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 BX 6495 .D8 C48 1868 
 Chaplin, Jeremiah, 1813- 
 
 1886. 
 Duncan Dunbar, the record o 
 
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 ^ SKETCH 
 
 LIFE OF THE LATE PASTOE 
 
 MoDOUGAL ST. BAPTIST CHURCH, 
 
 NEW YORK. 
 
 BY JEREMIAH CHAPLIN. 
 
 " Aa poor, yet making many rich." 2 Cor. vi. 10. 
 
 THIRD EDITION 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 SHE T. DON AND COMPANY 
 
 BOSTON: GRAVES & YOUNG. 
 186 8. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by 
 
 JEREMIAH CHAPLIN, 
 
 lu the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts. 
 
TO THE 
 
 Pfgaugal ^ixtd §apitst €^nxc^, 
 
 THIS RECORD 
 
 EARNEST MINISTRY OP THEIR LATE LAMENTED PASTOR 
 
 IS AFFECnONATElT 
 
 1 ID 2 © A IP ® 
 
 BY HIS CHILDREN. 
 
PEEFAOE. 
 
 The lamented subject of this memorial volume left behind 
 him little more which could be used in its preparation than 
 brief notes and journals, and letters, the result of a long and 
 wide correspondence. The main dependence of the compiler 
 has been materials furnished by members of the family, and 
 by friends in Great Britain and America, who had known Mr. 
 Dunbar long and intimately. For the most part, the incidents 
 of his early life and of his ministry have been gathered from 
 the recollections of his children, to whom, at different times, he 
 had related them in his own pleasant and familiar way, for 
 their entertainment, and without any thought of their being 
 made public. 
 
 They were, however, treasured in the memory or committed 
 to writing, that they might at least be preserved from oblivion 
 within the circle of which he was so long the beloved centre of 
 attraction. 
 
 The task of sketching the life and labors of Mr. Dunbar, — 
 undertaken at the request of the family, — has been to the 
 author one of considerable delicacy, in view of the intimate re- 
 lations that existed between them ; and he has therefore pre- 
 ferred to let the incidents, which form so large a portion of this 
 
 work, speak for themselves as they came to him from the lips 
 
 tv) 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 and pens of others, rather than attempt many reflections of his- 
 own. 
 
 As far as possible, the language of contributors to this vol- 
 ume has been retained ; and the compiler would here express 
 his sincere thanks to friends who have so readily responded 
 to his request for information or letters ; and his regret that the 
 necessary limits of the work have compelled him to omit much 
 which he would gladly have inserted. 
 
 In preparing this volume, he has aimed not only to gratify 
 relatives and personal friends, but also, and chiefly, as of greater 
 importance, to exhibit an example of singular devotion to the 
 best interests of men and the glory of God, in the hope that, in 
 some degree at least, that example might speak more widely, 
 and incite others to like deeds of piety and charity. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAOI 
 
 Birthplace — Boyish Sports — Narrow Escape from Death — First Religions Im- 
 pressions — Seeking Ohosts in the Gaick Mountainus — State of Beligion in the 
 mghlands, 8 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 Lachlin Mcintosh — Persecution for Christ's Sake — Peter Grant — Seeking after 
 God — The Laird of Grant — His Justice and Generosity — The Awakened Soul 
 — A Blind Leader — Temptation to Suicide — The Deposed Schoolmaster — Led 
 to the Cross — Peace in BelieTing, 10 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 
 Aspirations for a Military Life — Residence in Aberdeen — Marriage — Labors as a 
 Layman — Thoughts on Christian Baptism — Desires for wider Usefulness — 
 Sails for America — Low State of Evangelical Religion in the British Provinces — 
 His Labors in New Brunswick and their Results — Call to Ordination by an In- 
 dependent Church — Increased Trials on the Mode and Subjects of Baptism — 
 Immersion and Ordination — Settlement in St. George — Labors for the Blacks 
 and Indians — Journal, 21 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Formation of the New Brunswick Evangelical Society — Sails for Great Britain — 
 Journal — Arrival in Glasgow — Hindrance in his Work — Kind Reception and 
 Sympathy from Dr. Chalmers, &c. — Journal — Letter, 29 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Returns to Scotland — Black Harry — Embarks with his Family for America — 
 Labors on Shipboard — Provisions Fail — His Faith in God — A Birth in the 
 Steerage — Yisit from a Whale — Sufferings from Hunger — God in the Storm, . 41 
 
 (T) 
 
Vm CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Land Ahead — Wrecked on the Coast of Bermuda — Kind Reception — Letters- 
 Preaching on the Island, 51 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 Voyage from Bermuda to St. John — St. George — Renewal of Pastoral "Work — 
 Preaching in " Gaelic " — Home-trials in the New World — His (Jenerosity — 
 Letter — Crossing the Bay, 57 
 
 CHAPTER vm. 
 
 Visit to Maine — Preaches at the Bowdoinham Association — Warm Reception 
 there — Criticism of the " Fathers," 67 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Providential Detention in Noblehoro' — Strong Faith in God — A Dead Church— 
 A Great Awakening — Resigns hie Charge in St. George, and Accepts a Call from 
 the Second Nobleboro' Church — Arduous Labors there — Results, ... 72 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Removes his Family to Nobleboro- — A Minister's Wife in the Almshouse — The 
 Horse Sermon — Goes to South Berwick, on Exchange — A Great Revival — Letter 
 to Frederickton —Resigns his Charge in Noblehoro'— Is Recalled— Letters press- 
 ing his Return, 77 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Removes to Portsmouth, N. H. — Previous Efforts to Establish a Baptist Church 
 there — Strong Doctrinal Preaching — Opposition from " Christians," and Cal- 
 vinist Baptist Church Formed — Independent Congregational Church embraces 
 Baptist Tiews —Invite him and his People to unite vrith them — Helpers raised 
 up — Resigns his Charge — Removes to Chester, N. H. — A Perilous Adventure 
 — Visits New York -Called to the First Brooklyn and the North Beriah (Van- 
 dam Street, New York) Churches, 88 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Takes Charge of the Vandam Street Church — Tribute of Mr. W. Seton — Labors 
 in Destitute parts of the City — Formation of the Sixteenth Church — Befriend- 
 ing Strangers ~ Preaching Christ in the Prison — Efforts for Convicts, . 
 
CONTENTS. IX 
 
 CHAPTER Xm. 
 
 The Cholera Summer — Letter of Dr. Bowling — Labors with the Sick and Dying 
 
 — Is Prostrated with the Disease — Returns to his Work — Careful to Entertain 
 Strangers — Second Cholera Summer — GUkI'b Wing oyer the People of his 
 Charge, .... 106 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Voyage to Europe — Visits his Old Home on the Spey — His Intercourse with the 
 People — Labors Publicly and from House to House — Interest in Scotch 
 Baptists — A Highland Missionary Meeting — Giving to the Poor Lending to the 
 Lord — A Search for Hidden Baptists — Desire to Labor in his Native Land. . 112 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 first Record of Interest in the Negro — Pro-Slarery Riots of 1834 — His Church 
 formed on Anti-Slavery Principles — Associational Letters — The Triennial 
 Convention at Richmond (1835) — A Pious Slaveholder — A Distracted Mother 
 
 — A Visitor from Florida — His Model Christian — Ned Dudley — Buying 
 
 Sally — The Rolls Slaves — John D ; how God rewarded his Humble 
 
 Hospitality, 120 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Call and Removal to South Boston — Return to New York — Compassion for the 
 Stricken — Charity for the Starving Irish — Letter from Coolany — The Mission 
 of a Word — Labors to make the Poor Independent — The Old Ballad-seller — 
 A Street Acquaintance — A Charge against " Blackwell's Island " — His Grati- 
 tude — " Uncle M." — Knowing the Heart of the Stranger — Removal to Phila- 
 delphia — to Trenton — Return to New York, .....,, 189 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Letter on Unwarranted Interference in Church Affairs, and on Minorities Resist* 
 ing Majorities — ConfeMions of Injudicious Kindness — Extracts from Letters 
 
 — Heaping Coals of Fire — Advice to Young Ministers — A Solemn Provl- 
 ience, 163 
 
 CHAPTER XVin. 
 
 Dark Days In McDougal Street — The Cloud Dispelled — A New Trial — Direct 
 inswer to Prayer — Discouragement — A Joyftil Surprise, .... 178 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Drafts en the Bank of Faith — Care for the Widow and the Fatherless — God's 
 ApprOTaloftheWork — Mailer's Life of Trust, , .177 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Characteristics of his Preaching — A Sleeping Christian Awakened — Style and 
 Manner — Testimony of a Gifted Mind — Cultivation of Family-Feeling in the 
 Church — A Dream — A Word in Season — Helping Weary Pastors — Letter 
 firom a Toung Minister — Letter to the Association — Estahlishes a Weekly Bap- 
 tist Newspaper in New York — Deep Interest in Missions — Successful Plan to 
 RemoTe the Debt of the American Baptist Missionary Union — Letter from the 
 Secretary, . . • 187 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Wise to Win Souls — Preachhig at the Gaming-Table — The Children's Mhiister 
 ^ Sympathy with the Little Ones — Playfulness — Incidents — Extracts from 
 Letters, 207 
 
 CHAPTER XXH. 
 
 Changing Enemies to Friends — An Opposing Husband Won — An Angry T^tor 
 Converted — Making Peace — Comforting the Aged and Lonely — Regard for the 
 Sensibility of the Poor — God's End of the Purse, SQS 
 
 CHAPTER XXm. 
 
 Letters of Sympathy, Condolence, and Friendship, to Mrs. Charles S. Stewart — to 
 Deacon and Mrs. Dexter— to Mrs. D. —Letter Acknowledging a Present — to 
 Rev. Dr. Eennard, 225 
 
 CHAPTER XXIY. 
 
 TendemessasaFather— The Midnight Prayer- Family Letters, ... 288 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Afflictions ~ Ctod's Presence as the Comforter — His Mother's Death — A Oreai 
 Sorrow at Home — At Evening-Time it is Light —The Pure in Heart see God— 
 tetter after a Great Bereavement — Letters of Sympathy, 243 
 
CONTENTS. Xi 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 Phyrica. Constitution — Saila for Europe — Arriyal — Sight of the Heather — First 
 Sabbath in Scotland — The Sacrament of the Lord's Supper — His Interest In 
 America — A Church in a Hotel — The Baptistery — Visit to Arbroath, Brechin, 
 and Aberdeen — The Memory of a Voice — Reaches Grantown — The Queen's 
 Chamber — Her Majesty Scorned by a Highland Lass — Peter Grant — Sabbath 
 Services — A Highland Welcome — Castle Grant — The Haunted Room —The 
 Laird of Dal vey and his Scotch Paradise — Elgin — Inverness — Tour of the Cale- 
 donian Canal — Oban — Staffa — A Perilous Adventure — The Trosachs — Back 
 to Edinburgh — York — London — Paris — Homeward Voyage — A Gale at Sea 
 — Home Again — Fresh for Labor — Growing Meet for Heaven, . . . 265 
 
 CHAPTER XXVH. 
 
 Attends the Missionary Meetings in Philadelphia — A Silver Wedding — A Visit to 
 Yonkers — Increase of Labor — A Last Parting, . 274 
 
 CHAPTER XXVni. 
 
 His Last Sabbath — Illness — Only Christ — Anxiety for the Church and the 
 Country — A Blessed Visit — Setting his House in Order — The Valley made 
 Light — Visions of Glory — Safe at Home — Funeral and Burial — Funeral 
 Sermon, 286 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Letters from Early Friends— Tribute of Rev. Jctavius Winslow, D. D. — of Rev. 
 HowardOsgood — Mr. W.H.S. J. — Deacon Griffith, 296 
 
DUKOAIT DUNBAE. 
 
 RECORD OF AN EARNEST MINISTRY. 
 
Duncan Dunbae; 
 
 THE EECOED OF AN EAENEST MINISTER 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Birthplace — Boyish Sports — Narrow Escape from Death — First Religious Impressions- 
 Seeking Ghosts in the Gaick Mountains — State of Religion in the Highlands. 
 
 /!T?<0HE river Spey, in the northern Highlands of Scot- 
 I |yj land, is rapid and circuitous, and dotted at short 
 ^^^^^ intervals along its course by little islands. In the 
 background rise high hills, making the region, 
 Strathspey, so picturesquely beautiful, that one 
 who looks upon it will never wonder that the 
 heart of the Highland Scot is so tenderly wedded to the 
 waters, hills, and moors of his native land. Here is 
 Castle Grant, the estate of Lord Seafield, and for many 
 generations the home of the " Grants o' Grant." 
 
 Near this castle, on the banks of the Spey, the honored 
 and lamented subject of this memoir was born, and here 
 were passed the days of his childhood and early youth. 
 
 His father, Thomas Dunbar, occupied a farm on the 
 domains of Grant, where he passed a quiet, blameless 
 
4 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 life, bringing Lis children up respectably, and giving them 
 all the advantages of education which lay in his power. 
 
 The Highland costume and customs prevailed in this 
 region in Mr. Dunbar's boyhood, and the old Gaglic was 
 still the language of the household. Until he was twelve 
 yeai-s old, he wore no other dress than the tartan kilt and 
 plaid, still so dear to the heart of the clannish Scot, al- 
 though now wholly superseded among civilians except as 
 a sporting-garb or fancy-dress. 
 
 In his boyhood, Mr. Dunbar was very fond of violent 
 out-door sports, and, by his skill and bold daring, made 
 himself the head of the mirth-loving '' laddies " round the 
 Spey. "He was," says a minister, who, a few years 
 since, visited Grantown and heard of him from the aged 
 men who still remembered him, " as wild as the deer on 
 his native hills, perfectly regardless of danger, and a 
 stranger to fear. When quite a small boy, he used to go 
 to the Spey, push off in a boat into the deepest water, and 
 then plunge to the bottom, remaining there till his ter- 
 rified companions thought he would never rise again. 
 But ere long he would spring into his boat, shake off the 
 w^ater, and then dart again into the river. When he had 
 had what he called ' a gude bathe,' he would run his boat 
 ashore and ' gang ha me.' 
 
 " At other times, he would catch an unbroken colt and 
 mount his back. The affrighted creature would bound 
 over hill and dale until perfectly exhausted ; then he 
 would slacken his pace, and his persistent young rider, 
 having thus become his master, could usually guide him 
 at will. He used to mount any horse he could find, and 
 ride standing erect on one foot, occasionally turning a 
 somersault on his back as he was galloping off at full 
 speed. The last surviving companion of those days says 
 
NARROW ESCAPE FROM DEATH. 5 
 
 that he often rode in this way from Grantown to Aber- 
 nethy, a distance of six miles. 
 
 " Another favorite amusement was to balance himself 
 on his head on the ' Bridge of Spey,' the foaming waters 
 rolling beneath him. Old people, seeing these pranks, 
 were heard to exclaim : ' Sure the laddie'll brak his banes ! 
 Wee Duncan will come to nae gude end ; and e'en, gif his 
 life should be spared, he'll be gude for naething save a 
 mountebank.' " 
 
 His equestrian tricks formed a bond of union between 
 him and the young son of the then Laird of Grant ; and 
 so agile and skilled was he in the Highland dances that he 
 was often invited to the castle to take part in this amuse- 
 ment, where he drew forth great praise from the courtly 
 guests. Thus his early years were passed in great frivol- 
 ity and constant danger. 
 
 He was naturally full of spirit, ambition, and love of 
 adventure ; entering into his sports with the same energy 
 and perseverance which characterized him in after life, 
 when these traits were consecrated to a holy cause. 
 
 A circumstance occurred at this time, which nearly cost 
 him his life, and to which he used in after years to refer 
 with great solemnity. 
 
 In the middle of the Spe}^, near his old home, is a large 
 rock, fi'om which one can cast a stone into five counties. 
 From this he used to leap when going to bathe. In one 
 of these aquatic exploits, being alone, he was seized with 
 cramp and found himself sinking. He knew there was 
 no mortal helper near, and felt that all was over with him. 
 The cold waters encircled him, and he soon found himself 
 stretched helplessly on the river's bottom. Perfectly con- 
 scious and free from pain, his past life, with all its frivolity 
 and sin, rose before him, and he feared to meet God. He 
 
6 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 gave up all hope. But in an instant, there appeared to 
 his quickened vision a form, robed in dazzling white, com- 
 ing down and floating over him. He felt the grasp of a 
 hand in his hair, and found himself rising to the surface. 
 He opened his eyes again near the rock alluded to, and 
 grasped it eagerly for support. He now heard voices 
 shouting that a boy was drowned, and saw men at a 
 distance, who, having found clothes but seeing no bather, 
 were alarming the neighborhood, that search might be 
 made in the river. 
 
 In relating this circumstance not long before his death, 
 Mr. Dunbar said the picture of that white-robed form and 
 the grasp of its hand were as distinct in his mind then as 
 if he had really seen it, and added : "I have often 
 thought of this passage in connection with it : ' Are they 
 not all ministering spirits, sent to minister unto them who 
 are the heirs of salv^ation ? ' God was not done with me 
 then. He had work for me to do on earth. And who 
 can tell but he sent an angel from his courts to save me ? " 
 
 After this, he was troubled with fearful dreams and 
 convictions of sin. Among his papers is the following 
 with reference to this period : " The first religious impres- 
 sion I remember to have felt was at the age of twelve or 
 thirteen years, when hearing a missionary preach near 
 where my father lived. I was so inattentive to the dis- 
 course that I cannot remember his text nor any particu- 
 lar truth he advanced. But so it was, that on the way 
 home my soul was filled with horror from a sense of guilt, 
 which I got somewhat over by resolving to give up my 
 play and to read the Scriptures. This I attended to 
 when I reached home. I read that afternoon ; but in the 
 night had dreadful thoughts of eternity. This was, how- 
 ever, of short duration ; and my mind soon became as 
 
GHOSTS IN THE GAICK MOUNTAINS. 7 
 
 dead and insensible as ever. I do not recollect to have 
 had one serious thought from that time during the space 
 of three years, wlien I remember hearing one L — D — , 
 a young minister, whose discourse left some impressions, 
 which I think led me to pray for a day or two ; but this, 
 too, was soon forgotten." 
 
 There was not a little superstition mingled with the 
 sound, practical common-sense of the Highlanders of that 
 day. With this he had no sympathy ; even in his boy- 
 hood taking great pleasure in showing that he was fear- 
 less of " bogles," " banshees," and the like terrific myths ; 
 and he often amused himself by playing upon the fears 
 of the timid and credulous. 
 
 There was a leo-end, — we know not whether there was 
 any foundation whatever for it, — that in the days of 
 *' lang syne " a company of wild youths used to go to the 
 Gaick mountains, in Badernock, about twenty-four miles 
 from Grantown, every year, on hunting excursions. 
 They would spend several days and nights there, sleep- 
 in o- in a stone lodgje built for their shelter. On a certain 
 night, while drinking and carousing, away from all re- 
 straint, there came up one of those terrific thunder-storms 
 experienced only in mountainous regions. The lightning 
 struck the lodge, scattering the stones of which it was 
 built, and leaving only a blackened ruin. Every one of 
 the revellers was killed. Their friends, after waiting in 
 vain for their return, sought them in their retreat, but 
 found only their disfigured remains. 
 
 Thenceforth this spot became a terror to the people of 
 the region, many of whom firmly believed that on the 
 anniversary of that night the ghosts of the doomed rev- 
 ellers came and danced round a fire amon^r tlie ruins. 
 
 Young Dunbar had heard this stated as a fact from 
 
B DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 his earliest years, and when about sixteen or seventeen 
 he resolved to pro-ve the story a fiction. He induced 
 two or three young companions to share with him the ad- 
 venture and the glory ; for it took stout hearts to face 
 ghosts m those days. 
 
 Taking their guns and plaids, and filling their knap- 
 sacks with provisions, they set off amid the tears and en- 
 treaties of their friends, who feared they would be spirited 
 away for their foolhardiness. After a long and weary- 
 tramp, " the bold laddies " reached the haunted ruin. 
 They built a fire and ate their supper; and after a 
 merry evening spent in singing, and conversation spiced 
 with jokes at the expense of the ghosts, they wrapped 
 themselves in their plaids and lay down to sleep. Morn- 
 ing broke on the hills, and neither ghost nor goblin had 
 disturbed them. After a few days' sport, they returned 
 home, to the surprise as well as admiration of their 
 friends, and exposed the fallacy of the time-honored 
 legend. 
 
 Like excursions were made to the Cairngorm moun- 
 tains, in search of the agates commonly called Scotch peb- 
 bles, many of which, after being polished, are of rare 
 beauty. But it was the wildness and danger of the ad- 
 ventures, more than the ghosts or the pebbles, which gave 
 them their peculiar charm. 
 
 It is very pleasant to find in these youthfiil sports no 
 evidences of cruelty or ill-nature, but many proofs of the 
 genial spirit and benevolent consideration of others which 
 marked Mr. Dunbar's after life. He seems now to have 
 been well satisfied with his religious state, and unconscious 
 of the need of being " born again." Indeed, his birth in 
 Bible-reading, Sabbath-keeping Scotland, and his " bap- 
 tism " into the Kirk, were tantamount, in his mind, to the 
 
RELIGION IN THE HIGHLANDS. 9 
 
 new birth spoken of in Scripture. The community 
 nrnnnfl him wcre at that time in a state of spiritual death. 
 All who had been " baptized " in infancy, who had leai-ned 
 the Assembly's Catechism, and who maintained outward 
 morality, were, at the age of eighteen, admitted to the 
 Lord's Supper and received into full communion with the 
 church. Thus every member of society, unless openly 
 profane, impure, or dishonest, was a " Christian ; " in- 
 deed, it was an open reproach to stand outside the fold. 
 Thousands who were tenacious of the tenets and forms 
 of the church, and pharisaically strict in their relig- 
 ious observances, lived and died without experiencing the 
 power of the gospel in their hearts. They loved the 
 Kirk with the same patriotic fervor with which the Jews 
 of old loved Zion, and resented any innovations upon her 
 polity or doctrines as heresy meriting the severest pun- 
 ishmeat. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 tachlin Mcintosh - - Persecution for Christ's Sake — Peter Grant — Seeking after God — • 
 The Laird of Grant — His Justice and Generosity — The Awakened Soul — A Blind 
 Leader — Teni])tation to Suicide — The Deposed Schoohnaster — Led to the Cross — 
 Peace in BelieTing. 
 
 BOUT this time, which has been termed '' the 
 midnight of the Church of Scotland," the brothers 
 Robert and James Alexander Haldane experi- 
 enced the great change from natiu'e to grace. 
 Henceforth they devoted their wealth and talents 
 to the spread of evangelical religion, particularly 
 in their native Scotland. For this purpose they took 
 under their care pious young men, both Baptists and In- 
 dependents, to train for missionary work. Among these 
 was Mr. Lachhn Mcintosh, a friend and fellow-student 
 of the late honored and beloved Rev. Dr. Maclay, of 
 New York. 
 
 It was the custom of these godly men to make tours 
 themselves, preaching Christ in the streets, the woods, or 
 wherever men would listen. Their hearts were touched 
 for Grantown and its vicinity, and they established Mr. 
 Mcintosh there. He was not a Baptist, and therefore did 
 not arouse the enmity of the Kirk as the Haldanes them- 
 selves might have done on some points. But he preached 
 Christ crucified without asking either the consent or the 
 patronage of the great. Therefore he was looked upon as a 
 heretic, and his meetings were denounced as unlawful con- 
 (10) 
 
PERSECUTION. 11 
 
 venticles. A course of systematic persecution was instituted 
 against the good man and his little flock, and only the 
 greater light of the age prevented their being hunted, hke 
 the Covenanters, over hill and muir. 
 
 The Laird of Grant w^as at that time absent on the con- 
 tinent, but there were not wanting men to acquaint hirn 
 with the bold interference of the zealous missionary, and 
 the disaffection of his few followers toward the Establish- 
 ment. Of course he, as a good Presbyterian, could not 
 countenance such disorderly proceedings, and forbade 
 Mr. Mcintosh to preach in any building within his do- 
 mains. This was enough for the bigoted partisans who 
 had arrayed themselves against the evangelical movement, 
 and they annoyed and worried this servant of God in ways 
 the laird would never have countenanced. He was not 
 only forbidden to preach in any building on the estate, 
 but the people were threatened not to harbor him in their 
 houses. One man in Grantown was actually fined heavily 
 for giving a night's lodging to the blessed outcast. 
 
