher- 
 ently. One of her little utterances, tender and 
 touching at the time, was stamped soon with the 
 deeper pathos of an unsuspected prophecy : ''Yes," 
 she said, midway between sleeping and waking, '' I 
 have two mammas ; one is on the earth, and one is up 
 in Heaven. If I die I shall see mamma Julia;" 
 and then, after a moment, she added, '' But what 
 could I do without my dear little baby ? Ask and 
 receive. I'll ask the Lord, and perhaps he will give 
 me one there." Alas! (we thought a little after), 
 Ada's prayer has too surely reached its mark, and 
 Heaven has been enriched by and for her at the 
 expense of our double affliction. But as yet our 
 hearts did not forbode it. 
 
 Her father, meantime, talked to her of Heaven, 
 and pictured, as he beautifully could, its glories and 
 pleasures ; and her favorite aunt, Mrs. Van Dusen, 
 of New York, who kindly came a few days before 
 her death, did much to soothe her, and aid us all in 
 the trial. In the early morning of May, just after 
 she had said, *' I hear the bells ringing : how sweetly 
 they sound ! " she quietly breathed her last — one 
 moment listening and talking, the next moment 
 deaf and mute forever ! How close on the mystery 
 
 of life is the mystery of death ! In the family Bible 
 her father wrote : 
 
 "Ada Pauline Dickerson, oldest daughter of 
 James S. and Julia S. Dickerson, died sweetly and 
 in Jesus, May 29, 1868, at 7 A.M. For ten weary 
 years she suffered a painful affliction, which she 
 endured with remarkable patience, and under the 
 sad yet refining influence of which she was led to 
 Christ, and grew into a loveliness of Christian 
 maturity as remarkable as it was beautiful. Her 
 trust was in Him who is ' the resurrection and the 
 
 life.' " 
 
 In his diary he wrote : *' Monday, June 1st. Dar- 
 ling Ada placed in a grave at Alleghany cemetery, 
 awaiting the glad summons of the resurrection day. 
 Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly ! " 
 
 Although but thirteen years old, Ada had been 
 necessarily so much with older people," that she was 
 very mature, and I found in her a congenial and 
 sympathizing companion. The affectionate care of 
 all the household clustered about her, and with her 
 brothers and sister, in the absence of papa and 
 mamma, her wishes and advice were final. As we 
 laid away her little crutches, we could but rejoice 
 that the need of them was forever past, but we 
 missed day by day her glad presence, and her loving 
 
 ways. 
 
 She had been but a few weeks in heaven when 
 her half prayer, half prophecy was fulfilled, and the 
 summons came for our precious little Florence. On 
 Monday, July 6th. she was taken suddenly and 
 
182 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 violently ill, and Ada's words, " What shall I do 
 without my baby ? " came to our hearts with a 
 thrilling, and hitherto unthought-of meaning. As 
 the day wore on, and that fearful disease, cholera 
 infantum^ seemed to take a death-like hold of the 
 dear little flower, I thought, " Can it be that Ada is 
 about to have this baby ? Can it be that her prayer 
 is about to draw my little angel to the skies?" 
 Ada did not mean this. If Guido, ''dizzy with 
 heaven," forgot to turn away the ball, he surely did 
 not direct it to its mark for the sake of a speedier 
 brotherly reunion. Yet, if this was the unconscious 
 import of Ada's prayer, who shall deny that it is 
 in mercy? Who knows from what "evil to come" 
 the little one is taken away ? Snatched, perhaps, to 
 the fold of the Heavenly Shepherd, ere its feet have 
 strayed into paths of earthly sin and sorrow. 
 Would parental love prolong this life to Ada's years 
 at the cost of Ada's suffering ? The mother's heart 
 may be forgiven for shrinking back from the fatal 
 record. Yet the dreaded event came, and, shortly 
 after ten o'clock at night, our first-born, the darling 
 of our hearts, and the light of our home, was gone. 
 Her death was five weeks after that of Ada. Her 
 father wrote in his diary : " Died suddenly, Monday, 
 July 6th, at 10.30 p.m., our precious little daughter, 
 Florence, aged seven months and sixteen days." 
 
 And so, within six months, the Angel of Death 
 came thrice into the circle of our loved ones. 
 
 Insatiate Archer, could not one suffice ? 
 
 These successive sorrows, to me fraught with 
 
 mimm 
 
 iTiiv;3z: 
 
 MARRIAGE AND HOME LIFE. 
 
 183 
 
 sadness and depression, as I vainly struggled with 
 grief over my first-born, Mr. Dickerson looked upon 
 with a Christian eye, and saw the bright side of 
 every bereavement. He had been early disciplined 
 in the school of trial, and his Christian faith taught 
 him that, while the mysteries of Providence were 
 beyond solution, yet many things might be partially 
 comprehended by him with whom is " the secret of 
 the Lord." 
 
 I quote a few lines from a letter written from 
 McKeesport, near Pittsburgh, where Mr. Dickerson 
 attended an association a short time after Ada's 
 death : 
 
 Here T am, and hard at work. I have a nice place 
 to stay, and brother Everson is my bed-fellow. The 
 service is an interesting one, and promise is yielded 
 of considerable animation and discussion. It seems 
 both strange and sad to me, as my mind turns home- 
 ward, that I have no message to Ada to send, no anx- 
 ieties to nurse, and no prayers to offer in her behalf. 
 We do not know, darling, just how much we love, 
 until we are tried by bereavements. How tender we 
 should be to one another in view of the fact that some 
 day we shall be separated, and that forever — so far as 
 this poor world is concerned ! I feel that T want to be 
 more loving and careful and truly tender, in all my 
 future life, toward the dear ones whom T love and 
 who love me. * * * Give my love to the dear chil- 
 dren, not overlooking the sweet little hair-puller and 
 eye-scratcher, who does take so much after her mother. 
 Kiss her and the others for me, and accept a few choice 
 specimens for yourself. As I have opportunity I will 
 
184 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 MARRIAGE AND HOME LIFE. 
 
 185 
 
 I 
 
 write a few lines again. With much love, darling, and 
 hoping I shall find you stronger and better, 1 am. 
 Affectionately, your loving and lover-husband, 
 
 James. 
 
 Writing from another association, or convention, 
 in a distant part of the State, where Baptists were 
 not as wide-awake as he wished, he says : 
 
 Here I am, safe and sound. I had a good rest, and a 
 fair amount of sleep, for me, in the sleeping-car. I had 
 several pleasant companions on the way. We reached 
 here at 7 a.m., and after breakfast and hanging around 
 for an hour, I reported myself to the " Committee on 
 Deleofates," and received a card of introduction to a 
 very pleasant family. I left my valise and shawl, and 
 then sat down in the reading-room of -the hotel to fulfill 
 my promise to my absent, but not forgotten, wife. I 
 am mighty glad you did not come. It rather humbles 
 me to go, with my hat and card in hand, to ask hospital- 
 ity of strangers, and they Presbyterians. To have you 
 do it would be far worse. Then, too, I know you would 
 have become sick and tired of the whole performance. 
 Things are very one- horse- ish here among some Penn- 
 sylvania Baptists — and I guess always will be until the 
 "second coming." Dr. Castle, of Philadelphia, if he 
 comes, is to be my chum. He is a fine, gentlemanly 
 fellow. Mrs. Dr. Loomis, I hear, is in town, and Dr. L. 
 is expected. If they do not put me on for any service 
 Thursday evening, I think I will start that night, and 
 get to Pittsburgh in the morning. But now I must stop 
 and go to the depot, and see if the Philadelphia dele- 
 gates have arrived. Drs. Henson, Wheaton Smith, 
 Weston, Randolph, and a few others, are expected. 
 Give my love to the children, and tell them they must 
 
 help you all they can, and give a good report of them- 
 selves when I get back. Good-bye, dearest. While I 
 do not wish you were here, I do wish I were with you. 
 Home is the brightest and cheeriest place on earth to me. 
 Even our Pittsburgh home seems very bright, compared 
 with any other spot that is not home! May God bless 
 and keep you all. All my thoughts are in some way 
 related to home and you. 
 
 Your own dear husband, 
 
 James S. Dickerson. 
 
 From another letter, written from the Hudson, 
 where he was spending a few days at his uncle 
 James Stokes' summer home, we make a few 
 extracts : " The day is a real October one, reminding 
 us of the days that are to come ; those ' melancholy 
 days,' over which the poets have sung in such sad 
 numbers. And yet there is something very inspiring 
 to me in these Autumn times, and I feel more sym- 
 pathy with the animation of the squirrels that were 
 chattering in the woods to-day, than with the fright- 
 ened birds that were sailing sadly southward this morn- 
 jjjg^ * * * I am beginning to make arrangements 
 for my homeward trip. I want to impress myself, by 
 the help of God, on my field this fall and winter, 
 as never before. I want to work and study hard 
 and effectively. I want to get up earlier, and be a 
 little more systematic, and make every day tell. If 
 my head does not give out — this dizziness, I mean — 
 I think it will tell for good, on me and on my field. 
 
 " I think I may say that it is quite settled that 
 Uncle James will help me in my trip abroad. He 
 said, the last time that I talked with him, that he 
 
 8* 
 
186 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 MARRIAGE AND HOME LIFE. 
 
 187 
 
 wanted me to go once on a skimming sort of a trip, 
 seeing a good deal in a little while. Then, he 
 wanted me to take my wife^ and make another slower 
 and longer trip, that would give us something to 
 talk about the rest of our lives. He talked as if he 
 was ready to do a generous thing when the time 
 came. * * * But, darling, I would rather have 
 you and half a visit, than go without you and have 
 a whole one." * * * 
 
 From a letter received while I was making a visit 
 in Rochester, in 1869, when I was talking of pro- 
 longing my stay a little, I quote a few sentences : 
 
 I have read your last letter, just received, for the 
 second or third time, and, while it is a comfort and 
 satisfaction to hear from you again, it awakens a strong 
 desire to have you safely and lovingly at home. As 
 to prolonging your visit, I would try to speak impar- 
 tially if I really could, but I have an idea that my 
 prejudices are a little icarped in your favor. As to 
 home affairs, there is nothing in the housekeeping 
 arrangements that absolutely calls for the presence of 
 its "stirring" head. In this respect we are not suffering. 
 I have no doubt there are little neglects in pantries, 
 closets, etc., which will come to light when you return ; 
 but that will make no difference a thousand years hence. 
 * * * As for your " own precious," why his opinion 
 on a matter of this kind isn't to be trusted at all. I do 
 not know how it looks at Rochester, but there are all 
 the appearances here of a hard, wintry week. The 
 snow is falling at intervals, the sky looks very threaten- 
 ing, and I should feel greatly relieved to greet you 
 safely from storms and worse alarms on Saturday 
 
 
 evening, should you conclude that it is not best to 
 extend your visit. 
 
 We began our extra meetings last Wednesday night, 
 but as yet they have not been fruitful in any special 
 results, although one young man, I believe, is out in the 
 clear light of a hope. Would that T had more of that 
 simple resting on God and His own work t * * * 
 We all think of you and talk of you, and conclude that 
 a large part of the family circle has been taken away, 
 and a mere, lonely segment left. If a little separation 
 is worth anything, it is because it reveals the true depth 
 of our love for absent ones. Thank God that we need 
 this kind of discipline so little ! How few retain the 
 freshness and simplicity of heart love as we do, darling! 
 Of this kind of love the poet sang when he breathed so 
 sweetly on his lute, 
 
 'Tis said that absence conquers love, 
 
 But oh, believe it not! 
 I've tried in vain its power to prove, 
 
 But thou art not forgot. 
 
 And surely we have been separated often enough and 
 long enough to test, that 
 
 Tliough absent, present in love we be — 
 Our souls much farther than our eyes can see. 
 
 Stay a few days longer if you wish, and telegraph me 
 in time so that I shall not be looking for you and be 
 disappointed. I do not think there is much danger, 
 especially in coming this way. But good-bye, darling, 
 until we meet, either in peaceful correspondence, or " in 
 
 arms. 
 
 i> 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 J. S. D. 
 
 Some time before this an Eastern church in a 
 beautiful city wrote to him, urgently and repeatedly 
 
188 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 begging him to become their pastor, and ofifering 
 some unusual inducements in the matter of a sahiry 
 and a nice parsonage. Referring to it in a letter he 
 writes what we quote below, and soon afterward 
 declined the call, feeling that it was still his duty 
 to remain with the church in Pittsburgh and endure 
 the dirt, which was a great trial to him and to us 
 all. He says : 
 
 " The claims from are pushed again. But 
 
 I want the thing decided on principles that will 
 stand the test of a view from the dying hour. I am 
 not disposed to shirk every sacrifice, and when I 
 think what other ministers have had to endure, and 
 what Christ undertook for me, I feel that it is quite 
 likely that unless I move very carefully and in the 
 fear of God, He may change my average of a very 
 happy pastoral life to one that would show much 
 more of trouble, anxiety, and even sorrow. The 
 friends here constantly enquire about you and send 
 love to you. Tell Ada her letter was tip-top ; but 
 I would like to know where she gets note paper 
 with 'A. P. D.' on it? Such notions of extrava- 
 gance have just got to be ' put down.' " 
 
 In a letter addressed to Ada a few days afterward 
 he headed the letter, written on a large square letter 
 sheet, with a fanciful ff . 5. H., and addressed her 
 as, My dear Miss "A. P. D.," which amused her 
 very much. 
 
 '■ 
 
 CHAPTER Xni. 
 
 REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 
 
 Mr. Dickerson closed his labors in Pittsburgh in 
 May, 1870. In the April previous he had accepted 
 a call to the South Baptist church in Boston, Mass. 
 The circumstances of the call had seemed singular 
 and providential. In 1865, while the church in 
 Pittsburgh was worshiping in Masonic Hall, before 
 the completion of their chapel, a Mr. Pettingill, 
 from Boston, visiting his son-in-law in Pittsburgh, 
 a member of this church, heard Mr. Dickerson on 
 the Sabbath morning, and was drawn by his interest 
 in the discourse to repeat his attendance at the 
 church on a very oppressive evening. He returned 
 to Boston with an estimate of Mr. Dickerson which 
 the lapse of years did not efface. Nearly five years 
 afterward, when the South Baptist church had been 
 for four months without a pastor, Mr. Pettingill, as 
 chairman of the pulpit committee, wrote to his 
 ''Western man," inviting him to come and preach 
 for them, with a view to a call. The letter came 
 while Mr. Dickerson was spending two or three 
 weeks in New York. He had, even during this 
 year, received repeated invitations to other fields; 
 but had declined them. This, however, impressed 
 me as none of the others had; and when my 
 
 189 
 
 
190 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 husband read it on his return, he said, "I have 
 never felt as I do now about leaving Pittsburgh. I 
 have a conviction that the Lord's hand is guiding 
 us to Boston. What do you think ? '' In reply to 
 the request he wrote as follows : 
 
 February 19, 1870. 
 My Dear Brother: Your letter of the 15th inst. 
 is at hand, and I thank >ou for its kind references to 
 myself, and its clear statements with regard to the 
 church which you represent. Since its reception I have 
 given to the important subject, which it suggests, much 
 serious and prayerful consideration. Never during my 
 five years pastorate in this city have I gained the con- 
 sent of my conscience and judgment seriously to con- 
 sider any invitation to other churches, although, in 
 several instances, both pecuniary and other induce- 
 ments were very strongly in favor of the fields to which 
 I was called. But I frankly confess that a diflferent state 
 of things surrounds me now, and, should Providence 
 open the way, I should consider myself at liberty to 
 entertain the question of a change. The church of 
 which I am pastor has, by God's blessing, reached such 
 a position of prosperity and strength, that a change of 
 pastors need not embarrass any of its interests, and 
 might, indeed, promote them all. When I became 
 acquainted with the First Baptist Church of this city, its 
 property was worth less than J|9,000, and its two hundred 
 scattered, discouraged, and weakened members wor- 
 shiped in a very poor public hall. Now, its beautiful 
 chapel with the land on which it stands, including lots 
 for our projected main edifice, all worth $60,000 or 
 $70,000, are practically paid for, while our membership 
 has increased to about three hundred and fifty, and our 
 
 REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 
 
 191 
 
 working strength quadrupled. The main edifice is not 
 likely to be begun for some time yet. Hence the altered 
 circumstances which make me feel that the Master's 
 cause here need not suffer injury by a change of pastors. 
 
 He then speaks of the pleasant relations between 
 him and the church, and of the pain which would 
 attend the sundering of the ties which bound him 
 to them ; while he yet deems it possible that the 
 Lord may be preparing him for it, and, if so, it will 
 conduce to the highest good of all. 
 
 Having a natural shrinking from appearing before 
 the church in the attitude of a candidate, he sug- 
 gested to the Boston church that instead of his 
 going to them they should send a committee of two 
 or three to hear him at home. But Mr. Pettingill 
 wrote that there were not two or three men in the 
 church who would take such responsibility, and if 
 there were, the church would not be satisfied to be 
 represented by them. However, to make the matter 
 less embarrassing, they arranged that but few of 
 the church should be aware of the precise state of 
 affairs. In reply to a letter stating this, he wrote : 
 
 * * * I am grateful to you and the brethren with 
 whom you counsel for the judicious and considerate 
 plan you have adopted in respect to my visit. It is a 
 very undesirable position to occupy when a minister, 
 who wants to preach in view of the judgment of the 
 great day, is almost of necessity compelled to thoughts 
 of the "judgment" his hearers are passing upon him; 
 and while, as an individual, I know little of what is 
 called the fear of men, I am conscious of great sensi- 
 tiveness when I stand before an audience. Extempor- 
 
 ' < H* ' i gHi' '-J> 
 
192 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 f. 
 
 aneous speakers who "kindle" with the inspiration of 
 their hearers are placed at a great disadvantage when 
 they are left to the poor thoughts of their mere personal 
 relations, or acceptability to those whom they would 
 persuade and move. Would that I could always be 
 clear above these lower considerations, and lift my 
 hearers and myself to the realization that the work in 
 wh,ch we are engaged, while it demands the very best 
 gifts, can not be successfully prosecuted by mere human 
 appeals, however captivating, or convincing, or persuad- 
 ing they may be in themselves. No, not with enticing 
 words of man's wisdom." Wherever I may preach may 
 I have your prayers that I may be a faithful, bold, yet 
 loving, preacher of the truth as it is in Jesus. 
 
 Mr Dickerson went to Boston the last of March 
 a tended the Friday night prayer-meeting, preached 
 and baptized on Sunday the 27th, and left for Pitts- 
 burgh on Tuesday morning. Of the church meeting 
 which was held that Tuesday night, Mr. Pettingill 
 wrote : " In the height of a driving north-east storm 
 we assembled m our vestiy last night, and found the 
 largest number present I ever saw at a business 
 meeting. Then, after speaking of the remarks of 
 many m regard to giving Mr. D. a call, he says : 
 Every speaker expressed himself clearly and une- 
 quivocally in favor of extending you a unanimous 
 call, and when a motion to that effect was made, 
 seconded and put, the moderator asking for a rising 
 vote, every one present arose. There was no ma- 
 chinery, no electioneering, but one free, full, hearty 
 outburst of a sentiment pervading every heart here. 
 It was the largest vote ever cast for a pastor, not- 
 
 BEMOVAL TO BOSTON. 
 
 198 
 
 withstanding the severe storm without ; a unanimous 
 vote, notwithstanding we have heard fifteen candi- 
 dates, and most of them, if not all, above the medi- 
 ocrity of preachers, and many of them having strong 
 friends in the church. To my mind there is no way 
 of accounting for this hearty unanimity, but that 
 our blessed Redeemer is moving upon all hearts in 
 our dear church, and that ' God has led us by a way 
 we know not.' You should have seen the thrill of 
 pleasure that each countenance exhibited when the 
 vote was announced. No words of mine can give 
 you an idea of what our eyes saw and our ears heard. 
 Our meeting closed about ten o'clock, but it was 
 nearly eleven o'clock before the people left the ves- 
 try. To what can we attribute this wonderful 
 result, but to the hand of our blessed Lord ? Our 
 brothers and sisters say it is an answer to prayer, 
 and to-day among those I have seen there is but one 
 theme— the result of the meeting, and their hopes 
 and expectations touching your acceptance of our 
 call. In all my experience I have never witnessed 
 anything approximating such a feeling as now per- 
 vades our church. * * * Let us hear from you 
 as soon as possible, for the days will seem like weeks, 
 until we do." 
 
 Another member of the church writing to a friend 
 after this meeting, says, " Glory to God in the high- 
 est—praise the Lord! I don't know that I can 
 contain myself long enough to write, but I will try. 
 It is raining very hard to-night, but in spite of it, I 
 never saw so large a number at our church-meeting 
 as we had to-night. We took a vote for pastor, the 
 
194 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 largest vote ever recorded on our church books, and 
 Dr. Dickerson had every vote cast. Is not this God's 
 work ? We have heard fifteen candidates, and the 
 most of them able men, and I was afraid we could 
 not be united. I know that before Dr. D. came we 
 could not have got more than a two-thirds vote on 
 any one we have heard ; but when he came he united 
 every heart of the church and congregation. I wish 
 you could have been here and seen the interest mani- 
 fested. Never in the history of the church, since I 
 have been connected with it, have I seen anything 
 like it. Men grasped each other by the hand, and 
 women went here and there praising God for his 
 wonderful goodness to us in thus uniting us. * * 
 We believe we have the finest field to work in where 
 a man can make himself useful for his Master, in 
 Boston, I care not where the church is. * * * 
 Dr. Warren, of the Missionary Board, says, ' I hope 
 he will come, you can't do better,' and so say many 
 others. They say we want him here, in the ' Athens 
 of America.' " 
 
 There are other letters of the same tenor, but 
 these will suffice to show how quickly and how 
 thoroughly all hearts were turned toward him, and 
 how enthusiastic was the call to Boston. In April 
 Mr. Dickerson accepted it, and preached his first 
 sermons as pastor on Sunday, May 15th, from the 
 texts, " He shall see the travail of His soul, and be 
 satisfied," and in the afternoon, " I am not ashamed 
 of the Gospel of Christ; for it is the power of God 
 unto salvration." The latter sermon was noticed, 
 with a brief analysis of it, in the Boston Journal. 
 
 REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 
 
 195 
 
 As at Pittsburgh, so at Boston, Mr. Dickerson 
 was cordially welcomed into the circle of the minis- 
 try, and was at once recognized as among the leading 
 preachers there. His audiences increased steadily, 
 and ill his evening services, generally adapted more 
 especially to the young and the unconverted, the 
 large audience-room and galleries were crowded. 
 The usual practice had been here, as generally 
 elsewhere in New England, to have preaching ser- 
 vices in the morning and afternoon, followed by a 
 meeting for prayer in the evening. Desirous to 
 reach a large number in the community who would 
 not attend at his church in the daytime, nor could 
 be drawn to a prayer meeting at all, as also feeling 
 unable to preach two sermons in such close succes- 
 sion, Mr. Dickerson innovated on the old system, 
 and, with the concurring action of the church, 
 transferred the preaching of the afternoon to the 
 evening. The result justified the change. Multi- 
 tudes of young people were drawn, either from 
 other churches, or, more commonly, from their 
 saunterings in the streets or by the sea-shore, to the 
 place where the Gospel was proclaimed with earnest 
 and often with thrilling eloquence. On one occa- 
 sion two young ladies, members of a Universalist 
 congregation, being attracted to his evening service, 
 listened to a sermon on the "speechlessness" of the 
 guest who was found at the kingly banquet Avithout 
 the wedding garment. The effect on the audience 
 generally was very marked, and the two young 
 ladies went home alarmed over their spiritual desti- 
 tution. A lady with whom Mr. Dickerson had a 
 
 s 
 
 ■f 
 
196 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 pleasant acquaintance, gently taking him to task the 
 next day for preaching such fear-inspiring sermons, 
 and stating that these young ladies had passed a 
 sleepless night after hearing him, '' Good," he 
 replied, " I am glad to hear that they were touched 
 by what they heard. I hope they will give them- 
 selves no sleep until they have made their peace 
 with God, and are entitled to a robe of righteousness 
 which will fit them to appear at the marriage supper 
 of the Lamb." 
 
 We have already adverted to Mr. Dickerson's 
 leading characteristics as a preacher. He was, by 
 unanimous consent, an easy, graceful, effective, and 
 eloquent speaker ; forcible in manner, fluent and 
 often extremely felicitous in expression, rich in illus- 
 tration, solid and sufficiently profound in thought, 
 and his whole elocution vivified by unmistakable 
 Christian fervor — ''Truths divine came mended 
 from his lips." As a preacher of Christ he sought 
 to declare the whole counsel of God. If he de- 
 lighted in the milder, he did not shrink from the 
 sterner, utterances of the Gospel. If Calvary was 
 in the foreground, Sinai was as uniformly in the 
 background of his picture. Through his Christian 
 fidelity a '' violated law spoke out its thunders," 
 while, with a more loving readiness, from a heart 
 and lips on which had descended its richest balm, 
 " the Gospel whispered peace." He sought to preach 
 the whole Gospel in its rounded fullness. His 
 morning sermons, generally more elaborate, and 
 designed more especially for Christians — though 
 rarely closing without an appeal to the unconverted 
 
 REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 
 
 197 
 
 I 
 
 — were, to the thoughtful hearers, a feast of fat 
 things. His reading of the hymns was often strik- 
 ingly impressive, and many will recall the glowing 
 and almost inspired fervor with which he read such 
 hymns as. 
 
 In the Cross of Christ T glory, 
 Towering o'er the wrecks oi' time, 
 
 and felt that no one could doubt, were it even but 
 from the soul whicli he threw into that reading, that 
 he did glory supremely in the Cross of Christ. He 
 usually spent about fifteen minutes of the morning 
 service in commenting on the scriptures which he 
 read, and his expositions were often exceedingly 
 felicitous and instructive. Many a passage opened 
 itself luminously to the hearers. Then followed 
 the sermon, which always commanded a rapt 
 attention to tlie end. 
 
 Of his pastoral labors we really need say nothing. 
 To a man so constituted, so tender, so social, so sym- 
 pathizing and magnetic, and then transformed by 
 grace, to be a good, faithful, and beloved pastor was 
 a moral necessity. No wonder then that he won the 
 unanimous and enthusiastic love of his people. One 
 of the members of the church recently writing of 
 him to me, says, " I thank God we are to have that 
 precious life written. I have often wished it could 
 be done ! Such lives are rare, and its influence will 
 be greatly beneficial to all who have the pleasure of 
 its perusal. I wish we might have some of those 
 inspiring sermons in the memorial ! O, how I enjoyed 
 them ! It seemed to me he was inspired — I believe 
 he was full of inspiration, for there was an unction 
 
198 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 in his sermons rarely met with. I did appreciate 
 him when he was our pastor, and felt then that we 
 were a favored, happy people. He spoke the truth 
 so plainly, but always in love. How ready he always 
 was to endorse every good thing ! He never waited 
 until a thing was popular, but his great heart and 
 mind could take it all in, could see the end from the 
 be<yinninsr. When I think of all he accomplished 
 during the five years here in South Boston, it seems 
 as if he must have been with us a life-time. The 
 place is dearer to me because he and his loved ones 
 have lived here, and I know that Boston will ever 
 feel the influence of his noble life — I have ever felt 
 that our church would be a hard place for his suc- 
 cessor, the people were so thoroughly attached to 
 your beloved husband.'* 
 
 We insert here from a series of articles entitled 
 " Pulpit Portraits from Boston," published in The 
 Examiner in July, 1870, the following sketch of Mr. 
 Dickerson : 
 
 The former connection of Rev. J. S. Dickerson, D.D., 
 with The Examiner would sufficiently prepare your 
 readers to welcome a warm tribute to the many merits 
 of another new Baptist clergyman of Boston. Called 
 recently from Pittsburgh, Dr. Dickerson has already 
 strongly established himself in his new field of labor at 
 the " South Baptist " church, and in the affections and 
 confidence of his people. Much is expected of him, and 
 his pastorate will be no sinecure ; but evidently he is 
 not a man to covet easy places. He enters into his work 
 with a skill and animation that shows the practiced hand 
 and the grace-taught heart. We attended one of his 
 
 REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 
 
 199 
 
 evening services a while since, and heard him blow the 
 gospel trumpet with no uncertain sound. His text was 
 the Saviour's golden declaration, " There is joy in the 
 presence of the angels of God over one sinner that 
 repenteth," and a well-filled house listened intently to 
 his sermon till the close. The discourse was topical, 
 pictorial, and though in portions somewhat diffuse, quite 
 clear and forcible. One illustration (of the event of 
 repentance, and its joyful effect " in the presence of the 
 angels of God,") would dwell long in a hearer's memory. 
 It was an instance from the speaker's personal recollec- 
 tions, of a company of repentant rebels gathered out of 
 several regiments of Confederate prisoners at Fort Dela- 
 ware during the war. The scene of the oath-taking was 
 vividly drawn, the washing of the soiled and tattered 
 troop in the river (apt emblem of baptism, though the 
 preacher did not turn aside to use it), their rehabilitation 
 in " loyal blue," and finally the joy in the presence of the 
 army when they marched to the sound of music, on the 
 parade-ground, and took their place in the ranks of the 
 country's defenders. 
 
 Dr. Dickerson has a pleasant voice and natural ges- 
 ticulation. We noticed nothing affected in his manner 
 or utterance. Men will be apt to hear and remember 
 the truth told from his lips. Occasionally he uses a 
 quaint phrase, and sometimes breaks out with an unex- 
 pected apostrophe ; but his style is not daring enough 
 to be dangerous to the general good effect, and he never 
 grows boisterous. He is short of stature but shrewd of 
 head. 
 
 Warmly we joined in the Doctor's expressive prayer, 
 at the close, that the congregation might not turn away 
 that night in wooden insensibility, " like a door turning 
 on its hinges ; " and when we went out, we carried with 
 
200 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON 
 
 us the conviction that the South Baptist church had 
 secured the right man. 
 
 In August, 1870, Mr. Dickerson made a trip with 
 one or two of his members to Montreal and the 
 Saguenay River. He thus writes : 
 
 MOXTREAL, Aug., 1870. 
 