 The little band now chose a grove, close by the house of 
 Mr. Thomas Dunbar, as their sanctuary ; and not a little 
 mirth was spent on them and their worship. The boys of 
 the region, hearing the minister and his views ridiculed at 
 home, felt quite at liberty to make his meetings a place 
 of merriment and rude sport ; and not unfrequently did the 
 little grove resound at the same time with the song of 
 praise and the laughter of fools. It was the custom of some 
 of these graceless young " sons of the church " to pelt him 
 with tufts of grass and other missiles while his eyes were 
 closed in prayer. One such scene made a deep impression 
 on the mind of Duncan Dunbar. While the man of God 
 was praying, a lad, darting from behind a tree, threw an 
 egg, which struck him in the forehead. Mr. Mcintosh 
 
12 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 raised his white handkerchief, and, manifesting not the 
 shghtest resentment, wiped away all traces of the insidt 
 without ever ceasing his fervent prayer. 
 
 Among the youths who came there from curiosity was 
 one of no little importance among his fellows. He paid 
 great attention to his personal appearance, and was looked 
 up to as the leader of the " ton," among the striplings of 
 Grantown. After the above-mentioned insulting attack 
 on the unoffending servant of God, and his awfully impres- 
 sive prayer, there was a great change in the mien of Peter 
 Grant. Many of the Httle artifices and ornaments which 
 had called forth the admiration of his associates were now 
 missing. His merry face was marked with great solem- 
 nity, and his once mirthful tongue was so silent as to call 
 forth the surprise of all who knew him. The spirit of God 
 had touched him. From that day Peter Grant was an 
 humble and devoted follower of Christ, and it was hence- 
 forth his glory to mingle in that lowly band as a brother 
 in tribulation. At these services in the grove, Peter 
 Grant and Duncan Dunbar first met. The former, several 
 years the senior, still lives to mourn the loss of a brother 
 beloved in the Lord. He is, and for long years has been, 
 the pastor of the very church founded by Lachlin Mcin- 
 tosh, in the care of which he is now assisted by his son. 
 Rev. William Grant. 
 
 Among Mr. Dunbar's papers we find the following in a 
 schoolboy hand : — 
 
 " I now removed to a friend's house far fi:om my father's. 
 
 Being a favori!-e of the minister of H , I received 
 
 from him the loan )f two books, ' The Spectator ' and a 
 volume of Tracts, wherein w^ere contained anecdotes of 
 several who had been converted. Their experiences were 
 
THE LAIRD OF GRANT. 13 
 
 interesting, I having never heard of the Hke before. I 
 read this book until I grew in love with the peace and joy 
 which seemed to possess their souls when they left their 
 former course and turned to God. I now resolved to 
 watch over my temper, and was so much in love with 
 virtue that I sacrificed many of my pleasures ; but still I 
 was uneasy. By and by thoughts of the being of a God 
 occurred to my mind, and I began reading the Bible. I 
 soon became convinced that I was a great sinner, and 
 must immediately repent." 
 
 Then follow these imperfect notes, never meant for 
 another's eye : — 
 
 " Sermon — watch and pray — great burden — over- 
 come with sleep — increasing views of God's holiness — 
 temptation that it is too late — call upon minister — call 
 again — fears of losing my soul and wish that 1 had never 
 been born — go home — dreams of horror — see my great 
 ignorance — know not what the gospel is — feel my hard- 
 ness of heart — hear of my brother's illness, and wish his 
 place were mine — go to see him — hear of Jesus' love — 
 feel some wonder, and decide it is no use to try — read 
 Pilgrim's Progress — no good." 
 
 But to return to Mr. Mcintosh. The Laird of Grant 
 had come back to his Highland Castle, and, hearing such 
 contradictory accounts of him, generously inquired into 
 the merits of the case. While Kirk partisans painted 
 his heresy in glowing colors, many, who had no sympathy 
 with his views, gave him, in justice, a kindly word ; and 
 his own adherents, who knew him better than either, 
 spoke of his forbearance, his zeal, and his unfaiHng kind- 
 ness to all parties, and pointed to many, who, througli his 
 
14 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 influence, had been drawn from open sin, and were now 
 virtuous and godly men. 
 
 When the noble laird saw that Mr. Mcintosh had been 
 a blessing to the community, rather than a curse, as had 
 been represented, he resolved, in the spirit of a true Scot- 
 tish gentleman, to make amends to him and his little flock 
 for the persecution they had suff'ered. He therefore gave 
 them land on which to build a chapel, where they might 
 worship God in their own humble way, unmolested. The 
 light that godly man then kindled on those Scottish hills 
 has never been quenched. It has guided many souls to 
 God, and still burns on brightly, showing the path to the 
 celestial city. 
 
 Young Dunbar had long been, as we have seen, 
 absent from home, and probably had heard nothing of 
 the little band who had now forsaken the grove, by his 
 father's house, for their own chapel. He still attended 
 the Kirk service, as his parents were rigid adherents of 
 its doctrines and forms. His mother, however, a woman 
 of the tenderest sensibilities, had felt a strong sympathy 
 for the persecuted Mcintosh, and he well remembered, 
 after having himself at one time entertained the family by 
 an account of " the sport in the grove," her taking him 
 aside and warning him solemnly to have no part in it, 
 saying, " This is a man of God, my son ; be very careful 
 how you treat him." 
 
 He was now at home again and about eighteen years of 
 age ; when, from what immediate cause we do not know, 
 his attention was turned to the concerns of his soul. He 
 grew suddenly sick of his former cherished amusements, 
 and began to dread tlie faces of his old companions. He 
 was restless and miserable. He know not what ailed him, 
 nor whither to flv for relief. His sins rose like mountains, 
 
A BLIND LEADER. 15 
 
 and he felt the wrath of God abiding on him. He was at 
 last brought to a complete stand. Praying, reading the 
 Bible, and forsaking his pleasures gave no comfort. He 
 formed a resolution bold for those days, — to lay his case 
 before the minister, beheving that he, if any one, could 
 heal diseases of the soul. Trembhng with the awe 
 which the Scottish minister of that time inspired, but 
 over which the young of our day and country have more 
 than triumphed, he presented himself at the manse, where, 
 being a great favorite, he had so often been honored by a 
 smile and the loan of a book. He was graciously received, 
 and, after much fear and trembling, succeeded in confessing 
 his burden of sin and portraying his anguish on account 
 of it ; and implored the minister as a man of God to 
 point him to the path of peace. It seems the worthy 
 man was not taken wholly by surprise, for rumor had 
 already brought to him the suspicion that the young leader 
 in the village gayety was growing melancholy — perhaps 
 losing his mind. So, after listening patiently for some 
 time, he said soothingly, " This canna' be, Duncan ; 
 ye are called by all one of the very best laddies in 
 Grantown. Ye are ill, my young friend, and your mind 
 has taken this melancholy turn." 
 
 His visitor insisted that his bodily health w^as never 
 better, and that only his soul was sick. 
 
 " Now, take my advice, laddie," said the old man, 
 kindly, " and return to your young companions and your 
 innocent pleasures, and thus throw off this morbid gloom. 
 Otherwise ye'll surely lose your reason." 
 
 Young Dunbar told him that the very thought of 
 those companions and pleasures and the hours he had 
 wasted with them were as arrows to his soul. The 
 minister looked pitifully at him and said, " I used to 
 
16 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 hear you playing the German flute in the garden ; now 
 try that again ; music will cheer ye, and surely ^>>^>'^ 
 canna' be any sin in a flute." 
 
 But, " as vinegar to the teeth, and as nitre to a wouna, 
 BO is music to a sorrowful heart." The skill of the physician 
 was well-nigh spent ; but a new thought now struck him. 
 
 " How old are ye, Duncan ? " he asked. 
 
 " Nineteen." 
 
 " And ye have never partaken of the sacrament ? " 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " Well, then, the cause of your trouble is quite plain 
 to me. Ye are the son of worthy Christian parents, 
 yourself an upright lad, bound to set a good example to 
 your companions. Ye have been unfaitliful, and God is 
 frowning on ye. At the next sacrament come forward 
 and take your place among the children of God, and after 
 partaking ye will be at peace, I think." 
 
 But alas, it was in vain ! The conscience, roused by the 
 Spirit of God, could not thus be lulled back to its carnal 
 slumbers, and he replied, " Oh, sir, I could never dare 
 to do that ! A sinner under the wrath of God and rebelling 
 against his justice, to sit down and commemorate his 
 dying love among his children ! He would surely come 
 out in sudden judgment, and smite me at his table." 
 
 After a little reflection, a new solution of the mystery 
 appeared to the minister, and, in a solemn tone, he said, 
 looking keenly into his young parishioner's eye, — 
 " Duncan, my lad, ye have always borne a good name in 
 the place, and been a gr(».at favorite, and all point to ye as 
 an example for the young. But I fear, from your ])resent 
 condition, that ye have deceived us all ! Ye must have 
 committed some awflil crime, which is tormentinfj vour 
 conscience and driving ye to despair. If this is so, ye may 
 
TEMPTATION TO SUICIDE. 17 
 
 confess it freely to me, in the strictest confidence, and I 
 will still be your friend. What ha' ye been doing, 
 laddie?" 
 
 " Nothing in all my life, sir, that I would not be willing 
 my parents should know. It is the sins of my heart, which 
 none but God can see, my rebellion against him, my re- 
 jection of Christ, — in short, my exceeding vileness in 
 his sight, which makes me wish I had never been bom ! 
 I am so fiall of sin that I cannot see how God can possibly 
 pardon me, and yet remain a just and holy Being." The 
 minister shook his head mournfully, admitted that he saw 
 no help, and dismissed his soul-stricken guest with the 
 cheering assurance, " I think ye are losing your mind, 
 laddie." 
 
 Young Dunbar being so well known in the parish, his 
 state of mind soon became a subject of discussion, and not 
 a few of the comments on it reached his ear, causing him 
 very deep distress. A dear and valued friend of his early 
 life, Mrs. Mc Allan, of Aberdeen, writes, since his death : 
 
 " You must have heard of his awful state of mind before 
 he obtained peace through the blood of the Lamb. He 
 was in Montrose, and one day made up his mind to com- 
 mit suicide, and thus put an end to his suffering, as he 
 in his desperation thought ; and this was his plan, — to 
 run along on the parapet of the bridge, and then drop 
 down, that it might be thought an accident, as he was 
 known to be fond of deeds of daring and fearless of all 
 danger." 
 
 " Failing to find any comfort from the minister," 
 writes a friend, " he went home, feehng as if he should 
 sink into the earth, and saying to himself, ' What shall 
 I do, and whither shall I flee to escape the vengeance of an 
 angry Gcd.' I think it was on the evening of that very 
 9* 
 
18 DUNCAN DUNBAR 
 
 day that he told a servant — perhaps the only person 
 who would listen to him — the cause of his trouble, and 
 explained to her the danger of living thus exposed to death 
 and hell. On hearing this, and witnessing his anguish of 
 spirit, she at once became the subject of like convictions. 
 He now felt the weight of her case added to his own, and 
 wept and prayed with her. We can easily imagine how 
 a family and neighborhood, unused to such manifestations, 
 would look upon them, nor can we wonder that they 
 should exclaim, ' Sure, the laddie's daft.' " 
 
 " I think we may conclude," continues the friend re- 
 ferred to, " that then and there commenced his life-work of 
 awakening, instrumentally, the careless, and winning souls 
 to Christ."- 
 
 While in this state of mental agony, he heard that a 
 neighbor had said, " Duncan Dunbar is going crazy 
 
 Hke old James , the schoolmaster, in the mountains. 
 
 He was taken the same way, talking about his being a 
 great sinner, which everybody knew was not true, and 
 mourning, lamenting, and praying for a long time; and 
 then came a change, when he did nothing but sing and 
 pray, and preach to everybody who would listen to him. 
 Of course the minister could not countenance such irregu- 
 lar conduct, and the parish school was taken from him, and 
 now he lives in great poverty in the mountains ; but 
 he talks and sings, preaches and prays, all the same, as 
 happy as a king." 
 
 These words opened a door of hope. One soul, at 
 least, had been in these bonds and was set free ; and who 
 could tell but that he also might yet be forgiven and saved ? 
 He at once resolved to pay a secret visit to the deposed 
 schoolmaster. One Sabbath morning, before the family 
 were astir, he left the house noiselessly and commenced 
 
THE DEPOSED SCHOOLMASTER. 19 
 
 his walk of several miles, in the gi'ay dawn. After some 
 hours he reached a group of cottages of the very humblest 
 class ever occupied by Scottish peasants, and inquired for 
 
 James . The one low door of the building; was 
 
 ajar, and, as he stood before it, a song of praise and 
 gladness broke the stillness of the Sabbath air. When that 
 ceased, the voice of prayer rose so clear and calm that he 
 felt it was entering the ear of Heaven. It was like music 
 to his soul, for the confessions as well as the desires were 
 his own. After the fervent " Amen," he tapped at the 
 door which led to the one apartment, and a kind voice 
 bade him " come in." He entered, and stood before a 
 gentleman, such as one would not expect to meet in so 
 poor a place. 
 
 In Scotland, the parish schoolmaster is no ordinary man, 
 but always a thorough-bred scholar, and usually a gentle- 
 man. In most cases such are educated for the ministry, 
 and, either choosing to teach, or failing to get the gift of a 
 living, take this position, second in importance only to the 
 minister's. In most of the rural villages of that noble land 
 young men can be fitted for college in the parish school 
 as well as in a collegiate academy, for only men who are 
 qualified to do this are ever appointed to the place. 
 
 Addressing his host, the visitor said, " I'm a stranger to 
 you, sir, and have come for a little advice." 
 
 Giving him a cordial greeting and seating him, the old 
 man said, " Ye are very welcome, laddie, to our })Oor 
 home. If it's business that brings ye, ye must abide till 
 the morrow, for we do none on the Lord's day." 
 
 The young stranger then opened his heart and told his 
 eri'and, while tears ran freely down the old man's cheeks. 
 When the tale was ended, he turned to his wife saying, 
 " Here you see an answer to our prayers ; I was one 
 
20 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 year," he said, " praying for the soul of my wife, and -svhen 
 God gave me that, we joined together in pleading for one 
 soul more." 
 
 Here, in this humble abode, the troubled one was pointed 
 to Christ as the only way of life, and warned not to make 
 a saviour of his prayers, his efforts, his tears, or even of his 
 deep convictions ; and the way to heaven by the cross, 
 without " the deeds of the law," was made plain to his 
 mind. 
 
 He was now informed that the worthy couple were 
 wont to walk several miles over the heath-covered hills 
 to meet a few disciples, of kindred spirit, for worship. 
 Forgetting the weariness of the way he had already 
 come, he gladly accepted their invitation to accompany 
 them thither. They were Independents, answering to the 
 Congregationalists of New England. Among them and 
 on his way home, his soul was filled to overflowing with 
 the peace of God and the joy of forgiveness. The change 
 was truly from darkness to light, and the glory of the 
 Lord filled his soul as fully as terror had done before. 
 " Shortly after he found peace," writes an honored friend, 
 " he saw his former minister, with whom he was still a 
 favorite. He entreated Duncan not to leave the Estab- 
 lished Church, but to stand by him, and to induce others 
 to do so likewise ; telling him that he might teach and even 
 preach to the people, but not to leave them ! " Then 
 Duncan took the bold step to say " that there was a 
 little band of people here who feared God, with whom he 
 now intended to worship." However little he may have 
 seen or known of Mr. Mcintosh's church after they wor- 
 shipped in the glen, he now discovered the sympathy there 
 was between himself and them, and, like Peter when re- 
 leased from prison, he went to his own company. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 A.«piratioas for a Military Life — Residence in Aberdeen — Marriage — Labors aa a Lay- 
 man — Thougbts on Cbristian Baptism — Desires for wider Usefulness — Sails fof 
 America — Low State of Evangelical Religion m the British Provinces — His Labon 
 in New Brunswick and their Results — Call to Ordination by an Independent 
 Church — Increased Trials on the Mode and Subjects of Baptism — Immersion and 
 Ordination — Settlement in St. George — Labors for the Blacks and Indians— Journal. 
 
 )0T long after his conversion, young Dunbar went 
 to the academy connected with the Edinboro' Uni- 
 versity, where he remained a considerable time. 
 On leaving school, his great desire was to enter the 
 army ; and a relative, Major Dunbar, and other in- 
 fluential friends, promised to get him a commission. 
 While waiting for this he left home on a hunting 
 expedition to the Lowlands. At Arbroath he made the 
 acquaintance of Mr. Penman, a dissenting minister of 
 the Relief church, whose views accorded with his own 
 and by whose preaching he was much edified. He 
 invited him most cordially to his house, where he en- 
 joyed true Christian fellowship. On his leaving, Mr. 
 Ponman, finding he was going to Brechin, asked him to 
 deliver a letter for Mrs. Penman to a young member of his 
 church, who, with her widowed mother and a sister, had 
 recently removed there. He did so ; and the acquaintance 
 thus formed resulted in his marriage to the lady to whom 
 he bore the letter, — Miss Christina Mitchel ; an event than 
 which no other proved more clearly GoS's kindness to him 
 personally, or conduced more to his success as a minister 
 of the gospel. Her gentle, loving nature, and her deep, 
 
 (21) 
 
22 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 earnest piety, made her unobtrusive life one long and beau- 
 tiful walk with God. 
 
 After this Httle tour, Mr. Dunbar returned to his High- 
 land home. Just then the victor}' at Waterloo put an end 
 to hostilities, and there was no more call for ofi&cers or 
 men. He therefore went into business in Aberdeen, and 
 soon after married. He remained several years in this 
 city, ardent and zealous as a Christian, and preaching as a 
 layman when opportunity offered. Feehng a deep interest 
 in the truth of God, and being an earnest student of the 
 Scriptures, his attention was now called to the mode and 
 subjects of baptism. He was not acquainted with one per- 
 son holding the views he afterward adopted, and his trials 
 and subsequent decision were wholly the result of read- 
 ing the New Testament. 
 
 Ha™g a strong desire for wider usefulness, Mr. Dunbar 
 now resolved to visit America. He left his native land in 
 June, 1817, and, as a rebuke to the impatient spirit which 
 in our time can hardl}^ brook ten days on the voyage, we in- 
 sert the following from his meagre journal kept during that 
 time : — 
 
 *' I left Scotland for America, June 5th, 1817, Sabbath, 
 in the ship ' Minerva,' Capt. Strachan, who treated me 
 with very great kindness. Sailed fi'om Aberdeen. In a 
 fortnight, anchored in Thurso Bay to wait for passengers. 
 Went on shore. In ten days sailed for Fort William. 
 Narrow escape ft-om being upset in a squall while running 
 up the narrow strait called * The Sound of Mull.' At Fort 
 William staid several days. Took in ten passengers, among 
 them Capt. Alexander Chisholm, late of the African Corps, 
 several years in Africa ; also a young priest and several 
 other Roman Catholics. Here often went on shore ; re- 
 
LABORS IN NEW BRUNSWICK. 23 
 
 ceived a letter to James Fraser, Esq., Halifax, to which, as 
 a means in the hand of Providence, I owe more than all 
 the others." 
 
 Having arrived in America, he proceeded to the British 
 Province of New Brunswick. We give an extract of a 
 letter from an esteemed friend in Eastport : — 
 
 " My mother can distinctly remember his telling her the 
 trials of his mind about coming to America. He believed 
 that his Master had a work for him to do on this conti- 
 nent ; and when he landed in Eastport he felt that he had 
 come to the wrong place, and so did not stop here, but 
 passed on to St. Andrews, where the same feeling took 
 possession of his mind. From that place he went to St. 
 George, and, in his own words, when he first set foot 
 on that soil he felt, ' This is the place ; I am where I 
 should be.' " 
 
 Here Mr. Dunbar was received with the warmth and 
 cordiality which awaited him wherever he went. His heart 
 was full of the work which had brought him over the 
 sea. For a short season he devoted himself to teach- 
 ing in St. George, his evenings being much occupied in 
 preaching in the village and vicinity. Numbers of his 
 scholars were hopefully converted. Though not yet or- 
 dained as a minister, he felt constrained to speak to his 
 ^ellow-men of the great truths of the gospel, which so 
 powerfully impressed his own mind, as he had previously 
 done, to some extent, in his own coi itry. His labors in 
 this respect were incessant, and characterized by the same 
 ardent zeal which marked his ministry in later years. 
 
 A lady, now resident in the States, remarked to the 
 w^riter that some of the people thought him '* eccentric," 
 which may be explained by the wide contrast between his 
 
24 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 own flaming zeal and the spiritual deadness which at that 
 time generally prevailed in the Province. 
 
 While residing in St. George, Mr. Dunbar made occa- 
 sional visits to St. Andrews and other places, spending a 
 week or fortnight at a time in visiting and preaching. On 
 such occasions he was her mother's guest, and she dis- 
 tinctly remembers his prayers in the family as being pecu- 
 liarly fervent and impressive. Once, she said, it seemed 
 to them that the very floor shook under them as they were 
 kneeling, so intense were his pleadings for the impenitent. 
 The impression then made upon her youthful mind was 
 never effaced. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar's visits to St. Andrews were very annoying 
 to the Church of England clergyman, a Mr. Mircy, who, 
 writes a friend, " threatened to imprison him for preach- 
 ing sectarian doctrines, until a Mr. McMaster, a Scotch 
 Presbyterian minister, told him it would be the dearest 
 thing that he ever did." 
 
 A pamphlet of one hundred pages, " A Concise View 
 of the Origin and Principles of the Several Religious 
 Denominations Existing; at present in the Province of 
 New Brunswick, by the Rev. D. Dunbar, 1819," con- 
 tains the following allusions to the reverend persecutor : 
 " Episcopacy is established by law in the Province of 
 New Brunswick ; and, although dissenters are tolerated, 
 they are in no wise allowed any help from the Province 
 treasury to build places of worship. That public purse, 
 however (which undoubtedly belongs to dissenters as 
 well as churchmen), is always open when one, two, or 
 three hundred pounds are wanted by a few individuals, in 
 any part of the province, to build an Episcopal church. 
 This partiality is not to be ascribed to any defect in the 
 established laws of the Province, but proceeds from the 
 
CHRISTIAN BAPTISM. 25 
 
 management of affairs in the House of Assembly, — a mat- 
 ter which dissenters will, no doubt, keep in view at the 
 next general election. The lukewarm indifference of the 
 church clergy has opened the eyes of many already ; and 
 Providence seems to have sent one gentleman of that 
 order (in mercy) ^ to the county of Charlotte, who, if 
 spared, will soon unmask himself and his brethren. He 
 is likely to make more dissenters in one month than all 
 the ' sectarian ' ministers in the province have made for 
 years." 
 
 Mr. Dunbar's sphere of labor becoming extended, and 
 his zeal and success attracting much attention, the Inde- 
 pendent Church in Sheffield, N. B., invited him to be- 
 come its pastor ; which invitation he accepted to the ex- 
 tent of preaching to them, ivithout adtninistering the ordi- 
 nances. The church were desirous that he should be or- 
 dained, and wrote him, wliile he was staying for a time 
 in St. John, expressing their dissatisfaction at his delay. 
 From his reply, we learn that this arose from his having 
 the subject of baptism under serious examination. But 
 he expected ere long to arrive at a decision, and more than 
 hinted at the result. At length his mind found rest in 
 the scriptural doctrine of believers' baptism, and he was 
 immersed by the Rev. Mr. Griffin, of St. John, in the 
 harbor of that city, October 31, 1818, in company with 
 Mr. (now Rev.) J. Bunting and others. He was ordained 
 at that time or immediately after. 
 
 It is interesting to know that about this time Mr. Mc- 
 intosh and his whole church in Grantown became Bap- 
 tists, and pastor and people were immersed in one day ; 
 and there a numerous band are still bearing their testimony 
 to the primitive simplicity of this significant ordinance. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar's change of views on this subject did not 
 
26 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 lose him either the esteem or confidence of his brethren 
 of other denominations. The church in Sheffield com- 
 missioned him, when leaving for Scotland the next 
 spring, to procure for them a pastor, which he did to 
 their satisfaction. 
 
 After this, Mr. Dunbar preached in various places, 
 chiefly in St. George, where he became pastor of the 
 Baptist church. 
 