 I am in Her Majesty's Dominion. The hotel is noth- 
 ing to speak of, although it is much spoken about. To 
 tell you the truth, I prefer the board at Dickerson Hall 
 to anything we have as yet attained. * * * ^y^ jj^^j 
 a splendid day yesterday on the St. Lawrence River, 
 from Ogdensburg to Montreal — down among the rapids 
 all the way. It was novel and inspiring. This morning 
 we went into the Catholic cathedral here. I will tell 
 you all about it when I see you. It is a fine building, 
 but otherwise a perfect humbug — pictures, furniture 
 and all. I received your letters, and read them before 
 I ate my supper last night. They were like water to a 
 thirsty soul. I am going to read them again in a few 
 moments. I do hope you are having a nice time, and I 
 think you are. I believe it will be greatly to the 
 physical well-being of you all to enjoy the air and water 
 of Owl's Head. I shall be disappointed if I do not 
 have a few more days there with you. * * * j am 
 already looking forward to work and comfort in our nice 
 new house, in the fall and winter. I think we have 
 hopeful and joyous prospects before us. Never were 
 we more comfortably or honorably situated. A good 
 position, a good field, and warm, hearty appreciation 
 and co-operation ! Let us be grateful, and try to be 
 more consecrated to the great and noble work in which 
 we are permitted to engage — for which we are privi- 
 leged to make sacrifices ! I doubt whether I shall ever 
 
 REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 
 
 201 
 
 again have any better opportunity to serve the cause of 
 Him who has done so much for me — so much that, but 
 for His grace, I should have been a poor, miserable, 
 inefficient, and ignoble character, not to say worse. All 
 my social position, all my poor attainments in mental, 
 moral, and social culture, I owe to Jesus, who pardoned 
 me my sins, and started and helped me in a better and 
 upward direction. And among my blessings I count 
 the joyful coming of my dear, precious Emma. * * * 
 Mr. P. is a rare good man, and an enjoyable traveling 
 companion. Remember me to the family at Owl's Head, 
 and particularly to the Cheneys, who have been so kind 
 to us. * * * 
 
 From a letter written while I was in Rochester, 
 N. Y., visiting my sister, Mrs. Robins, who was very 
 sick, and who died a few months after, we quote a 
 few sentences: 
 
 I am sorry to read your words of discouragement as 
 to Maggie ! Could she not stand a slow journey hither? 
 And if so is there not hope that the salt air and mao-- 
 netic treatment would help her ? I should not want to 
 take any responsibility in the case, for she might die on 
 the way, but if they should deem it best I will do all I 
 can to make the experiment a successful one. * * * 
 Dr. Fulton goes to Brooklyn ! I think it is a great 
 mistake ; and yet it may be one of those mysterious 
 "providences" which occur against all human calculation, 
 and sometimes in spite of them. He goes right off, I 
 believe. Next Sunday I propose to settle the debt 
 business. My preference was to defer it for awhile 
 
 — but some of the folks thought it best — *'now or 
 
 always." The thing will be put through, I hope. They 
 want you to pledge the Ladies' Circle for two hundred 
 
202 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 dollars, to be paid during the year ! The Sunday school 
 will give one hundred dollars or more, in addition to 
 what they have done. * * * j fg^l very sad about 
 affairs in Rochester ; but it's all right. Sooner, perhaps, 
 than we think, we shall all be reunited in that better 
 country, where there is no death, neither sorrow nor 
 crying. I do not expect death, as you sometimes seem 
 to think I do ; but I no longer dread it. I love life as 
 ever, and am as hopeful, buoyant, and trustful as ever 
 of the future ; but I am a good deal less earth-bound, 
 and feel that the greatest thing is to cultivate that work, 
 those friendships, and that inner spiritual life which will 
 gladden and bless the sweet and eternal hereafter. * * * 
 Don't cut your visit short ; but expect a cordial and 
 joyful welcome at its close. * * * 
 
 A letter written to Dr. Warren Randolph, whom 
 he had known and loved for years, we are glad to 
 insert : 
 
 425 4th St., So. Boston, May 23, 1870. 
 
 My Dear Randolph: You see where I am! There's 
 no knowing what a man may come to who starts in life 
 with even pretty good prospects. Actually here in 
 "Down East." No "flourishin'," no "in-coming tides 
 of immigration," no " vast rivers running to the sea," 
 no " westward-the-star-of-empire " fallutinism to sing ; 
 but simply a down -east Yankee, where a fellow has got 
 to work or starve, to he something or else to be a 
 nobody ; where splurging don't go half as far, or accom- 
 plish half as much as it does elsewhere ; where, in fact, 
 a man is valued far nearer his actual weight, and where 
 the weights are looked into more impudently than any- 
 where else on this continent — that's just where I am. 
 
 You see at a glance, Randolph, the situation. I have 
 
 REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 
 
 203 
 
 brought my traps to a poor market, but here I am, and I 
 am bound in a true Yankee spirit to " go in." 
 
 I had expected to have seen you in person on my way 
 hither. I had hoped to have stopped at Philadelphia 
 for a day or two, but concluded at the last to come via 
 Rochester, New York, that Mrs. Dickerson might see 
 her kindred and friends. 
 
 I preached my first sermons a week ago yesterday. 
 Am to be " recognized " next Sabbath evenins:. After 
 that^ hope to be able to do a good deal better. 
 
 Thus far I have been favored with good audiences 
 and favorable opinions. I do earnestly hope and confi- 
 dently believe that God's blessing will be with me. I 
 have a fine field and I think a fine chance. Come over 
 and explore with me. I shall be glad to welcome you 
 and Mrs. R. 
 
 I am pleased as well as any man need to be. It will 
 be my own fault or misfortune if I do not accomplish 
 something here for Christ and the Baptists in South 
 Boston. 
 
 I am almost settled in a snug little house, and will be 
 glad to greet you at my door. God bless you and your 
 family and your work. I thank you, Randolph, for your 
 fraternal interest in and love for me. I want to show 
 you in some way that T appreciate it and you. 
 
 Hoping you will pray forme in my difficult work and 
 new field, I am Affectionately yours, 
 
 James S. Dickerson. 
 
 I fear I can not be at anniversaries. 
 
 Mr. Dickerson had scarcely been a year in Boston 
 when his labors began to '*tell" upon him. First 
 he had some of those afflictions popularly known as 
 " Job's comforters " — a succession of terrible boils, 
 
 \5 1 
 
204 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 
 
 205 
 
 at one time thirteen of them on his neck and throat. 
 These threw him into a fever, and when sufficiently 
 recovered to resume work, he looked pale and mis- 
 erable. He would not, indeed, be recognized as a 
 sick man, told those who undertook to condole 
 with him, to look for some more fitting objects of 
 their sympathy, and declared that he " could do as 
 much work any day as two or three of your big, fat, 
 vealy fellows." 
 
 But he was sick, however indisposed to acknowl- 
 edge it, and the fact was palpable to everybody but 
 himself. It was evident to the church that he 
 needed a long and thorough rest, and of course his 
 mind and that of his friends turned naturally to that 
 grand panacea for diseased throats and overworked 
 brains and shattered nerves— a trip to Europe. But 
 how to compass it ? His church was not quite in a 
 condition to meet all the expenses attendant on both 
 the absence and journey, and his own finances, fol- 
 lowing the customary fortunes of Baptist clergymen, 
 had not expanded into ver}^ magnificent propor- 
 tions. In fact, between ordinary household expenses, 
 and those occasioned by the visitations of sickness 
 and death, he had not yet succeeded in extricating 
 himself fully from debts contracted in his years of 
 business. We insert here a letter or two illustrating 
 at once his business embarrassments, and his con- 
 scientiousness in dealing with debts which, though 
 legally outlawed, still stood valid in the forum of 
 conscience and of honor. In 1871 he wrote to Rev. 
 H. J. Botts, of Manchester, England, an old news- 
 paper correspondent of the Chronicle^ sending him a 
 
 part of the amount due him, nearly one hundred 
 dollars, and asking for information regarding the 
 entire amount. He received the following reply : 
 
 '* I was not a little surprised to receive a letter 
 from you not long since. The remittance you speak 
 of, which, after the ' writing off' of the affair years 
 ago, I ceased to anticipate, will, as it happens, he 
 very useful just now on the birth of our tenth child. 
 But I am more delighted and deeply moved by the 
 truly Christian spirit and sterling principle evinced 
 by this communication. The righteous Lord will 
 surely supply all your need in the future according 
 to His glorious riches in Christ. 
 
 " I had quite forgotten the amount due to me from 
 the Chronicle^ and have had to hunt up old memo- 
 randa to supply the information you ask." Then he 
 gives a statement of the account, and adds, as Mr. 
 D. had mentioned a contemplated trip to Europe, 
 " I trust you will enjoy your contemplated tour ! I 
 spent three months five years ago in Italy and have 
 most interesting reminiscences of that city (Rome) 
 and its historic and sacred associations. I half envy 
 you your daily rambles in the city and Campagna ! 
 I trust you will come back by Manchester and Liver- 
 pool. If you do, let me know, and I will meet you 
 at the station, give you a bed, and bread and cheese 
 at my house, and pilot you round this Cottonopolis. 
 Do come, A hearty welcome awaits you. My wife 
 desires to express her thanks for your kind Christian 
 wishes, and her high appreciation (with mine) of 
 your treatment of us in this matter." 
 
 In connection with this letter we step back for a 
 
 ■i 
 
206 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 moment to give another from Rev. C. E. Smith, who 
 had been, in like manner, an unpaid contributor to 
 the Chronicle, but to whom in 1869 he found himself 
 in a condition to discharge his obligation. The tenor 
 of his letter to Mr. Smith will appear from the fol- 
 lowing reply: XT Oq TORQ 
 
 Cincinnati, Nov. 2d, l»by. 
 
 My Dear Brother Dickerson : 1 fear you have too 
 good a memory for your own interests. It is not at all 
 according to '' the wisdom of this world," for a man to 
 remember and to offer to pay a debt, long since incurred 
 and outlawed, and, moreover, abandoned by the creditor. 
 It would be in the highest degree accordant with that 
 kind of wisdom for me to take advantage of your offer, 
 and send you my bill. But I shall do no such thing. I 
 intend to show myself equally foolish with yourself. I 
 know too well how hard it is to pay old debts out of a 
 pastor's salary, to be willing to allow you to pay me in 
 that way. I accept the loss as my small share of the 
 sacrifice which the war entailed upon the Christian 
 Chronicle. Consider this as a receipt in full, and regard 
 yourself as my debtor in future only in respect to " love 
 and good works." I am sure I am much indebted to 
 you for the example of intesjrity you have set me. I 
 am very glad to have had this opportunity to reopen a 
 correspondence which as you say was a pleasant one. 
 Will you not write me again at your leisure without 
 reference to the subject of your previous letter. I hope 
 I' may meet you personally before long and enlarge the 
 acquaintance which has heretofore been purely episto- 
 lary. I beg, and my wife also, to be remembered to Mrs. 
 Dickerson, with whom we both enjoyed some very agree- 
 able intercourse in Rochester. 
 
 Fraternally yours, 
 
 C. E. SmTH. 
 
 REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 
 
 207 
 
 At a later period, as the last of these business 
 creditors, Mr. Dickerson wrote to the firm of G. & 
 C. Merriam, of Springfield, Mass., assuring them that, 
 although for years his salary had barely sufficed for 
 his support, yet he had not forgotten his indebted- 
 ness to them. He received a few days after the 
 following reply : 
 
 Springfield, Mass., March 3, 1874. 
 Rev. James S. Dickerson — Dear Sir : We have 
 your favor of Feb. 28th, and we beg to express to you 
 our appreciation of your offer to settle the balance which 
 you suppose to be due us. We have not been able to 
 find any record of the account, and would therefore leave 
 it with you to remit such a sum as you believe to be right. 
 In case you are in circumstances somewhat straightened, 
 we shall take pleasure in considering the matter as settled 
 without a remittance from you. 
 
 Yours Truly, 
 
 G. & C. Merriam. 
 Mr. Dickerson immediately wrote again, giving 
 them some dates, and mentioning circumstances 
 which would bring to their remembrance the old 
 debt, Avhich amounted to about eighty dollars, with- 
 out interest, and received in reply a letter, from 
 which we make some extracts : " * * * We have 
 your favor of the 9th inst. We now recall more 
 particularly the original circumstances." The writer, 
 having gone over them, at the close of the letter 
 says : " It is never our policy to be exacting ; and, 
 as your experience has been a trying one, we enclose 
 return draft to your order for half the amount, 
 waiving all claims of interest. Hoping you may 
 
208 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 
 
 209 
 
 ! i 
 
 have Job's experience, and your latter end be better 
 than the beginning in earthly matters, we are very 
 truly yours." 
 
 We return from this digression on Mr. Dickerson's 
 finances, and financial honesty, to his present illness. 
 His need of protracted rest and change of scene 
 was apparent ; but it was not equally apparent how 
 he was to attain them. But at this juncture his 
 uncle, James Stokes, came nobly to the rescue. He 
 had formerly aided him in purchasing the Philadel- 
 phia Chronicle^ had remembered him munificently 
 in New Years' presents, and extended to him at 
 his home an unfailing hospitality. He now came 
 forward with the offer of one thousand dollars to 
 meet the expenses of a trip across the Atlantic. 
 His brethren in the church cordially seconded the 
 proposal ; and when he laid the matter before them 
 at a large meeting, and threw himself upon their 
 decision, unanimously voted him a leave of absence 
 for four months, to be extended at his pleasure to six 
 months, and supplemented the resources furnished 
 by his uncle with a pledge to continue his salary, 
 and supply at their own expense the pulpit in his 
 absence. This generosity toward a pastor who had 
 been with them less than a twelve-month, moved 
 his heart alike with joy and gratitude. It attested 
 strikingly that magnetism of his nature, by which 
 he could not merely command esteem, but inspire 
 affection. The quick sympathies of his spirit evoked 
 equally quick responses. 
 
 Still his joy was not complete. The provision for 
 his perhaps larger — I fear, not better — half were 
 
 wanting. He seemed destined to go alone, and to 
 this neither he nor that other half looked with 
 complacency. For myself, in truth, I scarcely con- 
 templated the possibility of his going unattended 
 by me, and I had a strong, though apparently not 
 very well founded, presentiment that the way would 
 yet be opened for my accompanying him. It was 
 opened. Just as I had assured him, in reply to 
 some gentle caution from him against over-confi- 
 dence, with its probable disappointment, that I 
 "felt it in my bones" that I should go, he opened a 
 fresh letter from his uncle, and called out to me, 
 "Come, old 'bones,' here is something to gladden 
 you!" — he might have added, "and cttler you in 
 your new r61e of prophet." His uncle had written 
 that, in talking the matter over with his wife, they 
 had both agreed that it would be better in every 
 way that Mrs. Dickerson should accompany him ; so 
 he had enlarged the sum originally promised, had 
 paid their " passage over, taking a double stateroom 
 in the new steamer, 'Oceanic,' of the White Star 
 Line ; and I want you both to be on hand and readv 
 to sail on the third of June." 
 
 My husband's enthusiasm which, while he had 
 anticipated a solitary journey, had not been high, 
 was now kindled and glowing; his first tone of 
 banter was immediately exchanged for utterances 
 of devout gratitude which should be evinced in 
 deeper future consecration, and then we both set 
 about our preparations in rapid earnest. So strong, 
 undefinably strong, had been my convictions that I 
 should go, that my personal preparations, in the way 
 
210 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 \l 
 
 of wardrobe, etc., were almost entirely complete. 
 Our oldest son was to remain in Boston, our two 
 younger children were to make their home with my 
 mother, in Rochester ; Mr. Dickerson went person- 
 ally over to Newton and engaged three of the 
 professors in the Theological Seminary there to 
 minister to his people, and, in view of the possibility 
 of our never returning, left a sealed package con- 
 taining directions for the disposition of his property, 
 and his wishes regarding his children. 
 
 Our preparations were soon complete. Our 
 assembled people sang, evidently from their hearts, 
 just before we left: 
 
 As on the deep thy servants sail 
 O give them, Lord, the prosperous gale, 
 And on their hearts, where'er they go, 
 Let all thy heavenly breezes blow. 
 
 To which chorused prayer our hearts united with 
 theirs in responding "Amen." Then we were in 
 New York, and on the 3d of June, 1871, we bade 
 "our native land" a temporary "good-niglit," and 
 in company with tlie eldest daughter of Mr. Dicker- 
 son's brother Thomas, were soon on the " Oceanic " 
 careering 
 
 O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea. 
 
 Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 VISIT TO EUROPK. 
 
 We left New York on the third of June, 1871 ; 
 we reached it in returning on the third of October 
 following, after an absence of just four months. Our 
 route lay through England and Wales, France, Italy, 
 Germany, Switzerland, Belgium, and back through 
 France, England, and Scotland. We traveled uni- 
 formly by day, never missed a train, and with our 
 four eyes saw as much, I think, as eight or ten eyes 
 do commonly within the same time. Mr. Dickerson 
 had quick powers of observation, a ready perception 
 of contrasts, and his keen sense of the ludicrous as 
 well of the beautiful, and his unfailing humor, made 
 the journey an exhaustless source alike of pleasure 
 and of profit. His health rapidly improved, his 
 cough almost entirely left him, and Avhen he reached 
 Switzerland, and began to climb its mountain passes, 
 and its nearly inaccessible heights, following the 
 chamois to their cloud-enveloped homes, or, as the 
 diligence wound around some serpentine path, making 
 a short cut across, and dropping down upon us sud- 
 denly from some overhanging craggy eminence, he 
 felt all the buoyant exhilaration of the mountain 
 atmosphere, while his soul thrilled and his frame 
 quivered with exultant joy over the picturesque and 
 
 i 
 
 211 
 
212 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 far-spreading grandeur by which he was surrounded. 
 He enjoyed intensely his three weeks roaming over 
 Switzerland, and returned reluctantly to the crowded 
 haunts of men, even though they replaced with the 
 numberless and matchless charms of art the majesty 
 of nature. 
 
 « 
 
 In all this journeying Mr. Dickerson remained 
 true to his character of a Christian pastor. Before 
 starting out on each day he had family worship in 
 the hotel, and he always observed the sanctity of the 
 Sabbath, uniformly seeking out, when it was possi- 
 ble, some place of public Christian worship. The 
 theater he, of course, avoided as conscientiously as 
 he would at home, and from any of that license 
 which too many Christians, and I think some Chris- 
 tian ministers, allow themselves under the relaxing 
 influence of foreign usages and the plea of being 
 beyond the danger of influencing by example, he 
 systematically and rigorously refrained. He was 
 abroad the consistent Christian which he had been 
 at home. He could not go any where mutilated of 
 that religion which was a part of his life. 
 
 Yet of all innocent amusements he was ever the 
 life and the soul ; he sympathized to the full with 
 the pleasures of both old and young. His presence 
 was the light and inspiration of any gathering. On 
 his brother's yacht he would entertain the party 
 untiringly with his vivacious humor and quick rep- 
 artee, and then at request dash off a few verses com- 
 memorative of the occasion. The followins: lines 
 extemporized after a week's trip, as the bounding 
 boat (named the " Fleur-de-Lis*') was nearing the 
 
 VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 213 
 
 harbor, will show that he had not a little both of 
 the soul and the rhythmical sense of the poet : 
 
 THE FLEUli-DE-LIS. 
 
 My beauty ! 'tis for thee 
 My graceful Fleur-de-lis 
 
 My harp shall ring. 
 Of all thy masts and spars, 
 Decked by our gallant tars, 
 With stripes and glorious stars, 
 
 Joyful I sinij. 
 
 When zephyi-s softly blow, 
 When waters gently flow, 
 
 And skies are bright. 
 Thy wing-like sails all fair. 
 Filled with the baimy air, 
 Banish each laud-bound care 
 
 In calm delight. 
 
 But when tlie tempests roar. 
 And skies are fair no more. 
 
 And oceans yawn, 
 Staunch drives the Fleur-de-lis, 
 O'er every stormy sea, 
 Her flag aud pennant free. 
 
 Bright as the dawn. 
 
 When outward bound we ride. 
 And homes behind us hide 
 
 In distance far, 
 With joy we hail the wave. 
 Where wildest billows rave, 
 Home of the strong and brave. 
 
 In ocean's war. 
 
 But when we're homeward bound, 
 And joys we sought and found 
 Are left behind, 
 
214 
 
 H 
 
 JAMES S. DICKEUSON. 
 
 Sad though our parting be, 
 Bright be tlie memory 
 Of joys amid the sea 
 Forever shrined. 
 
 And so, life's voyage past, 
 When tides are failing fast 
 
 On time's last shore, 
 May hope and memory blend 
 In voyage without end. 
 On seas no storm shall rend 
 
 Forevermore. 
 
 VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 215 
 
 September 13, 1869. 
 
 J. S. D., Chaplain. 
 
 Of Mr. Dickerson's brief tour in Europe he made 
 very large jottings ; a very model, perhaps, of trav- 
 elers' notes, showing that his eyes were open upon 
 everything. They are full of condensed information. 
 On our return he delivered two or three lectures in 
 South Boston relating to his journey. From his 
 notes for the lectures, which lie before me, I give a 
 few opening jottings: 
 
 My style — " Conversational." 
 My design — " To have you see with my eyes." 
 My matter — " What most folks would omit." 
 So if I get eloquent it is a mistake, and you are at 
 liberty to stop me short and drown it out, as is often the 
 case with us speakers, " with uproarious applause." 
 
 • *** «««• 
 
 The effects of judicious and extensive travel ! 
 
 Aside from health, information — its lessons of patience 
 (under difficulties) — human nature. 
 
 E. G. Sea-sickness — wife sick— myself not sick, but 
 feeling " so mean that even my stomach became dis- 
 
 gusted with me." Before I was out three days I felt 
 like " throwing up " the whole trip. 
 
 THE OCEAN! 
 
 It is all very well for Byron, canopied by the fair skies 
 of Italy, and lullabied by the music of the Mediterra- 
 nean, to sing, 
 
 Roll on thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll ; 
 Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. 
 
 * ♦ * * * * in 
 
 Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow; ' 
 
 Such as creation's dawn beheld—thou rollest now I 
 
 " No wrinkle ! " we will call them dimples. 
 
 "Thou rollest now!" That's not bad. We all did 
 that — we were rolled out, then we were glad to "roll 
 in. 
 
 5) 
 
 The awful strength of the ocean, 
 The desert waste of the ocean. 
 The highway of nations— the pathway of nations. 
 
 " Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee ! " Yet we saw 
 but three vessels on our outward passage. 
 
 The following are some of his letters to his chil- 
 dren: 
 
 Steamer Oceanic, Monday p.m., June 5. ' 
 
 My dear Sox : This is my first attempt at writing 
 since we started. We have had a splendid run thus far, 
 and fully tested the sailing capacities of the Oceanic. 
 Scarcely one has been sick thus far, but a considerable 
 number begin to look sort of "squeamish." The ocean 
 has not been as rough any hour as we have seen it on 
 the Sound. * * I have been thinking of you since 
 we started, and hope the Summer will pass pleasantly 
 
.1 I'll 
 
 216 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSOX 
 
 VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 217 
 
 M 
 
 U\ 
 
 11 ' 
 
 and even quickly along. We shall have lots to tell you 
 when we get back of what we saw in Europe. * * * 
 Saturday, June 10. A week on the ocean ! O, what a 
 sick and wo-be-gone set ! We have tried to be jolly, 
 but it was no use. I felt like " throwing up " the whole 
 trip before we had been out five days. We have spent 
 two or three days in bed, but we are getting better now. 
 The voyage has been a splendid one for speed, and 
 everything save sickness. We have seen some rough 
 seas and high winds, and have had a new impression of 
 the awful grandeur of the ocean, and the power and 
 greatness of the infinite God. How blessed to have 
 Him as your friend when feeling that imminent and ter- 
 rible dangers are near. 
 
 Liverpool, England. Here we are, safe and sound ! 
 We have had some big weather. I preached on Sunday 
 in the morning when the sea was quiet, but in the even- 
 ing the sea rose high, and again and again made a clean 
 sweep of the main decks. One of the waiters came 
 near being washed overboard, but was rescued by one 
 of the officers. On Thursday night we shipped a very 
 heavy sea, and since then the engineer's steward has 
 been missing, and no doubt he went to a sudden and 
 watery grave. One night was particularly terrible to 
 me, although the officers laughed at its being regarded 
 as at all dangerous. Still that night the captain was 
 creeping about softly until after one o'clock, and was 
 still on deck when, for the second time, I went below 
 though not to sleep. 
 
 I thought of you and Lu, and Willie ; of Boston, the 
 friends, and the church ! I was glad to know that if the 
 ship did go down, as it seemed at one time she would, 
 when she fell over on her lee side and rolled down, 
 down, down, swinging, trembling down until the waters 
 
 gurgled over her, and for a second she did not seem to 
 stir ! — (It was to me fearful !) — to know that my sins were 
 forgiven— my heart changed by God's Holy Spirit — to 
 know that Jesus was my friend, though I was a poor 
 miserable sinner — to know he had saved my soul ! But 
 the thought of the loneliness of those I should leave 
 behind me, should I be taken away, made me pray 
 earnestly though inwardly to Him, who holds the waters 
 in His hands. * * * In a few days we leave London 
 direct for Rome, via Paris if we can get through. 
 Mamma sends love and seven kisses, and I make the 
 number an even dozen. Your dear father, 
 
 J. S. DiCKERSOX. 
 
 Dijox, France, June 28, 1871. 
 
 My Dear Lulu : Here we are in a real French vil- 
 lage, and in a real Frenchy hotel. This place is about 
 two hundred miles from Paris. We left that city at 
 three o'clock in the afternoon, and reached here at mid- 
 night. 
 
 You know they have had civil war in Paris ; one part 
 of the citizens rising against the other part, and men, 
 women, and children have been killed in the strife. The 
 fighting was done right in the streets, and all the build- 
 ings in the vicinity were marked by bullets and chipped 
 off*, and in some cases battered like forts, and in others 
 burned and a mass of ruins. If you could get hold of 
 some views or descriptions of Paris, you would read 
 about the magnificence of the Tuileries, the Palais Roy- 
 al, the Column Vendome, and the Hotel de Ville. Well, 
 they are now in indescribable ruins. I have large and 
 beautiful photographs of them as they were, and as they 
 are. You will see them when our voyage and rambles 
 are over, and we are once more at home. I have wan- 
 
 10 
 
218 
 
 JA.MES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 219 
 
 II 
 
 dered a good many hours looking at the gay windows of 
 the shops, and at the funny sights inside and out of the 
 stores. It seems quite refreshing to hear any one speak 
 English. Mamma is well, and sends love. She helps us 
 greatly with the French. You and Willie must learn to 
 speak it. Mamma is still in bed, but I got up early to 
 get these letters off. 
 
 From another of the same date to Willie, who 
 was nearly nine years old, he writes : 
 
 My Dear Willie : I have written to Lulu in a great 
 hurry and must do the same to you, but don't take this 
 as a specimen of my writing ; you know I can write 
 tip-top when I am not in too big a hurry. * ♦ * 
 This French business is a funny affair, I tell you. When 
 we were in Paris, and were planning to go to Italy, they 
 told us we ouo-ht to have a little flask of whisky or 
 brandy to use if we should be suddenly taken sick. So 
 I went into a store, a kind of hardware store, to 
 buy one. I said, " Parlez-vous Anglais?" That 
 means, "Do you speak English"— and the clerk 
 shook his head, no. Then I began to make them 
 understand what I wanted by a few French words 
 and some gestures, and soon a pleasant smile broke over 
 the face of the clerks, and they said, " Oui, oui, oui," 
 that is — " Yes, yes, yes " — and came up bringing me a 
 demijohn! I told them no, T wanted one more ''petite'^ 
 — smaller, and then they brought one about as big as a 
 baby. Then I put my hand on my pocket, so as to show 
 them I wanted one I could carry there — then they 
 smiled all around and said, " Oui, oui," and brought me 
 a small pocket cork-screw! I began to bo discouraged, 
 and they looked innocent and then wise, then surprised 
 when I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders in 
 
 true French style. Then I went over the whole case, 
 and was slow and careful, and all of a sudden the whole 
 matter was as plain to them as could be, and they 
 exclaimed, "Oui, oui," and came back with an immense 
 powder-horn! ! ! Then I made a straight line for the 
 door saying, " Pardon, pardon." That pocket-flask cost 
 me much walking and talking, whenever I had a leisure 
 hour. I shall have to tell you more about it. 
 
 Here the people are very polite, and if you make all 
 sorts of blunders, they don't laugh at you, unless they 
 can't help it, poor souls! Two or three times when we 
 have asked some one to direct us in the street, they have 
 run after us to tell us we were going wrong, or to give us 
 fuller or better information. It almost made me cry to 
 see how tender the younger people were to the old folks. 
 Several times I saw young men or young women push- 
 ing small carriages with old people in them. Soldiers 
 are seen almost everywhere^ in Paris. The war is over, 
 but troops are camping in all the magnificent gardens 
 and parks; soldiers pace the streets, guard the ruins, 
 stand sentinel in and around the churches. The people 
 in religious matters are very ignorant but very devout. 
 They go to church as a mere form, many of them, and 
 kneel and cross themselves and bend almost to the 
 ground. They are nearly all Catholics. Dear Willie, 
 how favored we are that we know about Jesus, and may 
 go to Him and pray to Him, feeling that He will hear 
 us and make us Christians in our hearts, so that when 
 we die our hearts will still love Him, though the body is 
 dead, and can not kneel, or speak, or pray. I hope my 
 dear Willie is often found praying to Jesus out of his 
 heart. * * * 
 
 Chambery, France, June 29, 1871. 
 
 Dear Spencer: Here we are on or near the boundary 
 of Switzerland on our way to Turin and Genoa, at which 
 
220 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 latter place we expect to stay over Sunday. We are all 
 usually well. I do not seem to pick up flesh as I 
 expected to, but my throat and lungs have ceased to 
 give me any trouble, and my cough has stopped alto- 
 gether. We are making for Rome as fast as it is well 
 to travel, and expect to reach there in a few days, 
 unless we conclude to go from Genoa by boat. * * * 
 This place is more like an Italian town than any we have 
 seen in France. The people about the hotel as we came 
 in last night had, to our lady folks, a regular banditti 
 look, which they did not like. When we were shown to 
 our rooms, the walls and steps and balustrades were 
 all of solid, gloomy masonry, and when we entered 
 them, we found the windows grated like those in 
 prisons, and the very floors were stone. The ladies were 
 thoroughly frightened; but as it was near midnight, and 
 the other hotels were full, I told them philosophically 
 that if they could not bring their minds to go to sleep, 
 
 they could stay awake all night and watch each other. 
 « « « 
 
 Turin^ Italy. We have reached Turin after the most 
 magnificent day's ride we ever enjoyed. We have crossed 
 the Alps. We came over Mt. Cenis by rail on what is 
 called the Fell Railway. But the magnificent scenery! 
 The deep, deep, valleys smiling in sunlit verdure — the 
 awful mountains overhanging yet lost in the clouds and 
 covered with perpetual snow. I send you some violets 
 which grew at the base of Mt. Cenis, whose head is 
 covered with eternal snow. When the sun falls on these 
 snow-clad peaks they look like frosted silver, banked 
 up and behind the clouds. As we were descending the 
 mountain, the moon came out and touched the peaks 
 and lighted the dark shadows of the valleys. * * * 
 This city is one of the most beautiful and modern of 
 
 ti i 
 
 VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 221 
 
 Southern Europe; its population about 200,000. Victor 
 Emanuel seems to be quite popular, and his pictures 
 and busts are seen everywhere. We walked through the 
 Palais Royal this morning and saw some fine pictures 
 and statuary; and in the armory some grand old relics, 
 among others a sword worn by the 1st Napoleon, and 
 one of the eagles that was carried at the head of his 
 armies. * * * 
 
 Dear Lulu: You have written us some real good 
 letters, and you deserve to have a good one from 
 each of us. You must not forget to ask us to tell you 
 about the Falls of Giesback — near Interlachen. The 
 falls are narrow but very high, and at night the waters 
 are illuminated with calcium lights of red, white and 
 blue. It was very beautiful. 
 
 To-day I went up a thickly wooded mountain on mule- 
 back, and crossed the Mer-de-Glace, the broadest glacier 
 near Mt. Blanc. It was a steep climb, and the crossing 
 was dangerous, but it was a grand sight. I will tell you 
 more about it. Then too, I must tell you about the 
 strange clock at Berne — where, when the hour strikes, 
 bears come out and dance, and a rooster crows, and an 
 old man strikes a bell, and a monkey lifts his ears. In 
 the same city was a fountain, with a statue above it, and 
 on the top, a big, fat, giant, ogre-looking fellow eating 
 up little children, as though they were so many raw 
 oysters. One little fellow was just going down and his 
 legs were sticking out of the giant's mouth; a game bag 
 held about a dozen more, and three or four more were 
 fastened in his girdle. I should think the children in 
 Berne would hardly dare go down that street. You 
 must get hold of some nice book of travels and read 
 about these things; they are as entertaining as a story, 
 and far more useful, * * * 
 
222 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 Rome, July, 1871. 
 
 Dear Spen^ceb : As I have a few moments before 
 breakfast I will write a few lines to you. We expect 
 to be received at half-past ten this a. m. by "His 
 Holiness, Pio Nono." We were there once before, but 
 as our note of introduction had not been previously (at 
 least one day before) sent into the old chap, he declined 
 to see us; — or rather his officials declined to let us go in. 
 I felt a little like telling them they were a great set of 
 humbugs, from the Pope down. Our guide said, as we 
 stood waiting to see whether we would be presented, 
 that if we stayed in the ante- chamber where we were, we 
 could see him as he passed, but could not spoak to or 
 shake hands with him. He added that we would have 
 to kneel as he passed by. This I would not do. We 
 concluded to go away, come again at the regular time, 
 see him, and shake hands. 
 
 We expect to leave to-day for Pisa — thence to Flor- 
 ence and Venice, and then Switzerland. Victor Emanuel 
 is doing large things for Italy, and if he is spared ten 
 years and is wise, the Pop3 and his whole system of 
 oppression, presumption, deception, and persecution will 
 be mortally wounded. God bless Victor Emanuel and 
 the cause of religious and political freedom in poor 
 ignorant, superstitious Italy! The Pope's soldiers guard 
 him at every point. We were challenged at three or 
 four doors as we carried our letter of introduction from 
 our Consul. A guard of eight or ten Swiss, in gay 
 uniform of yellow, black and blue, stand outside the 
 room where the Pope is. Tiiey present arms (lances) 
 whenever a Cardinal or Bishop passes. The Pope's 
 body servants are all dressed in rich, scarlet brocade — 
 silk pants, stockings, and coats — with white cravats and 
 buckled shoes. I yesterday asked a guide (in fun) 
 
 I '•( 
 
 I 
 
 ■■** 
 
 VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 223 
 
 where the Pope preached f He looked at me as though 
 he would annihilate me, and said, he never preaches — 
 "He is only seen in public service two or three times a 
 year ! " We are all pretty well, but shall be glad to get 
 out of hot, dirty and,/?ea-cursed Italy. Poor Mamma has 
 flea-bites from her sore toe to her neck. I am pretty 
 well peppered — but as 1 don't scratch they soon heal 
 up. Good-bye, you dear, dear boy. I feel more than 
 ever how much I love you, and how deep, and constant 
 is my interest in you. May God bless and keep you. 
 Mamma sends love. Your dear Papa. 
 
 Sorrento, Italy, July, 1871. 
 
 Dear Willie : Here we are at a little village right 
 across the bay from Naples. You must look the place 
 out on the map. In sight is that great volcano, Mt. 
 Vesuvius, and last night before going to bed I went out 
 and looked at it. The evening was clear and beautiful, 
 and the stars were looking out from the blue sky as 
 thouo-h they did not care how much old Vesuvius fired 
 up — they were safe. The red hot lava, like a little 
 mountain stream, was pouring down from the barren, 
 ugly crater — like a mad giant with red hot melted iron 
 runnirio- out of one corner of his mouth. To-morrow 
 we may try to get up to Vesuvius and see it, but the 
 ashes are so deep all over the sides of the mountain that 
 it is pretty hot, hard work to climb up during these 
 warm days. Mamma says she will not attempt it. When 
 the travelers get up to a place called " the hermitage," 
 they get off their donkeys and have to climb. But 
 there are always men who will carry you up. But it 
 costs twenty-five francs, or five dollars, and I hardly feel 
 like giving that to be carried one hundred and fifty feet 
 
 or so. 
 
224 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 225 
 
 
 The great excitement with us all now is, that we all 
 have lots of — fleas. First one bites mamma on the arm; 
 then on her foot; then behind her ear, then on her back 
 and limbs, and I laugh to see her scratching first one 
 place and then another; and while I laugh at her, six of 
 them bite me all at once. 
 
 Sorrento is beautifully situated on the Bay of Naples, 
 and we found it as cool as anywhere on the sea shore 
 near Boston in July. * * * i hope you are a noble, 
 good boy — not only kind and obedient to dear Grandma, 
 but gentle toward all the boys, returning good for evil, 
 not being selfish, always trying to be like Jesus who loved 
 even His enemies. Try and love Him with all your 
 heart, then what a joyful thing it will be when we come 
 to die and are called up to Heaven! 
 
 Your dear Papa. 
 
 * * * The girls and boys here all have olive-colored 
 skin and jet black hair and eyes. Very few have shoes 
 or stockings ; in fact most of the men and women are 
 bare-footed. If a boy gets tired and sleepy, instead of 
 going home, he lies down on the pavement or in the dirt 
 and has a royal good time. It makes a body's heart 
 ache to see how these poor children are growing up in 
 ignorance and misery. And yet they seem quite cheer- 
 ful and happy. The fact is, our land is a favored one 
 indeed, our children are highly favored, and it is a matter 
 for which all of us should be grateful to God. Much 
 more will be expected of us, than of these unfortunate 
 people. 
 
 The donkeys are an institution every where, but the 
 tiniest little fellows are those we saw in Naples. They 
 are not much bigger than dogs. You will sometimes 
 see quite a big bunch of vegetables moving along the 
 streets, and upon examining it carefully you will find the 
 
 tail of a donkey hanging down behind. They use the 
 tail to steer by. When the driver wants the donkey to 
 go to the right, he pulls the animal by its tail over toward 
 the left, and round swings the donkey and his load. 
 I often wish I could bring one of them home. Some 
 are really beautiful in their homeliness. Their owners 
 frequently adorn their heads with ribbons and flowers 
 and little looking-glasses. In Naples we saw milkmen 
 serving milk, and how do you think it was done ? Why 
 they use goats instead of cows, and then instead of 
 milking them at home and sending the milk to the cus- 
 tomer they drive the goats to the doors and milk what is 
 wanted. It looks funny to see a big fellow driving four 
 nice-looking goats along, and funnier still to see how 
 each one has her own set of customers, and stops at just 
 such doors ; goes up two or three pairs of stairs in tene- 
 ment houses, and stands waiting on the landing for the 
 owner to come and milk her. * * * And now, good- 
 bye, dear child. Be good children, and when at night 
 you kneel to pray, you must ask God for Jesus' sake to 
 forgive and care for you, and take good care of us as we 
 journey so far away from home and those we love. 
 
 Your dear loving Papa. 
 
RETURN TO BOSTON. 
 
 227 
 
 
 i 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 RETURN TO BOSTON. 
 
 We returned to Boston in October, 1871. I need 
 not say how cordially we were greeted, nor how 
 vigorously and earnestly Mr. Dickerson, renovated 
 in health, re-entered on his pastoral and pulpit 
 labors. From this time until November, 1873, he 
 enjoyed almost uninterrupted health, and gave him- 
 self to every form of good work. He had indeed 
 his occasional infirmities, as allusions in the follow- 
 ing letters, which were written during this interval, 
 will show. 
 
 From a letter written to his daughter in 1873, 
 
 from Boston : 
 
 My dear Daughter: It is almost supper-time;— the 
 house is as quiet as a church. I am alone in the study, 
 and only Mary's voice breaks the stillness as she occa- 
 sionally begins one of her peculiar songs. Spencer has 
 not as yet come home ; Willie is out distributing 
 "prohibition" ballots with my name on for "School 
 Committee;" Mamma is at Music Hall, where the grand 
 Fair is to be inaugurated to-night. "Rove" has just at 
 this moment returned, heralding I suppose the homeward 
 tendency of Will; and is now raising his " let-me-in " 
 bark at the back door. We are all wagging on in the 
 
 826 
 
 usual way. My eye has troubled me a good deal, and 
 on Sunday my sermons were thought out rather than 
 planned out with pen. I can scarcely read by gas- 
 light, and I " see double " when I do — which is not 
 the thing for a prohibition candidate for School Com- 
 
 SOUTH BAPTIST CHURCH, 
 
 BOSTON, MASS. 
 
 * 
 
 mittee. * * * £ send you one of the tickets 
 which the prohibition party has issued, and which 
 will be voted to-morrow. Our ward polls about 500 or 
 600 votes, and of these I am pretty sure to get about 
 90 or 100. So all I need now is about 510 votes to elect 
 me. Let our relations all know that I am thus honored 
 
228 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RETURN TO BOSTON. 
 
 229 
 
 and tell them of the brilliant prospects ahead. We 
 think of having a balcony built out over the front door, 
 so that I can receive delegations, serenades, etc. Tell 
 our relatives our plans. Good-bye, you dear child. 
 Do not forget us, and do not forget the blessed Hand 
 that leads and guides and blesses us — or we go unblest. 
 Give love to Uncle Sam, Aunty Grace, and all the little 
 folks, from us all. I dare say you will have lots of fun 
 with Carrie, for she is a darling little toad. 
 
 AiFectionately, your dear father, 
 
 James S. Dickerson. 
 
 A few weeks later to the same : 
 
 I am a good deal better of my rheumatism, but have 
 a terribly painful boil, brought out by using so many 
 compresses, etc., on my back. I preached Sabbath 
 morning and led a large and good prayer-meeting in the 
 evening. Some arose for prayers, and several are 
 awaiting baptism. 
 
 TO HIS WIFE. 
 
 New York, April 10, 1873. 
 
 I have just read your last dear letter, and will 
 take the present time to answer it, though it may 
 render the note a brief one. I have just left Dr. 
 Fulton, who gives me the last intelligence of home and 
 the dear ones that make it the spot of all others 
 the dearest on earth. 1 do not wonder that men and 
 women make short cuts to " the dogs " — when they have 
 no home, or when home is not home. I think no man is 
 beyond reach who still feels the influence of some home 
 power. * * * As you said nothing of the sick ones 
 in the church, \ trust they are all getting along. Hanson 
 Place Church would like to have Fulton come on and 
 
 start a sort of Tremont Temple affair in Brooklyn. He 
 seems somewhat inclined to come. They say that Lor- 
 imer will come here too. Several have been talking to 
 me about changing, with a better salary, etc. But unless 
 my health should demand it I do not feel at all disposed 
 to leave my present field or church. When I look back 
 I can not praise gratefully enough that surprising grace 
 and care of the blessed Saviour in leading such a poor, 
 wicked, and homeless orphan by a way so mysterious 
 to honors and success so undeserved and — by every body 
 
 so unexpected. There is no church so small or so 
 
 unimportant that I should not have felt — twenty-five 
 years ago — to be a splendid field, and a gratification to 
 my highest ambition. If I can only with true simplicity 
 of heart and true devotion to Christ keep serving Him 
 where He wants me to be, it will be a great thing for me 
 when life's confines shall have been reached, and life's 
 work done. 
 
 I am glad cousin Lulu is with you. Don't work that 
 sewing machine again until 1 get home. When that 
 back breaks T want to be around to save the various, 
 precious fragments. T^ke it easy. I would much 
 rather pay a sewing girl, and it would be to your com- 
 fort and economy in every respect. Kiss the children 
 for me. Remember me to " Rove " and tell him to see 
 to things a little. God bless you. I send you a little 
 flower. 
 
 In November, 1873, Mr. Dickerson took a severe 
 cold, and was prostrated by a painful rheumatic 
 fever, which confined him for several weeks to the 
 house. He was soon, however, out again and labor- 
 ing beyond his strength. Meetings were being held, 
 many were inquiring after the way of salvation; 
 
 ,1 
 'I* 
 
230 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 ■M 
 
 and Mr. Dickerson, with but partially recovered 
 strength, and feeling some recurring twinges of his 
 former trouble, yet could not but yield himself with 
 all his powers to the exigency. By day he visited 
 amidst snow and mud those who needed counsel and 
 encouragement, and was out nearly every evening 
 till a late hour in the public meetings. He was 
 remonstrated with by his brethren, who begged him 
 to remain at home on the stormy nights — but in 
 vain. His heart was in the meetings, and he would 
 drag thither his body until his strength was well 
 nigh spent. 
 
 In February our little Gracie was born, and as 
 soon as I was able to go out, I accompanied him to 
 the meetings, often when I felt scarcely strength to 
 do so, for the purpose of forcing him away from the 
 church in which he would otherwise stay talking 
 with the anxious and inquiring too late into the night. 
 His throat too troubled him and it hurt him to sing. 
 But the singing dragged if he did not lead it, and 
 the temptation to do so was too strong for him to 
 resist. He would sometimes promise me, when start- 
 ing for the service that, this time, for his throat's 
 sake he would refrain ; but when on his return 
 I said to him, '' I suppose you kept your promise," 
 he would reply, ''I sang every time and I couldn't 
 help it." 
 
 But this will-power at length failed him. One 
 stormy afternoon he had been out until six o'clock 
 making visits, and came in looking pale and haggard. 
 He ate his supper, and then went up stairs and 
 threw himself on the bed, saying, " I will rest a few 
 
 RETURN TO BOSTON. 
 
 231 
 
 minutes before going to meeting." He looked so 
 sick that I begged him not to go, but yield the care 
 of the meeting to olhers. He at first insisted on 
 going to look after the converts and inquirers, but 
 at last yielded to my importunities, and as I pro- 
 posed to write a note to one of the Deacons he said, 
 " Well, send him word ; I suppose I ought to stay." 
 As he undressed and got into bed he remarked, 
 "Yes, darling, you were right. lam sick, and ought 
 not to have been out this afternoon." The next 
 morning he was in a high fever, which was followed 
 by a second attack of rheumatism. He did not leave 
 the house for seven weeks, or enter his pulpit again 
 for three months. His people were all kindness and 
 attention, manifesting the tenderest sympathy over 
 his illness, and assuring him by formal committees 
 that they would freely give him six months for 
 recovery, and relieve him from every need of anxiety 
 about the church. 
 
 As soon as he was able to go out he went to New 
 York, and spent a few weeks. I quote from a few 
 letters written during this visit. 
 
 Staten Island, May, 1874. 
 My dear Emma : You are getting ahead of me in the 
 matter of letters, and I shall have to keep at it, or fall 
 to the rear. It has been a great satisfaction to hear 
 so often and have such favorable tidings from home. 1 
 do feel grateful to God for all the past, and for the 
 auspicious outlook of our home affairs. More and more 
 I am convinced that we are favored far beyond the 
 average of families. My home is happier, my dear darling 
 wife is sweeter, and my children are better, and better 
 
1! 
 
 ' I 
 It 
 
 232 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RETURN TO BOSTON. 
 
 233 
 
 t 
 
 behaved, than any I find in my travels. And I very 
 freely acknowledge how much we owe to the loving 
 efficiency of "dear Mamma." Although I am getting 
 along very comfortably, 1 shall indeed be glad when I 
 can properly and safely turn my footsteps toward home. 
 * * * I am looking forward to home and to Campton 
 with almost childish lonjrinefs! 
 
 From another written the same week from Dr. 
 Fulton's in Brooklyn, we quote a few sentences : 
 " The great Jubilee at Hanson Place came off last 
 night, and was indeed a perfect success. It showed 
 that a man or a church can afford to be talked acrainst 
 and defamed — when standing for the truth. The 
 solid men in the ministry of our church, as well as 
 some of our more prominent laymen were on the plat- 
 form to endorse brother Fulton as one whom we hon- 
 ored for his fearless and outspoken defense of Baptist 
 principles. * * * j ^y^g fairly obliged to make a 
 short speech about half-past ten o'clock. I got to 
 bed about half-past eleven o'clock, but did not sleep 
 until daylight. Still I feel pretty well, and as the 
 weather was rainy or cloudy yesterday, I am grate- 
 ful that I am so well this morning. If I can only 
 get back a strong voice once more — and I am quite 
 hopeful — I think I am good for considerable service 
 yet, but perhaps not in rigorous New England. 
 Several friends have been talking to me about 
 churches in which they are interested, and Mr. Good- 
 man, of the Chicago Standard^ wants to talk with 
 me about an interest with him. 
 
 " But, it may be, God has a work for me to do 
 right where He has placed me, and it is far the wiser 
 
 way to await His unfolded will. I am ready to do 
 it — that will be the happiest as well as the most 
 profitable path which is marked out by Him. 
 
 '^ Next week I shall spend in a more business-like 
 way and see a number of friends, then get ready to 
 go home, the best and the happiest part of the plan. 
 * * * I am glad all things are passing pleasantly 
 there. Let us be grateful! Give love to all. My 
 home is more and more to me every time I go 
 away. But Dr. Fulton is coming to take me out 
 driving, so good-bye." 
 
 New York, May 29, 1874. 
 
 My dear Wife : I spent Wednesday night and all 
 Thursday at Staten Island, brother Sam, and Grace and 
 little Carrie going along. We had a very pleasant time, 
 and I am expecting to spend two or three days with 
 them next week. The place is in its most beautiful and 
 
 fragrant spring attire. 's baby is simply a bouncer 
 
 — nine months old, and weighs twenty-three or twenty- 
 four pounds. Its name is Harriet, but it ought to called 
 Harry, for it looks like a boy, and I keep saying " he " 
 and "him" all the time. Mary looks tired out, and 
 I thought if she could have a rest from the continual 
 din and worry of her nursery work, it would be a coveted 
 blessing. These devoted mothers — dear souls, have 
 their hands full. I was very glad to get your letter 
 when I returned from Staten Island; in fact, I was think- 
 ing about it all that day. It is good to hear from the 
 dear ones at home, and to think of them as so full of 
 goodness and love, you long to clasp them in your arms. 
 What a poor world this would be were it not for love, 
 and the hearts and homes which it irradiates and makes 
 joyous. 
 
 10* 
 
234 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 I am gaining in flesh and in strength. My appetite is 
 fair, and I am slowly getting back to my old average. 
 My throat is less improved, but I think, better. * * * 
 Give love to all and kisses freely, beginning with little 
 Grace, and keeping a beautiful selection for your dear 
 self from a loving and appreciative husband. * * * 
 
 After spending a Sabbath at the same place he 
 wrote again Monday morning : "It rained hard all 
 night, but it is bright and clear to-day; still, fearing 
 the dampness I stay in-doors. Leonard and Mary 
 went to church in the morning, but I was at home 
 all day. I read, and walked, and thought of you. 
 A spring Sabbath in the country is a very enjoyable 
 and profitable season. I could not help thinking 
 of my church and people, and longed for the time 
 when I could preach again, and see the work of the 
 Lord prosperously advancing. It seems a terribly 
 long time since I left home ; I can hardly realize 
 that it is less than two weeks. I shall be glad to 
 turn my footsteps homeward. 
 
 " Tiiis is the first of June ! The Summer is here, 
 and before we fully realize it, it will be gone. I am 
 hoping for much improvement in my general health 
 from our quiet stay in Campton. I think m}'' visit 
 here is as good for me as anything could be. They 
 are all very kind and allow me to do just as I please. 
 * * * About the swimming, tell Will he had 
 better wait until Spencer or Ubert or some older 
 person can go with him. When I return I will give 
 him chances enough. I think I am a model husband 
 in the way of letter-writing." * * * 
 
 RETURN TO BOSTON. 
 
 235 
 
 Another, written a few days later, still shows his 
 hopeful spirit, and his longing to be at work again, 
 although he was utterly unfitted for it. He writes : 
 " The rain to-day disarranges all my plans — but it's 
 all right. If I can not get to Dr. Fulton's to-night, 
 I shall be on the safe side, and will go when it clears. 
 I feel quite like myself again — all ^Dut this little 
 troublesome bronchial hack. I think Dr. Thaver or 
 Dr. Cullis could relieve that, now that I am stroncrer. 
 Perhaps it would be well to announce next Sunday 
 that I expect to be present the following Sabbath, 
 and perhaps preach a part of the day. I can walk 
 almost as well as ever. I sleep Aiirly; but I must 
 take things very easy for some time to come. Ilest^ 
 however, I am quite confident will brincr me all riiiht 
 in time, for I think there is really no settled disease 
 about me. The c^ood Lord will brinor it all risrht I 
 am sure. You can not long to have me back any 
 more intensely than I desire to get back ; and but 
 for the feeling that I had better not, I should liave 
 turned up at home by this time." 
 
 Soon after Mr. Dickerson's return from New York, 
 we all went to Campton, N. II. We spent seven 
 weeks in that beautiful region delightfully and 
 healthfully. Yet during all this time he was slowly 
 growing worse. The rheumatism seemed to have 
 settled in his left knee, which was very much 
 inflamed, and failed to grow better in spite of all 
 our remedies. Still, amidst the thronging guests of 
 the house there was none livelier, happier or more 
 entertaining than my husband. He was at all times 
 full of hope, and indulged often the belief that he 
 
236 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 was really better and might yet anticipate another 
 good year's work in Boston. The Autumn, however^ 
 found him more lame, his throat more troublesome, 
 and '' this little bronchial hack " mentioned in one 
 of his letters, becoming painfully noticeable. In 
 November it became evident to him that he must 
 resign his place and for a w^hile relinquish preaching. 
 His knee had become so inflamed that it was with 
 difficulty that he could walk the sliort distance from 
 his house to his church, and although the carriages 
 of his friends were at his disposal for this purpose 
 and for pastoral visiting, yet of course it was out of 
 the question to carry forward in this way the pastoral 
 care of a large church. His throat too was so weak 
 that he was often obliged to procure a supply for the 
 pulpit, and alike to his own sorrow and that of a 
 people devotedly attached to him, it became manifest 
 that his labors with them must cease. The struggle 
 within his own heart of surrendering his cherished 
 life-work, can be known only by those who have 
 had the like experience. 
 
 In this emergency the providence of God opened 
 to him a field of action, the next in interest and 
 importance to that which he was quitting, and all 
 the more welcome, as it was precisely that in which 
 he had already had many years of happy experience. 
 In New York he had been for four years associated 
 with Dr. M. B. Anderson in the management of the 
 New York Recorder ; in Philadelphia he had had for 
 years the care of the Chronicle^ and thus large portions 
 of his mature life had been given to religious jour- 
 nalism. A similar opening now invited his footsteps 
 
 RETURN TO BOSTON. 
 
 237 
 
 to the great and rising metropolis of the West. Mr. 
 Goodman, one of the proprietors of the Standard^ 
 in Chicago, had corresponded with Mr. Dickerson in 
 regard to purchasing half the paper which his partner, 
 Mr. Leroy Church, wished to sell. Mr. Dickerson 
 had, however, not seriously entertained the question, 
 hoping that even if unable to bear the rigors of a 
 New England climate, he might continue the work 
 if he lived in a more genial region. He liad written, 
 therefore, to Mr. Goodman to "count him out" and 
 seek another purchaser. The latter, however, de- 
 clined to follow liis advice, but cherished the hope 
 of yet having him as his associate in Chicago. And 
 just about this time, early in November, when Mr. 
 Dickerson was coming to the slow and reluctant 
 conclusion that he must for a time be utterly debarred 
 from pastoral labor, he received another pressing 
 letter on the subject from Mr. Goodman. The result 
 was that, late in November Mr. Dickerson went out 
 to Chicago, to look over the i)roperty and determine 
 his course of duty. It began to look like a marked 
 and gracious Providence that was opening to him a 
 path of Christian usefulness with hand and brain 
 while resting his throat and limb. He felt, too, 
 naturally drawn to a sphere of labor with which 
 were linked so many delightful associations of the 
 past. From Chicago he wrote the following letter 
 
 to his son : 
 
 Chicago, Dec. 4, 1874. 
 
 My dear Willie : I was quite surprised to hear of 
 the arrival of the " measles." I knew them well some 
 years ago. It is a good thing to have them early. But 
 
238 
 
 JAMES S. DTCKERSON. 
 
 you must be very careful not to expose yourself for 
 some time after you feel well. The disease weakens 
 for awhile all our internal organism— the mucus mem- 
 brane—the ceretras organs— the oesophagus, the alimen- 
 tary canal— and the entire nervitine salitudes, duode- 
 nums, etc., are all more or less involved, and you see how 
 it is. (Willie was studying physiology at this time, and 
 talked a great deal about the functions of various parts 
 of the body, etc.) One chill within a week after you are 
 pretty well, miglit give you a permanent weakness. So 
 you must be patient and careful. 
 
 I have just this moment had a telegram from dear 
 Mamma that you are getting on nicely. Thank the dear 
 Saviour for your improvement. I hope He will care for 
 you, and that you will love Him. He is my only reliance. 
 When trouble, sickness, age, death come on, then I 
 think of my hope in Him. It never fails. Do yield 
 yourself— your love— your will to Jesus. That is all ; 
 that is being a Christian. Then we never can be sep- 
 arated even by death ; ** we still are joined in heart, and 
 hope to meet again." What a blessed thing it would 
 be for Lulu and you and Cliff and Ed. to become Chris- 
 tians! I think if you led the way it might be so! 
 Perhaps by your not leading, they may never get to 
 Heaven, even if you should yet reach that happy place. 
 Christians are happy ; christians are in the line of duty ; 
 christians are safe. May God incline your heart to 
 decide now. 
 
 ^ I am working away to see what will come of this 
 Standard matter. It looks as though we might yet YiVQ 
 in Chicago, and I think we might be very happy out 
 here. Loring Cheney is in the Sophomore class of the 
 University, here. ♦ * * Hoping you are getting 
 
 RETURN TO BOSTON. 
 
 239 
 
 toward convalescence, and will be careful, and with 
 much love to dear Mamma, Spencer, Lulu and Gracie, 
 ^ *°^» Affectionately your father, 
 
 James S. Dickeeson. 
 
 The result of this and a subsequent visit was the 
 purchase of a half interest in the Standard on the 
 first of January, 1875, and our removal to Chicago 
 in the middle of the February following. 
 
 The leaving Boston was made by some special 
 circumstances peculiarly trying. Mr. Dickerson could 
 rejoice, indeed, that he was leaving his people in the 
 midst of a refreshing revival, yet it was a heavy 
 trial that he could attend few of their meetings, 
 could lead none of the converts down into the bap- 
 tismal waters, and take scarcely any share in the 
 public labors in which his soul delighted. As quietly 
 and patiently as might be he had to nurse his infir- 
 mities at home, and rejoice that the gracious Master 
 could carry on the work without him. He did rejoice 
 and kept his spirit, in helpless but loving confidence. 
 Finally, one eflfort must be made. The farewell— 
 the " word which must be and hath been " must be 
 uttered. On a Sabbath on which Rev. Dr. Gardner 
 preached for him, Mr. Dickerson was taken to the 
 church, walked tremblingly to the pulpit, and 
 leaning over it, said to his people a few words of 
 farewell. He was too weak to trust himself to any 
 utterance of the tender emotions, to any dwellincr 
 upon the tender memories which the occasion inspired 
 and which came crowding upon his heart. He could 
 scarcely venture beyond the commonplaces of 
 
238 
 
 JAMES 8. DICKERSON. 
 
 you must be very careful not to expose yourself for 
 some time after you feel well. The disease weakens 
 for awhile all our internal organism — the mucus mem- 
 brane — the ceretras organs — the oesophagus, the alimen- 
 tary canal — and the entire nervitine salitudes, duode- 
 nums, etc., are all more or less involved, and you see how 
 it is. (Willie was studying physiology at this time, and 
 talked a great deal about the functions of various parts 
 of the body, etc.) One chill within a week after you are 
 pretty well, might give you a permanent weakness. So 
 you must be patient and careful. 
 