 " The original church," writes a friend, " had nearly 
 lost its visibility, and its members were like the church in 
 Sardis ; but your father, after his change of sentiments, 
 called them together and told them he had a call from St, 
 Davids ; but if even ten of them would unite and form a 
 new church, he would stop with them, even though he 
 should have to live in the most frugal manner with bare- 
 ly the necessaries of life. He did stay ; and there was 
 such an outpouring of the Holy Spirit as is seldom seen ; 
 and most who came into the church at that time were 
 men of earnest, heartfelt piety." 
 
 From the journal which follows, some idea may be 
 formed of his labors in this place and elsewhere. It also 
 shows how his heart was affected by the religious destitu- 
 tion of the region, and how much he was interested in the 
 formation of a missionary society for the evangelization 
 of the Province, including the Blacks and Indians. 
 
 *' Sabbath^ March 14. Was very earnest with God 
 this morning for the help of his Spirit to give me a clear 
 view of the doctrine of internal grace and the Spirit's 
 work upon the hearts of his people, and particularly be- 
 cause the very foundation of this essential truth is at- 
 tacked by Mr. 's new notions, which seem to be gain- 
 ing ground. Was much straitened until a few minutes 
 before I entered the pulpit. Read one chapter of 1st 
 
LABORS FOR THE BLACKS, ETC. 27 
 
 John, and, In connection, lectured from fifty-first Psalm. 
 1 can truly say that the Lord heard and helped me. 
 From these portions of Scripture I was enabled to show 
 the necessity of feeling a lively sense of our daily sins, 
 and of confessing them to God, praying for his Spirit to 
 ai)ply the cleansing influence of the blood of Christ to our 
 guilty consciences. ...... 
 
 " In the evening, preached to the black people, at the 
 house of Mrs. S., from Isaiah xli. 9 : ' Thou whom I have 
 taken from the ends of the earth, and called thee from the 
 chief men thereof, and said unto thee, Thou art my ser- 
 vant ; I have chosen thee, and not cast thee away.' 
 Found great comfort in my own mind. Many of the 
 poor blacks attended, and some were in tears. En- 
 couraged them with the prospect of an African church, 
 and appointed another meeting for them to-morrow even- 
 incr. . . . . . . ■ . 
 
 " Spoke to the black people again from 1 John iii. : 
 ' Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed 
 upon us, that we should be called the sons of God ! ' 
 Having given liberty to any who might wish to speak, a 
 poor negro woman rose and declared that she had come 
 five miles the day before to seek the Lord, in consequence 
 of a strong impression on her mind. While speaking to 
 her of the love of God and of the blood of Christ as the 
 only sure foundation to rest upon, and of the great dan- 
 ger of delusion, she fainted away. 
 
 " Strong prejudice against the blacks in St. John. But 
 why all this ? Oh, wicked heart ! 
 
 " I think of establishing a missionary residence, for In- 
 dians or Blacks, where ministers may spend one month 
 each to labor with and improve them ; the only way to 
 clear expenses and make them independent." 
 
28 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 Thus was his great heart ever beating with pity for 
 those who had no helper, compassionate toward the sor- 
 rowful and outcast. 
 
 " Strong in faith when I awoke, to speak from Matt. 
 XXV. 39, 40. After breakfast and a solitary walk by the 
 seaside, went to church and spoke from the above words. 
 The Lord helped me. Thought how many there were of 
 God's people in this Province who were spiritually hun- 
 gry and thirsty and naked, and recommended missionary 
 efforts to Christians. Proposed a collection for that pur- 
 pose and promised to preach to the young people in the 
 evening. 
 
 " Did so, and was much helped in my exhortation to them 
 to share their privileges with others and proposed to them 
 to unite in a society. Preached from Acts xvi. : ' Men 
 of Macedonia,' &c. How many in this very province 
 wanted help, &c. ' One rich prof essor weMt out of the meet- 
 ing when I spoke of the iron chest, and Judas^ bag ! 
 
 " Sabbath. I find it good for a minister not to take 
 notice of every seeming, or even real, neglect. While 
 sick, some, of whom I hoped much, came not to see 
 me, but in church I took occasion to speak kindly to them, 
 taking no notice of anything. This seemed to gain, &c. 
 They appeared conscious of the neglect, and acknowledged 
 it. I said all was well. They kindly invited me to their 
 houses. May the Lord give me ' the wisdom of the ser- 
 pent,' &c. 
 
 " I visited several families, and overcame my usual diffi- 
 dence so far as to speak something in every place, and 
 found it profitable for myself. Lord, in my zeal for thy 
 cause let me speak though kings should hear. 
 
 " I give thee my soul this night, dear Saviour ; accept 
 and keep it." 
 
CHAPTER IV, 
 
 Formation of the New Brunswick Evangelical Society — Sails for Qreat Britain — Jour- 
 nal—Arrival in Glasgow — Hindrance in his Work — KLind Ileception and Sympathy? 
 from Dr. Chalmers, &c. — Journal — Letter. 
 
 fN the spring of the year 1819, a society was consti- 
 tuted under the name of "The EvangeHcal Society 
 9,^^ of New Brunswick," embracino; three reh'mous de- 
 •©* nominations, and numbering among its supporters 
 X^ some of the most eminent Christian men in the 
 Province. 
 
 It was deemed advisable that Mr. Dunbar should visit 
 Great Britain in behalf of the Society, to obtain funds 
 and missionaries. 
 
 He accordingly sailed from St. John in the " Marcus 
 Hill," June 19, 1819. 
 
 From a journal which he kept at this time we make a 
 few selections : — 
 
 " Wednesday^ June 19, 1819. Arrived at St. John. 
 In afternoon went on board with my black boy. I desire 
 to be useful on board this ship. I pray that God may give 
 me zeal and also favor in the eyes of the captain that I 
 may have access to the crew. 
 
 " Sunday. In the morning great desire to have my heart 
 softened with love to the perishing souls of the many around 
 me in this ship, but feel it as hard as adamant ; was, how- 
 ever, determined to follow duty, and consequently at 
 
 a* (29) 
 
30 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 twelve, having obtained the captain's consent, all hands 
 were mustered on the quarter-deck. All were silent and 
 attentive. Read and sung part of a hymn, prayed and ex- 
 pounded. Was very languid in my own mind, and had 
 no great freedom of speech. Oh that God's Holy Spirit 
 might follow what has been imperfectly said, that the 
 name of Jesus might be glorified, and at least one poor 
 soul be released from bondage. 
 
 " May God give me wisdom, that I may know how to be 
 all things to all men ! 
 
 " Administered some medicine to two sick men on board. 
 
 " Monday, Beautiful day, but no wind. Felt grieved 
 to hear the crew swear and blaspheme, and spoke plainly 
 to one K., from Greenock. He acknowledged his wrong 
 and was thankful for the admonition. Spoke much to 
 another, who has been sick for some time and is recovering. 
 He confessed his having some serious thoughts while con- 
 fined, and this was ground for my entering into serious 
 conversation with him. Encouraged by having embraced 
 such an opportunity. Many suggestions to my mind : ' You 
 are only a passenger ; you need not care for those on board ; 
 if you can conduct so that none can charge you with any- 
 thing unbecoming your profession, that is all that can be 
 expected,' &c. 
 
 " If the Lord will, I resolve to devote every Monday to 
 reading, and conversing, where opportunity occurs, with 
 the crew : and Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, 
 to writing ; Saturda}^ to self-examination, and prayer for 
 a blessing on the approaching Sabbath. 
 
 " Oh that I could live alone to God ! I have thought 
 to-day that I did not love at all, and I fear that thought 
 is true. Oh for grace to conquer my old nature ! 
 
 " At evening I took up Watts's Hymn Book, and while 
 
JOURNAL. 31 
 
 reading several liynins, I did sensibly experience in my soul 
 a degree of love to the Saviour, and could have given the 
 whole world that my love were stronger, my evidence 
 clearer, my faith more active, my corruption subdued. It 
 came forcibly into my mind that this comfortable frame 
 must have been produced by the Holy Spirit and that it 
 was an answer to prayer, for I was praying in the morn- 
 ing for this very thing. I think, while in such a frame, 
 how glad would I be to have an opportunity of j)reaching 
 the gospel to thousands. Oh that my dear Saviour would 
 manifest his love to my benighted soul ! Oh that my 
 dear wife were present to sliare in my jo3^s ! 
 
 " Monday. Nothing interesting during the last week ; al- 
 most a perfect calm, and my patience truly put to the test, 
 as my desires for a quick passage are very great and my 
 hopes extremely sanguine ; but the Governor of seas shall 
 do his pleasure, and he knows what is best for his 
 creatures. May I be enabled to say from the heart, ' Thy 
 will be done, whate'er betide.' 
 
 '' Oh, how hard to bring an ungrateful heart to a fixed 
 confidence in God, to a sense of his love, to a hatred of 
 sin, to a pure love of holiness ! 
 
 " Sunday. Crew assembled at twelve o'clock ; preached ; 
 great attention for an hour and a half. While I sang, prayed, 
 and read from the second to the thirty-first verses of Prov. i., 
 and discoursed from Gen. xxii. 10, I was encourao-ed to 
 hope the Lord would bless his word to some. How should I 
 feel encouraged was God to manifest his love to any of 
 these poor outcasts ! 1 was earnest with my Saviour in 
 the morning, that I might be helped to speak and feel a 
 sense of the worth of their souls. In some measure, 
 I trust, he heard me. 
 
 " The captain himself was very attentive, and as he has 
 
82 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 been reading the life of Col. Gardiner, which I gave him 
 a day or two before, I took occasion to speak with him 
 freely after dinner while walking together on the quarter- 
 deck." 
 
 Mr. D. reached Glasgow, August, 1819. While here, 
 he was the welcome guest of Donald Macdonald, Esq. ; 
 and the friendship between them was only interrupted by 
 the death of the former. Immediately on his arrival in 
 Scotland, Mr. D. commenced his labors in behalf of the 
 Missionary Society. His having become a Baptist now 
 raised a serious obstacle in the way of his mission. A Mr. 
 W., who had gone to New Brunswick from Ireland, en- 
 deavored to undermine his influence, by writing to Dr. 
 Chalmers and other clergymen of the Presbyterian Church 
 in Glasgow, that Mr. D.'s purpose was to raise funds 
 *' for making schism in the church already established in 
 the Province." 
 
 The subject was investigated by several Presbyterian 
 ministers, particularly by Dr. Love, Dr. Burns, and Dr. 
 Chalmers and others, of Glasgow, all of whom warmly sym- 
 pathized with Mr. D. in these trying circumstances ; and 
 the result was a most hearty endorsement of him by these 
 distinguished men, as a devoted minister of Christ, and of 
 his work as eminently important. 
 
 With these credentials he resumed his labors for the 
 Society, visiting various parts of Scotland, England, and 
 Ireland, and meeting with very encouraging success. He 
 was taken kindly by the hand, welcomed to the pulpits of 
 his brethren of various denominations, and encouraged to 
 plead his cause. Two or three men were found ready to 
 consecrate themselves to missionary w^ork in the Province 
 and to accompany him on his return. 
 
 During his absence from N. B., from June, 1819, to 
 
JOURNAL, 33 
 
 Oct. 1820, when he left Glasgow for America, he kept a 
 journal, devoted chiefly to a record of the religious exer- 
 cises of his mind. It will appear from this how faithful 
 he was with his own soul, and how, through severe 
 spiritual conflicts, God was preparing him to become 
 eminently an experimental preacher. 
 
 " December 8, 1819. Prayer to God ; desire to live unto 
 God. ... 
 
 " Alas, O my Saviour ! when shall I be wise ? When 
 
 shall I fear thee aright ? Look back, my soul, on B , 
 
 B , A , Edin , to Ireland, to Greeneck, to 
 
 GlascTow. Examine the state of the mind at all these 
 places. But oh, that solitary night at N. H. ; the promise 
 to God ; the prayer put up ; the journey to A. ; inter- 
 position at the moment the most desperate ! Surely this 
 is like God ; his manner of correcting his people ; bitter 
 in the bud ; mercies at Glasgow. Helps there from ser- 
 mons by Dr. Chalmers, Dr. Love, &c. 
 
 " Dr. C.'s text, Rom. — The manner of the Spirit's illu- 
 mination ; what grieved him, what cherished him. Dr. 
 Love, Acts vli. — 'I have seen, I have seen the affliction 
 of my people,' &c. He seeth ; he knoweth, for he sendeth 
 afllictlon ; but he cometh down to deliver. Improvement ; 
 bring trials under his notice by prayer. 
 
 " Much talk, even on religion, fosters pride and destroys 
 seriousness. O Lord, for Jesus' sake, give me grace to 
 tlilnk much and speak little. Let me hourly examine 
 myself. Keep me, Lord, from pride and presumption. 
 Let me never be satisfied nor count myself safe except 
 when humble, and calm, and solemn In mind. May I 
 ever value prayer more than I have done. 
 
 " Sabbath^ December — , 1819, at Liverpool. Morn- 
 ing, preaclied for Mr. Philip, from Isalali i. 13-16. 
 
34 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 1. Blessino; turned into a curse. 2. Test of this. 3- 
 Remedy. 
 
 "Preached in Spencer's pulpit. After meeting, stood on 
 his grave ; dispersed the snow with my foot from his 
 stone. 
 
 " In the afternoon, heard Mr. Phihp, from 2 Tim. iv. 18. 
 .... I have found this to be a truth ; and may the 
 Lord, by his Holy Spmt, deeply impress upon my mind 
 that if the means are neglected grace will not thrive. 
 ' Watch and pray.' 
 
 " Monday^ December — , 1819. At night, much de- 
 sire and some feeble effort to wrestle with God ; wishing to 
 be placed in some lonely situation ; but, then, Satan would 
 find me out. Lord, make me content, and fit me for 
 every duty. 
 
 " Tuesday, In the morning, rather calm ; went out de- 
 pending on the grace of God. The nature of my duty un- 
 friendly to watchfulness, but I see clearly nothing else will 
 secure victory. 
 
 '' Wednesday Morning. How pressing is sloth when one 
 awakens ; how hard to bring the mind to fix upon God ; 
 how malicious the devil ; how completely he manages my 
 soul and distresses me until 1 have recourse to God's Word, 
 the Sword of the Spirit ! Lord, for thy sake, teach me 
 more than ever to value thy Word ; and, oh, let thy Spirit 
 accompany it for my sanctification ! I think it is my de- 
 sire to live to God ; but so light, so vacant, so vain, so un- 
 stable are all my thoughts and resolutions, that I dare not 
 promise. Oh for a fulfilment of that Scripture, ' The 
 Lord will deliver me from every evil word, and preserve 
 me unto his heavenly kingdom I ' 
 
 " Surely, the tongue is an unruly member, a world of 
 iniquity, set on fire of hell. Lord, deliver me from it. 
 
JOURNAL. 85 
 
 '* Friday, December 17, 1819. Hard to keep the vain 
 heart near to God in any duty, especially public duties, in 
 a strange place. 
 
 " Sabbath, December 19, 1819. Oh, the devices of 
 Satan ! the danger of comfortable feelings ! — they make 
 one think he is strong, and then Satan is ready to attack. 
 .... Some hope in reading the twenty-fifth Psalm, and 
 in prayer. 
 
 " Tuesday Evening, December 21 This night, 
 
 O Lord, my naked soul would fall upon thy mercy in 
 Christ, and pray thee, for his dear name's sake, to accept 
 of me, soul and body, as I vowed at N. H. Oh, let me no 
 more wander ; sanctify and cleanse me, and prepare me for 
 thy service, in dependence upon thy sovereign grace. 
 
 " O God, search my heart ; let me know how I can ob- 
 tain assurance of thy pardoning love. My soul would 
 pant after thee, O adorable Saviour ! Surely the recovery 
 of such a rebel will glorify thy matchless grace 
 
 " . . . . Do I desire credit for what may be done, or is 
 it my only desire that Christ may be exalted, and sinners 
 saved ? O God, make my soul sincere, and pardon all 
 the past ! 
 
 " Wednesday, December 22. To-day very successful In 
 
 behalf of the Society O blessed Saviour ! guide me 
 
 by thy word and Spirit, and keep my feet from falling. 
 
 " Sunday, December 26, 1819. Heard Mr. Philip, from 
 Psalm . Beauty of Holiness. 
 
 " Afternoon. Preached for Mr. Philip, from Heb. ii. 3. 
 Much fear, but I believe the Lord helped me. Heard Mr. 
 Raffles. Powerful language and choice expressions, but 
 too much motion of the body. Discourse from 1 Cor. xv. 
 It was blessed to my soul. Oh, may all within me bless 
 His holy name! May I ever have the same confidence 
 
36 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 that He only designs to refine, not consume me. Faitli is 
 surely everything ; all things follow it. O God of mercy, 
 I desire, on this last Sabbath of the year, to thank and adore 
 thee for thy many favors. I would remember my engage- 
 ments to be thine, if thou wilt keep me. My soul, remem- 
 ber this and fear God. I feel to-night as if I should have 
 strength supplied to bear me up. 
 
 " O my soul, give not up your hold of God's mercy, 
 nor his cause in which you are engaged. 
 
 " Monday^ December 27, 1819. Awoke to-day in a 
 very comfortable state, with these words running through 
 my mind, ' Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou 
 shalt be saved.' 
 
 " Spoke at the Lyceum ; was surely helped ; then, oh, 
 what pride ! Lord, guard me against this in future. I 
 seem to hope that He will, at some period, reveal himself 
 to me in love. At times, I am willing to be anything to 
 have Christ, and faith in him ; again, aversion, indiffer- 
 ence. Think often I was never converted. Well, now, 
 let me admit this, — if not converted, how awful my latter 
 end, — a hypocrite ! Oh for grace to know this, to taste 
 the joys of salvation and the love of God ! Confused ideas 
 of God and Christ ; too readv to take things at venture and 
 hearsay ; proof of lukewarmness and want of saving faith. 
 All worldly conversation no friend to grace. Word of God 
 very precious. 
 
 " January 25. Felt earnest desires after God in pray- 
 er ; hard heart, in some measure removed. 
 
 " Surely, nothing short of communion ^vith God ought 
 to satisfy a soul. This morning, I resolved, in God's pres- 
 ence and by the entire help of his Spirit and grace, that I 
 will desire this one thing and seek after it. 
 
 " Surely Hart of London is right in saying, ' A true 
 
JOURNAL. 37 
 
 Christian looks more to Christ crucified for comfort, than 
 he does to the subduing and destruction of sin in his 
 lieart.' Oh, yes ! the latter, I find, may be carried on 
 under a self-righteous covering, and Christ have no room 
 there. None but Christ ! None but Christ ! 
 
 " When conscience charges me with sloth, careless indif- 
 ference about my soul, I feel a secret wish for the return 
 of keen distress. I think this must be of Satan. In 
 these distresses he finds opportunity of putting in his accu- 
 sations ; — the door is open — accounts are looked into — 
 and when it is a time of general reckoning, he can the 
 more easily forge a weighty charge and give his advice 
 when the soul finds not wherewithal to pay. I do not 
 recollect that I have been prevailed upon to pray for dis- 
 tress ; yet he would surely delight to see matters brought 
 thus far, for this would be contrary to all Scripture — 
 to all the Psalms — to the Lord's Prayer, &c. Surely, 
 not distress and temptations so much as love to Christ, 
 will constrain the soul to obedience. Let me be patient, 
 and pray to God under distress, but not for it. 
 
 " Jan. 28. Called on Mr. M. Unprofitable conversa- 
 tion. Oh, when shall I be wise ? When shall I despise 
 the opinions of men ? Some men keep all their own mat- 
 ters, and yet w^ould like to know the minds of others. May 
 I be decided and humble. May I love God's people, his 
 word and prayer. At family worship, read in John iii. — 
 light but no heat. 
 
 " Monday, Jan. 31, 1820 Called on Dr. Love. 
 
 Oh, how cursed pride runs through my every 
 
 word and action ! Surely it must be destroyed in the bud, 
 if ever. Oh, to attain to a command over my spirit, by 
 
 4 
 
38 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 the fear of God and belief in his omnipotence and omni- 
 science ! 
 
 ''^ Feb. 5. Pride will feed upon anything rather than 
 
 starve Oh, let me set much value upon prayer ! 
 
 Astonishing the struggles of indwelling sin and corruption, 
 — how subtle the enemy. Watch and pray, O my soul ! 
 
 " Feb. 9. No command of myself ; sore struggle in the 
 morning ; an army of doubters ; unbelief, fear, corruption, 
 hardness of heart ; a mighty and painful storm ; slow to 
 pray ; but prayer relieved me in the course of the day. . 
 .... Pride is first born, then weak, then grows up, and 
 being a little cherished, asks more. What is man ? Oh, 
 may it be my inquiry. How do I appear in God's sight ? 
 Am I pleasing him or no ? Oh, to have assurance of 
 God's love in Christ ! Helped when reading Hart's 
 Hymns. 
 
 " Feb. 10 Convinced by the Scriptures, by 
 
 Hart, by Dr. Stewart, by conscience, that nothing short 
 of the personal appropriation of Christ's blood and right- 
 eousness will do, or will be suffered to support the soul in 
 the day of trial ; and by the help of God's Spirit I will seek 
 
 after this Oh, what would I give for a touch of 
 
 Christ's love ! Oh, such enmity, such hardness in the 
 
 heart ; such a man of iniquity and ingratitude ! 
 
 If God will have mercy upon me, I purpose to seek after 
 
 communion with himself. Harp on the willow, 
 
 indeed. Oh that I might know and feel for poor souls in 
 like distress, and point them to the Saviour ! Surely this 
 needs faith divine, a gift from God, — when Jesus hides 
 his face, to trust him. ...... 
 
 '' Oh, what is man without command over his spirit ? 
 What is man without prayer ? Empty, proud, vain, hypo- 
 critical, exposed to every snare. O my Saviour, how 
 
JOURNAL, 39 
 
 much I need forgiveness ! 1 see this night, and may I 
 never forget this while I have my being, that I cannot 
 trust myself one moment ; that grace, like the manna, will 
 not keep, — must be gathered every day. And I see that 
 grace need not be expected to defeat temptation, unless 
 valued, and sought for by diligent and earnest prayer. 
 Past help will not help in present trials and temptations. . 
 
 Oh, how generously and mercifully the Spirit 
 
 urges to compliance ! Oh, what false logic ! Were 
 
 I less sinful, I could freely come ; yea, but not in that event 
 as a vile and empty sinner, ready to perish, destitute of 
 every hope save the mere mercy of God in Christ. 
 
 " Wednesday^ Feb. 16. At Dr. Love's to dinner ; may 
 I, from his behavior, learn humility, — be swift to hear, 
 &c. 
 
 " With Dr. Chalmers. 
 
 " March 2, 1820. When nothing troubles me I am quite 
 
 careless. Surely I need a thorn in the flesh 
 
 Alas, I almost forget poor New Brunswick! Lord, 
 quicken me ! ....... 
 
 " Received great help, this evening, in reading the letter 
 from my dear friend. Miss M. Oh, may God hear her 
 prayer ! I am encouraged to hope that God will yet 
 have mercy on N. B. Oh, how sweet the spirit of true 
 missionary zeal ! 
 
 '' Sunday^ March 12, 1820. Felt a sensible touch of love 
 to the Saviour, or rather a most sweet and ardent desire 
 after that love. Oh, this was pleasing ! May the blessed 
 Spirit come and make my soul like the chariot of Amin- 
 adab. Long have I been in captivity and darkness. 
 
 ** March 14, 1820. Great and kind Providence, — meet- 
 ing with three young men, all partly inclined to go to N. B. 
 Oh, when I look back to the origin of the So- 
 
40 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 ciety, to all the steps, &c., to the present, I say, surely it 
 is of God. O my dear Redeemer, keep me humble, and 
 make me sincere Oh, I desire to be His." 
 