 I have just this moment had a telegram from dear 
 Mamma that you are getting on nicely. Thank the dear 
 Saviour for your improvement. I hope He will care for 
 you, and that you will lorn Him. He is my only reliance. 
 When trouble, sickness, age, death come on, then I 
 think of my hope in Him. It never fails. Do yield 
 yourself — your love — your will to Jesus. That is all ; 
 that is being a Christian. Then we never can be sep- 
 arated even by death ; " we still are joined in heart, and 
 hope to meet again." What a blessed thing it would 
 be for Lulu and you and Cliif and Ed. to become Chris- 
 tians! I think if you led the way it might be so! 
 Perhaps by your not leading, they may never get to 
 Heaven, even if you should yet reach that happy place. 
 Christians are happy ; christians are in the line of duty ; 
 christians are safe. May God incline your heart to 
 decide now. 
 
 I am working away to see what will come of this 
 Standard matter. It looks as though we might yet live 
 in Chicago, and I think we might be very happy out 
 here. Loring Cheney is in the Sophomore class of the 
 University, here. * * * Hoping you are getting 
 
 RETURN TO BOSTON". 
 
 289 
 
 toward convalescence, and will be careful, and with 
 much love to dear Mamma, Spencer, Lulu and Gracie, 
 I ^"i* Aflfectionately your father, 
 
 James S. Dickebson. 
 
 The result of this and a subsequent visit was the 
 purchase of a half interest in the Standard on the 
 first of January, 1875, and our removal to Chicago 
 in the middle of the February following. 
 ^ The leaving Boston was made by some special 
 circumstances peculiarly trying. Mr. Dickerson could 
 rejoice, indeed, that he was leaving his people in the 
 midst of a refreshing revival, yet it was a heavy 
 trial that he could attend few of their meetings, 
 could lead none of the converts down into the bap- 
 tismal waters, and take scarcely any share in the 
 public labors in which his soul delighted. As quietly 
 and patiently as might be he had to nurse his infir- 
 mities at home, and rejoice that the gracious Master 
 could carry on the work without him. He did rejoice 
 and kept his spirit, in helpless but loving confidence. 
 Finally, one effort must be made. The farewell— 
 the " word which must be and hath been " must be 
 uttered. On a Sabbath on which Rev. Dr. Gardner 
 preached for him, Mr. Dickerson was taken to the 
 church, walked tremblingly to the pulpit, and 
 leaning over it, said to his people a few words of 
 farewell. He was too weak to trust himself to any 
 utterance of the tender emotions, to any dwelling 
 upon the tender memories which the occasion inspired 
 and which came crowding upon his heart. He could 
 scarcely venture beyond the commonplaces of 
 
 *f j 
 
240 
 
 JA.MES S. DTCKERSON. 
 
 I^' ^ 
 
 , I 
 
 pastoral exhortation, in urging them to keep up their 
 prayer-meetings, fill their places on the Sabbath, 
 even when their leader was gone, and work on 
 courageously under the assurance that the Lord 
 would in due time supply their need. He thanked 
 them for their great kindness to him, spoke for a few 
 minutes of his plans and hopes, asked a continuance 
 of their prayers for him — prayers, ''not sad and 
 despairing, but hopeful," and with tearful smiles 
 bade them good-bye. There was no dry eye in the 
 house. The congregation understood the struggle 
 which was masked by the calm cheerfulness of his 
 manner, and if they did not " fall on his neck and 
 kiss him," they sorrowed deeply in their hearts with 
 the thought that they should probably hear his voice 
 and " see his face no more." And their apprehen- 
 sions were realized. Soon after leaving them he was 
 a hopeless invalid, and in about a year had become 
 a resident of the better but unseen land. 
 
 Mr. Dickerson felt that, perhaps, his best work was 
 done in Boston. When he entered upon his labors 
 there, in the spring of 1870, tlie church was bur- 
 dened with a debt of over twenty-six thousand 
 dollars, and it was only with a struggle that they 
 could pay the interest on this, and at the same time 
 meet their current expenses. The Lord blessed his 
 ministry so abundantly, and the church was so thor- 
 oughly united in him, that, at the close of the first 
 year, not only had the congregation constantly 
 increased, but by the accession of new members the 
 church was strengthened, both spiritually and finan- 
 cially ; the increased expenses were easily met, and 
 
 RETURN TO BOSTON. 
 
 241 
 
 something was done toward liquidating the debt. 
 While this result commanded the warmest gratitude 
 to God for so large a blessing, the many tokens of 
 love, on the part of his people, their confidence, sym- 
 pathy, and active support, the numerous and cordial 
 expressions of appreciation, kindled a like grateful 
 feeling toward those whom he served, and made his 
 pastorate in Boston a continual joy. 
 
 The change of the preaching service from the 
 afternoon so increased the attendance that Mr. 
 Dickerson was soon preaching to the largest Baptist 
 congregation in Boston, with a single exception — 
 that of Tremont Temple. Few were aware of the 
 sense of responsibility which weighed upon his heart, 
 as he tried to preach Christ to these audiences of a 
 thousand immortal souls. His heart was fully in the 
 work, and it was often remarked by his people, as 
 they left one of these solemn and inspiring services : 
 " It seems like coming from a heavenly atmosphere 
 down to an earthly one again." When, in our con- 
 versation, as we walked homeward, I spoke in praise 
 of the sermon, his reply would be — and I now 
 vividly recall the look and the expression : " Did I 
 make the points clear, and do you think it will do 
 good?" He preached, "not himself, but Christ 
 Jesus the Lord." He sought, not praises, but souls. 
 At the close of his first year, nearly seventy had 
 be,en added to the church, and at almost every com- 
 munion he had the joyful privilege of welcoming 
 the newly baptized. 
 
 From the time of his return from Europe, with 
 vigor renewed, until he was obliged to give up his 
 11 
 
242 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 cherished work, in 1875, the membership continued 
 to increase, and the church steadily prospered. The 
 Sabbath-school, with its corps of earnest, intelligent 
 teachers, and its devoted superintendents, had grown 
 largely in numbers and in influence. The prayer- 
 meetings were invariably a feast to those who 
 attended them — young and old — while the voices 
 of inquirers and young converts were often heard 
 there. The ladies' circles and sociables were quoted 
 everywhere as models of their kind ; and the debt, 
 a large one for such a church, was all subscribed 
 before Mr. Dickerson left, and completely extin- 
 guished in a short time after his removal to Chicago. 
 Meantime, other claims were not forgotten. The 
 missionary enterprises of the denomination, the tem- 
 perance cause, every form of public interest, with 
 the claims of Christian benevolence, commanded his 
 active support and that of his church. Even while 
 the process of paying the debt went forward, the 
 contributions of the church to various objects were 
 larger in amount than ever before. 
 
 Mr. Dickerson often preached in the pulpits of his 
 Congregational and Methodist brethren, while at the 
 social reunions, and in all gatherings of Baptists, no 
 one was welcomed more cordially or heard more 
 gladly than he. I am confident that all hearts 
 responded to the words of Dr. Lorimer, at the 
 memorial services held in the church at South Bos- 
 ton, after his death, when he said : " What Dr. 
 Dickerson was to you, your sorrow witnesses ; what 
 he was to the denomination in this vicinity, can 
 never be truly estimated.*' 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 CHICAGO. 
 
 Our removal to Chicago was in February, 1875. 
 The city had sprung up Phcenix-like from the 
 ashes of its great conflagration, and was shining 
 in its superb beauty, an exemplification beyond 
 any other American city, of the energetic and 
 indomitable character of American enterprise. The 
 Standard which, like every other interest, had 
 seemed temporarily overwhelmed by the great ocean 
 of flame that had swept over the city, had partially 
 recovered, and was starting under favorable auspices 
 on its new course. Mr. Dickerson's reception here 
 was most cordial and fraternal. Congratulatory 
 letters came to him from all quarters, and the Bap- 
 tists of the Northwest, friends of the paper, felt new 
 hope and encouragement for all their enterprises in 
 the coming of one so widely known as a loyal 
 Baptist, an efficient and wide-awake editor, and an 
 equally earnest and judicious supporter of every 
 good cause. Mr. Goodman, his partner, gave us, a 
 few days after our arrival, a most delightful reception 
 at the Brevoort House, where we were stoppino-. 
 Nearly one hundred and fifty representative Baptists 
 were present, and Mr. Dickerson received his public 
 and formal introduction to the friends and brethren 
 
 848 
 
244 
 
 JAMES S. DICKEKSON. 
 
 with whom he was to be associated. He was scarcely 
 able to be present, and many remarked how ill he 
 looked. Yet he spoke with animation, and returned 
 their greetings with all his accustomed geniality. 
 The occasion, however, over, as we retired to our 
 apartments he dropped exhausted into his ohair, say- 
 ing '' I am sick, and have hardly the strength and life 
 to go to bed." But the next morning lie was up, 
 started cheerfully forth for his work, and with 
 buoyant spirit but halting step, made his way over 
 the icy pavements to the oflBce. By those who had 
 been familiar with the rapid and eager tread of 
 former years he would scarcely be recognized in his 
 slow and careful steps, and feeble look. For about 
 three weeks he forced his way to the office through 
 the wind and sleet and rain of severe March weather. 
 He spoke at Social Unions, and attended various 
 public gatherings, declaring that he was " not going 
 to act sick any more," and trusting that he should 
 soon be better. 
 
 A letter written to his sister (Mrs. Van Dusen) 
 at this time will show his condition better than I can 
 describe it. 
 
 Chicago, March 15, 1875. 
 
 Dear Grace: All the family are at church save Gracie 
 and myself. A bad grip of the rheumatism on my well 
 side has doubled me right up, and I am crawling around 
 like a lobster. 1 get so discouraged at times that I want 
 to get away from everybody and just bawl for an hour. 
 I am hoping that the warm weather will be helpful for me 
 every way. My bad knee is rather better I think — 
 though there is no great change. For a few days my 
 
 mj p i i 'iliiiii.ni i iu 
 
 CHICAGO. 
 
 245 
 
 bronchitis has been worse, and I have been threatened 
 with pneumonia. I coughed badly in the morning; could 
 not lie on my right side for the lung was too sensitive; 
 and could not lie long on my left, or my heart would 
 begin to thump. I was away from the office from Monday 
 until Friday. But I am better of all this — it probably 
 came from a cold which went the usual way with me, 
 beginning with slight catarrhal symptoms and then work- 
 ing down to my bronchia. As I think of my feeble 
 condition for the past months I can only look -upon my 
 preservation from a terrible sickness as of God's special 
 mercy. I only fear that I stood at my post as a preacher 
 of the gospel too long. If I did, it was with the best of 
 motives, and if in this life, I feel its disadvantages — in 
 the nex% T shall have the reward. So it's all right. 
 
 I am happy about it. Should it be necessary for me 
 to go to a more genial clime, it's a great comfort to know 
 that Colorado, "the invalid's Paradise," is but a two 
 days' ride from here. But I am quite hopeful of a decided 
 improvement. I am doing just what work I can do 
 easily — going to the office when I please, staying as long 
 as I feel like it. I can do easily and without much 
 mental outlay what is needed on the Standard — i, e., 
 short, spicy, editorial paragraphs — remarks in brief about 
 religious and secular things, etc., etc. My partner is as 
 careful to have me save myself as Emma is, frequently 
 advising me to remain at home and work if the weather 
 is unfavorable. So the dear Lord has made a place for 
 me wonderfulh'- adapted to all my weaknesses, and yet 
 utilizing all my strength. I praise Him continually. 
 
 Thus far our business matters have been quite encourag- 
 ing. * * * I know that a minister of the Gospel, 
 broken in the service at my age, must not expect much 
 besides a bare living — he is favored if he gets that. 
 
m 
 
 246 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSOK 
 
 CHICAGO. 
 
 247 
 
 hi 
 
 II 
 
 Ministers in their prime are favored indeed; — ministers 
 used up, have a sad, hard life. * * * Emma, dear 
 soul, has her hands full, takin^r care of a little well babv, 
 and a big sick one. Still she shows no sijrn of diviner 
 up, and never looked better. We have much attention 
 shown us, and find many old friends to greet us. Emma 
 has just come in and sends love to you, and uncle Sam, 
 and the children, in which 1 cordially join. The Lord 
 bless you all. Your brother, .James. 
 
 I scarcely need say how happy were Mr. Dicker- 
 son's relations with his new associates. His business 
 partner, Mr. Goodman, speedily won from him that 
 cordial love and respect which his excellent Chris- 
 tian character, genial manners, and great business 
 capacity could not fail to command from the entire 
 Christian public. His associate editor, was Dr. J. A. 
 Smith, who for nearly a quarter of a century had the 
 editorial conduct of the paper, and by his uniformly 
 sound and correct judgment, by the breadth and 
 justness of his views, and the blended firmness and 
 moderation with which he maintained them, had 
 brought the Standard into the very front rank of 
 religious journalism, and fairly secured to himself 
 the title of ''the Model Editor." Associated with 
 such men, so thoroughly congenial in spirit and 
 temper, he began his labors under the happiest 
 auspices — happiest, except as darkened by the 
 one cloud of physical infirmity which was now 
 sternly gathering over his prospects, and Avhich 
 refused to be dispelled even by his strong will and 
 buoyant hopefulness. Equableness of spirit, serenity 
 of temper, hoping trustfulness, a resolution that 
 
 rises above weakness and quails at no obstacles, may 
 push far into the future the day of final physical 
 discomfiture. But it will ccmie at last. Decay is 
 inwrought into our nature ; and however we may 
 postpone, we can not finally avert it. Mr. Dickerson 
 became at last obliged to confine himself to the 
 house and send for a physician. " My wife," said he, 
 " thought I had better see you. Doctor. But there 
 is nothing much the matter with me. I am just a little 
 worn down and overworked, but I shall come out all 
 right." But it was the beginning of a third attack 
 of rheumatic fever, and he was not dressed again for 
 nearly a month, nor indeed until the night in which 
 we started for a journey of seven hundred miles to 
 Hot Springs, Arkansas. 
 
 Some serious obstacles to our going thither were 
 removed by the interposition of generous friends. 
 Dr. and Mrs. Cheney kindly offered to take two of 
 the children to their house and care for them during 
 our absence ; while my sister, Mrs. Barton, living in 
 the city, made the same generous offer for the little 
 one year old baby and her nurse. Three little babies, 
 one after another, we had laid away forever, and 
 now we parted in sadness from the elder children, 
 but sorely apprehensive that from the delicate little 
 nurseling our parting was final. Mr. Dickerson was 
 unable to stand, and at every change had to be lifted 
 to and from the cars. Sick as he was, yet on the 
 railway, with the aid of the sleeping cars, he was 
 tolerably comfortable. The railroad route, however, 
 came to an end, and the last thirty miles of the 
 journey had to be traversed over roads whose rough- 
 
248 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 CHICAGO. 
 
 249 
 
 |i i 
 
 <•■ li 
 
 
 ness and wildness could scarcely have been looked 
 for even in the interior of Arkansas. At four o'clock 
 on a raw cold morning, having sought in vain for 
 any palatable food, we set off in a dilapidated, 
 springless hack, and jolting over rocks and trunks of 
 trees, fording streams, plunging through '' sloughs 
 of despond " and despair, over a road of which not 
 one quarter of a mile was smooth, we made our 
 comfortless and often perilous way to our place of 
 destination. To Mr. Dickerson the journey was a 
 continuous torture. Using his luinds as springs to 
 keep his body from the hard unyielding seat, until 
 his wrists seemed ready to break, and yet tossing 
 violently with the movements of tlie huge vehicle, 
 he rode for thirty miles in an agony which only the 
 utmost heroism could endure. No wonder that when 
 we reached the huge barn-like building which bore 
 the mocking title of the Grand Central Hotel, and 
 he was lifted from the wagon, the people who gath- 
 ered round supposed that he had come there just to 
 die. Their faces and their manner told their con- 
 viction that I was ministering to a dying husband. 
 
 Still life was strong within him, and from an ordeal 
 that might have seemed to threaten even a stronger 
 man, he rallied. We remained there two months, and 
 he in every way grew better. He could walk with 
 crutches, had more appetite, rode out a little, and 
 finally returned to Chicago considerably encouraged, 
 though disappointed as to the thorough curative 
 efficacy of the medicinal waters. To some friends 
 who bade him good-bye as he started for the Springs, 
 he had said, "- 1 shall come back soon and skip up 
 
 the stairs three steps at a time." He shrunk now 
 from meeting them when with difficulty he walked 
 on crutches. In truth the fountains of life were 
 sapped, and the mineral waters could not resupply 
 them. They could mitigate symptoms, could give 
 some of the outward showings of health, but left 
 the cause and hidden virus of his disease unreached. 
 
 We spent the following Summer in Highland Park, 
 a beautiful suburban town, built on a bluff, seventy 
 feet above the lake. The place was delightful, but 
 the Summer was a sad one to us all. Mr. Dickerson's 
 knee grew more and more inflamed, a* id more and 
 more painful until it was torture to be moved. He 
 had to submit to some severe operations, and suffered 
 so excruciatingly that morphia alone could give him 
 cessation from pain or rest in sleep. 
 
 From a letter written from that place to his uncle 
 James Stokes, after several eminent surgeons had 
 seen him and deemed it probable that, in order to 
 live, he must suffer the amputation of that limb, we 
 quote some sentences : 
 
 Highland Park, Aug. 24, 1875. 
 My dear Uncle: This is the first day since I received 
 your letter that I have been able to write ; now it is 
 under many difficulties, as I am bolstered up in bed with 
 pillows at my back, my knee and my feet. J ache in 
 every muscle from my waist downward. Still I call 
 myself "quite comfortable " — whenever I am not thrilled 
 through and through with tormenting pains. 1 have 
 suffered somewhat less since my leg was lanced, and 
 discharged so much blood and matter. * * * ^y 
 doctors, both allopaths and homeopaths, agree that the 
 great thing to be done is to increase my general health. 
 
 gaaBBBi 
 
250 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 CHICAGO. 
 
 251 
 
 They say, " Improve your appetite, be out in the ope?i 
 air, and build up your general health." This is rather 
 cheap advice to a poor, weak soul on crutches, who can 
 not move without a pang, and can not eat or sleep with 
 any satisfaction. In regard to an amputation — while all 
 have told me that it was possible to happen, no one has 
 said that it was at all certain. The nearest they came to 
 it was to say that amputation would save me a world of 
 suffering, and could be more safely endured now than at 
 any future time. But they did not advise it positively. 
 As the leg belonged to me, I quietly concluded I would 
 try many expedients before I would give it up, and my 
 family doctor is working on that plan. The case is not 
 one for medicine, but for general treatment. Thank 
 Cousin James for his interest in the matter, and for the 
 kind letters and information he has sent me. 
 
 But I must stop. Give love to all the dear ones at 
 Madison Avenue, not forgetting Dora and the baby. 
 Pray for us all — we greatly need it. I fear sometimes 
 that Emma will break down under her cares and troubles, 
 which never stop, day or night. I know prayer has 
 been answered in my behalf in the weary painful watches 
 of the night, when I was so exhausted and bewildered 
 with suffering that I could only plead His promise, 
 "Come — and I tcill give you rest." From every direction 
 I get letters of sympathy, and the tidings come that my 
 friends all over the land, in Philadelphia, Boston, New 
 York, Wilmington, and Pittsburgh, are remembering me 
 in prayer. I expect to come out of this great distress! 
 But how glorious the thought that even dying is a victory 
 in my case, wrought out through the blessed Saviour! 
 He is my Friend, and has been ever since He forgave 
 me my sins, and took me, a poor orphan boy in the 
 Bowery, and put His Holy Spirit into ray heart. I love to 
 
 preach His gospel, and am glad that my best strength 
 has been thus spent, and that His blessed smile has 
 covered so much of my poor efforts. How I would love 
 to preach again this sweet gospel of the grace of God ! 
 But it is all right with me, whatever happens. All 
 things work together, etc., etc. Dear Emma sends her 
 love. Your grateful but suffering nephew, 
 
 James S. Dickerson. 
 
 During these months of suffering Mr. Dickerson 
 was generally hopeful, and kept himself readily open 
 to every available source of enjoyment. He rode 
 occasionally in an easy carriage ; enjoyed constantly 
 the open air while sitting well wrapped and read- 
 ing the papers on the porch ; while often bolstered 
 up in chair or bed, he would write for the Standard, 
 His head was clear and free from pain, for which he 
 often expressed gratitude ; he read much, was always 
 entertaining, and vivacious in conversation. During 
 this time he was up and dressed a part of the day ; 
 would walk up and down the parlors on his crutches, 
 and cheer his friends with the playful assurance that 
 he should disappoint the doctors and was not going 
 to die. But in August his knee became much worse ; 
 he was weak and wasted, and suffered incessantly ; 
 and the physicians and surgeons who visited him 
 from Chicago, talked more of an amputation which 
 they began to think inevitable. Early in September 
 we came to our house in Chicago, and Mr. Dickerson 
 was carried in a chair from the carriage into the house 
 which he never left until his last remove from any 
 earthly dwelling. 
 
 His sufferings during the next month were intense, 
 
 a.ft 
 
252 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 CHICAGO. 
 
 25B 
 
 
 
 but scarcely suspected by those occasional visitors 
 from whom his cheerful manner effectually disguised 
 them. The slightest moving of his leg became 
 torture, and at length physicians and surgeons alike 
 agreed that the only hope of prolonging his life lay 
 in amputating the limb, while all were quite confi- 
 dent that this would lead to a permanent recovery. 
 His mind made up to submit to the operation, he said 
 to the doctor, '' Now that I have come to the con- 
 clusion, the sooner it is off the better; I should be 
 glad to have it done to-day." 
 
 The "day" speedily came, and on the seventh of 
 October the sad operation was accomplished. Mem- 
 ory dwells upon every step of the agonizing scene, 
 but we spare the reader the painful details. Through 
 all the preparations he lay on the bed peaceful and 
 apparently happy. He talked with the physician 
 who sat beside him, with smiles on his face, and when 
 I came with streaming eyes — for I could not remain 
 in the room — he said, " This is not the time to cry, 
 darling. I expect soon to be more free from pain 
 than I have been for weeks." But to sit in an 
 adjoining room, following with ear and imagina- 
 tion the successive stages of the process, was agony 
 indescribable. Blessed fruit of modern science, 
 that the most deeply interested was the least con- 
 scious sufferer ! '' Is my leg off? How strange that I 
 did not know it !" were among the exclamations 
 with which he greeted my return to his bedside. 
 
 The first few weeks following the operation were 
 days of sorrow and anxiety. He lay in a darkened 
 room, scarcely seeing the family, while through 
 
 J 
 
 day and night we watched his slow recovery 
 
 from so terrible a shock. His acute suite ring was 
 
 less than before the amputation, except during the 
 
 dressing, and sometimes the agonizing probing, of 
 
 his limb ; but he suffered from intense prostration, 
 
 profuse sweating, resulting from the taking of the 
 
 ether, and in various other ways. He would lie for 
 
 hoars almost utterly silent and so nervousl}^ depressed 
 
 that he could endure the presence of no persons in 
 
 his room except his physicians and myself. 
 
 The news of his sufferings was met by almost 
 
 universal sympathy, and letters of tender interest 
 
 came from almost every quarter, which, so soon as he 
 
 was able to read them, awoke constantly the deepest 
 
 gratitude. Those, especially of his sister Mrs. Van 
 
 Dusen, with their affectionate sisterly interest, were 
 
 to him as a healing balm. From an assemblage of 
 
 his ministering brethren with whom he had been 
 
 associated in Boston came the following expression 
 
 of sympathy: 
 
 Boston, Oct. 25, 1875. 
 
 Rev. J. S. DiCKERSON, D. D. — Dear Brother: At the 
 meeting of the Baptist ministers of Boston this morning, 
 on motion of Rev. Dr. Lorimer a resolution of sym- 
 pathy with you in your present trial, and of aflfectionate 
 remembrance in our prayers, was passed by a rising and 
 unanimous vote. 
 
 Hoping the Lord will speedily restore you to serve 
 Him in your new field of labor with that acceptance which 
 endeared you to all hearts in this vicinity, we remain, 
 
 Yours as ever, 
 The Baptist Ministers' Conference of Boston. 
 
 For the Conference. 
 
 H. F. Barnes, Clerk. 
 
254 
 
 JAMES a DICKERSON. 
 
 CHICAGO. 
 
 255 
 
 One letter in particular, received about this time 
 was cordially welcomed. It came from one who had 
 never seen him, but who, having in the service of 
 his country made a similar surrender of one of 
 his limbs, could thoroughly appreciate the bereave- 
 ment which he had experienced, and could give both 
 the sympathy of a kindly and Christian heart, and 
 the practical suggestions and consolations of one who 
 had gone through the like terrible ordeal. With its 
 sympathetic, yet hopeful and cheering tone it came 
 to hnn amidst the sad weeks following the amputa- 
 tion, doubly welcome. 
 
 Portland, Maine, Oct. 27, 1875. 
 Rev. J. S. DicKERsox, D.D.-Jfy dear Brother: I am 
 a stranger to you, but I must write vou a few words 1 
 see by the papers that you have been compelled to suffer 
 the loss of a leg. I need not say that I sympathize with 
 you deeply, since J have passed through the same exne- 
 rience, having lost my left leg, above the knee, at the 
 battle of Chancellorsville. 
 
 But I do not write to condole with you, but to cheer 
 you; to welcome you to the noble army of Monopeds. 
 We are neither few, nor of small consequence. As 
 good men as the sun shines on sport the wooden le^ in 
 every city of the land. We welcome another to our 
 number. Don't get discouraged. I hope the Lord will 
 spare your life and that you will live to appreciate how 
 much art can do to help you. I have worn a wooden leff 
 for eleven years; can stand as long, and walk as far, and 
 do as much pastoral work as any other man. I find it 
 no hindrance even in baptizing. To be sure T can't run 
 to a fire or chase a horse-car, but then I save proportion- 
 ally m dignity. 
 
 May the Lord give you grace and patience in your 
 trial, and health and strength for many years of good 
 work to come. Yours Fraternally, 
 
 James McWhinnie, 
 
 Pastor Free St. Bap. Ch. 
 
 Tears of joy and gratitude streamed down his 
 face as he heard that letter; and it seemed to give 
 him new courage. And for weeks after, when he 
 was occasionally desponding he would say, " Well, 
 read me McWhinnie's letter again ; that always 
 cheers me." 
 
 He asked me to reply to this letter, making various 
 inquiries, which I did, and soon after he received 
 the following : 
 
 Portland, Maine, Nov. 9, 1875. 
 
 Dear Brother Dickerson: I was very glad to hear 
 from Mrs. Dickerson in answer to my previous letter, 
 and to learn that you are improving so fast. If your 
 health is restored with the healing of the limb, you will 
 be one of the happiest men in Chicago. Your wife asks 
 several questions which I will try to answer. 
 
 I was not so reduced in flesh as in vitality when I 
 suffered the amputation of my leg. I had lain on the 
 battle-field for nearly thirteen days exposed to some 
 terrible weather, and having very little food. I was 
 wounded in the legs, one of my knees being completely 
 shattered. On being brought into our lines inflamma- 
 tion became excessive, and the leg was amputated about 
 seven inches above the knee. I lav a longr time in a 
 doubtful condition, and the limb not healing, I had a 
 large abscess form in it, which nearly cost me my life. 
 After that it was found that necrosis of the femur had 
 set in; and about six months from the amputation the 
 
256 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 
 
 CHICAGO. 
 
 257 
 
 i 
 
 whole thigh bone was removed so far as the socket. 
 New bone, however, was already forming, which at last 
 became strong enough to use, and the leg healing, I 
 procured a wooden leg just one year after the amputa- 
 tion. [Then he gives his experience as to the best kind 
 of crutches, how they should be used, etc., and closes in 
 this way]: Let me say that it requires courage to use a 
 wooden leg as well as to lose the old one. At first it is 
 painful, awkward, discouraging work. The first time I 
 used mine, I was sorry the bullet had not gone through 
 my head instead of my knee! I thought I must go back 
 to my crutches for life. But I determined 1 would 
 walk on the leg if it killed me. So I threw away one of 
 my canes (I had been using two) and went at it. And 
 very soon I conquered the thing, and received many 
 compliments for my superior walking; and I had to 
 compete with the whole hospital, where there were one 
 hundred and fifty of the same sort! Courage and care 
 at the first will make one a good walker; timidity and 
 carelessness will make him a bungler at it all his life. 
 
 I do not know that I have answered all your questions 
 seriatim; but if I can be of any assistance please com- 
 mand my services. Yours is a great affliction, but with 
 health restored and a good artificial leg, you will find 
 life has not lost so much as you thought. May the Lord 
 bless and comfort you both! 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 J. McWhixnie. 
 
 This letter affected Mr. Diekerson in many ways. 
 It made him grateful that his suffering had been in 
 comparison less protracted and intense, and that 
 while suffering he had been at home and kindly cared 
 for. It gave him hope and encouragement, and 
 
 f 
 
 ■liMi 
 
 wmmmm 
 
 diminished largely that terrible dread of the wooden 
 leg which had constantly haunted him, but to which 
 he had never given utterance until it was in so large 
 a measure dissipated by these encouraging letters. 
 
 By the first of November we were rejoicing in his 
 manifest improvement, and the atmosphere of the 
 house seemed less dreary. The children, hitherto 
 excluded, could come in and talk with their father, 
 and little Gracie, nearly two years old, could wait 
 round his bedside, share his dainties, and be delighted 
 with the old-time stories, and with the assurance of 
 "a good frolic with her one of these days." By the 
 close of the month, the healing process was still far- 
 ther advanced, and it was a glad day when, though 
 obliged to be carried to the table, he could sit with 
 us and enjoy a Thanksgiving dinner. It was indeed 
 a dinner of thanksgiving, and tears were in all our 
 eyes as he asked a tender blessing on the meal. The 
 neatly arranged table, the flowers and the fruit that 
 adorned it, the " Welcome " wrought in evergreens, 
 and every little mark of care and love, brimmed his 
 heart and eyes with overflowing gratitude. 
 
 The same apparent improvement continued 
 through the month of December. He writes thus 
 to his old Wilmington friend, Dr. William Aikman, 
 then residing in Detroit : 
 
 December 6, 1875. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Aikmax. Mi/ very dear brother: You will 
 excuse my pencil I know; for, bolstered up as I am, pen 
 and ink would be very troublesome facilities. 
 