 "When in Ireland, on the business of his mission, Mr. 
 Dunbar's heart was with the lambs he had gathered into 
 the fold in St. George. He writes to one : 
 
 . . . . " I hope, my dear young friend, that the deceit- 
 fulness of sin has not gained any encouraging victory over 
 your soul ; that you are still living by faith on the bleed- 
 ing wounds of our once suffering but now exalted Re- 
 deemer Do you feel your love to Jesus becom- 
 ing cold, and your delight in prayer less ? If so, take 
 heed, my dear friend ; your adversary is thus seeking to 
 destroy you. Pray much and often ; tell the Saviour 
 freely what you see and feel in yourself He is very 
 merciful. He knows what those temptations mean. 
 Read much in the epistle to the Romans. Think much 
 on the sufferings and death of Christ. Remember that 
 
 ' His wisdom, his power, his faithfulness stand 
 Engaged to conduct you in safety to land ; 
 He will not forget you ; he cannot forget 
 What Calvary witnessed to cancel your debt ! * 
 
 *' I often speak of you to my friends in this country, and 
 you have the good will of many you will never see in the 
 "flesh." 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Returns to Scotland — Black Harry — Embarks with his Family fbr America — Labors 
 on Shipboard — Provisions Fiiil — Ilis Faith in God — A Birth in the Steerage — 
 Visit from a Whale — Sufferings from Ilunger — God in the Storm. 
 
 m 
 
 AVING accomplished the object of his visit to 
 Great Britain with reference to the Missionary 
 Sociefy, Mr. Dunbar set sail, with his wife and 
 three children, for America, in the fall of 1820. 
 The particulars of the long and perilous voyage 
 are well remembered by his eldest daughter, Mrs. Brush, 
 wife of Rev. Wilham Brush, who has prepared the follow- 
 in o- account of it, embracing also a few earlier incidents : 
 " The first event of any importance I can recollect is 
 our dear father's return from America, when we were 
 all roused from our sleep in the night to see him. In the 
 morning he showed us Harry, the young black man he 
 had brought over to take care of us on the sea. We had 
 never seen a colored person before, and were almost terror- 
 stricken at the strange phenomenon. Father .gave us 
 each a piece of silver for him, and made us stroke his 
 black hand and talk to him, till we lost our fears, and very 
 soon we were great friends. Harry was the son of a good 
 woman in St. John, who had in some way procured her 
 own ftMiedom, with the privilege of purchasing her son's, if 
 she could. When she heard that father was looking for 
 some one to go home with him, she implored him to take 
 Harry, and to beg his friends to buy him. This Hither 
 did, raising the whole amount. Harry waited on us dur- 
 4* UD 
 
42 DUXCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 ing the voyage, and was most kind, attentive and obedient. 
 Poor fellow ! He suffered all that we did on that terrible 
 passage, reached home, and greeted his mother, a free and 
 happy young man, only to lose his hfe by the same 
 treacherous element from which we had just escaped. He 
 had gone out, not long after his return, in a little row- 
 boat, in the harbor of St. John, and was drowned within 
 a hundred yards of the shore. The poor heart-broken 
 mother could not rest till she came and lived with us in St. 
 George. I mention Jenny and Harry only to show the 
 deep interest our father always took in the slaves. It 
 began with these two and ended only with life. 
 
 '' The next event which made any deep impression on my 
 childish memory was the distress and anguish, venting 
 itself in tears, of our grandmother Mitchel at parting with 
 us. After we had all been kissed again and again, and 
 pressed to her heart many times, we entered the carriage, 
 the door was closed behind us, and the horses started. 
 She ran after us, opened the door, and threw herself into 
 the carriage in an agony of grief. It was with great diffi- 
 culty that she was induced to go into the house w^hile her 
 youngest child was going away fr'om her forever. Her 
 swollen eyes and agonized countenance I shall never forget. 
 That was the last w^e ever saw of our grandmother. 
 From Glasgow we took some kind of vessel for London- 
 derry, and had a terrible night on the L'ish Channel, the 
 weather being stormy and the waves running high. 
 Dear mother was much alarmed in prospect of the long 
 voyage, when this short one was so fearful ; but the 
 captain assured her that he had often crossed the Atlantic 
 without encountering such winds and waves, and en- 
 couraged her to believe that she was seeing the worst of 
 the sea. But how false this kind prophecy proved ! 
 
JOURNAL. 43 
 
 " We embarked for America on board a ship called, 
 * The Halifax Packet.' I remember standing upon the 
 deck while father was attending to his luggage, and 
 watching the sailors shovelling potatoes into the hold 
 with a loud ' Heave ho ! ' at every effort. In my child- 
 ish curiosity, I asked a gentleman standing by me, 
 what those men wanted of so many potatoes. He 
 replied that the ship had not ballast enough to keep her 
 steady on the sea; that stones were generally used, 
 but the captain could get none, so they had to make po- 
 tatoes answer the purpose. We little knew that tliis 
 lack of proper ballast and the substituting of potatoes for 
 stones was part of the great plan of a kind Providence for 
 saving the lives of all on that ship. 
 
 " I have no recollection of any occurrence on shipboard 
 until we came to suffer from hunger and thirst, except 
 that father used to preach on the Sabbath when the pas- 
 sengers could keep their seats, and sometimes when 
 they could not do so very comfortably, and that he used to 
 walk the deck arm in arm with gentlemen, in earnest 
 conversation, which I have since learned was on the one 
 subject which wholly engrossed his mind, — the salva- 
 tion of the soul through the blood of Christ. Through 
 this daily prayerful effort, several souls were brought to 
 God, among whom was Captain Leary, a Roman 
 Catholic, who was a pa&senger. A letter is found 
 among father's papers, from a young man, written while 
 a student in the Princeton Seminary, referring to his 
 conversation with him, then a little boy, as the means of 
 drawing his attention to his state before God, and leading 
 him to Christ. Some of the sailors were also converted 
 through his instrumentality. Captain Leary was bap- 
 tized by Dr. Maclay, on his arrival in New York, and is, 
 
44 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 we believe, now living to bear his testimony of Christ 
 among those to whose creed of prayers and penances 
 he once subscribed. Who shall know until the day 
 when the books are opened, what results have followed 
 those labors of love on the mighty deep ! 
 
 " ' The Halifax Packet ' proved wholly unseaworthy, 
 and after being out a month, was driven back by wind 
 and wave to within a hundred or two miles of the Irish 
 coast. She was provisioned for only eight weeks, and 
 when the captain saw how things were going and that 
 the passage would be much longer than usual, he began 
 to allowance all on board except the sailors, saying, 
 ' My men have to work, and they must be well fed.' 
 Cabin and steerage passengers were put on a level in 
 the distribution, and all submitted to the privation with 
 that sympathy toward each other which common misery 
 induces. At length the day came when the captain was 
 forced to announce that the last grain of rice, barley, flour, 
 oatmeal, meat, and fish had been given out, — nothing re- 
 maining between us and starvation except the potatoes 
 in the hold. To add to the terror of our situation, we 
 were now at the mercy of the waves, not knowing in what 
 part of the ocean we were. The compass having been 
 washed overboard, the captain had no means of making 
 his reckoning. Now came the last resort. The potatoes, 
 which certainly had not improved in quality by lying 
 many weeks in the damp hold, were brought up, and each 
 one — there were fifty passengers, and a crew of nineteen 
 men — was allowanced to four potatoes and a gill of 
 water a day ! For sixteen weeks we existed on this poor fare, 
 until the sailors became so weak that they could no longer 
 work the ship. The captain then called on every man on 
 board to take his turn at whatever was required to be done. 
 
A BIRTH IN THE STEERAGE. 45 
 
 Then the gentlemen from the cabin and state-rooms as well 
 as the poor men from the steerage, came into the new ser- 
 vice, each taking his turn at the pump ; for the ship was 
 leaking badly. 
 
 '' I remember well how father used to comfort our c rar 
 mother and all the other weak and timid ones who flocked 
 round him during this terrific season. He would repeat 
 portions of Scripture, and sing hymns, and pray with 
 those who sent for him to any other part of the ship — 
 and they were many, — leading the mind up from our 
 trials, to God, who cares for the weakest and most helpless 
 of his creatures. How often did he refer to Paul's ship- 
 wreck, reminding those who listened, that not one soul 
 on board perished, but every one was, in God's own time, 
 brought safely to land. ' So,' he said, ' I firmly believe 
 it will be here with us.' He used every circumstance, 
 however trivial, which occurred, to strengthen his own 
 faith as well as theirs. One morning it was announced 
 that a babe had been born in the steerage ; and, strange 
 as it may seem, this caused great joy among all classes in 
 the ship ; and father exclaimed : ' I do believe that God 
 intends to save our whole company ; for, instead of tak- 
 ing away a single Hfe by sickness, starvation, or accident, 
 he has added another to our number.' He then proposed 
 that any one who felt that he could spare one potato a 
 day, or even half a one, should send it to the poor Irish 
 mother, who had now another life, beside her own, to 
 save. She had a full supply after this, whoever else was 
 hungry. The boy, by request of the passengers, was 
 named for the captain. 
 
 " One day an immense whale came alongside our 
 ship, and began performing strange antics, not so enter- 
 taining to those who understood the danger as to us chil- 
 
46 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 dren, who amused ourselves by throwing sticks and bits 
 of paper on his glossy back ; the sea being, at the time, 
 very calm. He had to be very carefully watched for 
 twenty-four hours, lest he might overturn the vessel, by 
 getting under it. The captain told us the whale had 
 mistaken the ship for his mate, and would not leave till he 
 discovered his mistake. After it grew dark, many of the 
 passengers came to our state-room, saying that they could 
 not sleep while they knew he was there making the sea 
 foam around us. Then father reminded them that ' God, 
 who kept Jonah alive three days inside of a whale, could 
 surely take care of us who were on the outside.^ He as- 
 sured them that not a hair of their heads should perish ; 
 and I doubt not that was his prayer all through the night. 
 About daylight the whale moved off, and left us easy as 
 far as he was concerned. 
 
 " How often have I seen our father, in this time of dis- 
 tress, eat the skins of the potatoes that we might have a 
 larger share ; and often he and our dear mother would 
 not taste water for days, lest we should cry for it at night 
 and they have none to give us. When rain fell, which 
 was very seldom, every one ran on deck with a sheet or 
 any thing which would hold water, to catch, if possible, 
 a few drops of the precious liquid. I can call to mind, 
 now, the yellowish-black color of the water, and its tarry- 
 taste, from the ropes and rigging through which it passed 
 before reaching us. 
 
 " We had a small cabin, with a table of our own, 
 where poor Harry waited on us. Sometimes, when he 
 would bring in the one dish and set it in the middle of 
 the table, father would say : ' Well, Harry, my boy, how 
 do you think the potatoes are holding out ? ' Once, he 
 
FAITH IN GOD. 47 
 
 replied : ' There are not many left, sir. I looked down 
 to-day when the steward was taking them out.' 
 
 " ' Well, Harry,' he answered, ' the Saviour knows all 
 ahout us ; just what spot of the ocean we are in, and just 
 what we need most ; and he could, if he saw fit, multiply 
 the potatoes in the hold when no one saw him, just as he 
 did the loaves and fishes ; or he could send a vessel along- 
 side, as he has done once ; or he can bring us to shore be- 
 fore the last potato is gone. He will take care of us, 
 Harry.' 
 
 " Once, when the dish came in, my little sister said : 
 * Don't ask a blessing to-day, dear father, I'm so hungry.' 
 
 " ' O yes, my dear,' he repHed, ' we must ask a short 
 blessing. I will not preach a sermon, but just thank 
 God that we took potatoes instead of stones for ballast ; 
 for, you know, we could not have eaten stones.' 
 
 " How vividly come up to my mind the gentle tones 
 of our mother's voice, as she used to quiet our infant 
 fears. In the darkness of the night, when no light could 
 be kept for the wind and spray, and when, as I have since 
 heard her say, she was expecting that every plunge of 
 the groaning ship would be the last, she used to sing to 
 us, — 
 
 * The wondering world inquires to know 
 
 Why I should love my Saviour so ; ' 
 
 * Jesus, anl shall it ever be, 
 
 A mortal man ashamed of thee 1 * 
 
 " And also many of the beautiful Scotch Paraphrases, 
 as,— 
 
 * The Lord my Shepherd is, 
 
 My wants he will supply ; 
 Through pastures green he leadcth me, 
 The quiet waters by. 
 
48 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 My soul he doth restore again ; 
 
 And me to walk doth make 
 Within the paths of righteousness, 
 
 Even for his own name's sake. 
 
 * Yea, though I walk in deal's dark shade. 
 
 Yet will I fear none ill ; 
 For Thou art with me, and thy rod 
 
 And staff, me comfort still ; 
 My table Thou hast furnished 
 
 In presence of my foes ; 
 My head Thou dost with oil anoint ; 
 
 And my cup overflows. 
 
 * Goodness and mercy all my life 
 
 Shall surely follow me ; 
 And in God's house, forever more, 
 My dwelling-place shall be.' 
 
 " She used often to gather us around her in her own berth, 
 for much of the time it was too boisterous to sit or stand, 
 and there amuse us with Bible stories. She told Us of 
 Daniel, who was safe even in a lion's den, and of the 
 three men who were unharmed in the fiery furnace ; and 
 of Elijah, whom the ravens fed when hungry, — all be- 
 cause God was with them, and cared for them. Once, I 
 remember, she told us many of the names given to Jesus, 
 in the Bible ; as ' Sa\T;our,' ' Immanuel,' ' Son of Man,* 
 ' The Mighty God,' ' Prince of Peace,' ' The Mighty 
 One of Jacob.' 
 
 " This last seemed to my childish mind the best of all ; 
 and after that, when the winds would howl louder and the 
 vessel plunge more fearfully than usual, I used to say, 
 ' O dear mother, do tell us about the Mighty One of 
 Jacob ! ' And, now, as I look back, it seems that I must 
 have had strong childish faith in this Mighty One, who is 
 able to save to the uttermost all who call upon him. 
 
 ** One scene made an impfression on my mind never to be 
 
GOD IN THE STORM. 49 
 
 effaced. We had passed an awful night, and as none were 
 able to sleep, the cabin-passengers had been going about all 
 night to each other's state-rooms, trying, by conversation 
 and prayer, to inspire themselves and others with hope. 
 
 " At daylight, our fiither went on deck to learn the cause 
 of the trouble. He soon returned, saying to mother, ' Oh, 
 my dear, I wish you were able to go on deck for one mo- 
 ment ! But as you are not, I must take the children up, 
 one at a time, that they may see the wonderful works of 
 the Almighty God ! They will never forget this sight ! ' 
 
 " He then took me in his arms to the top of the cabin- 
 stairs. We were in a tremendous gale ; the waves, 
 covered with white, boiling foam, seemed higher than our 
 masts' heads, and the roar of the ocean was truly awful. 
 The laboring ship mounted a tremendous wave, and then 
 went down as if to be swallowed by the angry sea ; but 
 soon she rose again on another wave, and then sank to rise 
 again and again. I instinctively turned away, and grasp- 
 ing my father round the neck, implored him to take me 
 down to mother. I was so terrified that he did not think 
 it best to take my little sisters on deck. I remember, w^hile 
 he stood there with me in his arms, as I turned from the 
 sight, he urged me to look at the sea, saying, ' See what 
 a powerful God our God is. He who can make these 
 waves and keep them within their bounds, can prevent 
 their dashing our weak vessel to pieces ; and, if he chooses, 
 he can say to them at any moment, Peace, be still, and 
 they will all sink away and lie quiet around us.' 
 
 " One day, after we had been out a very long time, it be- 
 ing beautifully clear and calm, the sailors sprang into the 
 long-boat and rowed round the vessel, to see what condition 
 her hull was in. She had before this sprung aleak, so that 
 all the male passengers had had to take their tui'ns at the 
 
 6 
 
50 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 pumps to keep her from filling. But, suddenly, from some 
 cause not discovered, the leak had stopped. The examin- 
 ation revealed the cause. They found the whole outside 
 of the ship covered with little shell-fish, called barnacles. 
 They were very hard and glossy, having all the«tints of the 
 rainbow intermingled, like those in the pearl-oyster. The 
 shells were so closely set together that they covered the 
 whole sides and bottom of the ship, hke a coat-of-mail, 
 forming a mass impervious to water. This was what had 
 stopped the leak, and prevented others. The sailors picked 
 off several barnacles from a part of the hull where they 
 could be spared, and brought them on board for the passen- 
 gers to see. Father showed them to us, saying, ' You see 
 how God can bring his own carpenters and ship-joiners 
 across the ocean with him, and how he could make them 
 work without even the sound of a hammer or broad axe. 
 This shows that God means to save us from the aiigi*y 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Land Ahead — Wrecked on the Coast of Bermuda — Kind Reception — Letters -• 
 Preaching on the Island. 
 
 T length the potatoes failed ; and one day the 
 captain told the passengers that there were only 
 enough in the hold to supply them twenty-four 
 hours longer. 
 
 " Amid the sad forebodings which followed this 
 communication, a loud cry broke from the sailors on the 
 deck, echoing through the cabin and steerage, — 'Land 
 ahead ! Land ahead ! ' 
 
 '^ This was about sunset. The news was too joyful to be 
 believed, until several gentlemen went up as far as they 
 could into the rigging to see for themselves. Our sound- 
 ings also proved tliat we were nearing sc-me shore ; but the 
 captain feared to approach lest he might be driven on the 
 rocks durincr the nio;ht. 
 
 " The flag of distress, which had been floating for months, 
 was first descried fi'om an eminence called ' Sicmal Hill,' 
 on St. George's, one of the Bermuda Islands. None on 
 board could tell what land we had in sight, neither could 
 the sailors guide the disabled ship into the harbor. So, 
 now, after this bright dream of joy, there were fears that 
 we might be drifted out again to the open sea before 
 help could reach us. Lest the tattered signal of distress 
 might not be discerned, they hoisted, in addition, red 
 
 (51) 
 
52 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 shirts and blue trousers of the sailors and bright garments 
 of the little children. 
 
 " The little Independent Church on the island had been 
 looking daily for a ship from England bringing a mission- 
 ary to labor among them. Some pious women of their 
 number, in their loving, prayerful watch for this man 
 of God, saw our signal, and at once hurried to report, ' A 
 wreck in the harbor.' 
 
 " About two o'clock, p. m., on Saturday, April 13th, 1821, 
 one hundred black mariners, in white jackets, put off from 
 the shore and came to us. They filled two long-boats, and, 
 by fastening ropes to our vessel, towed her into the harbor 
 of St. George's, the most easterly of the group forming the 
 Bermuda Islands. The passengers, for sanitary reasons, 
 were not allowed to land until after the Sabbath ; but the 
 inhabitants could not w^ait till Monday to relieve us. They 
 came down, bringing fruits, wines, crackers, with every 
 other delicacy they could procure, directing that the 
 clergymen, of whom there were several, with their fami- 
 lies, should be first served. The captain, however, through 
 his speaking-trumpet, forbade any one tasting an article 
 without his orders, as the least imprudence would cost 
 them their lives. He then gave each one a quarter of an 
 orange and a teaspoonfiil of wine, and after a w^hile a little 
 more wine, with a bit of cracker, repeating this until the 
 stomach could bear the nourishment. 
 
 " On Monday, the passengers were all taken off the ship, 
 and borne away as the guests of the sympathizing people. 
 The ministers were taken home by the wealthiest inhabi- 
 tants of the island and entertained hke princes. I remem- 
 ber we slept in beds draped with the richest damask hang- 
 ing from gilded canopies, and ate at tables laden with gold 
 and silver service, and attended by many blacks. As our 
 
PREACHING. 53 
 
 garments were nearly all ruined by dampness as well as by 
 the wear of six months on the sea, dress-makers were em- 
 ployed, until our party of missionaries going to the Prov- 
 inces were fitted out with more than the minister's usual 
 allowance. 
 
 " Our dear father preached many times there, and the peo- 
 ple flocked round him to hear him talk of divine things.^ 
 
 1 Mr. Donald McDonald, an early and dearly beloved friend of Mr. Dun- 
 bar, and whose hospitable dwelling was his home while in Glasgow on the 
 business of the mission, kindly sends a letter, written after this terrible pas- 
 sage by his brother-in-law, Mr. Matheson, a fellow-passenger on board the 
 ill-fated ship. It is dated Sutter Hall, St. George, N. B., the residence of 
 the Hon. Hugh McKay, a warm friend of Mr. Dunbar, and an oflScer of the 
 New Brunswick M':;6ionary Society. 
 
 "Mr. Dunb*" preached several times during our continuance on the 
 Island, and gave universal satisfaction to all classes. People flocked from 
 all quarters to hear him, and much praise has been bestowed on him by the 
 editors of the Bermuda journals in two or three of their numbers, one part 
 of which is as follows : — 
 
 "'Rev. D. Dunbar preached from Genesis xlix. 10. "The sceptre 
 shall not depart from Judah, nor a lawgiver from between his feet, till Shi- 
 loh come ; and unto him shall the gathering of the people be." It was 
 one of the most faithful, interesting, and able sermons that perhaps was ev- 
 er preached in Bermuda. What made it so interesting, was its being so 
 happily appropriate ; and, what was far better, it was attended with the di- 
 vine blessing, and made the power of God to many present. The congre- 
 gation was very attentive, and deeply affected by the truths they heard. 
 Many could say with one of old, " Lord, it is good for us to be here." ' " 
 
 In another part of his letter, Mr. Matheson says : " By the instrumentali- 
 ty of our godly friend, Mr. Dunbar, in preaching, exhortations, and prayer, 
 a passenger in the cabin, as wicked and profane a person as ever I knew, 
 was, I trust, savingly converted to Christ, sometime before our arrival at 
 Bermuda. The wonderful change, both in his language and deportment, 
 was so remarkable as almost to exceed belief; proving the hand of God to 
 be in the work. " 
 
 In the memoir of Mrs. Winslow, written by her son. Rev. Octavius 
 Winslow, is a letter from the Rev. Mr. Cross to Rev. John Arundel of the 
 London Missionary Society. 
 
 "St. George's, Bermuda, June 20, 1821. 
 
 " I am happy to infoiTn you, my dear brother, that our chapel was o/Kined 
 
64 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 " When the wreck was towed into that friendly harbor, 
 the Bermudians all gathered barnacles from her sides as 
 
 on the 18th of April, under peculiar curcumstances of delight and gratitude 
 towards Him who conducts all things after the counsel of his own will. 
 
 " Previous to its opening, my mind was a great deal exercised respecting 
 the service of that important day. I had no brother to whom I could say, 
 * Come and help me ; ' I stood alone ; and my feelings often overwhelmed 
 me. My fears, however, were very singularly dispersed by our kind and ever- 
 gracious God. On Saturday, previous to the 18th, a ship appeared in sight 
 off the island, hoisting signals of distress ; and a report was soon circulated 
 that she was full of passengers, and among them several ministers, in a state 
 of starvation, six months fi-om Liverpool, bound for New York. 
 
 " On Sabbath afternoon, the ship with great difficulty came within anchor- 
 age off the island. Some of my friends went on board with provisions, 
 and found the passengers in great distress, yet filled with consolation, and 
 many of them with joy and peace in believing. As the passengers were no 
 strangers to the language of Canaan, my friends were soon introduced to 
 the Rev. Duncan Dunbar, a Baptist minister, with his wife and three 
 children ; Rev. Mr. Grey, a Presbyterian minister, and his -^^-ife (to us par- 
 ticularly interesting, because we soon learned that she had been brought to 
 the saving knowledge of the truth from the circumstances of the voyage), 
 and Mr. West, a teacher, a very pious young man, and son to Rev. Mr. 
 West, of Dublin. They stated, in brief, the distressing chcumstances to my 
 friends, who would not then listen to their * tale of woe ' before they came for 
 Bome fresh supplies (circumstances prevented the missionaries from landing 
 on the Sabbath, and my duties from seeing them that evening). It appeared 
 they had been at sea nearly six months ; for four months they had been on the 
 allowance of five potatoes per day, and for three weeks had had scarcely a 
 drop of water in their mouths. Such were the cries of many of the children 
 on board, that they had been obliged to deny themselves what they could 
 obtain only from the clouds, to satisfy the thirst of the little ones. They 
 were, however, in good health ; and were constrained to say, * Though we 
 have had nothing, we have possessed all things.' 
 
 " The divine presence had evidently blessed the labors of these devoted ser- 
 vants of Jesus to the hopeful conversion of several. 
 
 " Early on Monday morning, I went off, with several of my friends, to the 
 ship, and was soon in the midst of the interesting mission family. I found 
 them perfectly happy, yea, rejoicing in the prospect of meeting some Chris- 
 tian friends in a strange country. 
 