 Your kind letter has touched my heart, and awakened 
 memories of the most tender kind. Yourself, vour wife 
 
2.'i8 
 
 JAMES S. DICKER80N. 
 
 and your dear children, as they were in the solemn and 
 eventful days of the war, have been passing before me. 
 and forms of my own loved ones blend with them-forms 
 that have vanished to the peaceful skies. 
 
 I have indeed been terribly afflicted. A sufferer from 
 rheumatic fever for nearly a year, and then laid aside 
 with an inflamed knee for many months of terrible 
 agony I finally, when wasted to ninety pounds, sub- 
 mitted to the knife and the saw of the surgeon. On the 
 7th of October, the mysterious etherized cap was drawn 
 over my face. As I knew in whom I trusted, I was calm 
 as If sinking to a natural sleep! But oh! the fearful 
 desolate weeks of reaction, weakness and pain! I thank 
 God they are behind me. Many a time have I sorrowed 
 that I ever awoke from the surgeon's table But I am 
 now comparatively comfortable, and gainino- slowly 
 I am so thin and sore that I fail to get sound, sweet 
 sleep,- otherwise I think I should soon be on crutches 
 and about the house. How genuine your sympathy will 
 be for me, I know full well. In the no distant future I 
 see brighter skies. 
 
 But now I am tired out and will stop. Give mv love 
 to your dear wife and all the children. 
 
 My own family are well. We number just as we did 
 m 1861— only darling Ada went home to the better life 
 and our baby Grace, nearly two years old, makes good 
 the number. Mrs. Dickerson sends her love. 
 I am, as ever, your friend and brother, 
 
 James S. Dickerson. 
 The following paragraphs are from a letter to his 
 uncle, James Stokes, dated Dec. 20 : 
 
 * * * I am getting on but very slowly. I am so 
 wasted and my bones so sore that I can not sit or lie 
 long in any one place. Hence I fail to get good sleep 
 
 CHICAGO. 
 
 259 
 
 This is my great drawback now. I sit up for a while 
 every day. My doctor comes now but twice a week, and 
 says everything looks hopeful. 
 
 I think God has guided me in all my sad way, and I 
 praise Him for His mercies. I hope to be on my crutches 
 in a few days. We are all usually well. Emma begins 
 to look as bright and cheery as ever. A month ago, I 
 had to call her up fifteen or twenty times in the night;— 
 now, only once or twice. I really think her strength was 
 providentially increased to meet the terrible strain on 
 her body, heart and mind. " As thy day, so shall thy 
 strength be." Blessed promise. 
 
 Give my love to Aunt Caroline and all the children. 
 May God bless you all ! 
 
 Affectionately, your nephew, 
 
 James S. Dickerson. 
 During all this period, many letters of tender sym- 
 pathy were coming to him. His old Church in 
 Boston, gladdened our Christmas hearth with a o-en- 
 erous present, and our hearts with still more precious 
 words of affectionate remembrance. From a laro-e 
 gathering of Boston Baptists, in his former house of 
 worship, came by vote of the body a telegraphic 
 message of greeting and sympathy, to which he 
 gratefully responded. 
 
 Mr. Dickerson's improvement continued until the 
 middle of January. About this time an abscess 
 which had been gathering in his "little leg," as we 
 termed the amputated limb, broke; and from this 
 point he began slowly— and for some weeks, quite 
 imperceptibly — to decline. Even yet, however, we 
 indulged no fear of a fatal termination of the dis- 
 ease, and my husband said to me one day, *' We 
 
■rr 
 
 260 
 
 JAMES S. DTCKERSON. 
 
 CHICAGO. 
 
 261 
 
 
 lii n 
 
 
 H 
 
 lit 
 
 have been through a long and hard year of trials — 
 hard for me, hard for you. How thankful should 
 we be that the worst is over ; that your husband is 
 spared and the outlook so favorable ! " During all this 
 time he was cheerful, with an almost uninterrupted 
 flow of his old-time spirits. Letters were read and 
 written, stories were told, songs were sung, conver- 
 sations passing '' from grave to gay, from lively to 
 severe," were held alike with family and with friends, 
 and if all did not go '•'' merry as a marriage bell," yet, 
 at least, we none of us caught the muffled death- 
 knell that was in the near distance. The antici- 
 pated wooden leg became naturally an object of 
 speculation ; and since Mr. McWhinnie's letter had 
 so largely disarmed it of its terrors, he could al- 
 lude to it not only without nervousness, but often 
 in his characteristic style of playful banter. The 
 knowledge that the dreaded wood, which was to re- 
 place the lost member, would be of so light weight 
 (not more than three and a half pounds), had taken 
 a much heavier weight from ofT his mind, and he 
 looked forward to the time when thus refurnished 
 he should again tread the paths of active duty. He 
 could, like Hood, joke about his infirmities, illustrat- 
 ing the laughing face under which the most serious 
 feeling will sometimes disguise itself. Hood's grim 
 joke of " too much mustard for the quantity of meat," 
 when his wife was laying a mustard plaster on his 
 emaciated limb, might be paralleled by several sim- 
 ilar playful allusions of Mr. Dickerson to his unfor- 
 tunate member. I will mention but one. He was 
 asked by one of the children, if he could move his 
 
 "little leg" without touching it (he had had for 
 weeks no power over it, and we had had to lift and 
 move it). " O yes," he replied, uncovering it as he 
 sat in his eas}^ chair, and moving it up and down in 
 a comical way, — " Speak for yourself, old fellow ; 
 be the stump orator of the occasion ! " 
 
 But the playful glided insensibly and naturally 
 into the serious. His humor rippled brightly and 
 delicately over the deep stream of earnest thought 
 and emotion. His prayers at family worship, as he 
 sat in his chair, unable either to rise or to kneel, 
 were full of devout aspirations ; the breathings of a 
 soul glowing with gratitude to the Lord for His 
 mercies, and making such tender references to the 
 dark weeks of suffering as often melted us to tears. 
 He would sing with us until he began to cough, and 
 then, after an interval of choking, would join in 
 again with his clear, sweet voice. Such grand old 
 hymns as, " The Star of Bethlehem," '' Rock of 
 Ages," " There is a Land of Pure Delight," ''Jesus, 
 Thy name I love," " Nearer my God to Thee," were 
 among those which he constantly called for, and 
 never tired of hearing. 
 
Ill 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 HIS FINAL ILLNESS. 
 
 I had noticed through February that my husband 
 was somewhat weaker, but as this was a natural con- 
 sequence of the abscess, and as his appetite was good, 
 I did not regard it as at all dangerous. He was in 
 the meantime so hopeful, so much interested in all 
 external and public matters, especially in all that 
 concerned the paper and the church, with the interests 
 of both of which he hoped confidently to be soon 
 again actively connected, that all serious fears were 
 kept in constant abeyance, and rarely broke in on the 
 delusive dream of his recovery. From that dream, 
 however, we were at length effectually aroused. 
 In March, we observed that he sat up each day a 
 shorter time than the day previous ; he was less an- 
 imated and became sooner weary, and by the middle 
 of the month the physician's kindly uttered but 
 dreadful words, ''no hope," thrilled alike on our ears 
 and hearts. I now began to note down each even- 
 ing such words as would be precious in the remem- 
 brance, and perhaps I can not do better than make 
 extracts from this sad diary. 
 
 The scenes on which they lift the veil seem, in- 
 deed, almost too sacred for strangers' eyes ; yet, I 
 may recall and make my own the words of Fanny 
 
 262 
 
 FINAL ILLNESS. 
 
 263 
 
 
 Forester when, in her memories of Mrs. Sarah B. 
 Judson, she portrays the closing scenes in the life of 
 her first husband. *' There is nothing on earth so 
 beautiful as the household in which love forever 
 smiles, and where religion walks as counselor and 
 friend. No cloud can darken it, for its twin stars are 
 centered in the soul. No storm can make it trem- 
 ble — it has an earthly support, the gift of Heaven, 
 and a heavenly anchor. But the roof beneath which 
 it dwells shelters a sacred spot, where the curious 
 eye must not peer nor the stranger-foot tread. So 
 it is with the warm soul-breathing missives now 
 beside me. * * * At this moment, however, a 
 pair of young, dark eyes rise before me, that will 
 read the page with the interest of an only and be- 
 loved daughter, and then turn back tearfully to the 
 sad scenes which she can not yet have entirely for- * 
 gotten. For her sake shall a few passages be writ- 
 ten down that may perhaps recall lost fragments of 
 the picture now in her heart." 
 
 So I feel as I look at "dear little Blue Eyes" 
 standing beside me, who remembers her father's 
 kind words and songs and stories, and her many lit- 
 tle acts of love toward him ; and who will, I am 
 persuaded, prize, next to her Bible, the precious her- 
 itasre of these his last utterances. So I feel as I turn 
 in thought to the older children who now hold in 
 remembrance much that is recorded here, but who, 
 when years shall cloud and dim the impression, will 
 seek these pages to refresh their hearts with the 
 revived and brightened memory. And the further 
 hope that in following a life of such Christian fidel- 
 
HI 
 
 ;►. 
 
 264 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 ity and loveliness to its peaceful and triumphant 
 close some timid spirits may find a lessening of their 
 dread of the last conflict, induces me partially to un- 
 veil what might seem too sacred fov the intruding 
 gaze of the stranger. But it is not for himself alone 
 that the servant of God receives his precious experi- 
 ences of grace; it is for all who have the like her- 
 itage of sin and guilt and moral struggle. The life 
 of one Christian should, as far as possible, be made 
 available for the benefit of all; the joys and 
 triumphs of each believer become the common her- 
 itage of the Church, and especiallv the liq-ht that for 
 one has brightened the dark valley, should, as far as 
 may be, be caught and tlirown back to cheer others 
 that are bound to the same inevitable pathway. 
 
 Therefore I make some extracts from my evening 
 jottings at that time, when, after the house was 
 quiet, the dear one comfortably settled for a nap, I 
 sat down in the stillness and wrote these words, 
 which would soon, I knew, be among the last on 
 earth from him whose voice was music to my ear ; 
 in whose sunny smile I basked with joy, and whose 
 loving words made earth a Heaven to me. 
 
 March 15. * * * He seems to liave more fever 
 the last few days, and his cough increases very much, 
 but the acute pain from which he has suffered has meas- 
 urably passed away and he rests better, thouorh his sleep 
 is not refreshing. * * * His hope never fails. He is 
 submissive and patient, kind and loving to us all, and so 
 appreciative of all we do. Even in his weariness he is 
 always thinking of others. He thanks "the dear Lord" 
 SO often "for all His mercies to us," — thanks Him for his 
 
 LAST DAYS. 
 
 265 
 
 sleep, for quiet, for me, for his happy home, for his com- 
 parative comfort when he thinks of the days and the 
 weeks after the amputation. He seems so grateful that 
 I keep well, and am able to take care of him and be with 
 
 him all the time. 
 
 As I remarked this afternoon that my head ached 
 badly, I supposed because I cried so this morning, he 
 
 said, 
 
 "Yes, I wanted to tell you that it was very unprofita- 
 ble, but I thought you would feel better to have your 
 cry out. But, darling, you must try to keep cheerful. 
 I am struggling to stay on this side of the river, and it 
 is hard sometimes to feel cheerful; but if you get blue 
 and discouraged it will be harder still for me; that takes 
 me riirht down. If it were not for you and the children, 
 I woiUd be glad to die this minute; that is, unless I could 
 be well again, and do xoork, and be of some service." 
 Then, in a'more cheerful tone, he added, "But I think 
 it is all coming right; we ought to be hopeful. I expect 
 to enjoy many happy years with you yet." O, how hard 
 it is for me to respond when he makes such remarks! 
 This evening, as he looked at Gracie, he said: 
 "Dear little tot! what a comfort she has been to us. 
 I think her presence and sweet cunning ways have 
 helped you to bear the burdens." All his words are 
 full of love. Sometimes I think he feels that he is 
 <rrowincr worse, and I notice how his eyes will follow 
 Gracie,°ofttimes with a sad look as if he thought, " poor 
 little dear, I'm afraid you will soon be left without a 
 dear papa." But he says nothing of the kind, and does 
 not want to hear a discouraging word, or see a sad look, 
 or catch even the echo of a sigh. 
 
 A day or two since he had a beautiful vision which 
 brought gladness to his heart, but sorrow to mine. He 
 
 12 
 
266 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 I I 
 
 awoke from a short nap and said in his pleasant voice: 
 "Darling, are you there?" I was sitting at the foot of 
 the bed where he could not see me, and when I replied, 
 he remarked: 
 
 "I have had a glorious vision. I hated to awake and 
 see it vanish. I don't know where I was exactly, but 
 just before me I saw a beautiful being lift a curtain, and 
 then, turning toward me, he said, 'Gaze in there; there 
 is joy and gladness.' And I looked and saw such a beau- 
 tiful place; oh, I can't describe it, but it was filled with 
 lovely, happy people, and they were full of mirth and 
 joy. And the one who lifted the curtain said, ' There 
 is no pain or suflFering, but only joy to those who enter 
 here.' Then the curtain dropped and the vision van- 
 ished. Now," he added, " I take that for a good omen. 
 I think the glad times are soon coming back to us, and 
 our home will be filled with mirth and joy again." But 
 the vision brought no such glad thoughts to me! I felt 
 that the curtain would soon be lifted and he would enter 
 that joyful home, but I should be left here, and the glad 
 times were ?iot yet for me. 
 
 Thursday^ March IG. To-day he has passed quite 
 comfortably, except that at times his breath is very short, 
 and his coughing spells wearing and hard to get through 
 with. But when they are easier than he anticipated, 
 oh, how grateful he is, saying so earnestly, "Thank the 
 dear Lord for that." But if he has a long, hard time, 
 he is so patient and uncomplaining ! He still has those 
 terrible chills and sweats; is very restless, very fe/erish. 
 I have had to keep the windows open all day, notwith- 
 standing the wind and rain and snow, and even then he 
 has many times felt a sense of suflPocation, and the pain 
 in his chest seems to increase. * * * This evening 
 sister Fanny has been singing some sweet old-fashioned 
 
 LAST DAYS. 
 
 267 
 
 hymns in the parlor, which have given him great de- 
 light. His eyes filled as he listened to them, and when 
 he talked of the blessed times in the old prayer-meet- 
 ings, spoke of the different members that used to take 
 part, and said, " I thank the dear Lord that He ever hon- 
 ored me by allowing me to preach the blessed gospel. 
 Blessed be His name! He has helped me all through 
 my life! His grace has done it all. Had I not been 
 converted and become a minister, I don't know to what 
 a depth of depravity I might have si>nk. But the Lord 
 has blessed me all through. When a friendless orphan 
 He was near me, and all the good I have accomplished, 
 all the little I have done, is by His grace and that alone, 
 and I hope I can honor Him still for many years of work 
 in His blessed cause." He is still full of hope, and feels 
 terribly if I look sad or discouraged. I read to him from 
 James, to-night, the chapter which contains the words, 
 " And the prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the 
 Lord will raise him up." O, how fervently he responded 
 amen, to that passage! * * * Indeed he does not 
 want to hear anything discouraging about any matters 
 whatever. ' 
 
 He is always glad to see his eldest son when he comes 
 home, and enjoys a nice talk with him about affairs at 
 the office; but if anything on the shady side is spoken 
 of, he says, " Don't tell me that, Spencer ; that makes 
 me nervous; tell me all the pleasant things." He talks 
 to him much of old times and old experiences, partly 
 to entertain himself, I often think. 
 
 He has not been able to get up into his chair for some 
 days, and to-day did not even sit up in the bed against 
 the pillows. It tires him to raise his head, and he takes 
 much of his food through a glass tube. He is very weak, 
 and he breathes so heavily that his whole body moves. 
 

 268 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 But he keeps talking of getting well, and said to-day: 
 "Do you think I had better get up and try to write a 
 few letters, or shall I let them go for a few days?" I 
 told him he had better remain in the bed while he was 
 so weak; that there was nothing special to be gained by 
 getting up. So he seemed satisfied, and 1 carefully turned 
 him, rubbed his sore shoulder with bay rum, which re- 
 freshed him somewhat, and he said, " O, I'm so glad I 
 did not make the exertion, this is so much better." * * * 
 
 Friday^ March 17. This has been a day of trouble 
 and sorrow. His breath has been shorter than ever be- 
 fore. He told me this morninor that he sometimes felt 
 frightened about himself, and was afraid he might lose 
 his breath altogether some of these times. He said, 
 "You must raise me up, and give me more air when 
 you see me so affected." The doctor was here this after- 
 noon, but gave him no encouragement.. After talking to 
 him about his troubles awhile, he said, "Do you ever 
 feel like giving it all up, doctor?" "No, only occasion- 
 ally," Mr. Dickerson replied, " when I have those suffocat- 
 ing times. No, I am coming through all right." With a 
 sad face, taking his hand, the doctor said, "Your faith 
 is great, and that is the best part of it. If there was 
 anything to build upon, and we could check this cough, 
 you might soon get better." " If there was " — O, what 
 little words, but of what great import to me. "If there 
 was:" — They echoed through my heart like a dirge, and 
 my silent, agonizing prayer ascended to Heaven, 
 "Canst Thou not raise him up, even from this low 
 place? O, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me;" 
 but I could not say, "Nevertheless not my will, but Thine 
 be done." 
 
 Notwithstanding these words from the doctor, he still 
 feels hopeful. He says he has had an assurance from the 
 
 LAST DAYS. 
 
 269 
 
 Lord that he would get well, and remarked to me, " I 
 wish you could get hold of the promises as I have done, 
 and feel more hopeful, for I see you often look despond- 
 ing, and almost despairing." I had a few words with the 
 doctor in the parlor, and when I came back into the room 
 Mr. Dickerson asked, "What does the doctor say? I 
 see he is worried, and you are worried, and it troubles 
 me." I replied, " The doctor feels almost discouraged. 
 You are so weak and your pulse so high." "O, dear, 
 dear," he said, "1 am a poor, weak, sick body, and I 
 must carry the burden, carry you all, when the doctor 
 and every one else seems discouraged. I wish you all 
 felt hopeful, and helped me along." What could I say? 
 My tears were my only answer. * * * 
 
 Saturday, March 18. I read to Mr. Dickerson last 
 evening the 118th Psalm, in which are the verses, "Thou 
 hast afflicted me sore. Thou hast brought me low, but Thou 
 hast not given me over to death;" to which he responded, 
 "No, no, thank the dear Lord, no." And another, "I 
 shall not die, but live and declare the works of the 
 Lord," to which he softly said, " Yes, yes " — and when I 
 had done reading, he remarked, "That is a good Psalm; 
 mark that one." This has been a quiet day. He has 
 slept a great deal, and the pain is not as severe in his 
 chest. He has not coughed as often, or as severely. 
 Dr. Smith called this afternoon, and sat with him a few 
 moments. He enjoyed talking to him, and to Dr. Cheney 
 who was here a few days since, but he sees very few of 
 those who call, and the few but for a short time. As Dr. 
 Smith looked at a picture of the castle of St. Angelo, 
 which hung above the fire-place, he said, "What a fine 
 picture that is! How often I have crossed that bridge. 
 How I should love to go there again ! " Then after a 
 moment he added, "I often think I may go again." 
 

 270 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 ''Yes," said Mr. Dickerson, in a cheerful voice; "Well, 
 when you go, take me with you. 1 sometimes dream of 
 going again!" "I could wish for no ])etter company," 
 replied Dr. Smith. But after an instant, with a sad 
 look on his face, Mr. Dickerson said, "Sometimes I think 
 it is all a dream!" Ah yes! he will soon start on a 
 journey to the other shore, but not hand in hand with 
 me for a joyful rest and recreation in those Eastern 
 lands where we once enjoyed so much together and 
 spent so many happy days. * * * He seemed very 
 much exhausted to-night about ten o'clock, and looked 
 more sunken and sick than I had ever seen him. I was 
 just ready to read to him from the Bible, but he seemed 
 so weary I said, "Perhaps you feel too tired to-night to 
 hear me read?" He waited a few moments and then said, 
 "I do feel very weary — but read me a few verses. Let 
 us honor the word of God." 
 
 Sunday, March 19. No particular change to-day, 
 except that he does not look as bright, and seems very, 
 very weak. The children all went to Sunday school and 
 to church. 1 read the Watchman, the Examiner, and 
 the Standard to Mr. Dickerson while they were gone, 
 and he seemed to enjoy them; but afterward as T turned 
 him upon the bed, he was suffering so extremely, his 
 throat burning, and his breath short, he said with a sigh, 
 " This is hardly worth fighting for. 1 would almost rather 
 go than to stay and suffer any longer." He still has 
 these terrible chills, which we who are well know little 
 of. He dreads them so that he has sometimes said when 
 they begin to crawl over him, "I would rather die than 
 go through another"— but, he would add, " I will try to 
 bear all that the Lord sends upon me, and He knows 
 
 why it is best." 
 
 * * * * Dr. Everts saw him a few moments this 
 
 LAST DAYS. 
 
 271 
 
 afternoon, and from his looks and words Mr. Dickerson 
 imagined that he too (who has always talked so hope- 
 fully) was becoming discouraged; for, as he was leaving 
 the room, Mr. D. spoke up with his natural, full-toned 
 voice, " Doctor, don't be discouraged. Keep praying 
 with cheerful hope and faith." In a short prayer he offered 
 in bed the other night — his last audible prayer— he said, 
 " Dear Lord, though I am weary, and worn, and very 
 -weak, I thank Thee to-night that the day has been as 
 comfortable as it has; that I have had so little acute 
 pain, and so much to be grateful for. Give us a sweet 
 sleep to-night, and may T awake in the morning feeling 
 brighter and stronger. May it be Thy will to restore me 
 soon to health, to enjoy all the rightful pleasures of life 
 with the dear ones I love, and to work for Thfee, that 
 work I love so much, so well. Dear Lord, sustain me ; 
 hold me up when I am ready to sink. Let not Satan, 
 the author of all our pain and sorrows, gain the mastery 
 over me. Be thou near me. Give me hope of heart, 
 faith of mind, and constant trust in Thee. Bless dear 
 Emma! ********* 
 Be near her, and bless the dear children, and all in 
 the house, and all we love. Keep us and care for us, 
 and may I feel Thine arm upholding me all the time. 
 We ask for Jesus' sake. Amen." 
 
 This evening I asked him if there was any particular 
 chapter he would like to hear me read. He replied, 
 " Yes, read in Acts of Paul's release from prison." I did 
 so, and he enjoyed it. 
 
 Monday, March 20. A cold, wintry morning. It is 
 snowing fast, and everything looks dreary in the outer 
 world, but not more so than are our hearts to-day. * * * 
 This has been a hard, sad day, and at five o'clock, as I 
 tried to raise him up I did not know but he would die 
 
nil 
 
 272 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 ill my arms, he panted and gasped for so long a time. 1 
 was alone with him. He told me soon after that he was 
 in great distress, and had very strange feelings. I imme- 
 diately sent for the doctor. 1 saw him before he came 
 into the room, and told him that when he saw Mr. Dick- 
 erson, if he felt that he could not live a great many days, 
 he had better tell him so. I did not want him to die 
 without saying something to us all, and I felt now that 
 knowino- his condition could not make much difference 
 with him. Besides, I said, though no one in the world 
 is better prepared to go, I think he would rather know 
 it, if he must die, than to be taken by surprise. The 
 doctor replied, "You had better send for your friends, 
 and I will tell him." Spencer had then gone out to 
 telegraph to Mr. Dickerson's sister, Mrs. Van Dusen, and 
 to Mr. Goodman, who was in New York. The doctor 
 went in, sat down by him, took his hand, timed his pnlse, 
 and then said, "Well, doctor, how do you feel to-night?" 
 Mr. Dickerson replied in his usual, cheerful tone, "I feel 
 pretty comfortable just now, and I think I breathe easier 
 than I did. Now, if you can do something to help this 
 throat of mine, which is very sore and raw, I think I 
 shall soon feel better." The doctor replied slowly, "Ah, 
 doctor, that throat is a minor trouble. The struggle is 
 coming down here in your chest " (laying his hand there, 
 and looking at him tenderly). " Can you bear to have me 
 tell you something? " " Yes," said xMr. Dickerson, "any 
 thing, doctor, anything." The doctor said very slowly, 
 " I have done many hard things in my life, but this is the 
 hardest thing I ever did, to come and tell you that you 
 can not live long. 'Tis hard to tell one who has 
 suffered so long and so patiently that he can not get 
 well." Mr. Dickerson replied in the sweetest voice, 
 *'That does not trouble me, doctor; no, that does not 
 
 LAST DAYS. 
 
 273 
 
 trouble me! " Then his physician added, " I have enjoyed 
 your fellowship, doctor; I have loved you so much; more 
 than I can tell you, and I have dreaded to come and tell 
 you this." " That love has been reciprocated," said Mr. 
 Dickerson. " Yes," said the doctor, " I knew it, and that 
 is what has made me happy. I have used my utmost 
 skill to help you, but I can not cure you;" and after a 
 little pause he said tenderly, with a trembling voice, 
 " but the Lord can.'''' Then he prepared some medicine 
 for him, and told him he would do all he could to alleviate 
 him. Mr. D. said very quietly and calmly, "That is all 
 I ask, doctor." With a tearful good-bye the doctor 
 pressed his hand, and left the room. As I took my seat 
 on an ottoman by the bed, I said, as soon as I could 
 speak, "You know now, darling, why I could not keep 
 cheerful, why I have been in agony for weeks past." 
 Taking my hand, and speaking, oh, so softW, he said, 
 "Yes, but we'll talk about it by-and-bye." He wanted a 
 little time to think, for the words of the doctor must 
 have shocked him, even though he was prejmred for the 
 change. We sat quiet for a while, when he said very 
 calmly, "The Lord has been our Friend all along, and He 
 will be our Friend still. He loves us and will care for 
 us; an-d if the doctor is right, and I must go, it will not 
 be long before we shall all be together again, a happy 
 band." Then brightening up, and with a smile on his 
 face, as he looked at me, he said, " But / don't give it 
 up yet. Though the doctor and everyone else is dis- 
 couraged, you and T, darling, will fight it out still." 
 "Yes," I replied, "I will always fight with you and for 
 you, and the Lord's arm is not shortened that it can not 
 save, nor his ear heavy that it can not hear." " That's it, 
 you have it," was his emphatic response. 
 
 It was now about eleven o'clock. Spencer came in 
 
 18 
 
274 
 
 JAMES S. DICKEKSON. 
 
 LAST DAYS. 
 
 275 
 
 L 
 
 and said he would sit up until four o'clock, so I lay on 
 the bed by the side of the dear one; lay there for the last 
 time. O, the a^ony of those hours none but God can 
 know. I tried to be calm, tried to speak cheerfully and 
 even hopefully, when I knew that in a few hours, or a 
 few days at the farthest, the sweet spirit would be gone. 
 How sick and sunken and emaciated he looked, and yet 
 how beautiful was the smile on his face, how sweet the 
 loving words that came from his lips, how natural his 
 voice! * * * He took nourishment of different kinds 
 through the night, and slept some, but was not refreshed. 
 Toward morning he grew very restless, and he said he 
 was not sleeping when we thought he was, but was 
 thinking of various things. He talked of Heaven, and 
 of heavenly things, and seemed calm and happy. He 
 told me about many matters and what I should do when 
 he was gone. Among other things he said, " I know it 
 will be hard and sad foryoM, darlirjg, but try to be cheer- 
 ful, try to be hopeful, and remember that I shall be 
 waiting to greet you on the other side." 
 
 I asked him once, " Do you feel happy ?." "O yes," 
 he replied; and I added, " But you do feel disappointed." 
 " Yes," he said, " I do somewhat; but Christ is precious ^ 
 I asked, "Would you like to have me send for Dr. 
 Cheney ? Perhaps you would like to talk with him." 
 He hesitated a moment, and then said, " No, that work 
 has all been done. Just give me air, and Christ will do 
 all the rest." I said to him, " Do you feel that you are 
 almost home, and can you see the pearly gates ? " He 
 looked up, and, with a heavenly smile illuminating his 
 face, he said, "Ah, darling! I have lived near them for 
 a long time." To-day, as the children were singing 
 sweet hymns in the parlor, he said, " O, the gospel, the 
 gospel! what an honor to be permitted to preach it I" 
 
 And then the tears would fill his eyes as he said, " O, 
 how I would love to preach again!" but immediately 
 added, as though that might seem like repining, " But 
 it's all right, all right; the Lord does not need me, and 
 the good work is rolling on." He tries to sing some of 
 the dear old hymns himself, but soon begins to cough, 
 and has to give it up. The other day I noticed a dis- 
 appointed look on his face when he found he could not 
 sing the hymn Lyte, beginning, 
 
 Jesus, lliy name I love, 
 
 All other names above. 
 
 Jesus, my Lord, — 
 
 I said to him, " I am sorry you can not sing that. I 
 will get the children to sing it for you." " No," he said, 
 " the piano disturbs me now, and I can think it over, if 
 I can not sing it. I sometimes wonder why the Lord 
 keeps me on this sick-bed, when I feel that I might be 
 working for Him, and doing something for His cause, 
 and for the paper; but He knows why it is, and I will 
 try to submit cheerfully, and lie here as long as He 
 wants me to, and feel that it is all right." In dictating 
 a letter to a friend a short time before this, he said, " It 
 is so much easier to be out fighting for the Lord than 
 to lie here cheerfully submitting to His will." 
 
 Many times these past few weeks he has sung, " Over 
 Jordan," and has repeatedly asked us to sing it at 
 family worship; but it always made me sad and filled my 
 heart with sorrowful forebodings. 
 