 "During their stay with us, we had our new chapel opened; Mr. Dunbar 
 preached in the morning, from Genesis xxviii. 17, and Mr. Grey in the 
 
LETTERS. 65 
 
 curiosities, and it was said that in spots where they were 
 taken off, a strong man could put his foot through her 
 timbers, so thoroughly were they decayed. She was 
 there condemned, and sold for a paltry sum, to be stripped 
 of her old iron. It will be wondered at that so miserable 
 a craft should have been sent out on a winter voyage, so 
 richly freighted with human life. We have been told by 
 
 evening, from Zechariah xiv. 16, 17, to a very full and attentive congrega- 
 tion. The collection amounted to eighty dollars. Our friends remained 
 with us nearly three weeks, and their circumstances and labors made a deep 
 impression on many. Every day endeared these missionaries more and 
 more to the friends of Jesus in this place. Fain would we have said, ' Abide 
 with us, for there is room ; ' and glad would they have been to say, ' We will 
 continue >vith you ; ' but the piercing cry of the red men of the woods, * No 
 white man teach red man,' had penetrated their hearts. * For these,' said 
 they, 'we have left all : and for these we must leave you.' They left us on 
 Good Friday, and we are daily expecting to hear of their arrival." 
 
 Mrs. Isabella Holt then a resident of the island, but since well known 
 in New York, writes from Paris, where she now resides : 
 
 " I was not at home at the time of their arrival in Bennuda, but received 
 from my own honored mother all the particulars of that deeply interesting 
 occurrence. One day a nearly dismasted vessel was seen approaching our 
 little island, sometimes almost going into the breakers, and then passing 
 again into deep water. This process was kept up some time, and then a 
 boat was manned in our beautiful little harbor to go out to the odd-looking 
 craft in the offing. Among those who volunteered first, were two youths 
 of seventeen, John T. Fisher and my own dear adopted son, William 
 George Miller, afterward pastor of a Baptist church in New York city, and 
 subsequently in Essex, Connecticut, whence he departed to his home in the 
 city of many mansions. The ship was found without a rudder, and had 
 been six months at sea, a good deal of the time without rudder or proper 
 masts, drifting hither and thither. On board were Rev. Duncan Dunbar 
 and family. Rev. Mr. Grey and wife, Mr. West, and other Presbyterian 
 missionaries to the British Provinces. . . 
 
 " While they were at St. George's, a little place of worship built by the In- 
 dependent church, under the pastoral care of Rev. Henry Crosf was opened 
 fey my beloved brother Dunbar, who endeared himself to all who knew him, 
 in Bermuda, by his warm-heartedness. 
 
 " Not one of that little church now lives on earth, but many of them, I 
 know, live in heaven.' " 
 5* 
 
56 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 Miss S., of New York, a kind friend of our father's, whose 
 father was a fellow-passenger, that the ship was finely 
 fitted up and well insured, although wholly unseaworthy, 
 and that after the usual time out, not being reported as 
 arriving, the policy was claimed and paid. Eternity will 
 reveal whether or not the love of gold led her owners to 
 bring these awful sufferings and perils on the innocent who 
 trusted in their honor.'' 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Voyage from Bermuda to St. John — St. George — Renewal of Pastoral Work — Preaching 
 in " Gaelic " — Home-trials in the New World — His Generosity — Letter — Cross- 
 ing the Bay. 
 
 FTER leaving Bermnda, we were nearly a month 
 reachino; St. John, where we were most cor- 
 dially welcomed by the friends our dear father had 
 made there. Crowds flocked to see him, urging 
 him to remain and preach to them. Strong men, 
 when they met him after the awful perils he had passed 
 throucrh on the sea, threw their arms around his neck 
 and embraced him. These fi'iends did all in their 
 power to manifest their affection for him, and for his sake 
 heaped favors on his family. The ladies, knowing that 
 our mother was to begin house-keeping in the New 
 World, presented her with many articles for this pur- 
 pose. She had never before seen a patchwork quilt, 
 and was much amused by the various combinations of 
 white cotton and bright calico. Several of these were 
 made and sent her as presents before the winter set in. 
 One of these fancy articles surely deserves a place 
 in family history, as it assisted in educating us children. 
 It was made of large pocket-handkerchiefs, some of them 
 printed in India ink, and others in red and blue. They 
 contained the whole of Burns' ' Cotter's Saturday Night,' 
 with pictures representing each scene. In the bitter 
 winter mornings, while the fires were being made, we 
 three little girls used to sit up in bed admiring these 
 
 (57) 
 
68 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 pictures, while I, the only one competent to do so, spelled 
 out the story of the home scene, where, surrounded by hel 
 children, 
 
 * The mother, wi' her needle and her shears, 
 Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new ; 
 
 * But hark ! a rap comes gently to the door, 
 
 Jennie, wha kens the meaning o' the same. 
 Tells how a neebor lad came o'er the moor 
 To do some errands and convey her hame. 
 
 'The cheerful supper done, wi' serious face 
 They round the ingle form a circle wide ; 
 The sire turns o'er wi' patriarchal grace 
 The big ha' Bible, ance his father's pride.' 
 
 But, sad to tell, every verse and sometimes every line 
 had been cut into to form ' Goosepath,' or ' Job's Trouble ;' 
 so, where the last word of a line was gone, we had to guess 
 it out by the rhyme. 
 
 " The short voyage between St. John and St. George, N. 
 B., was made in a long open flat-boat. Six or eight 
 sailors sat at one end rowing, while our family occupied 
 the other. Our dear father enlivened the time, which 
 w^ould otherwise have been wearisome, by conversation 
 w^ith the sailors, telling them many incidents of life on the 
 sea, which had come under his own notice, and asking 
 about their different experiences. In the evening, which 
 was one of the brightest moonlight, he sang devotional 
 hymns, and talked to the men of those things which would 
 make for their everlasting peace. My little sisters were both 
 asleep, but I entertained myself by putting out my hands 
 in the water to catch the large white chips which came 
 floating down the river from the ship-yards on either side. 
 
 " It was long past midnight when we landed on a sandy 
 beach in front of the residence of Captain Miliken, where 
 
PASTOHAL WORK. 59 
 
 father had promised to bring his family. The large 
 house, standing on an eminence very near the water, was 
 lighted in every part, as if to give a welcome to the eye 
 before the ear could hear it. A most bountiful repast was 
 waiting us, and nearly all the church were gathered there 
 to greet their beloved pastor, and to cause his sensitive 
 wife to forget, if possible, that she was a stranger in a 
 strange land. Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, 
 none seemed in haste to go to their homes. They sang 
 hymns and offered prayer and thanksgiving to God, who, 
 after so many perils and such long separation, had brought 
 pastor and people together again. In those days, when 
 ministers were few, people were hungry for the gospel, 
 and rejoiced at sight of a servant of God. 
 
 " I remember many things which convince me that my 
 father's labors were greatly blessed at that time. People 
 came from all quarters to talk with him of the concerns 
 of the soul. The young, the gay, and the wealthy used 
 to come by night to tell of their distress, having tried in 
 vain to drive away the impression made by some sermon. 
 Then he would tell them it was the Spirit of God work- 
 ing effectuallv on their hearts, and would warn them not 
 to grieve the Spirit. Often he would read to them such 
 portions of Pilgrim's Progress as might meet their case, 
 and show them the way in which God leads those He is 
 drawino; to himself. 
 
 "He had much in his own experience wherewith to 
 comfort and encourage others, having passed througli many 
 and strange perplexities in coming to Christ. He used 
 then to preach four times on the Sabbath, three times to 
 his own people, and once to the Highlanders, who came 
 up the river from Masquerine in their long-boats to hear, 
 at the close of the morning-sermon in English, the gospel 
 
60 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 in tiieir native tongue. Father never took a seat at table 
 Sunday noon, but stood up, taking some very light refresh- 
 ment, and hastening back to meet his countrymen. He 
 spent the intermission pressing upon them the necessity of 
 a change of heart, and teaching them precious truths to 
 which they were strangers. He held meetings almost 
 every night in different neighborhoods, sometimes at long 
 distances from home. I have heard him say that, so great 
 was the desire to hear a sermon, he had known poor women 
 to walk five miles through the snow, carrying an infant all 
 the way in their arms, for this privilege. Toward the 
 * poor Indians,' as he always called them, his heart was 
 drawn out in deep pity ; and he preached Jesus to them in 
 the wigwam, by the wayside, or in his own home, which 
 latter place their shrewdness soon showed them was a 
 grand place for beggars ! Our dear mother, fancying that 
 they were still hostile to the pale-faces, took great care 
 never to offend them, while her kind heart prompted her 
 to do them all the good in her power. I well remember 
 their frequent and protracted visits, and the great incon- 
 venience they caused in the kitchen. As many as six have 
 come at one time, and, seating themselves on the floor, 
 worked on their beads or baskets, and nursed their pap- 
 pooses, as if feeling quite at home ! Preparing a comfort- 
 able meal for the family was, under these circumstances, 
 no trivial undertaking. If father was in the house, he 
 would go to them, and say, ' Well, brother, sister, what 
 do you want to-day ? ' 
 
 " They would usually reply, ' Ugh, me want pork, me 
 want Indian meal, me want tea, me want sugar ; ' and so 
 on to the end of the list of human wants ; for they were 
 very indolent, and most persistent beggars. 
 
 " Father w^ould always say, ' Come, mother dear, share 
 
PASTORAL WORK. 61 
 
 your comforts with the poor Indian. God will provide for 
 us ; you know there is no want to them that fear him.' 
 Then he would ask them if they had ever heard of Jesus, 
 who came from heaven and died on the cross to save 
 the poor Indian. He would try to show them that 
 they, as well as white men, were great sinners, and needed 
 this great Saviour. They usually replied, ' No, no, 
 brother, me good Indian ; me no steal ; me no kill white 
 man ; me hunt ; me fish ; me be very good ! ' 
 
 " * Ah,' he would say, ' you want everything but your 
 greatest need, the blood of Jesus, to cleanse you from 
 your sins. Shall I go to your wigwams and tell you more 
 about the blessed Saviour, who loves and pities the poor 
 Indian so much ? ' 
 
 " They would stare vacantly at each other, give a grunt, 
 and an indifferent nod of the head, fill their pipes, and 
 smoke, with their eyes cast on the floor. Often did he go, 
 on these meagre invitations, to their homes, and, with a 
 blanket round him, sit by their fires, no doubt buying their 
 attention with presents, while from the abundance of the 
 heart his mouth spoke of Christ and salvation. He sailed 
 with them in their canoes, and in all ways sought their 
 confidence, that he might lead them to the Lamb of God. 
 
 " It was the custom of our father, when going from home 
 for a few days, to take one of us with him for company, as 
 well as to relieve our dear mother. Well do I remember 
 his teachings at these times. When riding through the 
 forests, or gliding with our Canadian pony and sleigh over 
 the frozen river, instruction and amusement were most 
 charmingly blended. He would tell me the names of the 
 trees, and the various uses men made of their wood, from 
 the cradle to the coffin. ' The cross on which our blessed 
 Saviour hung,' he once said, ' was a tree, fresh, and 
 
G2 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 young, and green, like one of these. God knew exactly 
 on what spot of earth that one would grow, what man 
 should cut it down, and for what purpose it would be used. 
 He knew all this before the world, with its mountains, 
 rivers, and forests, was made. 
 
 " Then he told me how God provided for people in coun- 
 tries where trees could not grow for the cold. Fierce 
 winds would blow through the forests of Maine, tearing up 
 great trees by the roots. These would float down the 
 rivers and be carried round by the Gulf Stream to Ice- 
 land and other treeless countries. Thus the God who 
 made them grow could send them where he pleased, on his 
 own waters, by his own winds. When riding on the 
 rivers, he used to tell us how God turned the waters into 
 ice, that we could cross where there were no bridges, and 
 that the trout and other fish, which liked the cold, could 
 come to us in place of those which swam off to warmer 
 waters ; thus giving us a variety for food. 
 
 " Long before we had ever heard of the ' Botany,' 
 ' Philosophy,' or ' Natural History,' over which we 
 groaned in after days, our minds were stored with pleasant 
 lessons in many of the sciences. 
 
 '' How does the sweet, patient face of our beloved mother 
 rise before me, as she passed through the terrors of that 
 first northern winter, all unused as she was to domestic 
 toil ; and often, from the scarcity of servants in those days, 
 dependent for weeks on the young girls of the congrega- 
 tion, who came to aid her for love's sake. 
 
 " Coming as she did from the temperate Lowlands of 
 Scotland, we can hardly realize her trials here. With no 
 stove, furnace or range, but only the broad, open fire- 
 place, — the bread frozen like stone, — the milk a solid cake, 
 and eggs like balls of ice, — it was no easy matter to heat a 
 
HIS GENEROSITY. 63 
 
 house and prepare a warm breakfast for a family of little 
 children. Often have I seen her shed tears at this time, 
 when speaking of her home, her mother and her sister ; 
 but I know they were not tears of repining. She went 
 bravely to the work before her, learning and practising 
 those domestic arts in which it is the glory of American 
 women to excel." 
 
 In a time-worn book of memoranda we find an allu- 
 sion to a visit of Mr. D. to a family whose father had 
 received a severe wound while cutting lumber. To his 
 surprise, he found them in straitened circumstances ; and 
 his heart was deeply grieved for them. He remained, at 
 their urgent request, to tea ; thus showing himself the 
 friend, rather than the patron ; and offered them those 
 blessed consolations which were ever uppermost in his 
 heart. But, after commending them to the never-failing 
 compassion of Jesus, he could not leave them only saying^ 
 " Be ye warmed and be ye clothed." He says, ^' I 
 felt constrained to give them a guinea." 
 
 The people of the Provinces, at that time, depended 
 almost wholly on England for their family stores ; it being 
 not only expensive, but difficult, to procure them from the 
 States. At one time the supplies were very low in St. 
 George, and the people expecting to replenish them on 
 the arrival of a looked-for ship, belonging to Captain Mil- 
 iken. After long and anxious delay, news came that she 
 had been wrecked, and her cargo all lost. There was not 
 a little perplexity in the community, as the winter had set 
 in with all its provincial severity, making it almost im- 
 possible to team provisions from St. Andrews. There was 
 no sujzar in the stores ; and the sick felt the need of this 
 
64 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 for their medicines, &c. " Mr. Dunbar," so sajs a dear 
 sister, then in that church, and now enjoying a vigorous 
 old age, in Eastport, " had, at that time, a barrel of sugar, 
 which he at once began to divide among such as needed 
 it, whether rich or poor. Some one kindly remonstrated, 
 telhng him he would need it in his own family before the 
 winter was over ; when he replied : ' None of the sick 
 people shall want sugar as long as there is any in my 
 house ; and, when this is gone, Captain Miliken will come 
 home in the other ship with more.' And so it was. His 
 bread was always given, and his water sure ; and the days 
 were few when he had not enough and to spare to those 
 who needed." 
 
 Nearly all those early friends, who loved and labored 
 with him there, have preceded him to heaven ; but their 
 children live and remember his hand upon their head, and 
 his genial smile of love. Mrs. McKean, then one of the 
 lambs of his fold, writes of him : " Oh, how many dear 
 memories are called up ; but they are like those of a pleas- 
 ant dream, too indistinct to be committed to paper. I 
 well remember the interest he felt in the poor Millicite 
 Indians, who lived in their little village, a few miles from 
 Eastport, on the Passamaquoddy Bay. They used to 
 come to St. George every year, in their canoes, to hunt, 
 fish, and make baskets. He also visited the Mic Mac 
 tribe, up the St. John river. He thought of taking a 
 little Millicite boy home with him to Scotland, to be edu- 
 cated ; but was obliged to relinquish his plan for want 
 of means, after gaining the consent of the parents. 
 
 "There were, at that time, a number of Scotch High- 
 landers living near the mouth of the Magquadavic river, 
 four or five miles from the village. After preaching his 
 sermon in English, he used to repeat it to the Gaelic por- 
 
CROSSING THE BAY. 65 
 
 tlon of his hearers in their native tongue. Although I 
 did not understand a word of it myself, the eager counte- 
 nances of the men and women, as they listened, inter- 
 ested me greatly ; but more especially did the singing of 
 the psalms in Gaelic, which I shall never forget. Aged 
 Highlanders walked between thirty and forty miles to see 
 and converse with Mr. Dunbar, from the parishes of St. 
 James and St. David, not far from the St. Croix river, so 
 creat was their love for him and for the music of their 
 mother tongue. 
 
 " It was under the preaching of your beloved father, 
 that I received my first religious impressions. Oh, what 
 earnest, loving appeals, what indefatigable labors were his ! " 
 
 His labors here were very great, among his own people, 
 and those almost beyond reach, whom he had adopted into 
 his flock ; but neither weariness nor danger had power to 
 deter him. At one time, he had an engagement to 
 preach in a destitute place, — probably near Eastport, — 
 which he mentioned as " across the bay.'* The waves 
 ran very high after a storm ; and no white man was will- 
 ing to row him over. Prudence seemed to forbid any at- 
 tempt at fulfilhng his promise. But the same bold spirit 
 which led him in boyhood to mount the untamed colt, and 
 afterwards to dare the ghosts of the Gaick mountain, 
 now impelled him on in a better cause. By the offer of 
 half a guinea, he induced an Indian and his squaw to row 
 him over and back in a canoe. When about half way 
 across, their pulls at the oar ceased, and the canoe came 
 to a dead stop. The waves being very boisterous, he 
 concluded they were resting from the hard toil. They 
 laid down their oars, folded their arms, and muttered 
 some mysterious words to each other ; and then, with 
 their stohd countenances cast down, sat perfectly motion- 
 
bo DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 less, as if their life's work was accomplished. Being una- 
 ble to converse with them, Mr. Dunbar tried by signs to 
 impel them forward ; but they only stared at him, as if 
 wondering at his earnestness, and muttered again. He 
 tried every device to rouse them, and had begun to think 
 he should lose both his meeting and his gold, when the 
 stoical oarsman growled out all the English he probably 
 knew, — ' More money.' Silver was offered ; but he 
 shook his head in dogged obstinacy, never relenting till 
 he saw another piece of gold, when they both caught up 
 their oars, and with desperate labor brought him to the 
 shore. His audience probably never knew how much the 
 privilege of preaching the gospel cost him that night. 
 
 " When, at the earnest call of the church in Nobleboro, 
 Mr. Dunbar contemplated leaving St. George, his breth- 
 ren there were very reluctant to part with him, and only 
 yielded to the plain call of Providence. A friend, not 
 then a professor of religion, said, ' If Mr. Dunbar is 
 going away for a more comfortable support, I will cheer- 
 fully give him one half my farm rather than part with 
 him.' And those who knew him believed that he would 
 do it. 
 
 " After his departure, a strong effort was made to induce 
 him to return. One of the brethren wrote : ' I have 
 been greatly prospered in my lumbering operations, and 
 if you will come back to us, I will build you a house my- 
 self.' These incidents show not only what large hearts 
 there were in that church, but also how deep a place Mr. 
 Dunbar had found in them." 
 
 *' That little church, constituted with fourteen mem- 
 bers," Avrites Deacon John Mann, of St. George, " has 
 now (1865) grown into five good churches in the re- 
 gion." 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Vialt to Maine — Preiushes at the Bowdoinham Association — Warm Reception there — 
 Criticism of the " Fathers." 
 
 'R. DUNBAR remained in New Brunswick about 
 two years and a half after his return from Scot- 
 land. In September, 1823, he visited the State 
 of Maine as a Messenger from the New Bruns- 
 wick Baptist Association to the four Associations 
 then existing in that State. Rev. David Nutter, 
 then of Nova Scotia, now of North Livermore, Me., writes 
 of him : " I met with Mr. Dunbar soon after landing at 
 Eastport, and we travelled together, visiting the different 
 Associations. I found him a most kind, generous, and af- 
 fectionate associate, and we then formed a friendship, inti- 
 mate and strong, which I trust will last through eternity. 
 
 His name and memory are still most dear to me 
 
 Throughout the journey his labors were highly appre- 
 ciated, and he received a most cordial welcome in every 
 church where he preached." 
 
 Mrs. Catharine H. Putnam, of New York, an early and 
 intimate friend of Mr. Dunbar, and for many years an 
 active member of his church, has kindly furnished the fol- 
 lowing narrative of her first acquaintance with liim> when 
 he was on this visit to Maine, where she then resided : 
 
 " I first met Mr. Dunbar in the year 1823, when he came 
 Rs messenger from the N. B. B. Association. A meeting 
 was appointed (in Brunswick), the evening previous to 
 
 (07) 
 
68 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 the Association, at which were gathered all the most distin 
 guished ministers of the denomination in the State. Some 
 of us were prompt in making choice among them of a 
 preacher for the evening whom we most desired to hear ; 
 but, to our great disappointment, a quite young man, — 
 he was then thirty-two years of age, — a stranger to us all, 
 was ushered into the desk. His text was 1st John ii. 
 10 : ' And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the 
 Father, Jesus Christ, the righteous.' I recollect none 
 of the special points of his sermon, but he had proceeded 
 only a few minutes before our attention was deeply ab- 
 sorbed, and all regret at the selection of the speaker was 
 dispelled. His discourse was throughout a rich feast of 
 the best things of gospel experience. Every Christian 
 present was comforted and delighted, — all wondering how 
 so young a man could know so much of the precious things 
 he had spread before us. This was Mr. Dunbar. 
 
 " There appeared to be but one mind among his audience, 
 and several warmly commendatory addresses followed the 
 sermon. It was a season of general rejoicing ; and, so 
 fickle is poor human nature, many among us were now 
 as firmly set against hearing anybody else. 
 
 *' The next day the subject of discussion in every circle 
 was the evening's entertainment ; and when inquiry was 
 made who was to be the preacher for the next evening, and 
 we were told of another minister who had been appointed, 
 we all joined in an earnest protest, insisting that we could 
 hear him any time, and Mr. Dunbar must give us another 
 sermon just like the last. A gentleman, to whom this was 
 said, promised to use his influence to have us gratified. 
 
 "At the hour of meeting we were at the vestry, secretly 
 hoping but hardly expecting that our wishes would be 
 regarded It was with surprise as well as delight that 
 
PREACHES AT THE ASSOCIATION. 69 
 
 we saw the same youthful stranger takmg the desk. I do 
 not remember his text, but the aim and design of the 
 whole discourse was to condemn the preaching of the doc- 
 trines of grace ! The speaker said we had nothing to do 
 with the decrees of God, and that they made no part of 
 the gospel which was to be proclaimed to sinners ; that to 
 talk of the doctrines of election, predestination, effectual 
 calling, &c., discouraged sinners from trying to be ChrivS- 
 tians ; and that such preaching was never blessed to their 
 conversion, but rather hardened them in unbelief! 
 
 " When he closed his sermon there was a dead silence 
 for a few moments. The venerable array of gray-headed 
 veterans that filled the pulpit on both sides of the preacher 
 hung their heads in blank dismay, till Mr. Nutter, the 
 associate delegate with Mr. Dunbar, arose and addressed 
 the audience. He said he had listened to his dear 
 brother's sermon with deep regret ; he was quite sure 
 that if he understood those doctrines which he had so 
 decidedly, and, as he fully believed, so honestly spoken 
 against, he would rejoice and glory in them as the very 
 bone and sinew of the gospel, every part of which was the 
 power of God unto salvation. 
 
 " They had heard his dear brother assert that the doc- 
 trines refeiTed to were never blessed to the conversion of 
 sinners, and they must allow him to bear testimony to 
 facts which stood in direct opposition to this assertion. 
 His own church in Nova Scotia had been recently visited 
 by a gracious and powerful outpouring of the Holy Spirit. 
 It had commenced under a sermon upon election^ and dur- 
 ing many months the general tenor of the preaching was, 
 without concert or design, of a strong doctrinal char- 
 acter. 
 
 "At this point he appealed for confirmation to an aged 
 
70 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 minister, who, it seems, was from the same neighborhood, 
 saying that the numerous converts at that time added to 
 his church were the fruit of that particular part of divine 
 truth. 
 
 " The events of this evening were deeply humbling to 
 us, as the audience was made up largely of our Methodist 
 and Free-Will Baptist friends, who were not a little sur- 
 prised to see the choice weapons of our warfare so turned 
 against ourselves. 
 
 " It was some time after this that Mr. Dunbar returned 
 to the United States, and labored with the Second Church, 
 in Nobleboro', Maine, now called the Damariscotta church. 
 His friends in Brunswick continued to retain a special re- 
 gard for him as a man, a Christian, and a preacher, not- 
 withstanding our diiferent views of doctrine. We eager- 
 ly availed ourselves of every method of intercourse with 
 him, not only by letter, but frequently going a distance of 
 twenty or thirty miles to hear him preach. This may 
 seem strange to some, as the church in Brunswick was 
 considered rigidly tenacious of the doctrines of grace. 
 
 " On a visit to Brunswick, Mr. Dunbar spent an even- 
 ing at my house, and as he regarded me as maintaining 
 what he considered erroneous views of doctrine, he took 
 the opportunity to exhort and entreat me to consider my 
 ways and be wise, lest I should make shipwreck of faith 
 and a good conscience. 
 
 " He said he regarded my views of doctrine to be danger- 
 ous in the extreme, and feared they would lead me into a 
 dead, careless, and barren course of life ; that I needed the 
 stimulus of a diligent attention to duty, — a conviction that 
 all my comfort and usefulness depended on the faithful- 
 ness with which I carried out my obligations as a Chris- 
 tian. . 
 
ANECDOTE. 71 
 
 •* This earnest appeal was continued for many hours. 
 Sometimes I would attempt to turn the current of his 
 tlioughts by begging him to tell me where he discovered 
 laxity in my practice. All the answer to this was, that 
 he knew of nothing on that ground, but it was the inevi- 
 table consequence of my belief, to produce such an effect. 
 
 " A year or two after, he was called to labor in Ports- 
 mouth, N. H., in the midst of a strong body of Christians 
 (so called) and of Freewill Baptists. From the great suc- 
 cess which everywhere attended Mr. Dunbar, the few 
 Calvinistic Baptists of the place were sanguine in the hope 
 that he would be able to strengthen their cause. Here 
 was a new service for the young minister, whose warm 
 heart had little room for anything but love to Christ and 
 his people, and free grace to rebellious sinners. He now 
 saw that he must be able to defend the Baptist ground 
 of faith and practice, and to his surprise found himself un- 
 able to do so. Called to meet the arguments of those who 
 threatened to carry captive the feeble band he was bound 
 to defend, he found it necessary to appeal to the word of 
 God for weapons that were more effective than any he 
 had at command. Hence began a special study of the 
 Scriptures, which resulted in Mr. Dunbar's becoming thor- 
 oughly established in all the fundamental doctrines of 
 grace. 
 
 *' A few years later, while he was pastor of a church 
 in Cliester, N. H., and I was a resident of New York, 
 lie visited me at my home, and hardly had we inter- 
 changed inquiries respecting the health of our two families, 
 
 when he said to me, ' Sister P , do you remember 
 
 that night when I preached so long to you ? ' ' I do,' said 
 I. * Well,' said he, ' my own eyes have been opened, and 
 I now understand what you were then contending for.' " 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Providential Detention in Nobleboro' — Strong Faith in God — A Dead Church — A gr«at 
 Awakening — Resigns his Charge in St. George, and accepts a Call from the Second 
 Nobleboro' Church — Arduous Labors there — Results. 
 
 HILE on his visit as messenger to the Maine 
 Baptist Associations, Mr. Dunbar stopped one 
 night for rest and refreshment at a country tav- 
 ern. Here he noticed a young man, who, after 
 looking intently on him, approached and asked if 
 he were not a minister of the gospel. On being 
 answered in the affirmative, and learning also that Mr. 
 Dunbar was a Baptist, he stated that he was a student 
 from Waterville College, and had been preaching dur- 
 ing the vacation in Nobleboro', where the Baptist cause 
 was in a very low state, and that his heart was greatly 
 moved for the people. In the picture which he drew 
 of the deadness of the little church of about twenty 
 members, and the ruin into which they had suffered even 
 their sanctuary to fall, there was little to arouse in 
 their behalf the zeal of one impatient to return to his 
 family and his own flock ; but still the student, Mr. 
 Dodge, plead for " only one Sabbath," and at length pre- 
 vailed. With minute directions as to each road and turn 
 till he should reach the place, he was told to inquire for 
 Dea. Hopkins, who, with his family, were among the few 
 that were mourning over the desolation of Zion. 
 
 It was late at night, when, cold and hungry, Mr. Dun- 
 Ibar reached the farm-house of the good deacon. He 
 
 '<I2) 
 
PROVIDENTIAL DETENTION. 73 
 
 knocked and aroused the family, who, when they heard 
 a minister had come, were not long in leaving their pil 
 lows to greet and refresli him. Hearty as was their wel- 
 come to the man of God, it would have been increased 
 tenfold could they have seen the breaking cloud and the 
 risino; beam above him. 
 
 It was not long before a bright fire blazed on the broad, 
 old-fashioned hearth, and then the family heard what cause 
 had brought their guest. At this seemingly direct provi- 
 dence, their hearts were greatly cheered. While waiting 
 for the kettle to boil, the good old deacon said to his 
 daughters, " In the meantime you may sing a hymn for the 
 elder ; " and they did so. We know nothing of the style 
 of the singing ; in all probability it was not artistic ; but 
 we do know that the air and the words, both new to Mr. 
 Dunbar, struck a deep chord in his heart. 
 
 " Thou, in whose presence my soul takes delight," 
 
 was the hymn they chose, probably because it met their 
 own case. When they came to the words, 
 
 " Oh, why should I wander an alien from thee, 
 And cry in the desert for bread 1 
 My foes will rejoice when my soiTOwthey see, 
 And smile at the tears I have shed ! " — « 
 
 the desolation of the little church he had never seen 
 came over his mind, and he felt a strong desire that her 
 reproach might be wiped away. A great part of the 
 night was spent in singing, conversation, and prayer. 
 When Mr. Dunbar retired he soon fell asleep from weari- 
 ness. But ere long he awoke with the praises of God on 
 his tongue, and his heart overflowing with love to dying 
 souls. His first impression, on waking, was that some one 
 
74 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 had entered his chamber with a Hght, and it was not until 
 
 he had aroused himself and looked around, that he was 
 
 convinced the room was dark. He almost involuntarily 
 
 exclaimed, 
 
 " How can I sleep while angels sing, 
 And all the hosts on high 
 Cry, gloiy to the new-horn King, — 
 
 The lamb that once did die ; 
 "While guardian angels fill the room, 
 
 And, hovering round my bed, 
 Clap their glad wings in praise of Him 
 Who is their glorious Head ! " 
 
 He was overpowered with the view he then had of the 
 great value of the immortal soul, and amazed that he, a 
 sinner saved by grace, could lie down and sleep, while be- 
 ings who had never sinned were tuning their harps, day 
 and night, to the wonders of redemption. He thought of 
 the days when his own eyes were first opened to the realities 
 of the world to come, and of the anguish he endured on 
 account of his sin against a just and holy God ; and also 
 of the hour of his deliverance, and the joys of forgiveness. 
 And, as he lay sleepless, the remainder of the night, he 
 had such views of the compassion of Jesus for dying man, 
 and his readiness to answer the prayers of his own chosen 
 ones on their behalf, and such strong faith in the promises 
 of God, 'that he felt an assurance in his heart that God was 
 to give him souls for his hire among these strangers. 
 
 A person of weak faith, inclined to " judge the Lord 
 by feeble sense," would have suffered a fearful fall from 
 such a spiritual height on entering the meeting-house, the 
 following morning. It was almost empty. Satan might 
 have tempted one less familiar with his devices, to look 
 upon the assurances of the past night as the delusions of a 
 half-formed dream. But neither the neglected sanctuary 
 
GREAT AWAKENING. 75 
 
 nor the small audience had power to shake Mr. Dunbar's 
 confidence in what he had taken as the promise of God. 
 He preached in the morning from Mark v. 5-17, with 
 great earnestness. During the intermission, it was noised 
 about that a Scotchman, with a broad accent, was to preach 
 in the afternoon, and a much larger number were present. 
 He spoke again in the evening to a good congregation, and 
 there were then tokens of the Spirit's presence. At the 
 close of the meeting, some, who had hved hitherto regard- 
 less of religion, confessed that they were sinners, and asked 
 to be pointed to Christ. The church began to awaken. 
 They saw how the Saviour had been wounded through 
 their inconsistencies. They confessed their sins, and 
 asked pardon of each other and of God. They plead with 
 Mr. Dunbar to remain with them a few days, to visit and 
 preach. He did so, and received cheering tokens that his 
 labor was not in vain. A work of grace then commenced 
 which has rarely seen its equal. In the midst of this, he 
 was obliged to return to his home and family, to make ar- 
 rangements for accepting the call of this church. Three 
 persons were baptized in his absence, probably by a Mr. 
 Everett, who supplied the church in the meantime. Mr. 
 Dunbar returned to Nobleboro', December 2, 1823, and 
 between that time and July, 1825, eighty-eight were 
 added to the church by baptism. A great many afterward 
 dated their convictions back to this time. Tliis work was 
 one of great power, people flocking from all quarters to 
 hear the preaching and to witness the manifestations of the 
 Spirit. Business was in a great measure suspended, and 
 household cares, as far as possible, laid aside, that the time 
 might be given to the work of the Lord. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar made his home at the houses of Col. John 
 Glidden and Mr. Nathaniel Clapp, dr^ring the winter; 
 
76 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 the crowds who came to converse with him aifording these 
 fi-iends ample field for the largest hospitahty. In those 
 days it was no easy matter to warm a large house at short 
 notice. It being necessary to do this so often, Col. Glidden 
 purchased a quantity of bark for the purpose, and not 
 seldom did its glow brighten every hearth of that hospi- 
 table mansion, while Mr. Dunbar would pass from room to, 
 room, speaking and praying with the groups gathered 
 round the different fires. Mrs. Glidden, who still lives, 
 well remembers those blessed days, and says that when 
 nature could endure no longer, Mr. Dunbar sank exhausted 
 and suffering from sore throat and hoarseness. He 
 was ordered to his chamber for rest and quiet ; but this last 
 command was more than she, with all her kind care, could 
 enforce. When he heard voices below, he would say, 
 " Just let this one come up," until his room w^ould be filled, 
 while he, sitting up in bed, would preach as earnestly as 
 if in his pulpit. 
 
 So evidently was the Spirit of God with him, that 
 neighboring ministers used to beg him to visit their 
 churches, which he sometimes did, until the people of 
 Nobleboro' began to be troubled when they saw him 
 riding on horseback, late in the week, lest he might 
 be leaving them over the Sabbath. They felt that, lA 
 such circumstances, no one could fill his place. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 Removes his Family to Nobleboro' — A Minister's Wife in the Almshouse — The Horse 
 Sermon — Goes to South Berwick, on Exchange — A great Revival — Letter to Fred- 
 erickton — Resigns his Charge in Nobleboro' — Is recalled — Letters pressing hia 
 Return. 
 
 )N the following spring Mr. Dunbar removed his 
 family from one kind home to another, it being 
 very evident that the Lord had appointed his labor 
 in Nobleboro.' Soon after his settlement here, he 
 attended an Association at some distance, where the 
 delegates were most hospitably entertained by the 
 thrifty farmers of the region. At the close of the session 
 a resolution of thanks was passed for the generous enter- 
 tainment, &c., when a good brother of the church rose 
 and said : '' It may not be known to the brethren that the 
 widow of our faithful old pastor, who labored with us so 
 long, is still living. She is now an inmate of the poor- 
 house, and I thought that if the fi'iends would take up a 
 little collection to supply her with such comforts as the 
 town does not provide, it would gratify her very much, 
 especially to know that she was not forgotten by you." 
 There was a moment's pause, when Mr. Dunbar's voice 
 was heard, exclaiming, in a tone of great surprise, " Surely, 
 dear brethren, my ears deceive me ! Did the good brother 
 say ' that the widow of the man who built up this church, 
 who toiled for their good, who prayed at their sick beds 
 and at their funerals, under whose ministr}^ they were con- 
 verted, and by whose hands they were baptized — did he 
 
 7 * (77) 
 
78 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 say that, amid all this plenty and prosperity, this man's 
 widow had been sent, to wear out her few remaining days 
 in the almshouse ? " 
 
 There was a deep silence, when he repeated the 
 question, " Did I understand the brother ? " The deacon 
 then rose, with some embarrassment, and said, that as she 
 had no friends^ and the church were not able to support 
 her, she had gone there as a last resort. 
 
 This was too much for Mr. D.'s keen sensibihties, and 
 he said, " Well, dear bretlu-en, I'm glad for one that our 
 session is over, for I want to go home. I don't want to 
 stay in a town where they put ministers' widows' in the 
 poor-house. Surely, dear brethren, we ministers have 
 anxieties and trials enough with labor and poverty, with- 
 out adding the fear that, after all this sacrifice for your 
 sake and Christ's, you will, when we are worn out, make 
 our wives town-paupers ! Brethren, you all know that 
 I am not rich ; but I am pastor of a flock that would 
 not wink at such a thing as this ; and let me say that I 
 shall not leave this town while that minister's widow is an 
 inmate of the almshouse ! If no one else takes her out, I 
 will do it myself. I will take her home to Damariscotta 
 in my own chaise, and I'll find plenty there who will give 
 this dear mother in Israel a seat at their fireside for a few 
 days till God comes to take her home. Am I right, dea- 
 con ? " he asked, looking toward his associate from Noble- 
 boro'. The good deacon nodded assent, and Mr. Dunbar 
 continued, " Well, then, my dear brethren of this church. 
 
 Sister goes with us to-morrow, unless she is at 
 
 once provided with another home." 
 
 It is needless to say that the church saw the reproach 
 which thoughtlessness, rather than parsimony, had 
 
THE HORSE SERMON. 79 
 
 brought upon them ; and before the delegates left town 
 the widow was provided with a comfortable home. 
 
 At another meeting of an Association, there were so 
 many delegates that stabling could not be provided for all 
 their horses, and many were put into pastures. Unfor- 
 tunately, that of good old Father H. got " cast " in the 
 field, and died. This was a great loss to the good man, 
 who was veiy dependent on his horse for visiting and 
 preaching in the scattered districts of his rural charge. 
 Mr. Dunbar was announced as the preacher for the even- 
 ing ; and it was stated, that, at the close of that meeting, 
 a collection would be taken up to aid Elder H. in replac- 
 ing the horse accidentally killed. With that readiness 
 for which Mr. Dunbar was so peculiar, he announced, as 
 his text in the evening, " And he set him on his own 
 beast." Luke x. 34. Of course, no sketch can be given 
 of the sermon at this late day ; but an aged minister of 
 Maine, who heard it, says it was very interesting and in- 
 structive ; and the result proved that it was powerful in 
 accomplishing the end in view. Among other things, the 
 preacher showed how dependent the best and wisest men 
 often are on the humblest instrumentalities in their labors 
 for others. " What," he asked, " could the good Samaritan 
 have done for the man who fell among thieves, whom he 
 found lying wounded and half dead by the wayside, had 
 he been without the faithful dumb servant that bore him 
 to the inn ? He would not, indeed, have passed by on 
 the other side ; for there was no such selfishness in him. 
 He would have poured oil and wine into his wounds ; 
 but still, he would have been' obliged to leave him where 
 lie found him. And what can the piety and love and 
 %al of our dear brother H. do for the scattered and suf- 
 fering ones in his fold, if he cannot reach them ? And 
 
80 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 surely he cannot do so, in his old arge, without a horse." 
 Then he portrayed a poor family, in the outskirts of the 
 congregation, into which poverty and sickness had come, 
 and where death was hourly looked for. They liad no 
 horse to send for the servant of God to come and pray 
 with tliem ; and perhaps one of the httle ones is de- 
 spatched on a weary walk to plead for a visit. By and by 
 they begin to look from the window and to go often to 
 the door, with the restlessness natural in all such cases, to 
 see if the minister is not coming. After a little time, a 
 child is sent up to the top of a hill to look off into the 
 distance for the minister's horse, — everybody knows that 
 horse, — but he comes back to disappoint their hopes. 
 " Brethren, all such families will henceforth look in vain 
 for brother H. to preach in their school-houses, or to pray 
 by their death-beds, unless you make up his loss." 
 
 Sufficient money was collected for the purchase of an- 
 other " beast." 
 
 In July, 1825, Mr. Dunbar went to South Berwick, on 
 an exchange, when a reho-ious interest was awakened 
 which prevented his immediate return home. He could 
 not leave the work thus thro\\Ti on his hands ; so an 
 arrangement was made with the minister of South Ber- 
 wick for continuing the exchange. 
 
 The church in this town was now A'ery feeble, and 
 their place of worship small. But, humble as it was, it 
 became the honored birthplace of many soids, '• the 
 house of God and the gate of heaven." During the 
 thirteen weeks of this first visit, twenty-nine were 
 baptized. Having returned to his charge in Nobleboro' to 
 spend two or three Sabbaths, he went back, and the Lord 
 still blessed his labors. But we have been unable to as- 
 
LETTER TO FREDERICKTON. 81 
 
 certain the whole number of conversions daring this 
 visit. 
 
 In a letter to an esteemed friend in Frederickton, N. B., 
 Mr. Jarvis Rincr, who, in belialf of his brethren, had ear- 
 nestly solicited him to become their pastor, Mr. Dunbar 
 writes, under date of South Berwick, Oct. 25th, 1825 : 
 " After I read your last letter, and found you were still 
 destitute of the means of grace, I felt, more than ever, 
 anxious to run to your rehef ; and when I found that my 
 return to this place again was necessary, I begged of the 
 brethren at Nobleboro' to relieve me from my obligations 
 to them ; to which they consented, after I directed them 
 to a minister, who, I believed, would answer in my place. 
 My object in taking this step was that I might be at lib- 
 erty, after the revival should cease here, to go and spend 
 some time with you, if you should still be destitute. I 
 am now, therefore, free from all engagements with any 
 people, except that my conscience and a sense of duty 
 bind me to stay here till the Lord has finished his present 
 work." But this was not in God's plan, and he never 
 went to Frederickton. 
 
 The church at N. were at first exceedingly reluctant to 
 comply with Mr. Dunbar's request, indicated in the above 
 letter, and w^ere only brought to consent to it by a tender 
 recrard for his conscientious wishes. 
 
 Between him and them a warm affection ever existed, 
 as was shown by their recalling him to their pastorate 
 at the end of the first year after he left them, and again 
 fifteen or twenty years later. 
 
 From the many kind and pressing letters which urged 
 his return, we select the following, from an old sea-cap- 
 tain, as quite fresh and characteristic: 
 
82 DUNCAN DUxVBAR. 
 
 " NoBLEBORo', Feb. 8, 1827. 
 *^ Elder Dunbar, 
 
 " Dear Sir^ — With much pleasure I embrace this op- 
 portunity to inform you that my family and all our friends 
 are well. 
 
 " The year has rolled round, and we have no minister. 
 We are in want ; our ship is on the lee-shore ; we want 
 a pilot to beat her to windward, among quicksands and 
 rolling stones, into the right channel once more ; and we 
 think that we wish for no other than the old pilot that 
 showed us first the channel. We wish to sail with him 
 to the new land that flows with milk and honey. By 
 God's permission, dear sir, we want you and we want 
 your family in this place. You, by God's permission, 
 planted a dear church ; and we want you to come and 
 dig about it, and bring it to the harvest. Don't fail to 
 come. Come to my house first. 
 
 " Your sincere firiend, 
 
 " Francis Tufts." 
 
 Good old Deacon Chamberlain, of the same church, 
 was also very anxious for his return ; and we judge his 
 righteous soul might have been a little vexed by the dis- 
 appointment of his hopes, for he writes : 
 
 " Unless you come back as our pastor^ I hope you will 
 not come to visit us till we settle one : for, if you do, we 
 shall never be able to unite in another." 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 RemoTes to Portsmouth, N. H. — Previous EfTorts to establish a Baptist Church there — 
 Strong Doctrinal Preaching — Opposition from ♦* Christians," and Calvinist Baptist 
 Church Formed — Independent Congregational Church embraces Baptist Views — 
 Invite him and his People to unite with them — Helpers raised up — Resigns his 
 Charge — Removes to Chester, N. H. — A Perilous Adventure — Visits New York — 
 Called to the First Brooklyn and the North Beriah (Vandam Street, New York) 
 Churches. 
 
 )N January, 1826, Mr. Dunbar removed his family from 
 Nobleboro' to Portsmouth, N. H., at what he 
 deemed the call of Providence, leaving a people 
 from whom neither time nor distance ever weaned 
 him, and going forth to break new ground, with few 
 helpers, where his income would be small and his ex- 
 penses large, and where the obstacles to success seemed 
 very great. Mr. L. W. Brewster, of Portsmouth, has 
 kindly ftirnished the following interesting sketch : — 
 
 " The church to which Mr. Dunbar came, was es- 
 tablished by Elias Smith, in 1802, and was styled, ' The 
 First Baptist Church in Portsmouth.' Mr. Smith's 
 change of views to those which are now peculiar to the 
 ' Christian ' denomination, found many followers here, 
 and his sentiments were adopted by his church as a body. 
 In 1825, however, there being considerable diversity of 
 belief on doctrinal points, and much trouble in obtaining 
 suitable ministers, the society was in a state bordering on 
 dissolution. 
 
 *' At this time a conference was held between the stand- 
 ing conunittee of the society and brethren Samuel Cleaves 
 
 (83) 
 
84 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 and E. C. Crane, representatives of the Calvinistic 
 Baptists in Portsmouth, which resulted in a union of 
 effort to maintain the existence of the church, by ap- 
 plying to the Massachusetts Baptist Missionary Society 
 for patronage. Tliis being done, Rev. Lucius Bolles, D. D., 
 of Salem, Mass., visited the church as a delegate from 
 that society, to inspect the field and learn the exact state 
 of affairs. The result of his visit and investigation was the 
 sendino; to Portsmouth of Rev. Mr. Merriam, a Calvinistic 
 Baptist, who, for some months, supplied the pulpit. Upon 
 beginning his labors, Mr. M., for a few Sabbaths, overlooked 
 many of the irregularities which had been licensed under 
 the previous dispensation. But he veiy soon began to 
 break up the fallow ground and to institute a reform. It 
 had been customary to attend church or not as feelings or 
 inclination prompted ; to come early or late as might 
 happen ; and to go out at any period of the services with 
 the utmost freedom. These faults were severely rebuked, 
 and soon the decencies of church-going etiquette began to 
 be generally observed, and a regular and respectliil con- 
 gregation listened to the services throughout. 
 
 " After the close of his labors, Mr. Dunbar came, and the 
 impress of his preaching and example here is ineffaceable. 
 The years that have crowded between us and him have 
 only exalted him to our view as a God-sent pioneer, who 
 came in the spirit of Elijah. Holding firmly the tenets 
 of Calvinism, and uttering them without restraint, he 
 turned his double-edged sword of election and the Trinity 
 with a strong and fearless hand against the opposing doc- 
 trines. It is not surprising that, in such a congregation as 
 his, his preaching should be obnoxious to quite a number. 
 One Sabbath forenoon he preached from the text. Acts 
 xxiv. 14 : ' But this I confess unto thee that, after the way 
 
OPPOSITION. 85 
 
 wliicli they call heresy, so worship I the God of my 
 fathers,' &c. At the close of the service, one of the lead- 
 ino; men of the church met him in the aisle with the 
 ahrupt salutation, ' If 1 believed what you have preached, 
 I should never read the Bible, nor attend meeting.' We 
 may judge that the discourse touched upon his favorite 
 doctrine of election ; and one of his hearers has said re- 
 specting it, that she never, in all her long Hfe of eighty- 
 nine years, heard this doctrine so clearly and beautifully 
 expounded. 
 
 " But while he was thus uncompromising in performing 
 what he conceived to be his duty as a Christian teacher, 
 his sensitive nature was easily touched. The remark 
 made upon his sermon touched him to the quick, and that 
 day, at noon, not a morsel passed his lips. 
 
 " He found easy access to the hearts of the people. ' He 
 was a godly man,' they say of him here, and those who 
 were most intimate with him love and cherish his memory 
 the most. His pure, upright, earnest, God-trusting hfe 
 stands as a model of Christian and ministerial excellence. 
 
 " The church-edifice in which he preached has since been 
 remodelled, and is now called ' The Temple,' on Chestnut 
 street. He continued to conduct the services here until 
 about the first of June, 1826. At that time. Elder Moses 
 How, of the ' Christian ' persuasion, being in town, desired 
 to occuT)y the pulpit of Elder Dunbar. To this Mr. D. 
 rather objected, from the fact that Tie was endeavoring to 
 establish a Baptist interest in the place, and that he felt 
 that harm would result from allowing any adverse in- 
 fluence to emanate from his pulpit. Finally, however, 
 consent Avas given, it being understood, it is said, that con- 
 flicting doctrines woi : f'^r the time to be laid aside. Elder 
 How preached accordingly, and, contrary to the expectation 
 
 8 
 
SQ DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 of Mr. Dunbar, took ground in pointed opposition to the 
 tenets of the latter. At the close of the discourse, Mr. D. 
 arose and said, that ' the young man had doubtless done 
 the best he could, and he would reply to him ! ' 
 
 " He shortly after preached his farewell discourse to that 
 mixed people. The house was crowded. The sermon 
 reviewed his ministry there, recalling to the minds of his 
 hearers the eagerness with which they had urged his com- 
 ing, and the unkind manner in which they had treated 
 him. This closed his connection with that church. 
 