 Tuesday^ March 21. I sent immediately after break- 
 fast for an old and dear friend, as 1 thought the end 
 might be near, and I wanted some one of experience 
 with me. What a great change had come over him 
 during the night! His hope was gone, and he sank 
 
 ( 
 
276 
 
 JAMES 8. DICKERSON. 
 
 immediately. As I was eating a little breakfast near 
 him, he said, "Have you telegraphed for Grace ?" (Mrs. 
 Van Dusen.) " Ves," I replied, '* and for Mr. Good- 
 man, too." " O, I am glad," he said, " I should love to 
 see them both." " Do you feel that you are almost 
 there .^" I said. " Yes, darling, and Jesus is very near." 
 I tried to speak calmly as I said, " It will soon be all 
 joy to you, darling; you will have no more pain, no 
 more trouble; it will not be hard to breathe in the 
 heavenly air. There are many waiting there to greet 
 you; Julia and Ada, and the dear little children." He 
 seemed glad that I could talk in this way, and imme- 
 diately added, " Yes, and my father and your father, and 
 many others." And then, with a wonderful - smile 
 overspreading his countenance, he said, " Yes, Pve been 
 over the roll-call, and see a great many there." * * * 
 
 I had cried a sfreat deal duriii": the ni<rht and after 
 breakfast, and I had been praying that I might be able 
 to comfort him, make his last hours more happy, and 
 not speak so much of my sorrow, my broken heart. I 
 said to myself, " I can not keep him — he is surely going 
 home, and he can not make my grief lighter; but I can 
 make his last hours somewhat brighter, if I keep calm, 
 and I will try to do so." About nine o'clock in the 
 morninor, as I sat near him, I heard a bird singrinor out 
 of doors. The windows were wide open, the morning 
 clear and bright, but very cold, and as I looked out at 
 the sunshine, T thought I would say, " This is a beautiful 
 day to go;" but, checking myself, I said, "What a 
 bright, beautiful morning this is! Do you hear that bird 
 singing?" That expression seemed to gladden his heart 
 at once, and he replied, " Yes, I hear it, and those are 
 cheerful words, darling; I love to hear that." 
 
 He had rather dreaded to have his old friend come in, 
 
 LAST DAYS. 
 
 277 
 
 for fear, I presume, that she would cry, and speak of 
 the terrible sadness of his going, and yet he did want 
 to see her; so, when she came toward him, he put 
 out his hand, and said, "Good morning, Anna, I am 
 glad you have come." Then added, slowly and emphat- 
 ically, "Jesus is here, and it's all right." Not long 
 after her coming he asked her to come to him, and, 
 as she bent near him, he thanked her for all her 
 kindness, and speaking a few words in reference to 
 their long and happy acquaintance, he bade her good- 
 bye, saying, " That is all I have the strength to say." I 
 then said, "While you feel able, would you not like to 
 say something to each of the children, and to us all?" 
 Very quietly he replied, " Yes." He no doubt felt that 
 the end was near, and yet it seemed as if he still thought 
 there was a possibility of recovery; for, as he began to 
 speak to Willie, he said, " Willie, my boy, my dear boy, 
 they tell me that it seems as if I were coming to the 
 end (though I am not certain) — " He then spoke so 
 sweetly, so lovingly to each one, saying something 
 appropriate to each of the family, and to sister Fanny 
 and his brother's daughter, who were with us — words 
 that never will be forgotten by any of them. When 
 dear little Gracie, just two years old, was brought in and 
 sat in my lap by thfe head of the bed, her father turned 
 toward her with a sweet smile, and said, " Kiss me, 
 Gracie." I lifted her over, and he kissed her twice, and 
 then, in her cheery little voice she repeated after me, 
 " Dear papa, good-bye. 1 will meet you in heaven. I 
 will love Jesus and meet you there." How sweetly 
 amid the gloom and sorrow her little voice sounded, and 
 how lovely her father looked as he said, " God bless you, 
 my dear little child." After speaking slowly and at 
 some length to each one, he told us about many thino-s 
 
278 
 
 JAMES S. DICKEKSON. 
 
 i ^ 
 
 h 
 
 he wanted us to do and then said to Spencer, his oldest 
 son, \ou will understand all about the matters with 
 Mamma, and you will not abuse the confidence, I know." 
 And then he sa.d so beautifully to them all, when it was 
 becoming very difficult for him to speak, "And now. 
 children I want to thank dear, blessed mamina-and I 
 want to do It before you all -for ail her love and care, 
 bhe has been an angel of joy and light to us-dear, 
 *W,.„. awhen I am gone, she will need' 
 
 ■ k^n t\ f ''^ •'"'■' ""'^ ^•''p ''«^; «"d you will, I 
 
 know! His face shone like an angel's all the time Le 
 
 transfigured before us. When he had said all this, he 
 
 Wd n,* r T^' °/ P'"^"'-' ''^^'""'"^' "And now. 
 Lord, my strength ,s almost gone." I can not recall the 
 
 httle, to which he replied, "I am, and it is so hard to 
 get my breath." The children went to dinner, while I 
 stayed with him. How calm he was! how triumphant! 
 how he rested on the Lord ! Jesus was a present help 
 ■n trouble I told him what a joyful entrance he would 
 have to the heavenly land ; that a starry crown awaited 
 him there. I quoted the passage, " They that turn many 
 to righteousness shall shine as the stars for ever and 
 ever." He said, "Don't talk so, darling. I have been 
 very unfaithful ; but Jesus is precious " 
 
 After dinner, the children gathered around, and I 
 asked him if there were any things he would like to give 
 to them -"things you have worn," I said. "O.ves" 
 he replied, as though he had thought of it, but had for- 
 gotten to speak of it. He then gave to each one some- 
 
 vouf'''"Th J ' ^°" "" '"*'^'^^'^ ^ ^^° they please 
 IZ „• . r !^"* messages of love to his brothers 
 and sister, his uncle and aunt, and other friends; and 
 
 LAST DAYS. 
 
 2T9 
 
 after a little while he said : " Is there any thing else you 
 would like to ask me ? You must try to think now, if 
 there is any thing you want to know about. Perhaps 
 there may be something delicate you would like to ask ; 
 if there is, you had better ask it now." I have no doubt 
 he was thinking of his funeral and burial, but we could 
 not ask him. He was very tired, and soon fell asleep. 
 
 About half-past two. Dr. Everts came in, and sat down 
 near him. "When Mr. Dickerson awoke and recognized 
 him, he extended his cold hand to him, but for a 
 moment did not speak. Dr. Everts made a few remarks, 
 when Mr. Dickerson said : " My breath is very short, and 
 this is a sudden change, doctor." Dr. Everts then knelt 
 by the bed, and offered a short, fervent prayer, asking 
 the Lord to be with him as he went down to the valley 
 of the shadow of death, support him, and put underneath 
 him His everlasting arms — to which Mr. Dickerson 
 responded "Amen, amen." A few moments after. Dr. 
 Everts asked him if he had any message to leave for his 
 brethren in the ministry. He was silent for an instant, 
 and then said, very distinctly : " Tell them to stand for 
 God and the Baptists, for Christ and ffis truth, a 
 spiritual church." The second clause he uttered em- 
 phatically as an explanation of the first ; his good sense. 
 Dr. Everts remarked, suggested it, for fear that some 
 might call him bigoted, although the two had the same 
 meaning to him. Soon after, he took a little wine whey, 
 and I placed him in a comfortable position, readjusted 
 the pillows, and took his hand and sat down by him. 
 I asked, " Is there any thing more I can do for you ?" 
 With a sweet smile upon his face, and looking as though 
 he already caught glimpses of a brighter world, he 
 answered, "No, darling, all is lovely." That was the 
 last sentence he uttered, except when he said, " Lift me 
 
280 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 LAST DAYS. 
 
 281 
 
 
 (f 
 
 higher." In trying to take some nourishment a little 
 while after this, he had a great struggle for breath, and 
 seemed in agony, when I offered a little, fervent prayer, 
 "Help him now, dear Savior, and make it easy for him," 
 to which he responded "Amen, amen." Shortly after, 
 he was in great distress, and asked me to lift him up! 
 I raised his head a little, but he said, "Lift me higher, 
 higher, higher," and with his cold, stiff arms extended, 1 
 lifted him upright in the bed, got pillows behind him, 
 rested his dear head on my bosom, and felt that the end 
 was near. For one instant a terrible, distressing look, 
 like a dark shadow, came upon his face, and — he was 
 speechless. But he could hear what I said to him, and 
 saw that all his dear ones were about him. T repeated 
 many comforting passages of scripture, and he would 
 move his head or press my hand so that I understood 
 that he heard me. These, among others, gave him com- 
 fort : "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow 
 of death, r will fear no evil, for Thou art with me. Thy 
 rod and Thy staff they comfort me." " Eye hath not 
 seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart 
 of man, the things that are laid up for the children of 
 God." "J am with you alway, even unto the end of the 
 world." "I will ?iever leave thee, nor forsake thee." 
 He seemed to love to hear them, and a sweet peace and 
 a happy look overspread his countenance. Then I re- 
 peated hymns that he loved : 
 
 Jesus can make a dyin^? bed 
 
 As soft as downy pillows are, 
 While on His breast I lay my head, 
 
 And breathe my life out sweetly there. 
 And another : 
 
 There is a land of Dure delight. 
 
 Where saints immortal reign, 
 Eternal day excludes the night, 
 
 And pleasures banish pain. 
 
 I repeated most of that, and, as I asked, " Do you 
 hear me, darling ? Shall T say more ? " he would press 
 my hand as a sign that he wanted me to. He kept doing 
 so, as I repeatedly asked him, until I could just feel the 
 quiver of one finger. I said to him, " You are almost 
 there. Jesus will soon take you ; you will 
 
 " Rest your weary feet 
 By the crystal waters sweet. 
 When the peaceful shores you'll greet. 
 Over Jordan. 
 
 " You will soon be over, darling. ' In My Father's 
 house are many mansions. I go to prepare a place for 
 you ; and if I go and prepare a place for you, I will 
 return again and bring you to myself, that where I am, 
 there ye may be also.' " One of his favorite hymns was 
 that beginning, 
 
 My hope is built on nothing less 
 Thau Jesus* blood and righteousness. 
 
 I repeated that slowly and distinctly. When I came 
 to the last stanza. 
 
 His oath, his covenant, and blood. 
 Support me 'neatli the 'whelming flood; 
 When all around my soul gives way, 
 lie then is all my hope and stay; 
 On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand — 
 All other ground is sinking sand ; 
 
 and to the fourth line : 
 
 He then is all my hope and stay, 
 
 I could feel that he made a great effort to let me know 
 that he heard and filt them. I kr.ow that he experienced 
 then that Christ was his hope and stay ; I know that 
 underneath him were the everlasting arms. His head 
 still rested sweetly and lovingly on my bosom, and it 
 seemed as if he were conscious as I kissed his dear fore- 
 
 r-*-* 
 
 •nnMaiitll 
 
I 
 
 
 282 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 head, and the children came, one by one, and kissed him, 
 that dear, loving ones were very near him, trying to 
 comfort him, trying to cheer him, as he started alone on 
 that last journey ; and, T have no doubt, he saw angel 
 forms and loving arms extended, ready to welcome him 
 to his heavenly home. We tried to sing " Rock of 
 Ages," thinking he might still hear our voices ; but we 
 could not get through one verse. I repeated the re- 
 mainder of it to him ; but how I could do it, how I had 
 the power to say all I did, when my heart was agonized 
 and breaking — when my idol was vanishing from my 
 sight— I can account for in no other way than this: the 
 Lord helped me to choke buck the tears and the groans, 
 and to cheer and comfort him till the last. When I had 
 finished this last verse, 
 
 While I draw this fleeting breath, 
 Wlien mine eyelids close in death, 
 When I rise to worlds unknown, 
 See Thee on Thy judgment throne, 
 Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 
 Let me hide myself in Thee — 
 
 we could scarcely see him breathing, and, a moment 
 after, he was gone. The Lord had answered the prayer 
 in that hymn. There was no struggle, no gasping, ap- 
 parently no pain. He simply stopped breathing — fell 
 asleep in Jesus. Those pearly gates had been opened, 
 and he was in the midst of the wonders of that beauti- 
 ful Home, of which he had often preached and talked, 
 and was near Jesus, I know, and praising Him for His 
 love and His salvation. B\it—tne were here. " My idol 
 had vanished, my earth-star fled." 
 
 The following account of the burial service is 
 taken from the Standard of March 30, 1876 : 
 
 FUNERAL SERVICES. 
 
 283 
 
 The funeral of Dr. Dickerson took place on Friday, 
 24th inst., at the First Baptist Church. A brief service 
 was held at the house, previous to the departure for the 
 church, prayer being offered by Dr. Dickerson's editorial 
 associate. A considerable number of sympathizing 
 friends had assembled at the residence of the familv, to 
 accompany them to the church, among whom were sev- 
 eral Baptist ministers of the city. The pall-bearers were 
 Revs. Leroy Church, T. W. Goodspeed, J. M. Whitehead, 
 J. Donnelley, Jr., F. G. Thearle, and J. A. Smith. A 
 bitter and driving storm came up as the hour for public 
 service approached ; yet, upon the arrival of the funeral 
 cortege at the church, a large number was found as- 
 sembled, indicating, in the circumstances, the warm 
 regard in which Dr. Dickerson was held, and the sym- 
 pathy felt for those so sadly bereaved. Besides the 
 immediate family of Dr. Dickerson, the group of mourn- 
 ers included his brother, T. S. Dickerson, Esq., with 
 members of his family ; a sister, Mrs. Van Dusen, of New 
 York ; and Mrs. Richardson, mother of Mrs. Dickerson, 
 and widow of the late Prof. Richardson, of the University 
 of Rochester. 
 
 As the procession entered the room in which the 
 audience were assembled, a chant was sung by the choir. 
 The prayer of invocation having been offered by Dr. 
 Northrup, who read in connection the Ninetieth Psalm, 
 the choir sang the hymn, "Rock of Ages,'' a favorite 
 with Dr. Dickerson, and sung to him shortly before he 
 breathed his last. Dr. Everts, the pastor by whom Dr. 
 Dickerson had been baptized in his youth, and who had 
 ever since been his trusted friend and counselor, ad- 
 dressed the assembly, dwelling largely upon the early 
 Christian experience of the deceased, with incidents of 
 his life, and the more marked features of his character. 
 
284 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 We may copy here the closing words of Dr. 
 Everts' address : 
 
 He came to this city apparently to die. Still it is not 
 a lost experience, even to us ; for it is a great thing to 
 see a Christian die, and the experience of death, a^ it 
 came to him, was a most blessed spiritual reality. Death 
 is naturally an enemy to us, but faith in Christ can con- 
 quer even this last enemy. 
 
 Death came to our brother through a long sickness 
 and through much suffering. His health was poor from 
 the first, and he often thought he should be obliged to 
 leave the pulpit on account of it. Still there was no 
 complaining on his part, and he died very peacefully 
 and calmly. Even durinr- his sickness, his words were 
 always hopeful and encouraging — to his friends, his 
 pastor, and all. His death may be regarded as a com- 
 plete Christian triumph. But he still lives with the 
 Lord, and has only gone before. 
 
 Dr. Cheney, who followed, spoke especially of his 
 acquaintance with Mr. Dickerson during his resi- 
 dence in Philadelphia, dwelling at some'^length on 
 the qualities of character he had noted in him 
 during the many years of their intimate acquaint- 
 ance and friendship : 
 
 Catholic and kind as he was, he at the same time was 
 thoroughly loyal to hi3 own denomination. He was not 
 a Baptist from mere sentiment, but from honest convic- 
 tion and deliberate choice. As a student of the Bible 
 he had thoroughly mastered the great principles he 
 preached, and for their maintenance he was ready to 
 risk his all. If any desired greater liberty than the 
 Bible gives in regard to church polity or ordinances, 
 
 FUNERAL SERVICES. 
 
 285 
 
 they found in him no countenance or support. He loved 
 his denomination with a love stronger than death. 
 
 But, in looking over his public life, we are also 
 impressed with the versatility of his talents. We have 
 seen him as a business man, and he was at home in the 
 walks of business. As an editor, he made a readable 
 paper. His editorials were never dull ; they were 
 bright and sparkling — often vigorous and strong. 
 As a preacher, he was always true to his principles, 
 always sought to lead his people to "search the Scrip- 
 tures." I think he used illustrations freely, and there 
 were frequent passages in his sermons of great pathos 
 and tenderness. As a platform speaker he was peerless. 
 His racy anecdote, his genial humor, his ready repartee, 
 gave him power over an audience. But perhaps more 
 than anywhere else he shone in social life as a pastor 
 among his people. The old and the young, the rich and 
 the poor alike found in him a true, loving, faithful friend. 
 While he was the light and the life of every social circle 
 he entered, still he was everywhere the Christian and 
 the Christian minister. No wonder that his people loved 
 him, or that he held so large a place in the hearts of his 
 brethren in the ministry. 
 
 In speaking of his public life and labors, I must not 
 fail to emphasize his great love for his work. Next to 
 his love of the gospel, he loved to preach that gospel ; 
 or, if this privilege was denied him, he loved any work 
 for Christ and His church. Scarcely have I seen him 
 once during all the period of his sufferings, that he has 
 not talked with me of the " precious gospel," and of the 
 "precious privilege" of telling it to others. Though it 
 cost him a great struggle to leave the pulpit with the 
 conviction that he had no reasonable hope of returning 
 to it, still the hope of working for Christ and truth in 
 
286 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 this field, I doubt not, sustained him weeks and even 
 months when his frail earthly tabernacle was tottering 
 to the fall. Even the last time I saw him, he was full 
 of his chosen theme of work for Christ. " We shall yet 
 do service together," he said, " for the Master whom we 
 love so well." But when this hope of farther usefulness 
 left him, his hold of life was loosened, and he entered, 
 we doubt not, into the joy of his Lord. 
 
 The closing prayer was then offered by Dr. Moss, 
 President of the State University of Indiana. The 
 lid was taken from the casket; friends looked for 
 the last time at the serene, composed face ; and the 
 beloved one was then borne away to his resting- 
 place in Oak wood Cemetery. 
 
 Among tributes, additional to those already given 
 in this volume, we may take for insertion here the 
 following, from an editorial article in the Standard, 
 After alluding to various particulars of his life, which 
 need not here be repeated, the article proceeds : 
 
 We need not dwell longer upon these details. A life 
 so active and so rich in results abounds in biographical 
 material, but our failing space warns us to be brief. Dr. 
 Dickerson came to Chicago, and the place that he hoped 
 to fill on the Standard^ in the same spirit that had ruled 
 his whole life. It was his wish and intention that the 
 religious journal should be to him very much what the 
 pulpit had been, affording, perhaps, less opportunity for 
 immediate contact and for specific results, yet having in 
 view the same ends, with a scope far wider and in some 
 respects more potential. His associates in the Standard 
 had looked to his coming with unusual interest and 
 expectation, and during the few weeks that he was able 
 
 FUNERAL SERVICES. 
 
 287 
 
 to come to the office had increasing reason to feel that 
 he was certain to be in every way a great accession to 
 their force. His enterprising spirit gave spring and 
 impulse, even under the disadvantageous circumstances 
 which, in some respects, were so disappointing to him 
 and to us, while every contribution of editorial matter, 
 though written often upon his bed, and while tortured 
 with pain and oppressed with the languor of long and 
 wearisome confinement, was marked by his well-known 
 qualities of nervous energy and practical adaptation. 
 He always had words of cheer for his associates when 
 they visited him, and his counsels in the management of 
 the paper were invariably judicious and manly. It was 
 his wish that this paper should be always firm, consistent, 
 loyal to the truth, just in all its measures toward what- 
 ever partv or interest, and, at the same time, such in its 
 spirit as a Christian journal ought to be. What he was 
 accustomed to advise, in these respects, was in substance 
 expressed in one of his latest sayings, when asked by 
 Dr. Everts if he had any message for his brethren: 
 "Tell them," was his reply, 'Hell them to sta.id for God 
 and the Baptists— for Christ and His truths Uncon. 
 sciously, he had uttered, in this, the motto of his whole 
 
 career. 
 
 We do not attempt, here, any detailed analysis of Dr. 
 Dickerson's character. The sketch we have already 
 given abounds with suggestions to that end, and may 
 safely be left to make its own impression and tell its 
 own tale. With singular kindness of spirit Dr. Dicker- 
 son united remarkable decision and firmness. His sense 
 of justice, his apprehension of truth as truth, were quick 
 and clear, and these alone he accepted as the guides to 
 conduct. As a Christian he was spiritual, devout, trust- 
 ing—a child of God in the best sense of the word. 
 
288 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 289 
 
 Spiritual things, to him, were both real and precious ; he 
 lived in the strength and the joy of them, while the 
 experience of them was, in all his work, a constant in- 
 spiration. As a friend he was true as steel ; he did not 
 know what it was to be any man's enemy, and, where he 
 differed or disapproved, always sought to judge with 
 charity, to he generous so far as he could without ceasing 
 to be just. In his own family he was loved as such a 
 man could not fail to be, and he is now missed and 
 mourned with a sorrow unspeakable. During his long 
 and painful illness he has invariably received from them, 
 especially on the part of his wife, all those loving, 
 tender, and skillful offices which do so much to relieve 
 and help. The sympathy of his brethren throughout the 
 country he knew he had, and it has been to him a source 
 of exceeding comfort. Above all, the presence of the 
 dear Savior has been a light to him in the dark niffht 
 and a brighter sunshine in the cheerful day, and in that 
 faithful bosom his weary head rested as he died. 
 
 Memorial services were held on the following 
 Wednesday, March 29, in his old church in Boston, 
 in which the Rev. Drs. Geo. C. Lorimer, A. Pollard, 
 and E. K. Alden took a part. The house was draped 
 in crape and trimmed with flowers, and in front of 
 the pulpit was a life-size crayon portrait of the 
 deceased. The church was filled to its utmost 
 capacity by Dr. Dickerson's friends. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Remarks of Rev. Geo. C. Larimer^ 2>.i>., on the death 
 of Rev. J. S. Dickerson, D.D , delivered in the 
 South Baptist Church, Boston, March 29, 1876: 
 
 Now kindred merit fills the sable bier, 
 Now lacerated Friendship claims a tear; 
 Year chases year, decay pursues decay. 
 Still drops some joy from withering life away. 
 
 The spirit of these lines has invoked and gathered the 
 solemn multitude who throng this sacred edifice to-night. 
 We see as a matter of fact that death has a universal 
 empire. The world may have made great progress since 
 the days of our grandfathers and fathers. We may have 
 better government, larger and more widely diffused 
 knowledge, better and juster laws, a larger amount of 
 happiness for the greater number. I hope and believe 
 that, with some serious reservations, this is the case. 
 Let us thank God for it. But the frontiers of life do 
 not change with the generations of men, as do its 
 attendant circumstances. We are born and we die just 
 as our rudest ancestors ; nevertheless, each fresh experi- 
 ence of this truth fills us with a nameless melancholy, 
 and the tear unbidden falls on " lacerated friendship." 
 Especially must we weep when the insatiate archery of 
 death marks one who lived not for himself, but, turning 
 from the strifes of the world, the allurements of office, 
 and the passion for gain, consecrated his life to the 
 pursuit of excellence, to beneficent labor, and to the un- 
 dying interests of the soul. 
 
 Froude regrets that Protestants have no saints, regard- 
 ing, as he does, the canonization of the loftier among 
 18 
 
290 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 those who have toiled and died as advantageous to those 
 who yet survive. Evidently, the historian has fallen into 
 a grievous error. We have our saints, but they are 
 God-fashioned, not man-manpfactured. This is the only 
 difference between Romanists and ourselves. Grace 
 molds those whom we honor, and we merely honor and 
 venerate them — we never worship even the transfigured 
 human ; and the love of our hearts, not Papal bull or 
 sacerdotal ordinance, beatifies them to the children of 
 time forever. 
 
 We have our saints. Their names may be unknown, 
 their position in the church may have been obscure, and 
 their resting-places in the valley may be unmarked by 
 monument ; but their faces shine throuofh the mist from 
 the other shore, and their example, speechless but elo- 
 quent in its silence, pleads with us to follow where 
 their footprints mark in the sands of time the way to 
 Heaven. In our calendar, the mothers who inspired us, 
 the fathers who admonished us, the friends who sustained 
 us, and the disciples who cherished us, have an honored 
 place. And among them, distinguished for consecrated 
 learning and sanctified living, are the men whom the 
 suffrages of free churches exalted to the rank of leaders 
 and pastors. These are the saints we venerate — a goodly 
 company, embracing in their ample fellowship not only 
 the Luthers, the Hubmeyers, the Powells, the Fleet- 
 woods, and the Bunyans, but the Staughtons, the Kemp- 
 ers, the Wallers, the Baldwins, the Waylands, the Fullers, 
 and the Dickersoxs as well. 
 
 It was the custom in ancient Rome, a practice revived 
 in some of the ceremonies of modern Papacy, to bring 
 forward the images of departed friends, beautifully 
 arrayed in all the emblems of their official dignity, 
 while some one related the story of their achievements, 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 291 
 
 in the hopes of quickening emulation on the part of the 
 living. But we need no sculptured image to restore to 
 memory the face of him whose death calls us together 
 this evening. It is graven in our hearts ; and his name 
 alone, without a single word of eulogy, awakens a re- 
 sponse which, like the far-famed echo of Dodona, will 
 prolong itself throughout the weary day of our pilgrim- 
 age. Yet, it may be well, not for his glory but for 
 our own good, if we meditate for a little season on his 
 example as a lowly and dying servant of lofty and un- 
 dying truth. 
 
 James S. Dickerson was born in 1825, and, in the city 
 of New York, at the early age of fourteen, surrendered 
 his heart to the Savior. This important decision was 
 reached through the influence and labors of Elder Jacob 
 Knapp ; and for the great evangelist he entertained a 
 life-long affection. In after years, when malice or envy 
 sought to detract from the well-earned fame of Mr. 
 Knapp, Mr. Dickerson, however unpopular it might 
 make him with a certain class of professors, never hesi- 
 tated to espouse his cause and vindicate him from the 
 accusations of his enemies. The subject of this notice 
 was baptized by the Rev. Dr. Everts, who by a happy 
 providence was permitted to comfort him in bis suffer- 
 ings, and to pronounce over his remains a tribute of 
 Christian and ministerial affection. 
 
 Early in life, young Dickerson devoted himself to 
 business pursuits, winning a name for probity and indus- 
 try. One of his employers said quaintly that he feared 
 the boy would never succeed in trade, his honesty was 
 so rugged and incorruptible. Various circumstances, 
 his natural temperament, and, as we believe, the call of 
 God, inclined his feet to the path thus jestingly pointed 
 out. In consequence, he entered Madison University in 
 1842, and was graduated in 1848. 
 
I' I 
 
 292 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 Equipped for his work, you may judge his disappoint- 
 ment when it was found that his voice would not stand 
 the strain of pulpit labors. For a time he was compelled 
 to abandon his cherished desire of preaching the Word 
 of Life. But a kindred path of usefulness opened to 
 him in connection with a religious paper, the Recorder^ 
 of New York. In this relation he remained for a short 
 time, and was then called to Philadelphia to manage the 
 affairs of the Publication Society. Accepting this posi- 
 tion he soon justified the choice which had withdrawn 
 him from a less responsible sphere of usefulness. The 
 Society, then in its infancy, grew and matured under his 
 vigorous administration ; and has since become in every 
 sense of the word a truly national denominational insti- 
 tution, unifying the once discordant sections of our 
 common Zion. 
 
 A great blessing was vouchsafed Dr. Dickerson while 
 engaged in these labors. His voice was restored to him. 
 This he interpreted as a renewal of his commission to 
 preach the Gospel. Called to the pastorate of a church 
 in Wilmington, Del., he gave full proof of his ministry 
 and was rejoiced by the conversion of over three hun- 
 dred souls. Here it was that his devotion to the temper- 
 ance cause became conspicuous. His vivid imagination 
 perceived the blight of drunkenness, and in glowing 
 colors he exposed its deadly effect, not only on religion, 
 but on knowledge, industry, and self-government as well. 
 Many amusing incidents are related of his stubborn con- 
 flict with the liquor makers, and the liquor sellers. In 
 every instance he v/as more than a match for his adver- 
 saries. Their denunciations and their ridicule never 
 could swerve him one hair's breadth from his fixed 
 resolution to fight to the bitter end the curse of intem- 
 perance. 
 
 IJSr MEMORIAM. 
 
 293 
 
 While residing in Delaware the civil war broke out, 
 which ravaged the South, and sent desolation to thou- 
 sands of homes all over the land. From the very first 
 he took his stand on the side of the Union. A national 
 flag he placed over his pulpit, and fearlessly declared 
 that he believed it represented the cause of liberty, 
 justice and humanity. It should triumph ; it must tri- 
 umph ; and to this sacred end he pledged his strength, 
 his zeal, his intellect and his influence. The argument 
 of economy, deemed by some in those stormy days to 
 contain all that was conclusive to guide the North in its 
 policy toward the South, never presented itself to him. 
 The question of profit and loss, in his judgment and 
 before his conscience, was absorbed in the question of 
 right and wrong. His maxim was, "Anything but dis- 
 union — poverty sooner than disunion." Nor could he 
 bring himself to support slavery, but believed most 
 heartily that neither Christians, nor true Republican gov- 
 ernments could consistently hold their fellow-beings in 
 bondage. These sentiments exposed him to obloquy and 
 calumny ; but he was immovable. He took his stand, 
 and though friends misunderstood and reproached him, 
 as Luther said before the Imperial Diet, " I can take no 
 other," so he could only wait until the day of vindica- 
 tion should arrive. " Follow my white plume," said the 
 knightly monarch of France. " Follow the right," more 
 glorious than waving plume or oriflamme, was the watch- 
 word of the humble preacher. On the close of the war, 
 not with spiteful and malignant spirit did he pursue 
 those who had taken up arms against the Government. 
 He longed for union — a union in spirit as well as in fact. 
 He was anxious that the closest and most fraternal rela- 
 tions should be promoted between the Baptists of the 
 once alienated sections. Frequently in conversation 
 
294 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON". 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 295 
 
 with me, knowing my intense desire that the denomina- 
 tion should be a unit in its benevolent and missionary 
 operations, did he express his sympathy with my views, 
 and his hearty intention when the proper time*^ should 
 arrive to do all within his power to facilitate their real- 
 ization. 
 
 From Wilmington, Dr. Dickerson removed to Pitts- 
 burgh, where his labors were again blessed in a remark- 
 able degree. Serious difficulties which imperilled the 
 church he was instrumental in averting, and those per- 
 sons who were arrayed against each other he succeeded 
 in reconciling. It is needless to say that they all loved 
 him, and regarded him as a brother as well as a pastor. 
 He so endeared himself to the congregation and to Chris- 
 tians of other faiths that when he signified his intention 
 of moving to Boston it caused universal sorrow. But 
 his decision was reached in God's fear, and the devotion 
 of man could not change him. He came, as you are 
 aware, to your church, and within these walls his labors 
 as a pastor ended. What he was to you, your sorrow wit- 
 nesses; what he was to the denomination in this vicinity 
 can never be truly estimated. He was the light of our 
 ministers' conferences, the ardent supporter of every 
 onward movement, and the friend of every youth leav- 
 ing the retreat of the study for the adversities of the 
 field. 
 
 I met him for the first time in this city. We had 
 entered upon our pulpit labors here during the same 
 year, preaching our first sermons as pastors on the same 
 day, and naturally this circumstance inclined us to mutual 
 confidence and intimacy. 1 was- warmly attached to him, 
 and I have every reason to believe that he was to me. 
 Frequently have we spent hours together in friendly 
 intercourse, and advised with each other regarding those 
 
 important movements in which we were called to bear a 
 part. In this manner I became so fully acquainted with 
 him that I felt sadly bereaved when he announced to me 
 by letter his intended removal to Chicago. You know 
 the rest. You know how the disease which developed 
 here proved fatal there. You know how intensely your 
 dear pastor suffered, and how he triumphed. Christ was 
 with him through all the weary hours of bodily agony, 
 gave him bright visions of the Heavenly Jerusalem, and 
 permitted him to die in the arms of his kindred. " Lift 
 me up ! Higher, higher ! " were among his closing 
 words, symbolic of the holy aspiration of his nature; 
 and while those around him tried literally to comply 
 with his request, his spirit fled higher, far higher than 
 mortal strensrth could bear it. 
 
 Dr. Dickerson possessed hardly any of the physical 
 attributes demanded in the preacher by the advocates of 
 muscular Christianity. His soul tabernacled in a body 
 that was little more than a vapor. He was small in 
 stature ; but, when he spoke, his person dilated with 
 the majesty of his thoughts. His voice was soft and 
 musical, not loud or harsh in tone. He did not thunder 
 or lio-hten in his speech. Like sunshine, his words 
 descended on the souls of his hearers, and the frozen 
 were thawed, the cold were warmed, and the barren 
 were fertilized. He was distinguished for genuineness. 
 No affectation or mannerism disfigured his piety. Manly 
 in his bearing, every one was impressed with the sin- 
 cerity of his character. He was true to God, true to his 
 friends, and true to himself. 
 
 He was a man of great cheerfulness and of ready wit. 
 I have seen him change a tempestuous meeting into a 
 blessed calm, by some bon mot or quaint saying. Never 
 at a loss for an answer, he would sometimes give to an 
 
296 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 opponent one, which not only disconcerted him, but 
 which carried the judgment of the audience against 
 him. In the last letters I received from him, when in 
 the daily endurance of great suffering, the same cheery, 
 bright, hopeful spirit which distinguished him in health 
 could be discerned. 
 
 It is not claimed that Dr. Dickerson was a scholar 
 He was a cultivated man, but he did not devote all of 
 his time to study or to literature. Familiar with the 
 classics, he was fully convinced that an education 
 founded on them alone would necessarily be faulty. Not 
 to the frigid philosophy of the Porch, nor to the marvel- 
 ous teachings of Socrates, nor to the resounding line of 
 Homer did he look for regenerating influences, but to 
 the sacred teachings of Christianity. His sentiments 
 were expressed by Cowper many years ago : 
 
 Sunk in Homer's mine, 
 I lose my precious years, now soon to fail ; 
 Handling his gold, which, howsoe'er it shine, 
 Proves dross, when balanced in the Christian' scale. 
 
 He was, consequently, a faithful student of the Bible, 
 and a sincere teacher of its truths. His devotion to this 
 one Book made him a very positive and consistent 
 Baptist. He was not sectarian in the sense that his 
 affections were all absorbed by one body, to the ex- 
 clusion of others ; for he sincerely loved Christians of 
 every name, and sympathized with Christ's work every- 
 where ; but he was sectarian in the sense that he 
 believed the denomination in whose membership he 
 enjoyed a place, was nearer to the New Testament 
 standard of what churches should be, than any other. 
 
 I know these few words fail to do justice to our de- 
 parted friend ; but they may, at least, as a faint outline 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 297 
 
 
 of what was once so clear and vivid to us, recall some of 
 the features of his character. He has gone from us, and 
 all that remains to us of his excellence is enshrined in 
 memorv. There let it remain, to be to our hearts an 
 inspiration, and to our feet a light. This church-house 
 is to me a lonely place without his presence. Never 
 before have I passed up this aisle without a greeting 
 from his sunny smile. But it is no longer here to wel- 
 come me. The house is cheerless and sad. Let us, 
 however, rejoice that our religion is the religion of hope. 
 Beneath its banner we march, and beneath it we fight 
 and die. So we may indulge the hope, amid this op- 
 pressive gloom, that we shall meet our brother by-and- 
 bye, when the old smile shall be restored, and when its 
 brightness shall welcome us, after the storms of this life, 
 to the peaceful haven of the life to come. Christians 
 never say "good-bye" for the last time. There are no 
 eternal "farewells" spoken by their lips. They may 
 go out from each other in the evening, and one may 
 wander for years o'er the rugged mountains of earth, 
 and the other at once may pitch his tent on the plains 
 of Heaven ; but they shall greet each other in the 
 morning, when the glory of the Lord shall shine upon 
 his church, new-risen from the dead, and decked in 
 bridal splendor. 
 
 In this dark world of sin and pain, 
 We only meet to part again ; 
 But when we reach the heavenly shore, 
 We there shall meet to part no more. 
 The hope that we shall meet that day 
 Should chase our present griefs away. 
 
 We insert here a letter from Rev. Dr. E. K. 
 Alden, now Secretary of the American Board of 
 Commissioners of Foreign Missions, but for nearly 
 
298 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSOI^. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 299 
 
 fifteen years the loved and honored pastor of the 
 Philhps Church (Congregational) in South Boston, 
 in response to a letter asking if he could recall his 
 remarks at the Memorial Service held on the occa- 
 sion of Mr. Dickerson's death, in Boston : 
 
 Boston, May 16, 1877. 
 
 My dear Mrs. Dickerson : Your letter of the 4th 
 
 inst. was duly received. I am glad there is to be a per- 
 
 manent memorial of your honored and beloved husband 
 
 Could I contribute a fraternal word to the memorial, 
 
 which would be of any worth, most cheerfully would 
 
 1 do It. But It is quite impossible for me to recall or 
 
 reproduce what came spontaneously from my heart, when 
 
 addressing his and your sympathizing people face to face, 
 
 at the memorial services in the South Baptist Church 
 
 Nor IS It necessary. It is enough for me to bear my 
 
 testimony to my high appreciation of the character which 
 
 charmed even comparative strangers, and drew them 
 
 toward him as though they had been life-long friends. 
 
 This IS my feeling as I think of him, and cherish his 
 
 remembrance. I seem to have known him always, as I 
 
 always hope to know him. I was prepared to love him 
 
 before I met him, having heard him spoken of by a 
 
 mutual friend in Pittsburgh. But the first grasp of his 
 
 hand, the first greeting made me feel that we were 
 
 indeed brothers in verity. I can not think of him with- 
 
 out his presence rising before me ; there was so much in 
 
 the manner difficult to describe, needing no description 
 
 for those who knew him, which made him so ao-reeable a 
 
 companion. To meet him Sabbath morning, as I often 
 
 did — he on his way to preach Christ to his flock, his 
 
 face beaming with the anticipated joy ; I on the same 
 
 delightful errand to my flock -was a benediction for 
 the day. 
 
 I would have trusted him anywhere, with anything, 
 with perfect confidence that it would be utterly impos- 
 sible for him in word, act, or thought to betray the trust. 
 Yet there was something about your beloved husband 
 which impressed me more and more as I knew him 
 better and occasionally heard him speak, which made 
 me feel that there was a heroic soul within him fighting 
 against a somewhat feeble physical frame — a battle, too, 
 in which the brave inner spirit was determined not to 
 be worsted. How fearful that conflict was during the 
 later years of his life, 1 did not know until he had 
 passed away. You, and possibly some others, knew it 
 well. I can not think of him without the tears involun- 
 tarily starting in my eyes as I remember meeting him 
 on a certain occasion when, it is plain to me now, he 
 was fighting at fearful odds, yet with a purpose which 
 would never surrender. 
 
 He impressed me as a speaker as one of the manliest 
 of vigorous thinkers, his whole being borne on with the 
 grandeur and the power of the thoughts which had taken 
 possession of him. 
 
 I should expect him to maintain his ground most 
 resolutely upon any point upon which we might possibly 
 have differed, and to have loved him all the more, and 
 been loved by him all the more for our conscientious 
 difi'erenc^s. 
 
 I can not think of him as inactive even in the repose 
 of Heaven. It is to me one of the brightest of antici- 
 pations to think of such spirits as his, when at length 
 they are released, as springing with a bound I know not 
 to what heights of rapture, to what intensities of unex- 
 hausted service. O glorious hour ! when without let or 
 hindrance or any such thing, the spirit, refined and beau- 
 tified by the discipline of earth, shall be permitted to 
 
800 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 301 
 
 expatiate as it will through all the many mansions of our 
 Father's House ! As it is one of my pleasant remem- 
 brances of the past that for a few years I walked by the 
 side of your beloved husband as a brother in the minis- 
 try of Christ in glad fraternal fellowship, so it is one of 
 my most joyous anticipations that I may hope to meet 
 him again, and occasionally climb with him some one 
 of the everlasting hills. 
 
 Excuse these rapidly written words — all I can do in 
 the midst of pressing engagements. 
 
 A thousand blessings rest upon you yourself and your 
 household, is the prayer of 
 
 Yours most fraternally, 
 
 E. K. Alden. 
 With the letters which follow, from Professor 
 Wilkinson, of Rochester Theological Seminary, and 
 President Robins, of Colby University, this record 
 may close : 
 
 Tarrytown, N. Y., Aug. 8, 1877. 
 My dear Emma: I would very gladly bring my 
 flower to add to the tribute which your faithful affection 
 is gathering from many willing hands to lay on the 
 fresh tomb of so much beauty and worth as perished in 
 the death of your beloved husband. I know I can say 
 nothing that will not have been already said by others 
 before me ; for there was an openness about the nature 
 of James S. Dickerson that laid all the secret of what 
 was noble in him bare at once to every observer. No 
 that is not quite true either. Those who knew him best,' 
 knew that he had strength as well as vivacity, sound 
 judgment as well as quick wit, penetrative sagacity as 
 well as superficial discernment, real hard-schooled good- 
 ness as well as native geniality, patience to work as well 
 as preternatural faculty to get at results without appar- 
 
 ent process of labor ; and all these things in our dear 
 friend such as saw him but occasionally might easily 
 have failed to guess. 
 
 After all, the flavor of his character is something that 
 only the memory of those who knew the man, and loved 
 him, can retain. You can not gather it up, and fasten it 
 from escaping, in a few words. You might as well hope 
 to save the sparkle of champagne after exposing it to 
 the air. That radiant good humor which was something 
 other than the mere secretion of buoyant health — for 
 he retained it, as we remember and admire, even in the 
 extreme pains of his illness— that radiant good humor 
 of his, how it purified and made sweet the overflow of 
 his gayety and wit ! No sting lay concealed in the 
 indescribable aptness of his swift and infallible repartee. 
 
 His first thought was kind — that was the felicity of 
 his nature. But if it had not been, his second thought 
 would have corrected the error — that was the fidelity 
 
 of his conscience. 
 
 They mistook who might suppose that such unfailing 
 complaisance had no backbone of sturdy principle to 
 stay it up and make it valuable. I know well, and you 
 know better, that his gentle, almost sportive, yielding- 
 ness in conversation played only within very fixed limits, 
 which loyalty to his Master appointed. He was a brave 
 and beautiful spirit. There are few like him left to die. 
 Not a man living will grudge to his memory any word 
 of ascription that he may win. I loved him, and I 
 lament him. And I know that if I had entered still 
 more deeply than I did into the heart of the man, it 
 would have been only to love him and lament him more. 
 Aftectionately, your brother, 
 
 William C. Wilkinson. 
 
802 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 President Robins writes as follows : 
 
 During the too short acquaintance which it was mv 
 p easure to have with Dr. Dickerson, one trait of his 
 character quite strongly impressed me, viz., the rare 
 
 T[.ere was a knightly heroism in his advocacy and 
 defense of what he regarded the truth, which was, fn the 
 highest degree, attractive. Having taken his position, 
 he was as firm as granite in maintaining it; he could 
 not he moved either by flattery or bv frowns. 
 
 Gu.ded by a keen intelligence, he was always ready to 
 give we.ghty reasons for his course, which, If not con- 
 
 re soecf V ^PP^^f «' -ere always worthy of their 
 respect. His was not the obstructive I will not, but the 
 
 oToTr r "''' . ""' ^^-P-^--^ed the significance 
 send 1 ""T' ""^'"^ '''' *^^^ ' -"^ome to 
 
 sword. He, therefore, neither desired nor expected 
 peace except as the victory of righteousness. He vehe- 
 mently scorned the weak sentimentality and bastard 
 charity which shrinks from giving and receiving blows 
 m the urgent spiritual warfare committed by God to his 
 church: He was a good soldier of Jesus Christ and 
 accepted a soldier's experience as fitting to the service 
 to which he had given his life. 
 
 Nor, moreover, was there a trace of selfishness in his 
 
 It the alloy of his own personality. He was in no degree 
 a partisan. He defended the truth, not because he had 
 
 it wat p'i^^^T^ '^'''' ^^' b-t -i-ys and solely because 
 It was God's. He sought no personal victory. He was 
 
 / 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 303 
 
 one of these noble spirits whom Faber had in his mind 
 when he sung : 
 
 God's will is sweetest to him when 
 It triumphs at his cost. 
 
 In this absence of mere personal motive in his public 
 work is given the secret of the gentle charity which 
 distinguished him. His most earnest opposition to error 
 was love -inspired. He consciously sought the highest 
 good of those whom he opposed. " Faithful are the 
 wounds of a friend ; but the kisses of an enemy are 
 deceitful." He believed with all his heart that Christian 
 truth is essential to the well-being of men. But he knew 
 that, in the present state, Christians must necessarily 
 sometimes diifer in their apprehension of truth, and, 
 hence, must "earnestly contend" against each other. 
 Nevertheless, since the real end sought by all in these 
 fraternal conflicts is one, he could see no reason why his 
 own peace should be disturbed by personal feelings. 
 His purpose was to bless, and for this he was ready to 
 incur any danger, and to suff*er the pangs of any mis- 
 apprehension. He was ever in sympathy with the senti- 
 ment of the prince of the apostles when he wrote to the 
 Corinthian Christians, " I will gladly spend and be spent 
 for you, though the more abundantly I love you, the 
 less I be loved." His was the utterance of holy love, 
 which can not endure error, since it is the deadly enemy 
 of man. 
 
 He, in this manner, illustrated the gospel which he 
 preached, and left an example to his brethren worthy 
 of their study and imitation. 
 
 
RESUME OF CHARACTER. 
 
 305 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 RESUME OP CHARACTER 
 
 BY A. C. KENDRICK. 
 
 The writer of this, having largely manipulated 
 the preceding pages, adds, by request, under his 
 own name, the present resume of Dr. Dickerson's 
 character. It is nearly a work of supererogation. 
 The preceding pages have probably shed all needful 
 light on that character ; and, if they have not, it is 
 too late to do it now. If they have failed to depict 
 a character of uncommon loveliness, and a life of 
 eminent devotion to truth and duty, no summarizing 
 of qualities can now accomplish it. The test of the 
 man is in what he does; and, though heinff is a vital 
 part of doinff, yet, if both have not revealed them- 
 selves in the life, though our eulogy might fit out 
 a man with "all the virtues under heaven," we 
 should have but a galvanized caput mortuum, a result 
 parallel to that Chinese steamer which, modeled 
 with Chinese fidelity after the noblest European 
 pattern, possessed every conceivable excellence ex- 
 cept that it would not go. No classified inventory of 
 virtues answers for the living character. 
 
 Much less is any such minute analysis now re- 
 quired, after the admirable portraitures of Dr. Dick- 
 erson, drawn from various points of view, by the 
 distinguished gentlemen who have kindly contributed 
 
 804 
 
 their reminiscences to this volume. I shall simply 
 endeavor to gather up a few general results, and to 
 signalize, possibly, a few traits whose illustration 
 did not come within the scope of the preceding 
 narrative. 
 
 I wish, first, to emphasize, as strikingly illustrated 
 by the career of Dr. Dickerson, the value of religious 
 character, not merely as contributing to general use- 
 fulness, but as a positive constituent of intellectual 
 force and ability. Dr. Dickerson's native abilities 
 would not be regarded as remarkable. He was not, 
 as a college student, distinguished either by the 
 depth or the range of his acquisitions ; by any 
 unwonted brilliancy or even exactness of scholar- 
 ship. Few persons in the college anticipated for 
 him the efficient career which lay before him, simply 
 because they did not know how steady a purpose 
 ran through all his acts, and how solid a spiritual 
 basis underlay his character. The soundness of his 
 heart ministered even more than ordinarily to the 
 strength of his intellect. He became a philosopher 
 because he had become a Christian. He made sound 
 moral estimates, and formed shrewd and large judg- 
 ments of men and things, because of the high 
 standard which he instinctively applied to them, 
 and because of those lofty spiritual truths which 
 were at once purifying his heart, and enriching and 
 expanding his intellect. Who can tell how invigor- 
 ating the atmosphere and how wide the range of 
 vision in that lofty realm of spiritual truth in which 
 he moved ? 
 
 The reader of the poems of Lord Byron never 
 
306 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 RESUME: OF CHARACTER 
 
 I 
 
 ceases to admire the exquisite aesthetic sense, the 
 more than classic grace and perfection of form in 
 which he is nearly without a rival in our literature. 
 In picturesque description, in rapid and brilliant 
 narrative, in portraitures of life and nature, drawn 
 with blended power, simplicity, and grace, he has 
 few equals and no superiors. Yet, with all this, 
 Lord Byron utterly fails to reach the highest realm 
 of song ; and this, because he has no profound and 
 no divine philosophy. He could make no excursions 
 into the highest realms of thought without encoun- 
 tering those truths from which his sneering skep- 
 ticism recoiled, or which seemed to wither beneath 
 his Mephistophelian touch. Brought face to face 
 with God, and immortality, with the soul and all its 
 hisrhest and holiest relations, he is as dumb as the 
 harp of Memnon before it thrilled to the kindling 
 beam of the morning. Thus Lord Byron stands on 
 the cold and glittering heights of Parnassus, self- 
 excluded from that lofty and glowing heaven of 
 song, opening far above him, where Milton strikes 
 his lyre at the very gates of the celestial city. 
 
 I may be pardoned this digression for the im- 
 portance of the truth on which it dwells. It can 
 not, I think, be doubted, nor too frequently reiter- 
 ated, that the highest forms of intellectual greatness 
 and literary excellence demand as their condition 
 the deep convictions of piety and the ennobling 
 truths of religion. And the full benefit of these 
 influences Dr. Dickerson enjoyed. They gave sound- 
 ness to his practical judgment, and breadth to his 
 intellectual surveys. They gave justness and deli- 
 
 307 
 
 cacy to the balances in which he weighed large 
 questions of individual and public interest. They 
 gave him an activity and aggressiveness to which 
 his mere intellectual tastes or personal ambitions 
 would not have prompted him. They led him, in 
 reading, to master the leading phases of modern 
 scientific thought in its bearing on religion. They 
 made him bold to take up and do battle for denomi- 
 national questions, and, both in written and oTal dis- 
 cussions, encounter successfully men whose merely 
 scholarly claims were superior to his own. They 
 brought him (while residing in Boston) at times 
 before the Legislature of Massachusetts, and secured 
 for him a more than respectful hearing in his advo- 
 cacy of some of the great politico-moral questions 
 of the day. They led him, on his removal to Wil- 
 mington, at the outbreak of secession, to throw 
 himself into the thick of the fight, fling the chal- 
 lenge of defiance to the enemies of the Union, and, 
 while abating not a whit of his religious patriotism 
 in the kingdom and patience of his Master, to put 
 forth an energy that largely prevented an additional 
 State from swelling the ranks of secession, and 
 secured a recognition of his efficient loyalty from 
 the Chief Magistrate of the Union. 
 
 This ripeness and fullness of Christian character 
 was, in large measure, due to his fidelity in prayer. 
 Dr. Dickerson was very eminently a man of prayer. 
 He began his religious life with a strong faith in its 
 efficacy. This faith never seems to have wavered ; 
 but, founded originally on the assurances of the 
 divine word, it was confirmed by a large personal 
 
808 
 
 JAMES S. DICKEliSON. 
 
 RESUME: OF CHARACTER. 
 
 309 
 
 I 
 
 experience of its power. He knew what it was to 
 wrestle with the Angel of the Covenant, and to 
 wrest from apparently reluctant hands the waiting 
 blessing. The challenge which Prof. TyndalFs 
 prayer-test, with a wickedness surpassed only by 
 its foolishness, flung into the face of the religious 
 world, would have rebounded from the tried buckler 
 of his faith like the impotent weapon of Priam from 
 the shield of Pyrrhus. His trust in God was child- 
 like and implicit. He knew in whom and wherefore 
 he believed. While in his study, during the prepa- 
 ration of his sermons, his breathings were often 
 heard in the adjoining room, invoking the divine 
 blessing both on their preparation and delivery. All 
 his enterprises were inaugurated with prayer. All his 
 burdens of duty and trial were borne to the Divine 
 Helper, and in waiting on the Lord he perpetually 
 renewed his strength, and kept up the liigh tone of his 
 religious life. Thus he attained a rounded, symmetri- 
 cal, and, it would seem, almost complete, religious 
 character. There were in it no ugly flaws. There 
 were no seams in the joints of his harness through 
 which malice could send a poisoned shaft; there 
 was nothing that made an if or a hut requisite to 
 modify the words of eulogy. His conscience was as 
 sensitive as his principles were firm. Tender in his 
 judgments of others, he was rigorous toward himself, 
 and incapable of compromising a principle, or dally- 
 ing with temptation. Of this fidelity to principle 
 we might give many illustrations. The demands of 
 principle were imperative, and neither in little nor 
 in great could he be induced to disobey them. 
 
 One illustration of his Christian fidelity and 
 kindness may not here be out of place. While 
 walking along rapidly in the city of New York, in a 
 rain -storm, he heard beside him a gentle voice 
 saying, " Please, sir, share the shelter of my um- 
 brella." Understanding the import of the proffer, 
 he declined it, and passed on with quickened step. 
 The woman followed, insisting that he should accept 
 the proffered shelter, and stop at her house in an 
 adjoining street until the shower was over. Struck 
 by the plaintiveness of her tone, he turned, and, 
 seeing a beautiful young woman, with a face as sad 
 as the mourning garments which she wore, and an 
 expression clearly alien from the life upon which she 
 had entered, he paused, and, looking her gently in 
 the face, asked her, "How could you come to this?" 
 She replied, telling, alas! the '-old, old story"— 
 how she had been betrayed, and then discarded, and 
 had no resource but in a life of shame. He walked 
 along beside her, and told her of the Friend of the 
 sinner and the outcast ; of Him who had pardoned 
 the Magdalene, and had withheld his condemnation 
 from the woman taken in adultery. Thus following 
 her to her door with words of tender and fiiithful 
 instruction and entreaty, he left her with an in- 
 ward prayer that they might not prove ineffectual. 
 Whether they did, the judgment will disclose. 
 
 Dr. Dickerson's public life was mainly spent in 
 the ministry. As a preacher, he was clear, impres- 
 sive, and fervid. His voice was flexible and sonor- 
 ous, his action graceful and spirited, and his religious 
 earnestness, acting upon a temperament of exceeding 
 
310 
 
 JAMES S. DlCKEliSON. 
 
 susceptibility, made him sometimes thrillingly elo- 
 quent. The lightness of his physical frame'' might, 
 perhaps, seem to stand in the way of his producing 
 the highest effects of eloquence. A certain material 
 weight and massiveness sometimes greatly aid the 
 orator in bearing down on the convictions and feel- 
 ings of his audience. Yet Dr, Dickerson's lighter 
 artillery was handled with a skill and dexterity that 
 largely made good its deficiency in weight. And in 
 intellectual and moral weight he was rarely or never 
 lacking. His sermons were carefully prepared, with 
 the aid of much reading and meditation, and then 
 came direct from a heart glowing with divine ardor, 
 and lips that had shared the heavenly anointing. 
 
 As a pastor, it was scarcely possible that he should 
 not be equally loved and useful. His nature was so 
 kind and genial, his sympathies so quick and ardent, 
 his play of feeling so rapid and instantaneous in its 
 adaptation to all needs and characters, that he was 
 sure of a v/elcome to whatever place a pastor's voca- 
 tion might bring him. By the bed of the sick and 
 dying, he was a skillful comforter. His tender and 
 delicate instincts of spiritual perception seemed to 
 follow the parting soul into the very waters of the 
 dark river, and aid it in catching bright glimpses of 
 the farther shore. He could minister to sorrowing 
 bosoms the consolations of a heart which, if it 
 had not sounded all the depths of affliction, had 
 sounded the depths of that ^'love" which "knows 
 the secret of grief," and that subtle sympathy which 
 can divine the mystery of as yet unexperienced 
 sorrow. And, as in the house of mourning, so 
 
 RESUME OF CHARACTER. 
 
 311 
 
 in the house of feasting; in the festive gatherings 
 to which our religion lends its sanction, he was 
 equally in demand, and his genial and inspiring 
 presence crowned the gladness of the occasion. 
 
 He was a skillful conductor of the prayer-meeting 
 and the Sabbath-school. He would, in a quiet way, 
 occasionally divert the school from its wonted routine 
 of instruction, call out the teachers in brief prayers, 
 or from his own treasures of thought and fertile 
 and striking illustration, occupy the time to the 
 profit and delight of all. 
 
 Nor were his ministrations confined to the spiritual 
 wants of his people. He was their shepherd also in 
 their temporal matters. The kindness of his heart 
 led him constantly to sympathize with them in their 
 business perplexities, and to give them the judicious 
 advice which a naturally shrewd judgment, consider- 
 able experience of life, and an interest that made 
 others' affiiirs his own, qualified him to give. Thus 
 he often became the arbiter of their disputes ; the 
 settler of their estates ; the almost legal adviser of 
 the poor and friendless, rendering them invaluable 
 service without money and without price. 
 
 But if without price to them, often not without 
 price to himself. In pecuniary matters he was gen- 
 erous, perhaps even to fault. He brought and held 
 his people up to the highest possible point of gener- 
 ous giving ; but he did not urge them to a benevo- 
 lence which he failed to practice himself. He 
 advocated no cause to which he did not set the 
 example of liberally contributing. He was ready to 
 receive, and did repeatedly receive, aid from his 
 
312 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 wealthier relatives. This he felt as no humiliation, 
 but gratefully recognized their generosity. But he 
 could not and would not, himself, forego the luxury 
 of ministering to the pecuniary necessities of others 
 — that blessedness of giving which surpasses the 
 blessedness of receiving. 
 
 Indeed, there would be almost no end to the 
 illustrations of Mr. Dickerson's kindness of heart. 
 It acted in every conceivable form : its response to 
 every appeal of want and suffering was instant and 
 effective. Be the appeal religious or political, be 
 the suffering of mind or of body — in the forts, of rebel 
 prisoners; on the field, strewn with the dead and 
 dying; in the hospitals, where words of cheer were 
 to be spoken, letters to be written, a wounded limb 
 to be bandaged, a darkened soul to be pointed to its 
 Savior — nothing came amiss; he had a heart and a 
 hand for every emergency. He was as prompt for 
 physical as for spiritual needs. In Boston, on one 
 occasion, the cry was raised that a Avoman in an ad- 
 joining house had set her clothes on fire, and was 
 burning to death. Darting from the house, but 
 seizing with quick thoughtfulness a large cloak or 
 garment hanging in the hall, he flew to the woman, 
 now rushing wildly round in helpless distraction, 
 flung the cloak about her, and thus effectually 
 smothered the flames, while he, at the same time, 
 called for water to extinguish the fire which was 
 spreading to other objects. He did all that could 
 be done ; but was, indeed, '* too late to save." She 
 had already swallowed flame, and survived but a 
 few hours. 
 
 resum:6 of character. 
 