 ''But he proceeded with his Master's work ; and, on the 
 11th of June, under the patronage of the Massachusetts 
 Baptist Missionary Society, the Calvinist Baptists assem- 
 bled by themselves for public worship, for the first time. 
 The place of meeting was the ' Old Assembly House,' 
 on Vaughan street. Mr. Dunbar preached, in the fore- 
 noon, from the text. Gen. xxviii. 16 : 'And Jacob awaked 
 out of his sleep ; and he said, Surely the Lord is in this 
 place, and I knew it not.' In the afternoon, he took the 
 seventeenth verse : ' This is none other but the house of 
 God, and this is the gate of heaven.' 
 
 " A meeting was soon appointed to take measures for 
 the formation of a Calvinistic Baptist Church. There were 
 present eight persons, — just the number, as Mr. D. 
 pleasantly remarked, that entered into the ark, — namely, 
 Duncan Dunbar, Sampson Sheafe, Allen Porter, Samuel 
 Cleaves, Elisha C. Crane, Susan Parke, Mary Brewster, 
 and Christina Dunbar. 
 
 " A call, signed by these persons, was issued for a Coun- 
 cil, with reference to their constitution into a Baptist 
 Church. Such a council assembled August 10, 1826, at 
 the house of Mr. Dunbar ; and public services were subse- 
 quently held in the Assembly House. The council repre 
 
EMPHATIC LANGUAGE. 87 
 
 scntetl the Baptist Churches of Exeter, N. H., Portland 
 and South Berwick, Maine, by their pastors and three other 
 delegates. Tlie sermon was preached by the Rev. Thomas 
 B. Ripley, of Portland. The Lord's Supper was celebrated, 
 for the first time, September 3d. 
 
 " The hall in which the Society worshipped would ac- 
 commodate about tw^o hundred persons. It was generally 
 filled. 
 
 " Durino; tlie summer, Mr. Dunbar was accustomed to 
 have a meeting at six o'clock, a. m., in which he occupied 
 considerable time with remarks, two preaching services 
 during the day, and a meeting in the evening ; all which 
 would have been no easy task for one whose heart was not 
 in his work. 
 
 " It was his custom to spend from fifteen to thirty min- 
 utes, forenoon and afternoon, in reading and expounding 
 the Scriptures. This was followed by a sermon, w^hich 
 would now be considered long ; the entire service was two 
 or two and a half hours. Mr. Dunbar also preached once 
 during the week. 
 
 " In one of his sermons he made use of the following em- 
 phatic language to express his belief in the deity of Christ : 
 ' If Jesus Christ was not the very Eternal God, he was the 
 greatest impostor that ever lived on earth, and the Jews 
 did perfectly right in killing him ! ' [Lev. xxiv. 16.] 
 
 *' Mr. Dunbar's preaching attracted hearers from other 
 denominations. This was very soon seriously felt by the 
 Independent Congregational Society worshipping in Pitts 
 Street. Finding the doctrines of the Baptists w^ere be- 
 coming more acceptable to his hearers, the pastor of this 
 church was led to change his views to accord to those 
 held by Mr. Dunbar. But it appears that this was a 
 step too far,' as this was not the first change of the kind 
 
88 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 he had made. He lost the entire confidence of his society, 
 and ere long, by the advice of his friends, he removed to 
 another field. 
 
 " Left thus without a pastor, it was not long before an 
 invitation was extended to the Baptists to form a union of 
 the two societies, Mr. Dunbar to preach in the Pitts Street 
 Chapel. The invitation was accepted, and about the be- 
 ginning of the new year the meetings at the ' Assembly 
 House ' were given up. 
 
 " Mr. Dunbar, however, preached but a few Sabbaths in 
 the new place, before he accepted a call from Chester, 
 N. H., about the last of January, 1827. 
 
 " His labors in Portsmouth were more directly blessed to 
 the gathering of a church and its confirmation in the doc- 
 trines of grace, than in the conversion of sinners. He 
 was the instrument, in God's hand, of laying the founda- 
 tion deep and strong, on which others have since built up 
 a prosperous body, now known as the ' Middle Street Bap- 
 tist Church.' 
 
 '' Yet he never was neglectful of his duty to the uncon- 
 verted. There was always manifest a deep and tender 
 earnestness in his pleadings with those whose minds were 
 seriously inclined. After lingering a long while at the 
 close of an evening-meeting, in conversation with a young 
 lady, an inquirer, he left her with the remark, ' O my 
 
 dear , if there were but one soul in the whole world 
 
 needing salvation, and that soul were here, I should be 
 am})]y repaid for all my labor and trouble in coming from 
 Scotland, to save that one.' 
 
 " During Mr. Dunbar's ministry at the Assembly House, 
 he baptized four persons. In February, however, the 
 month succeeding his removal, thirteen more were added, 
 — ' one sowing, and another reaping.' " 
 
HELPERS RAISED UP. 89 
 
 To show how easy it is for the Lord to raise up helpers 
 for his servants, we cannot omit mentioning a friendship 
 formed at this time, which had much to do with the hap- 
 piness and comfort of Mr. Dunbar's family in Portsmouth. 
 
 While preaching in the Assembly House, he noticed a 
 lady whose dress and manners marked her as a stranger 
 among his hearers. None there knew her ; but still she 
 came regularly on Sabbath mornings, and was a most atten- 
 tive listener. By and by she began to drop in at the 
 evening service, and then she was accompanied by a black 
 man, as a protector. Asking who in town kept such a 
 man-servant, Mr. Dunbar learned that his new hearer was 
 the wife of Captain Mcintosh, the newly-appointed British 
 Consul, brother of the Laird of Raigmore, himself owning 
 an estate in Inverness, about thirty miles from Mr. Dun- 
 bar's native place. 
 
 Mrs. Mcintosh went to the Assembly House at first to 
 gratify her ear with the peculiar accent of her native land, 
 and there felt the power of the gospel she heard so plainly 
 and faithfully preached. She sought the acquaintance 
 and friendship of Mr. and Mrs. Dunbar ; and henceforth 
 he could have spoken of her as one of '^ those women who 
 ministered unto me in the gospel." As a lady of rank and 
 fortune, she might, under the circumstances, have acted the 
 part of a patroness toward a feeble church and its minister ; 
 but it was not in her o-entle nature to do so. The inter- 
 course between the two families was one founded on strong- 
 mutual affection. One of Mr. Dunbar's daughters was 
 named after Mrs. Mcintosh, at her request. This inti- 
 macy was kept up by visiting and correspondence as long- 
 as they remained in America ; and after their return home, 
 Mr. Dunbar, when in his native land, was received as 
 their guest in Inverness with true brotherly warmth and 
 
90 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 Scottish hospitality. After this visit the noble captain 
 wrote to him when at Elgin, urging him to return to 
 them again before leaving the country, and begging him 
 to '' try to command a leisure half hour, to commit to 
 paper ' The Bower of Prayer ' for Mrs. Mcintosh," which, 
 we presume, he had sung to her in her home. But they 
 never met again on earth. The captain and his amiable 
 wife preceded him to the silent land. 
 
 Having labored with this church most earnestly and 
 faithfully, he felt it his dutj^, after a brief pastorate, to 
 resign. A unanimous call from Chester had been brought 
 to him by three of the brethren, who came to urge his 
 acceptance of it. Thither he removed, and was at once 
 at work in a hard field, where the cause was weak, and 
 the opposing influences strong. Of his labors here we 
 have little to mention, except the usual record of fidehty 
 and success. At one time we find an account of twenty- 
 three baptisms within a period of about three months. 
 
 While residing in Chester, Mr. Dunbar made an ex- 
 change with the minister in Concord, N. H. He went in 
 a sleigh, taking with him his eldest daughter, then a little 
 girl. Late on Saturday afternoon they reached the river 
 at the point where they expected to cross it, but were 
 much perplexed by learning that the ice was so broken up 
 that no horse had been driven over for two or three days. 
 A man who lived near the river, and was familiar with the 
 crossing, advised Mr. Dunbar not to attempt it. But 
 there was no other way to get over, and he went down 
 and examined it for himself. The ice was parted from the 
 shore, and cracked into huge cakes. But with the old 
 boyish spirit of daring, he resolved " to try it." To quiet 
 the fears of his daughter, he said, as she well remembers, 
 " I believe, my dear, that it is God's will that I should 
 
PERILOUS ADVENTURE. 91 
 
 preach in Concord to-morrow, and this is the only way 
 I can get there ; so we will put our trust in him, and I'm 
 very sure he will keep us in safety. An old Indian in 
 New Brunswick once told me how to cross rivers when 
 the ice was weak. I know about how much you and I 
 and the pony and sleigh weigh, and I have measured the 
 distance with my eye ; so we will go." 
 
 He then urged the pony on with whip and voice ; he 
 darted over, the cakes of ice parting as his feet rose from 
 them, and the water gushing up behind them at every 
 step. The next morning the river was nearly clear of ice, 
 and the current flowing fi-eely on. The good man who 
 had warned Mr. Dunbar of the danger, no doubt thought 
 him a madman to run such a risk ; but he used his 
 own judgment, decided on his duty, cast himself on God, 
 and accomplished his end. And many times in after life, 
 when there was danger as well as duty ahead, did he, in 
 church discipline or financial matters, take the reins in his 
 own hand, measure the difficulties and the probabilities of 
 success, and then whip triumphantly over ! He who 
 seemed rash on one side the river, was often hailed as a 
 hero on the other. 
 
 The Second Church in Brunswick, Me., in whose 
 prosperity he felt a deep interest, was now struggling to 
 build a house of worship. A former member, who was at 
 this time residing in New York, wrote them that if they 
 could persuade Mr. Dunbar to visit that city in their be- 
 half, he could without doubt procure aid for them. One 
 of their number made a winter's journey from Brunswick 
 to Chester to appeal to his sympathy, wliich was quickly 
 moved. Obtaining leave of absence from his people, he 
 went to New York, and was successful in his mission. 
 But Providence designed something more than this by the 
 
92 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 visit. So great was tlie interest awakened by his preach- 
 ing and his intercourse with the people, that he received 
 calls to the pastorate of the First Brooklyn, and the Van- 
 dam Street (New York), churches. 
 
 One evening, being at a public meeting in New York, his 
 name was announced as that of a stranger. At the close 
 of the services a gentleman came up to him with a look 
 of surprise, saying, as he grasped his hand, "Mr. Dunbar, 
 when you were wrecked on the shore of Bermuda, I was 
 one of the two lads who first volunteered to go out through 
 the breakers to you, — William George Miller. The ser- 
 mons you preached while detained on the island made an 
 impression on my mind which was never effaced. I am 
 now pastor of a church in this city, and no house but mine 
 shall be your home while you remain here." 
 
 The acquaintance thus renewed grew into an affection- 
 ate friendship, which endured till death removed the 
 younger first to his heavenly rest. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Takes Charge of the Vandam Street Church — Tribute of Mr. W. Seton — Labors in 
 Destitute parts of the City — Formation of the Sixteenth Church — Befriending 
 Strangers — Preaching Clirist in the Prison — Efiforts for Convicts. 
 
 IR. DUNBAR settled with the North Beriah 
 Church, in Vandam street, New York, as pastor, 
 June 10, 1828. 
 
 The congregation rapidly increased, and, ere 
 long, the house of worship became too small for 
 them. It was therefore lengthened so as to gain, 
 several rows of pews, and was otherwise improved. But 
 scarcely was the work accomplished, when, amid tokens of 
 great spiritual prosperity, their sanctuary was burned to 
 the ground, with very many other buildings, leaving nearly 
 a hundred families homeless. Mr. Dunbar toiled all the 
 night of the fire, with his brethren, to save what he could 
 from the niins, and to aid other sufferers. At daybreak 
 lie sought his home, accompanied by many poor creatures 
 who had no shelter, and for them he ordered breakfast in 
 the kitchen before taking rest or refreshment himself. 
 
 The church was treated with the greatest sympathy and 
 kindness in this the time of their need. Within a few hours 
 they received offers, in whole or in part, of several places 
 of worship, belonging to different denominations. A small 
 church edifice, built for a Bethel, in Provost, now Frank- 
 lin street, was generously offered them, fi^ee of expense, by 
 Mr. F. Merriam, who then owned it. This they gratefully 
 
 (93) 
 
94 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 accepted and occupied, until, by much effort and personal 
 sacrifice, and by the proffered aid of churches of their own 
 and other denominations, with whose ministers Mr. Dun- 
 bar was on terms of friends iiip, they erected a new and 
 better house. They selected another location, — three 
 house-lots, forming part of what w^as then known as 
 " Shaw's Garden," on McDougal street, at the head of 
 Vandam. There, in their present place of worship, he 
 and the church, with two short interruptions, labored to- 
 gether, amid frequent tokens of the divine favor, for more 
 than thirty years. 
 
 When Mr. Dunbar first went to Vandam Street, he 
 found there a large and flourishing Sunday school, under 
 the superintendence of Mr. S. W. Seton, and side by side 
 with him he labored until called home to his rest. Since 
 Mr. Dunbar's death, Mr. Seton writes : 
 
 " I send a few recollections of the precious departed, 
 whose memoir you have consented to prepare. I trust it 
 will mirror forth his earnest life, so as to revive his past 
 counsels and examples with blessings to those who ' heard 
 him gladly,' and rejoiced in his refreshing shadow amid 
 heavy burdens of soul and body, while enjoying sanctuary 
 privileges at his diligent and gentle hand ; and also to im- 
 press his faithful lessons upon the heart and conscience of 
 those who may have turned thoughtlessly away from the 
 voice of ' the living preacher.' I heard his first and his 
 last sermon to this people. They were alike full of ear- 
 nestness, energy, and spiritual life ; an embodiment of 
 that Christian experience so fully breathed in the Psalms 
 of David, and so prevailing a feature in Paul's edifying 
 epistles. It was enough for me ; — hidden manna, angel's 
 food. He used great plainness of speech and great ear- 
 nestness of manner ; such apt and beautiful though some- 
 
TRIBUTE OF S. W. SETON. 95 
 
 times homely illustrations, that uneducated minds, and 
 even little children, could understand him. 
 
 " A smile and a cordial shake of the hand was my last 
 interview, on leaving the Sunday-school room, the last Sab- 
 bath he preached. He told me he was going to visit his 
 children J. and M., and invited me to accompany him, — 
 full of life, health, and earnestness of purpose. But, alas, 
 it proved to us ' the last of earth ' in social intercourse ; 
 and now a murmuring sigh comes unadvisedly to our lips ; 
 but this is our infirmity. God bless us all, and forgive 
 us wlierein we come short of the blessed duty, ' Thy will 
 be done.' 
 
 " Yours with affection more than ever, 
 
 " S. W. S." 
 
 " I find," says Mr. Seton, in another letter, " the first 
 notice of Mr. Dunbar in my Sunday-school Annals, Sab- 
 bath morning, October 5, 1828. He preached the Anni- 
 versary Sermon of the Sunday school, November 23. His 
 first sermon in Vandam Street was from 2 Kings v. 12 : 
 * Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better 
 than all the waters of Israel ? ' 
 
 " The subject was beautifully and experimentally a\>- 
 plied, with unbounded warmth and vigor, and gave the high- 
 est satisfaction to all, opening a broad road to favor among 
 the people who were to become the sheep of his pasture. 
 
 " In 1836, he went to Europe, and returned November 
 Tth, and was present at the Friday evening prayer-meet- 
 ing. He went for his health, and came back with it fully 
 established, and with a heart full of ' new wine.' 
 
 "• His text, on the Sabbath, was Rom. iii. 23 : ' All have 
 sinned.' It had been one of the proof-texts of the Sunday- 
 school lesson on the previous Sabbath, and the whole subject 
 
96 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 had thus been opened before, to the school. This was in- 
 cidental ; but the text was no doubt prompted by his pent- 
 up spirit, in travail again for the dear saints of his flock. 
 
 " The Sabbath after his return was observed as a 
 Thanksgiving occasion for our homes, health, and pros- 
 perity during the year, and especially for the safe return 
 from the perils of the sea and of feeble health, of our 
 precious friend. It was an occasion of the utmost spirit- 
 ual rejoicing. The church was crowded to its utmost ca- 
 pacity. How solemn, impressive and ardent was the gos- 
 pel message, from this mere Bible motto ! This observance 
 was by both church and Sunday school. The Sunday- 
 school minute says : ' The exercises were both solemn and 
 interesting, and we doubt not did good to all hearts, and 
 we trust many were sanctified by their use, Ufting up their 
 hearts for God's unspeakable gift, and for the good word 
 of life.' 
 
 " The occasion was enjoyed by not a few, who hallowed 
 the celebration with tears of gratitude, in this joyous meet- 
 ing in the sanctuary, as they 
 
 ' Hailed with thanksgiving a pastor returning, 
 Refreshed in his strength, and his lamp brightly burning,* 
 
 for the school and the people. The second Sabbath morn- 
 ing after his return, he preached from Phil. Iv. 6 : ' Be care- 
 ful for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplica- 
 tion, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known 
 unto God.' 
 
 " This was well fitted for his affectionate heart to his 
 people, zealous that, in home and church affairs, they 
 should make known their joy by prayer and praise. The 
 occasion was one long to be remembered, and is unforgot- 
 ten by me In all Its features, as also his salutation sermon, 
 on the previous Sabbath, ' All have sinned.' " 
 
LABORS IN NEW YORK. 97 
 
 When Mr. Dunbar went to New York there was a 
 fijreat field for evano-eHcal labor in the outskirts of the 
 city. There was then but one Baptist church north of 
 his own, and the population was rapidly increasing in that 
 direction. One of his deacons, Jolni B. Halstead, had re- 
 moved to the Eighth Avenue, near Eighteenth street, 
 then quite out of town. His heart was moved for the 
 people, and he resolved to use his influence in establish- 
 ing worship there. He laid the case before his pastor, 
 who pledged himself to further any plan he might lay 
 out. Mr., afterward Rev., Henry Knapp, who had re- 
 cently been converted, and had united with the Van- 
 dam Street Church, occupied a large homestead on the 
 shore of the Hudson, near " The Old White Fort." 
 He now threw open his house for meetings, and once a 
 week Mr. Dunbar w^ent there, accompanied by several 
 brethren, and preached, to as many as Mr. K.'s hos- 
 pitahty could accommodate, the good word of life. 
 
 These labors were accepted ; souls were converted, and 
 saints encouraged to attempt great things for God. 
 Deacon Halstead began to broach the subject of a new 
 church. Of course such a movement would involve tlie 
 loss of several beloved members to Vandam Street, not 
 itself at the time very strong. To Mr. Dunbar, parting 
 with Deacon H. was like losing a right arm for labor, so 
 highly did he value the earnest piety, the profound 
 wisdom, and the active zeal of this blessed friend and 
 church-officer. But he shrunk not from the sacrifice, and 
 went with them, heart and soul, into the work. A little 
 vestr}' was built, which soon had to be enlarged, and a 
 church was formed, which grew into what is now the 
 Sixteenth Baptist Church. From its incipient state, this 
 " interest " was cherished by the mother church, which 
 
98 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 cheerfully gave of her sons and her treasures to aid 
 in planting the standard of the cross in that then new 
 region. The holy and unselfish spirit, — so free from all 
 ambition of being a leader, — which animated the heart of 
 John B. Halstead, made its impress on those who were 
 associated with him, as well as on those he left behind in 
 the old home. No feelings save those of love, we believe, 
 ever existed between tliese two churches. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar's settlement in New York was indeed an 
 entrance into a great field of usefulness, for which both 
 nature and grace had eminently fitted him. Well do his 
 elder children remember the zeal with which he took 
 up the first cases of suffering that presented themselves. 
 At the head of the list stood a decent old man, whom he 
 found suffering from want of work. Near Mr. Dunbar's 
 house, then in Charlton street, close to the old Rich- 
 mond Hill Theatre, — in days long gone the country- 
 seat of Aaron Burr, — was an alley- way, over which 
 was a rough chamber, with plank floor, reached by a 
 ladder. Here he set up the old stranger at house-keeping, 
 after presenting him with a " buck " and saw, with which 
 to earn his bread. The bare brick walls, the cot bed, the 
 table, chair and stove, composed a palace for the grateful 
 creature, and for months he toiled every hour of daylight, 
 manifesting a sobriety and industry which proved him no 
 subject for the almshouse, from which his benefactor had 
 kept him. During the winter, the old man was sick for a 
 few days, and then it became the mission of Mr. Dunbar's 
 little children to mount the ladder, and carry broth, gruel, 
 and whatever he might need to what their father playfully 
 called, " Robby's Roost." The queer little figure, — clad 
 in light blue cotton, until he earned better garments, — 
 surmounted with a very small, red wig, is one of the 
 
BEFRIENDING STRANGERS. 99 
 
 grotesque pictures imprinted on their memories. The^ 
 will never forget " Jemmy the wood-sawyer." 
 
 One morning, as Mr. Dunbar entered a barber's shop, a 
 young man of superior address, whom he had seen 
 there several times and had taken for a customer, stepped 
 up to him with some diffidence, and offered to shave 
 liim. 
 
 '' But are you a barber ? " asked Mr. Dunbar in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " No, sir, but I am learning to be one," he re})hed, 
 dropping his eyes, while the color mounted to his brow. 
 
 " But why is this, my young friend ?" asked Mr. Dun- 
 bar. 
 
 ''Sir," replied the stranger, in tremulous tones, " I can- 
 not dig, and to beg I am ashamed. I came from a good 
 home, and am the son of a respectable family. I have 
 spent my remittances, and, after vain endeavors to obtain 
 a position in a mercantile house, have become utterlv dis- 
 couraged. Day after day I have come here, and this 
 good barber has pitied and tried to help me. I could no 
 longer pay my board where I was, and he has allowed me 
 to sleep here on the lounge, and has sent me food. I can- 
 not accept the bounty of a poor man, while myself strong 
 and able to work ; so when he needed help here, I offered 
 to learn his trade, and if you will allow me, I will shave 
 you, sir." 
 
 " No, my young friend, I will allow you to do no 
 such thing ! Come home with me, and I will see what can 
 be done for you." 
 
 After seeing his credentials and inquiring into his char- 
 acter where he had been boarding, Mr. Dunbar took the 
 young man into his own family. Here he remained many 
 weeks, it being a time of great depression in business. 
 
100 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 Here he conducted himself hke a gentleman, and mani- 
 fested much gratitude. He at length found employment, 
 and then refunded, as far as was in his power, the money 
 loaned him. He expressed the firm belief that Mr. Dun- 
 bai^'s kindness had saved him from the ruin which so often 
 overtakes unemployed youth in great cities. 
 
 Sectarianism was never mingled with Mr. Dunbar's 
 charities ; the sufferer was a brother man. That was all 
 he cared to know. Catholic, Jew, and Gentile, alike 
 shared his pity. The last-named young man was a stanch, 
 consistent Episcopalian, and read his prayers, and attended 
 his own services, while eating the bread of his benefactor. 
 But Mr. Dunbar did not wish to buy men's consciences 
 cheap in their day of adversity ; he asked no man to sell 
 his birthright for a mess of pottage. 
 
 The second year of his residence in New York, a young 
 man, named Richard Johnson, was sentenced to be hung 
 for the murder of a Mrs. Newman, who had cruelly 
 deceived and injured him. He had heard of Mr. Dun- 
 bar, and requested that he might be his spiritual ad- 
 viser. Mr. Dunbar became deeply interested, as did 
 many other gentlemen, in the case, the condemned having 
 hitherto borne a fair character for honesty and industry, 
 and having committed the crime in a frenzy, after great 
 provocation. Every effort was made to save him, but in 
 vain ; the majesty of law triumphed over all the appeals 
 of pity, and the minister had only to labor and pray that 
 his poor young charge might be prepared to meet a mighti- 
 er and yet more merciful Judge than man. Those who 
 knew the kindness of his heart, Avill realize how keenly 
 Mr. Dunbar sympathized with the agony of the condemned, 
 and how earnestly he prayed and toiled for his salvation 
 durincr those months that intervened between the sentence 
 
LABORS WITH THE CONDEMNED. 101 
 
 and its fulfilment. Even down to the last hour, he was with 
 him, spending the whole night preceding the execution in 
 prayer and conversation in the cell, and rejoicing, when the 
 sad scene was over, in the belief that one who was deemed 
 by man unfit to live, was, by faith in the pardoning blood 
 of Christ, made meet for heaven. A long paper, contain- 
 ing the sad history of Johnson's fall from virtue, and his 
 sudden descent to ruin, with other writings of interest 
 from his hand, were found among Mr. Dunbar's papers 
 after his own death. 
 