 313 
 
 
 
 A more striking incident occurred while he resided 
 in Pittsburgh. Sitting at his study window, he wit- 
 nessed a terrible explosion in a rolling-mill a block 
 or two from the house. He did what every one 
 would have done, and was in an instant down stairs, 
 out of the house, and at the scene of the disaster 
 But he did what many would not have done from 
 lack of presence of mind and vigor for the emer- 
 gency. Almost the first on the ground, he was quite 
 the first, and for some time the only one, prepared for 
 active measures. He rushed, himself, into the hot 
 ashes, and drew forth the mutilated bodies, direct- 
 ing others to bring straw, carpets, bandages, and 
 other necessaries for the wounded. Perceiving that 
 the engineer had been killed, he directed attention 
 to the boiler which had not exploded, in order to 
 avoid a second catastrophe. Thus he worked for 
 two hours, his hands covered with blood and brains, 
 and at the same time giving directions to others with 
 the coolness of one experienced in such scenes. They 
 took him for a surgeon, and obeyed his instructions 
 implicitly. One little incident individualizes the 
 scene, and reminds us what depths of private woe 
 lie beneath such a disaster. As he had just cared 
 for and sent to his home one poor man who was ter- 
 ribly wounded, he asked a little boy standing near 
 if he knew who the man was. ''That," replied the 
 little fellow with streaming eyes, "is my papa." 
 Alas! with every suffering "somebody's darling" 
 always suffers. The vibrations of sorrow are like 
 the vibrations of the air. Who can guess their limit ? 
 Another illustration of Mr. Dickerson's kindness 
 
 14 
 
314 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 of heart, lies in quite a different direction. Pass- 
 ing one day along the street, he saw near a fruit- 
 erer's stand a sweet-faced little girl with crutches 
 looking wistfully at the fruit. Reminded at once of 
 his own lame little daughter Ada, he crossed over 
 and said, *' Well, now my little girl, what do you see 
 there that you would like ? " The shy little girl drop- 
 ped her head half frightened, and put her crutches 
 in motion to limp away. "But," said Mr. Dicker- 
 son, " I want to give you this beautiful pear (cutting 
 one from its string) and a few of these fine grapes. 
 And where are your pockets for a few of these nuts 
 and cakes of sugar?" With pleased astonishment 
 the girl looked at him as if he had just come from 
 fairy land. He then spoke to her some kind words, 
 and as she departed he followed at a distance that he 
 might see where she resided, and when again coming 
 this way, might call and inquire after her. A httle 
 time after, being in this neighborhood, he again pro- 
 cured a like supply of grapes and '' goodies " and 
 called at the home of his little beneficiary. The 
 door was reluctantly and partially opened by the 
 mistress of the house who rather curtly inquired 
 what he wanted. He replied that he had become 
 interested in a little lame girl who lived there, and 
 had called to inquire after her and bring her a little 
 fruit. The door instantly swung wide open, and the 
 heart of the mother along with it, and exclaiming 
 that this must be the gentleman who had shown such 
 kindness to her daughter, she cordially welcomed him 
 in. On conversing with them he found that, by a 
 singular coincidence, the name of the little girl was 
 
 RESUME OF CHARACTER. 
 
 315 
 
 Ada, the name of his own suffering daughter, and a 
 certain resemblance to whom in her sweet face and 
 form had first attracted him to her. After uttering 
 words of cheer and peace to the household, and 
 especially invoking upon it the peace of God, he 
 departed, having, perhaps, made friends in this 
 humble dwelling that would yet meet him at the 
 gates of the Heavenly Paradise and welcome him 
 into the everlasting habitations. An incident like 
 this does not read very large in human history, but 
 in the Heavenly annals it shines with 
 
 A purer fame 
 Than gathers round Marengo's name. 
 
 In the huts of the poor, in the comforting of bro- 
 ken hearts, in remembering those whom the world 
 forgets, and honoring those whom the world despises, 
 are displayed the real heroism, and achieved the real 
 victories of earth. i 
 
 By the side of Dr. Dickerson's amiability and kind- 
 ness of heart was the sunniness of his temper, the 
 buoyancy of his spirit, a geniality and playfulness 
 perpetually rippling over with humor, and often con- 
 densing and sharpening itself into wit. Both the wit 
 and the humor were always kindly. No poisoned 
 shaft ever went from his quiver to rankle in any 
 bosom. Not indeed but that both the humor and the 
 wit might sometimes subserve very serious purposes, 
 and accomplish what, perhaps, argument would have 
 failed of. Of his witticisms the reader has had many 
 specimens. When he said that after being a few 
 hours at sea he felt like " throwing up " the whole 
 
316 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 voyage ; when he said that his little boy would like 
 all the better to have everything thrown into ''pi" 
 provided it were of the right type ; when with grim 
 humor he called on his mutilated leg to ''speak for 
 itself, and be the %tump orator of the occasion \' when, 
 in a public harangue against some proposed iniqui- 
 tous anti-temperance legislation he was advising his 
 audience to vote at the approaching election for a 
 governor who would see that the license law was 
 carried out, instead of for his opponent, who was an 
 intemperate man, but a military leader, being inter- 
 rupted with the cry that General would enforce 
 
 the license law "at the pint of the bayonet," he in- 
 stantly retorted, " Yes, and with a pint of whisky at 
 the other end," he but uttered sallies the like of 
 which were continually springftig from his lips and 
 pen. But he never wounded, or wounded only to 
 heal. The law of kindness was in his heart and on 
 his lips. 
 
 Dr. Dickerson was exceedingly happy in his wed- 
 ded relations. His first wife was a lady of rare 
 personal attractions and lovely character. In the 
 early days of her bright and beautiful maidenhood 
 the writer of this well remembers her, shedding bright- 
 ness around the circle which she adorned in her oc- 
 casional visits to Hamilton, where Mr. Dickerson first 
 formed her acquaintance. As a wife and a mother 
 she fulfilled the promise of her girlhood, and alike in 
 his early struggles and his later still more arduous 
 duties, she was the faithful friend, the judicious ad- 
 viser, the joy and light of his home. His second wife, 
 who, in addition to one surviving blue-eyed cherub 
 
 HESUM]6 OF CHARACTER. 
 
 317 
 
 of her own, has succeeded to the care of his children, 
 stands, as editress of the present volume, and with 
 the expunging proof-reader's pen in her hand, be- 
 tween me and any words of indiscreet eulogy which 
 my heart and judgment might prompt me to write. 
 She can not, however, prevent me from saying that 
 rarely has the loss of a first-beloved companion been 
 more thoroughly made up. She can not prevent me 
 from saying that she proved to him an equally capa- 
 ble and devoted wife, and has shown all a mother's 
 devotion to his children ; and she will not wish to 
 prevent me from sa}'ing that her devotion has been 
 repaid by an answering tenderness and affection. 
 The investment which her husband made in the 
 Standard he transferred to her. She herself presides 
 ably and gracefully over certain special editorial col- 
 umns; and her oldest son is one of the business 
 managers of the paper. Of tlie two wives one went 
 hand in hand with him through the trials and labors 
 of his earlier public life : the other shared the deeper 
 sorrows and walked in the darker shadows that gath- 
 ered round its close. But both met the unfailing 
 sunniness of his temper with answering brightness 
 and buoyancy. Both partly found, partly made, 
 partly shared, as happy a home as often gladdens an 
 earth in which happy homes are a precious reminder 
 of the bliss of Eden. And both, in the land where 
 there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage, 
 will renew with him, and with each other, that bliss- 
 ful intercourse which, with few alloys of memory, 
 will have none of present bliss and glorious antici- 
 pation. 
 
318 
 
 JAMES S. DICKER80N. 
 
 And here the curtain drops upon the record of a 
 life of faithful service to God, and of large and varied 
 service to humanity ; of a character beautiful in both 
 its human and divine elements ; which, having blessed 
 the earth, added, in parting hence, a priceless gem to 
 the accumulating riches of Heaven. All honor to the 
 Wondrous Name that amid the ruins of the apostacy 
 works such miracles of grace, and refashions the 
 crumbling structures of earthly character and destiny 
 into the buildings not made with hands, eternal, in 
 the Heavens ! 
 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 A SUCCESSFUL LIFE. 
 
 From the Memorial Sermon of Bev. J. D. Fulton, D.D., 
 delivered in the First Baptist Church, Chicago, July 
 2, 1876, from the text : Mark x, 29, 30 : " And 
 Jesus answered aiid said : Verily I say unto you, 
 there is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or 
 sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or 
 lands, for my sake and the Gospel's, but he shall 
 receive a hundredfold more in this titne ; houses and 
 brethren and sisters, and mother and children and 
 lands, loith persecution, and in the world to come 
 eternal life.'*'' 
 
 Our Lord is author of the statement that it pays to 
 serve Christ, and to endure hardness as a good soldier 
 for the sake of the Gospel. The successful life which 
 ceased its activities on earth, and entered upon the en- 
 ioyments of Heaven on Tuesday, March 21, 1876, as 
 James S. Dickerson crossed the bridgeless river, and 
 received Christ's welcome plaudit, is a beautiful and 
 forcible illustration of this encouraging truth. Happy 
 are we in the privilege furnished us of contemplating his 
 virtues, and studying the reasons underlying the victory 
 won. Happy are we especially, because it is possible to 
 praise without an " if," and to speak with enthusiasm of 
 this wonderful character without a cautionary "but. 
 
 No one in Philadelphia, where July 6, 1825, he was 
 born, and where he afterward lived, or in New York, or 
 Wilmington, or Pittsburgh, or Boston, where he served 
 his day and generation; or in Chicago, where he laid 
 aside his armor, will question this meed of praise. 
 
 On every hand men, women, and children speak of him 
 as one of the most genial of men, whose Christian life, 
 beginning when he was fourteen years of age, found its 
 
 819 
 
r 
 
 820 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 key-note in the words of Christ we have chosen as the 
 foundation of remark. "For my sake and the Gospel's" 
 he lived, and when he came to die, and was asked what 
 message he would send to his brethren in the ministry, 
 he replied slowly and considerately, " Tell them to stand 
 for God and the Baptists; for Christ and His truth; a 
 spiritual church." Good George Herbert said in the six- 
 teenth century: " The pastor is the deputy of Christ for 
 the reducing of man to the obedience of God." Dr. 
 Dickerson ever felt and acted this truth. He never for- 
 got the Captain of his salvation, under whose flag he 
 enlisted, and by whose orders he marched. * * * 
 
 The year that has gone has carried into the eternal 
 world many ripened sheaves. Solomon Peck, D. D., for 
 so many years the Secretary of the Missionary Union, 
 died in Rochester in the ripeness of his fame. All 
 who knew him mourned him. His work was done. He 
 waited for the reward upon which he entered. I 
 mourned him and rejoiced in his wonderful reward. 
 Horatio B. Hackett, one of the best Greek scholars of 
 this or of any land; a man who for years and years had 
 shed the halo of his illustrious reputation upon the 
 scholarship of the age, and upon the rising and rapidly 
 growing repute of American Literature, passed from 
 the activities of life without warning. Like Enoch he 
 walked with God, and he was not, for God took him. 
 He was a personal friend. As a man he was the most 
 jovial and genial of men. At our table he has been 
 an honored guest, and the children were refreshed and 
 regaled by his ennobling sentiments, the stories of travel, 
 and recollections of those whose friendship he had en- 
 joyed. He died, and the news startled and shocked us. 
 The family talked about him. called up his beautiful life, 
 and rejoiced that God had spared so wonderful a man to 
 us so long. Dr. Osgood, the saintly missionary, whose 
 shadow has blessed the Western churches, as his life 
 made glad the East, died in ripened age, and his works 
 praise him even while we mourn his loss. 
 
 But when the tidings came of the death of dear Dick- 
 erson, there was a scene I shall not soon forget. Since 
 the shadow of my mother's death crossed the threshold 
 
 MEMOmAL SERMON. 
 
 321 
 
 
 of our home, there has been no gloom like it. For 
 myself I could onlv find refuge in the words of David 
 concerning Jonathan : "I am distressed for thee, my 
 brother; very pleasant hast thou been unto me; thy love 
 to me was wonderful, passing the love of woman." For 
 days I was unfitted for work. I visited the sea-shore 
 where we passed a day together two years before. I re- 
 called the picture of him as he was with his wife and 
 children on the way to Boston in 1870, with his bright 
 look and his cheery speech. I thought of him as week 
 after week, and month after month, we drove together 
 over the beautiful roads about Boston, when he was so 
 full of life and enjoyment. Methinks now I hear his 
 ringing laugh, his wit, his voice in song, and his voice in 
 prayer. I will say now that I used then to look forward 
 to such a time as this and I made all in my power of this 
 life, as I knew it and loved it. Then he was in strength. 
 A year later the hard winter in Boston told on him. I 
 visited him, and though he was in bed suffering from in- 
 flammatory rheumatism, we could not believe him in 
 danger. Like a sky-rocket he waited but for the torch 
 of wit, when he would go off" and fill the room with gold 
 rain. He came to see me afterward when convalescent, 
 in Brooklyn. His words, who could forget them? His 
 love shone through them. Then he wrote a letter to his 
 wife which 1 have since read. It was like him. In it he 
 said, "I am grateful that 1 feel so well this morning. If 
 I can onlv get back a good voice once more — and I am 
 quite hopeful — I think I am good for considerable ser- 
 vice vet. There are many openings; but perhaps God 
 has aVork for me to do right where He has Placed me, 
 and it is far the wiser way to await His unfolded will. I 
 am ready to do it. That is the happiest as well^ as the 
 most profitable path that is marked out by Him, I his 
 was his faith, as is seen by many utterances. In the 
 sketch of Thomas Stokes, his honored ancestor, he writes 
 as follows: "It has always been true, and it ever will 
 be, that the path of duty is the direct road to earth's best 
 success, and Heaven's sure reward. To attempt deeds 
 because they are conspicuously great, to strive for the 
 attainment of results that will be deemed brilliant, with- 
 
 »LIMWg^ 
 
f 
 
 322 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 MEMORIAL SERMON. 
 
 323 
 
 out putting forth a corresponding effort of an honest and 
 homely endeavor, is at best but a higher type of ambi- 
 tious vanity, and utterly delusive as to the achievement 
 of even the cheap and unsubstantial honors of this 
 world." * * * * 
 
 Afterwards, he came here, and was sick. There was 
 a swelling on his knee. He went to the Hot Springs 
 of Arkansas. He was not going to die, not he. He was 
 soon to be well. He liked Chicago; he liked his partners 
 in the paper and in the editorial sanctum. He liked his 
 old friend who baptized him, and his friend who stood 
 with him in Philadelphia. He came back from Arkan- 
 sas, and was soon to be well ; but he did not get well. 
 I was in Toledo, Ohio, on my way home ; and, opening 
 the Watchman and Reflector^ saw that he was going to 
 die. His leg was worse ; his physicians despaired of him. 
 I took the first train for Chicago, and found him in High- 
 land Park, that beautiful village by the Lake, in the 
 home of his sister. He would not see me in bed ; I 
 must wait a few minutes. 1 did so. I soon heard his. 
 crutches on the floor. The door opened. There was the 
 eye, the laugh, the greeting, but my friend was wasted 
 to a skeleton. We had three hours together. We 
 walked just under Heaven's opened windows. We heard 
 the angels sing, and Jesus speak, and yet we were here. 
 Never had I so good a day. I went immediately out of 
 the city. I never saw him more. This may not interest 
 another one in all this world, but yet in eternity I shall 
 thank God for the privilege of saying what is in my 
 heart in this presence. A few days before he died, I 
 was in Wilmington, Delaware. After preaching an ordi- 
 nation sermon in another portion of the city, I went to 
 his old church, where Brother Cook, the pastor, intro- 
 duced me to the people, and I talked to them of Wil- 
 mington as I had heard about it from the lips of their 
 former pastor. How glad they were to hear from him ! 
 They cried and laughed. They came and shook my 
 hand, and sent love to him ; and, before T took the night 
 train, I wrote of their love and sent it on, and the next 
 I heard of him he was dead. He received the letter, and 
 
 ' 
 
 said he would answer it, but did not, for God beckoned 
 
 him away. 
 
 Now, in what Dr. Dickerson did for the denomination, 
 I do not place him beside the eminent Secretary Peck, 
 or the distinguished scholar, Hackett ; but in my heart 
 I mourn for him as I never mourned for any other man. 
 Why is this sorrow ? It is to answer this question I am 
 here. Do not misunderstand me. Extravagant eulogy 
 would offend him, and humiliate me. He was not the 
 ripest scholar, the finest orator, the best writer, or the 
 most successful pastor I ever knew. If he were only 
 a writer, or a scholar, or an acceptable preacher or 
 pastor, 1 would not be out of my pulpit, and in this 
 place, to praise him. It was because he lived for Christ 
 and His gospel, and so for friends, and for a lost world, 
 as very few men ever lived for them. It was more 
 the way he lived, than what he did, that binds me to 
 hiin. He was the one man that could love and work, 
 month after month, without so much as asking the ques- 
 tion to his inner self, " Will this help me ?" Jonathan 
 went out into the wood and strengthened David's hand 
 in God. David never forgot it. Dr. Dickerson was 
 doing this all the time. He was doing it for every one, 
 for friends and foes ; for men who were true to him, and 
 men who were false to him, but who were, in his estima- 
 tion, true to Christ. He never betrayed any one to serve 
 himself. He was strictly truthful. You could rely on 
 him. He was not a party man. He was not any man's man. 
 He was true to God, to self, and to all the world. If he 
 expressed an opinion, he would stand by it. He knew 
 no such thing as fear. He could look any man in the 
 eye, and tell him the truth. He had, as a result, marvel- 
 ous power. He was a known quantity. He was pure 
 gold. You could trust him where you could not trace him. 
 He would help because his heart was in the business. 
 He was always surprising friends, his wife, his children, 
 with the prodigality of his love. ***** 
 
 It pays to serve Christ. This is an old theory which 
 is ever putting forth new buds of hope, new flowers of 
 promise, and ripening into harvests that furnish seed 
 
824 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 with which to sow the fields of the beyond. It pays to 
 serve those who love Christ. 
 
 This world is full of grand men and noble women. 
 There is a great deal more of unselfishness going on 
 than the Christian church gets credit for. My praise of 
 dear Dickerson is spoken at a time when the air is 
 full of the echoes of resounding ruin. The Devil is try- 
 ing to prove that there are no brave, noble, unselfish 
 men. The Demi is a liar. There are great numbers 
 of them. As some of the living may slip, and so make 
 an eulogy a mistake, it is a comfort to paint a picture 
 of Dr. Dickerson, and, holding it up, ask men to gaze 
 on it, and declare, this is what comes of giving the heart 
 and life to Jesus Christ. In American society, a Chris- 
 tian minister sustains vital relations to the people. * * * 
 There are those who are disposed to ignore the truth 
 that a minister should be respected for his leadership in 
 business, for political acumen. The life of Dr. Dicker- 
 son refutes their theory. His political sagacity was 
 astute ; his business faculty was immense ; his leadership 
 was almost prescient. There is evil in the world, and 
 the greatest, the noblest, the purest, and the best are 
 exposed to it. Their feet walk the ragged edge of a 
 precipice, which is being revealed to the ruin of all. 
 The battle of truth with error is not over. At times, 
 wolves in sheep's clothing enter the fold. It may be, and 
 it often is, the imperative duty of a good man" to strip 
 off the garments of the hypocrite, and expose corruption 
 and deformity. Let us rejoice for the proof furnished 
 in the life we are here to contemplate, that they who live 
 for Christ and His gospel find in the end that God lives 
 for them, and sees to it that right-doing is rewarded, and 
 virtue and uprightness and honor are protected. 
 
 Then Dr. Fulton speaks eloquently of the charac- 
 ter of one of God's true ministers, what he can be in 
 its broadest sense as a great power for good, and 
 adds : 
 
 We are here to glorify God because of what it is 
 possible for Christ in a man to do or be, and for what a 
 
 MEMORIAL SERMON. 
 
 325 
 
 man in Christ can do or be. * * * * A mmister 
 that never suifered, that never knew grief or poverty, or 
 deprivation or chastening, would be a barren tree in the 
 midst of a wilderness. It is the heart furrowed deep 
 with the ploughshare of suffering, that yields harvests 
 which are essential to the spiritual life of mankind. 
 
 The preacher then showed how from the beginning 
 of the world, in the life of Abraham and the proph- 
 ets, David, and other Old Testament worthies, they 
 had offered up the same prayer, '' Save us for Thy 
 mercy's sake," and that when Christ appeared in 
 answer to this God-begotten prayer, He had opened 
 His arms to the people and said, '' Verily I say unto 
 you, there is no man that hath left house, or breth- 
 ren, or father, or mother, or wife or children, or lands 
 for my sake and the gospel's, but he shall receive a 
 hundred-fold now in this time, houses, and brethren, 
 sisters and mother and children, and lands with per- 
 secutions, and in the world to come eternal life." 
 
 This is the new evangel. The curse is forgotten ; 
 Abram is forgotten; Israel is no longer mentioned; and 
 David passes from the mind. "For niy sake and the 
 eospel's," is now the refrain. That Being who took 
 upon Himself our nature and became a man of sorrows, 
 and acquainted with grief, who had not where to lay His 
 head, whose wealth was unseen, and whose power was 
 hidden, is to millions the chiefest among ten thousand, 
 and the one altogether lovely; and for His sake, and His 
 eospePs, they are ready to endure trial suffering perse- 
 cution, bear 'obloquy and martyrdom that they may tell 
 the story of his undying love. Such a minister was 
 
 James S. Dickerson. * * * ^ ^, .,,, „„ 
 
 Youncr Dickerson converted, was from the outset an 
 
 uncompromising Baptist. Everyone ^^^^^i -''9^ mT h^ 
 one respected him for it. How came this? Not by 
 compromising with the truth; not by betraying friend- 
 
326 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 ( 
 
 ship; not by keeping silence when the occasion demanded 
 honest speech. He possessed in an eminent degree the 
 power of self-abnegation. He was the soul of honor. 
 He wore a window over his heart, and you could look 
 within and see Christ on the throne and behold His dis- 
 ciple sitting meekly at the feet of Him who is too wise 
 to err, and too good to be unkind. He was a decided 
 Christian. He was the youngest in his class, and per- 
 haps the smartest, but he never sought promotion, nor 
 did he court honor. Praise was sweet to him. To earn 
 it and not to claim it was his habit. He could live if he 
 was not chief. He entered Hamilton Institution in 1842, 
 and graduated in 1848 with the highest honors of his 
 class. But his throat troubled him, and as he could not 
 then preach, he did the next best thing, helped others to 
 do so, and went with Martin B. Anderson into the New 
 York Recorder. The Bible Union excitement was at its 
 height. Giants walked the earth then if ever in politics 
 and religion. Webster, Clay and Calhoun were about 
 retiring from active duty; Douglas and Lincoln were 
 getting ready for their memorable campaign. The bat- 
 tle of freedom was then being: foui^ht with words. The 
 time for bullets followed in hot haste. In the relimous 
 world there was no rest, no calm, no quiet; but all was 
 war, relentless war. * * * Dr. Dickerson possessed 
 a composite character. He could have been a great 
 student. No man with keener zest followed the track 
 of truth. No one was more loyal to it. No one was 
 more brave in defense of it; no one would more readily 
 make sacrifices for it. And yet he was the merriest, the 
 wittiest, the most genial and generous of men. * * * 
 There is a story told of William Guthrie, that on one 
 occasion he had been entertaining a company with mirth- 
 provoking anecdotes, and being called on afterward to 
 pray, he poured out his heart with such deep-felt fervor 
 to God, that all were melted. When they rose from 
 their knees, Durham, of Glasgow, a grave, solid man, as 
 he is described, took him by the hand and said, "Willie, 
 you are a happy man. If I had laughed as much as you 
 did awhile ago, I could not have prayed for four and 
 twenty hours." Dr. Dickerson resembled Guthrie. He 
 
 m^^9S^.i'^'^d^ 
 
 MEMORIAL SERMON. 
 
 327 
 
 could laugh and he could pray. His laughter and wit 
 were to his life what are the ripples to the surface of a 
 beautiful and deep-flowing stream. As I thmk of him 1 
 remember how I used to laugh at his gleaming wit but 
 forffet what was said and only think of what was done. 
 I have driven with him for hours along the shaded roads 
 about Boston, and have talked with him about the work 
 in which we were engaged; and although I remember 
 his conversation from the moment he took his seat in the 
 carriao-e was most enlivening and entertaining, and I am 
 consci^ous that witty things were said, and that we laughed 
 like boys let loose to play, my memory does not hold 
 stories told or bon-mots uttered, but rather the purpose 
 formed and strengthened to stand for God and truth with 
 new courage and with fresh hope. Whether in private 
 or in public, I never have known a man who lived more 
 entirely "for Christ and His gospel." 
 
 The preacher then describes a man who enters the 
 pulpit from other than the highest motives, the honor 
 of God, and the salvation of men, and adds : 
 
 For such a man Dr. Dickerson had the most intense 
 scorn. In his estimation the ministry is the noblest of 
 professions, if a man's heart is in it; if otherwise, it is 
 the most irksome and galling of professions. No talent, 
 no genius, no popularity can sustain a man in the pastoral 
 office who ignores the work, the consecration and the sac- 
 rifice the profession demands. * * * Dr Dickerson 
 had great success, but not at the expense of pn^c^P e. 
 He found his success in God. He served Him faithfully, 
 and organized for victory. He expected it to come be- 
 cause God kept His throne. 
 
 He then refers to his great boldness in standing 
 for the right ; to his work in Delaware and says that : 
 
 When it cost some sacrifice here in the North to 
 stand true to liberty, he in the South, in a slave State, 
 threw the stars and stripes over his pulpit, and preached 
 a sermon, the key-note of his work which followed, which 
 Lincoln acknowledged held the state to the Union. 
 
a-n-T- 
 
 828 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 1^ 
 
 From the outset he chose Christ. He was an out and out 
 Baptist. "For my sake and the gospel's" he lived, and 
 moved, and had his being. His purpose ennobled him. 
 He believed that he would be accursed if he preached 
 any other gospel than that given him by Christ. He felt 
 that he was a necessity. God had work for him to do. 
 He was conscious of it. He never undervalued himself, 
 nor did he allow himself to be undervalued. Good words, 
 and good government and social order all stood identified 
 with his work. He lived above the world because he 
 lived for God. His eye was on his Master, and His 
 smile was his reward. * * * Such a man can preach 
 the gospel. His life is a mallet with which to drive the 
 Christ of his tongue. He is on the Rock, while others 
 are sinking into the wave. He can stretch out to lost 
 men a helping hand. God is to him not only a necessity, 
 but a joy; not only a covert from the storm, but a home, 
 a pleasure, and a delight. * * * jje has gone to 
 Heaven leaving behind a memory unstained by a single 
 base or selfish act. 
 
 Dr. Fulton then speaks of the noble manner in 
 which Mr. Dickerson, when associated with Dr. An- 
 derson, managed the New York Recorder^ and after- 
 ward the Christian Chronicle in Philadelphia; of his 
 work for the Publication Society ; and then of his 
 success as pastor in Wilmington, Pittsburgh and Bos- 
 ton. He knew him best in Boston, and from what 
 he says of his life there we make some extracts. 
 
 In Boston he was at home. Everybody loved him, and 
 he seemed to love everybody. His residence was within 
 sight of Boston Harbor, Dorchester Height^ and the 
 finest stretch of hill and valley, sea and islands, city and 
 shipping that can be found in the world. He gloried in 
 the scenery, and he loved the town. As a preacher he 
 took high rank from the first. As a platform speaker 
 he had no superior. Wendell Phillips could not sway 
 an audience with a more perfect mastery. As a temper- 
 ance orator he was next to Gough. As in Pittsburgh, 
 
 MEMORIAL SERMON. 
 
 329 
 
 money was to be raised and he raised it; burdens were 
 to be lifted and his shoulder was first under the load, and 
 the last to leave it. He never dreamed of failure, and 
 never prepared for defeat. He expected victory, and 
 always had his band in waiting to welcome the combat- 
 ants. He saw in every man a brother, and was ready to 
 act toward every man a brother's part. He loved God 
 with all his heart and mind and strength, and his neigh- 
 bor as himself. He never loved unwisely. No stain 
 ever came to the white soul and noble life of James S. 
 Dickerson. He went up to Heaven leaving behind a wife 
 rich with magnificent and loving memories, and children 
 inheriting a record of which all might well be proud. * * * 
 
 He had marvelous power over the impenitent. He 
 knew how to speak of Jesus to sinful men. His adapta- 
 tion to circumstances was wonderful. He could track 
 doubt to its hiding-place, and uncover the possibilities 
 of faith to the despairing. He was never at a loss lor 
 an expedient. I have seen him in a convention, when a 
 congregation was surging with excitement, rise with a 
 resolutfon, perhaps with a joke, or perhaps with an ap- 
 peal, perhaps with a smile and perhaps with a tear, and 
 that catch in his voice which was sure to create sympathy, 
 mark out a way, and invite all to follow; and by the turn 
 of a thought, or by the touch of a metaphor, carry the 
 people with him and win the day. 
 
 The reward of surrendering all to Christ is seen in 
 what came to him. In his union with the church he came 
 into fellowship with a company of friends that stood by 
 him till the last. They helped him in college, they helped 
 him to position, to a trip to Europe, to a home, and stood 
 by him all through. His best friends were God's friends. 
 This reward is seen in his early home. His first wife 
 was found in Utica. She was the adopted daughter of 
 Julius SptSiicer, a man who held an honored place there. 
 The present Mrs. Dickerson was one of her best friends, 
 and this was a comfort to him whom both loved. She 
 died after a short illness, and left behind four children, 
 one helpless from hip-disease. His second wife was to 
 him a perpetual source of love. It did me good to hear 
 him talk of wife and children. I saw him soon after his 
 
 14» 
 
 
330 
 
 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 
 
 !i 
 
 baby's eyes closed on earth and opened in Heaven. How 
 sweet his trust ! How joyous his outlook ! I saw him 
 when the little child came to him who gladdened the last 
 hours of life here. He was a fortunate man in his home, 
 and in what his home brought him. He lived for it. He 
 would not go to Europe without his wife. 1 hat tour was 
 a treasure of joy to him ever after. His reward is /ound 
 in his friends. Honors came to him early. In I80I the 
 the University of Rochester conferred upon him his A. 
 M., and the degree of Doctor of I^iyi"i;y ^ame to him 
 from the University of Lewisburg in 18G8. He gave 
 all to Christ. In every place he took the burden on his 
 heart which Christ would have carried had He been man- 
 ifest He worked where Christ would have him work, 
 and as nearly as possible as Christ would have worked 
 As the result he obtained a hundred-fold in this life, and 
 has entered upon life everlasting. 
 
 There's a Divinity within, 
 That makes men great whene'er they will it; 
 God works with all who dare to win, 
 And the time cometh to reveal it. 
 
 And now my pleasant duty is discharged. I have 
 spoken of my friend, in my poor way, as best I could ; 
 my conception of the man is within and untouched. 
 1 have failed to present it. But you know something 
 by this how he was loved. In due time I expect to 
 meet him. He will be popular in Heaven Methinks 1 
 see him very near Christ, more like John than any other 
 -the bravest, the truest, the one disciple whofoUowed 
 Christ into the Judgment Hall, and stood by Him close 
 to the cross. There%hey are in the light of the throne 
 We shall see them by-and-by. Let us seek by noble 
 and unselfish living to take up the fallen mantle and 
 walk forth into the shadows of earth to minister unto all 
 as best we can, till Jesus comes. 
 
 
 i?i 
 
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