 So deeply was the case of this friendless young man felt, 
 and so earnest were the prayers for him at the family altar, 
 that the children entered most painfully into it. Never will 
 they forget the awful anxieties of that, his last night on earth. 
 The tender heart of their mother, alive with pity for every 
 liAnng thing, was so deeply moved that she never thought 
 of sleeping. She gathered her children all in her own 
 room, and while the little ones slept, she, with those old 
 enough to enter into her feelings, watched the hours as 
 they dragged heavily on to the fatal stroke of " four." 
 Every throb of that pure heart bore a prayer to heaven for 
 the parting soul. Like the dying thief, he left earth in the 
 full hope of being that day with Christ in Paradise. 
 
 Among the letters preserved by Mr. Dunbar, is one in 
 which the full gi'atitude of a father's heart is poured out, 
 and blessings called down on him, for his success in obtain- 
 ing pardons for two young sons, who, through the tempta- 
 tion of evil companions, had been led into their first 
 crime, and been sentenced to the State Prison. His chil- 
 dren have no remembrance of the case, and know of this 
 and hundreds of other acts of mercy only from the writ- 
 ten acknowledgments of the recipients, or the letters of 
 friends at the time. 
 
 9 * 
 
102 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 There was a respectable widow living not far from his 
 church, an Episcopalian, and an utter stranger to him. 
 She had two sons, one in the West Indies and one with 
 her, both bearing good characters, and having employment 
 in respectable mercantile houses. They were affectionate 
 and dutiful toward her, supplying all her wants. The 
 younger one was invited by his fellow-clerks to join with 
 them in sending flour to one of the islands, where there 
 was at the time a great scarcity. He was looking every 
 hour for the ship which was to bring the semi-annual in- 
 stalment from his brother for his mother's use. With her 
 consent he agreed to join his companions in the speculation, 
 having not a doubt that the expected money would soon 
 arrive. Day after day passed, and the morning came when 
 the payment for the flour was due ; but still there was no 
 sign of the vessel off" Sandy Hook. He felt ashamed to 
 withdraw, at so late a time, from his agreement, and was 
 not a little perplexed ; when the book-keeper sent him off" 
 to the bank to deposit a thousand dollars. 
 
 He placed eight hundred and ninety dollars in the 
 bank, and, with the balance of one hundi'ed and ten, ftil- 
 filled his part of the contract at once. A young clerk, 
 belonging to another firm, was, at the time, in the bank, 
 and, going afterward to that store, said carelessly to the 
 
 book-keeper, " I saw putting your eight hundred in 
 
 the bank." " But it was one thousand," was the reply. 
 " I am certain," said the clerk, " it was eight hundred 
 and something." The poor youth was called on to decide 
 the question. In an agony of terror he confessed it, and 
 his employers, not hearing all the mitigating circumstances, 
 caused his arrest. He was tried, and sentenced to the 
 Sing Sing prison for two or three years ; and, although 
 the money to meet the deficiency arrived before the 
 sentence was carried out, it was too late to save him. 
 
EFFORTS FOR CONVICTS. 103 
 
 It may easily be imagined into what anguish the poor 
 widowed mother was then cast. An humble neighbor, 
 who had himself found Mr. Dunbar a friend in need, said 
 to her, " Go to Mr. Dunbar ; I know that he can help 
 you ! " 
 
 The heart-stricken woman made her way to his house, 
 where she was met with the tenderest sympathy. The 
 whole story was Hstened to with such patience as a man 
 of perfect leisure might manifest, but no hopes were held 
 out. He directed her to the widow's God for comfort and 
 support, reminding her how easy it would be for the 
 Saviour, who gave back to the sisters of Bethany their 
 brother from the grave, and to the widow of Nain her 
 son from the bier, to restore her bo}^ who still lived. He 
 said, " I have no influence w^ith the governor, but I 
 know and love a man who has ; I will write all you 
 have told me to him, and if he can aid us in the matter, 
 he will do it." The case had now become his own, as 
 did those of all whom he strove to aid or comfort. He 
 first saw the employers, and learned from them the truth 
 of the story and the previous good character of the young 
 man. He then wrote to interest Rev. Dr. Welch, of Albany, 
 in the case, knowing that he could lay it before Gov. Marcy, 
 who w^as one of his hearers. The kind-hearted doctor 
 had probably used the freedom which friendship vouch- 
 safed him, as far as prudent, already in such matters ; but 
 he replied at once, promising to do all in his power for the 
 widow's son. Suffice it to say, that through his influence 
 Mr. Dunbar soon went to that sorrowful home with a 
 pardon in his hand. The distressed woman was in such 
 a state of excitement that he really felt afraid to tell 
 her at once the result of his efforts. 
 
 He sat down by her side and calmly told her of the de- 
 
104 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 lays and discouragements generally met with in cases 
 like liers ; how many applications were made to the chief 
 magistrate for clemency, and how careful he had to be, 
 lest, by false pity, he might flood the community again 
 with the very felons from whom justice had just saved it. 
 
 She saw and admitted the difficulties in the way ; and 
 then he said, " Still, for all this, the governor has the 
 power to do it if he pleases. Now, if you should hear that 
 he would grant your son a pardon, could you bear it 
 calmly, and thank God for so influencing his heart?" 
 Thus he led her along, and then slowly drew from 
 his pocket the pardon, and said, " Here, poor mother ; 
 you will see your son in two or three days." 
 
 We believe the young man's former employers received 
 him back again, and that his future conduct showed that 
 their confidence in his upright intentions was not misplaced. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Th« Cholera Summer — Letter of Dr. Bowling — Labors with the Sick and Dying — Ts 
 Prostrated with the DL^ease —Returns to his Work — Careful to entertiiin Strang- 
 ers — Second Cholera Summer — God's Wing over the People of his Charge. 
 
 lY first acquaintance with Rev. Duncan Dunbar," 
 writes Rev. Dr. Dowling, of New York, " was 
 in tlie summer of 1832, the memorable year of 
 the cholera in New York. 1 was then a stranger 
 in a strange land, having just arrived, with 
 the wife of my youth and two little children, from 
 England, with the intention of making America my 
 home. We sailed from London in July, 1832, while 
 the cholera was pursuing its way over England. Many 
 were the conjectures whether or not it would ever cross 
 the ocean to America. During our passage of seven 
 weeks, it was the subject of general congratulation that 
 we were placing the ocean between us and the terrible 
 scourge. What was our disappointment, on being boarded 
 by a pilot off Sandy Hook, to hear from him, ' The 
 cholera has been raging for six weeks in the city, where 
 there have been five thousand cases and two thousand 
 deaths. There are now from two to three hundred cases 
 a day. The people are in a panic, and the city almost 
 deserted.' 
 
 " Upon our release from quarantine, we found the report 
 too true. As we walked the streets, it was easy to see 
 that the Angel of Death was there. Sorrow and be- 
 reavement were written on thousands of countenances, 
 
 (105) 
 
106 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 and funeral processions met at almost every corner. 
 Houses and stores were sliut in every direction, the occu- 
 pants having fled the city. The words of the mourning 
 prophet came to my lips : ' How doth the city sit solitary 
 that was full of people ! How is she become as a widow ! 
 The ways of Zion do mourn because none come to her 
 solemn feasts ; all her gates are desolate ; her priests 
 sigh ; her virgins are afflicted, and she is in bitterness." 
 
 " It was under such circumstances that I called, the day 
 after my arrival, on my dear brother Dunbar, with a letter 
 of introduction, and found him not only the warm-hearted 
 Christian brother, and kind, judicious adviser, but also, 
 as hundreds besides myself have found him, before and 
 since, emphatically ^ The Stranger's Friend.' He wel- 
 comed me at once to his lieart, his home, and his pulpit. 
 I know^ that many eyes beside my own will kindle and 
 moisten with grateful recollection, while I testify to the 
 fact that, more than any man I ever knew, did this dear 
 brother follow out the spirit of God's injunction to ancient 
 Israel, of kindness to the stranger : ' Ye know the heart 
 of a stranger, seeing ye w^ere strangers in Egypt.' One 
 of these, a ministering brother to whom he had been as a 
 father, accosted me thus^ as I entered the place of worship, 
 at Mr. Dunbar's fimeral : ' Brother Dowling, do you want 
 to adopt a son ? ' I did not understand him till I saw the 
 quivering lip and tearful eye, as he looked into the house, 
 hung with mourning, and added, ' I have lost a father, — 
 dear brother Dunbar I He was a father to me.' And 
 similar to these, I am free to confess, were my own feel- 
 ings when, on the following Sabbath,! preached to my own 
 congregation from the words of Elisha, when EHjah was 
 taken up to heaven, ' My father, my father, the chariots 
 of Israel, and the horsemen thereof.' 
 
LABORS WITFI THE SICK AND DYING. 107 
 
 " But my principal object in writing was to testify to the 
 self-denying and arduous labors of brother Dunbar dur- 
 ing that terrible summer of the cholera. During the 
 whole season he remained faithful. While most of the 
 ministers, partaking of the general alarm, fled the city, he 
 stood preeminent among the faithful few, who, inspired by 
 a noble, Christ-like heroism, consecrated themselves to the 
 work of philanthropy and mercy. Deterred by no con- 
 siderations of danger, he visited the sick and dying, com- 
 forted the sorrowing and bereaved, counting no sacrifice 
 too costly, no self-denial too great, so that, like his Mas- 
 ter, he might go about doing good. 
 
 " Though I was at his house every day, while in the city, 
 I do not think I ever called without his beincr either ab- 
 sent on some visit of mercy, or else at home with the 
 friends of the dead or dying, who had called on him for 
 sympathy or aid. I heard from him many touching inci- 
 dents of sorrow, of which he had been a personal and 
 sympathizing witness ; but the lapse of thirty years has 
 left the particulars too indistinct for detail. I well re- 
 member being introduced by him, at his house, to one 
 poor mourner, who, in a few days, had been bereft of all 
 his family, a wife and four children, by the awful scourge. 
 He had come for consolation and sympathy, and also to 
 ask what inscription he should put on the monument he 
 was erecting over the remains of his lost family. 
 
 " The universal testimony concerning brother Dunbar 
 was : * When the ear heard him it blessed him, and 
 when the eye saw him it gave witness to him ; because he 
 delivered the ])oor that cried, and the fatherless, and him 
 that had none to help him. The blessing of him that 
 was ready to perish came upon him, and he caused the 
 widow's heart to sing for joy.' 
 
108 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 '' I had begun to hope that my own loved family would 
 escape the pestilence ; but, while myself absent from the 
 city, it pleased God to take from me my beloved wife and 
 one of my children. I came back to find her already in 
 the grave, and my child in its coffin. I will add that, 
 while Christ alone was my rock and my refuge, I was 
 greatly blessed and comforted by the sympathy of Chris- 
 tian friends : amono^ whom was not one more tender and 
 brotherly, not one whose words of sympathy were more 
 effectual in soothing my agonized heart, than the beloved, 
 and now sainted, Duncan Dunbar." 
 
 Mr. Dunbar's elder children remember well how faith 
 fully he stood his ground through all this terrific summer. 
 His church was almost empty ; and he, as well as other 
 ministers, might have followed the people to places of 
 safety. But who would care for the poor, the sick, and 
 the dying, if all forsook them and fled ? He saw the 
 great w^ork of a comforter before him, and gave himself 
 to it. Through streets and alleys, from garret to cellar, 
 he went, often finding the death-bed and the coffin in the 
 same room, carrying bread, medicines, and money for fu- 
 nerals. His door-bell runo; incessantlv : and it would have 
 required four or five faithful men to do all the work before 
 him. These were days of severe and painful labor ; nor 
 did the night bring any rest. No sooner was his weary 
 head laid on its pillow, than some panting messenger 
 would ring and say that a dying man, in such a street or 
 alley, wanted Mr. Dunbar to come and pray with him ; 
 or, that a whole family were sick and had no one to care 
 for them. Hundreds of people, whose names he had 
 never heard, received his care and sympathy, in addition 
 to all he had to do for the remaining members of his own 
 beloved flock. 
 
PERSONAL ATTACK. 109 
 
 Of course, such incessant labor, fatigue, and exposure 
 to foul air could not be endured long without producing 
 their effects, even on an iron constitution like his. His 
 sympathies being very strong, he suffered keenly with all 
 these afflicted ones. He found himself becoming very 
 nervous, starting at the first touch of the door-bell, and 
 indeed at any sudden sound ; and also becoming more 
 easily fatigued than at first. One night, the air being 
 raw and chilly for the season, he returned late from a 
 scene of indescribable suffering, and retired greatly ex 
 hausted both in body and mind ; but, before he slept, he 
 was called for, and set off with an affrighted guide for an- 
 other scene of the same kind. Entering an abode of 
 poverty, into which the free air of heaven seemed never 
 to have been admitted, he talked and prayed with a dying 
 person, breathing, meanwhile, an atmosphere which was 
 enough to destroy life without the cholera. 
 
 Immediately after returning home, he was seized with 
 all the symptoms of the disease ; and soon realized, in his 
 own person, those sufferings he had striven so faithfully to 
 alleviate in others. A physician was at once called ; and 
 with the help of medicine, aided by his strong constitu- 
 tion, he soon rallied. He was, however, left in a state of 
 painful nervous excitement ; so that he afterward con- 
 fessed that for months he did not ride in an omnibus with- 
 out constant terror, and never dared to sit where he could 
 see the horses, as, to his imagination, the poor jaded ani- 
 mals seemed rearing, or running away. But this suffering 
 did not hinder his work. As soon as he could get about, 
 after his sickness, — which was in a few days, — he as- 
 sumed all that came upon his hands. 
 
 His deacons, seeing the effect of the attack still vI^ible 
 in this nervousness, prevailed on him to leave the city be- 
 
110 PUNCiN DUNBAR. 
 
 fore he should have another. Thej engaged board for 
 him and Mrs. Dunbar in Hoboken, where he could have 
 pure air, and still hear daily from the scene of his labors. 
 There he stayed — one night! No mortal power could 
 keep him any longer. He assured his physician that he 
 could never gain strength while his mind was burdened 
 with the sufferings of so many, and he too far away to 
 help them. Heaven sent the strength he needed, and he 
 went about still doing good ; while his house became a 
 home, or partially so, to the families of three or four min- 
 isters who landed on our shores in this day of visitation, 
 and also a resting-place for many other weary pilgrims. 
 
 One morning, while sick in his bed, he was sent for by 
 an humble member of his church, to pray for her dying 
 husband. He could not rise ; but father Norton, an aged 
 minister, who belonged to his church, being there, he 
 begged him to go in his stead. He did so ; and, on enter- 
 ing the room, found the poor wife risen from her bed, — 
 where lay a wailing babe only a few days old, — trying to 
 prepare the body of her husband for a decent burial ; for 
 the dead carts waited not for ceremony at the doors of 
 the poor that summer. Such scenes as these made him 
 eager to be at his work again ; and all through that sea- 
 son, with the exception of a few days, he did his own 
 work and that of many other ministers who were taking 
 good care of themselves in the country. 
 
 The second cholera summer opened on the people with 
 great terror, as they had tasted deeply before and there- 
 fore knew the bitterness of the cup. In the first fear, 
 the McDougal Street Church appointed a day of fasting 
 and prayer. At the opening of the meeting Mr. Dun- 
 bar read the 91st Psalm, and was there enabled to 
 repose full conlidence in its blessed promises. Strange 
 
CHOLERA SEASON. Ill 
 
 to say, through all that season not even an infant be- 
 longing to one of their families died from any disease, 
 a thing unknown before for so long a period in that large 
 congregation. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Voyage to Europe — Visits his Old Home on the Spey — His Intercourse with the 
 People — Labors publicly and from House to House — Interest in Scotch 
 Baptists — A Highland Missionary Meeting — Giving to the Poor, lending to 
 the Lord — A Search for Hidden Baptists — Desire to Labor in his Native Laud. 
 
 )N the spring of 1836, Mr. Dunbar was attacked with 
 an affection of the throat, which entirely disabled him 
 for his pubhc duties. His physician, finding that the 
 disease did not yield to the ordinary remedies, called in 
 a council of eminent practitioners. It was Sunday 
 morning, and, after hours spent together, they decided that a 
 sea voyage, with perfect rest and the fresh air of his native 
 mountains, were the only remedies, and advised that the 
 change be tried with all possible speed. The church, ever 
 kind and sympathizing, entered into the case with their 
 usual spirit, and generously continued his salary , beside mak- 
 ing up a handsome purse for his expenses, and insisting u})oii 
 Mrs. Dunbar's accompanying him, — as he was quite too 
 feeble to undertake the voyage alone. No time was to be 
 lost. He himself had built strong hopes of recovery on the 
 virtues of his native mountain air ; but he had not to wait 
 even for this. He had been on the se? but a short time 
 when his symptoms changed ; and before he reached the 
 other shore his cough v>^as gone, and he In comj^aratlve 
 health. Leaving Mrs. Dunbar and his son — who had 
 accompanied them — with their relatives in Arbroath, he 
 hastened north, Impatient to see once more his beloved hills^ 
 the dear old Spey, and the few friends whom death had 
 
 (11-2) 
 
VOYAGE TO EUROPE. • 113 
 
 spared him ; for both father and mother were now gone. 
 He reached Grantown late at night, but could not wait for 
 morninor to visit his home, where his eldest brother then 
 lived. Leaving the hotel, he walked to the house and 
 knocked at the door. It seems that the people of Grantown 
 had, for several days, been annoyed and alarmed by an in- 
 sane man who had escaped from his friends ; and Mr. D.^s 
 brother, not caring to run the risk of admitting him, 
 asked from a window who was there. The reply was, 
 " A stranger, very weary, who wants a night's shelter." 
 He was informed that a good hotel, " The Grant's Arms 
 Inn," was quite near. But still he insisted that he " was 
 very weary, and could go no farther." After a little parley, 
 the brother asked the strancrer where he had come from : 
 and w^hen he replied, "America," the door flew open as if 
 by magic ! That one word was a charm there, as in 
 thousands of homes over the sea, for the sake of the be- 
 loved ones who have chosen the New World as their coun- 
 try. 
 
 A minister now settled near New York, who in his 
 youth was a member of Mr. Dunbar's church, and who 
 loved and reverenced him as a father, visited, some years 
 ao-o, his own native Scotland, and for his sake went to 
 Grantown. There he met with many who had known 
 his beloved friend in his early years. He writes : — 
 
 " In 1836, Mr. Dunbar made his first visit to his native 
 land after settling in America, and that was a year never 
 to be forgotten in Grantown and vicinity. The clergy 
 of Scotland have always entertained the idea that they 
 must keep the people at a respectful distance ; so that the 
 children grow up not only to reverence, but also to fear, 
 their minister. There was still a terror hanging over the 
 chilfh-en in Grantown, so that some of them took good 
 10 * 
 
114 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 care to keep out of the way when they saw a minister 
 coming. The manner of my beloved friend, so cordial 
 and so familiar, while commanding the respect of all, 
 astonished the people and won their hearts. He went 
 round from house to house, and crow^ds followed him. 
 He told them of America, where nearly all of them had 
 some beloved friend, related the dealings of God with 
 sinners there, sang hymns, and prayed. When he had 
 once secured the hearts of the people, his conversation 
 became wholly spiritual. He preached every night, and 
 the congregation would sometimes hang around him till 
 after midnicrht. The little church in Grantown was thus 
 greatly revived and enlarged through his labors, while his 
 heart and that of his early friend, the pastor, were cheered 
 and rejoiced." 
 
 With all his broad Christian charity, Mr. Dunbar was a 
 firm and consistent Baptist, always identifying himself 
 with his own people wherever he went, no matter how 
 insignificant a body they might be. In this visit his heart 
 was drawn out with pecuhar tenderness toward the 
 Scotch Baptists, few, and scattered, and rent as they were. 
 When asked to preach for others, whose kind attentions 
 he had received and whose friendship he prized, he would 
 often say, "Ah, brethren, you are large and strong, and 
 do not need me ; therefore, what little influence I have 
 must be given to the poor Baptist Church, who do need 
 aid and encouragement." None took offence, but all 
 admired his stern principle and real consistency. God 
 honored him greatly during this visit, and the memory of 
 it was ever precious to him. 
 
 While in the Highlands, he was invited to make a 
 speech at a county missionary society. The collection, if 
 we remember right, was taken up before the appeals were 
 
HIGHLAND MISSIONARY MEETING. 115 
 
 made, or else slipped into boxes as each donor entered the 
 vestibule. The small amount for a county quite astonished 
 one who had such power over the purse-strings, and was 
 taken for his theme. Addressing the gentleman presiding, 
 — an officer in Her Majesty's service, — he began by com- 
 paring the aggressions of Christianity upon heathenism 
 with those of one great nation on another in time of war. 
 " You know, sir," he said, '' that money is the sinews of 
 war ; what would it avail that you were ordered out with 
 a fleet unless you had money to carry on the expedition ? 
 His Majesty would never dream of sending his brave 
 sailors into hostile ports without providing them with sails 
 and spars, provisions, guns, and ammunition. For this he 
 must have money. And so must we have these ' sinews 
 of war,' to carry on the conflict between light and dark- 
 ness. I am pained that a whole county should raise so 
 
 small a sum as £ . I will here pledge my little band 
 
 of Baptist brethren, few and feeble as they are, to add 
 enough next Lord's day to double the amount." That 
 promise was fulfilled. 
 
 During this visit to his native land, he received many 
 tokens of the divine favor in direct answer to the prayer 
 of faith. Having met with a dear friend of his early days, 
 at the time a widow and in depressed circumstances, he 
 felt the duty of aiding her very strongly pressing upon his 
 mind. He was far from home, with his wife and son, and 
 thus under great expenses ; and the homeward voyage 
 with its nameless outlays before him. But acting as a 
 faithful steward under the eye of his master, he " gave her," 
 as he said, " a few pounds ; " and leaving it with God, 
 he thouMit no more about it. 
 
 A few days after this he was invited to dine with Rev. 
 Mr. Haldane, and as he was leavinii; him, that gentleman, 
 
116 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 himself wealthy, said, " Mr. Dunbar, few ministers are rich- 
 er than they need be, and your voyage in search of health 
 nuist prove very expensive ; I want you to accept this as a 
 personal gift from me." It was the very sum he had given 
 away at what he believed the call of God. Who can 
 doubt that the Husband of the widow was thus acknowledg- 
 ing the act of mercy performed with such calm and ear- 
 nest trust in his word of promise, " He that giveth to the 
 poor lendeth to the Lord, and he will repay him again." 
 
 " About this time," writes a friend, " he passed a night 
 at the house of my father in Aberdeen. On coming in 
 late from a distant part of the city he found that he had 
 lost a sovereign from his pocket. My father offered to take 
 a lantern and return with him to look for it ; but he said, 
 ' No, it was lost through no carelessness, and perhaps it 
 may be God's purpose that some poor widow may find it 
 early in the morning, and buy her children's breakfast 
 with it ; let it go.' These worthy old people often spoke 
 of this afterward, saying, ' they ne'er saw the like o' him in 
 a' their days. They believed he wad gie awa' his last 
 bawbee til' ony puir body.' 
 
 " Strange as it may seem, on the following morning 
 another sovereign, the gift of a friend who knew nothing 
 of the circumstance, took the place of the lost one, in his 
 purse." 
 
 While the guest of a noble gentleman in the north of 
 Scotland, a little dinner party was given for him, at which 
 were the principal gentlemen of the neighborhood, both 
 clergy and laity. At table, Mr. Dunbar remarked that 
 
 he had inquired in vain of Mrs. whether there wo'e 
 
 any Baptists in the place, but perhaps the Kirk minister 
 or some one else present could tell him. 
 
 A gentleman then said, " There is no Baptist place ot 
 
HIDDEN BAPTISTS. 117 
 
 worship here, but there are individuals of your faith. I 
 know one myself, and a very worthy man he is. I will 
 give you his address, and he can tell you all about those 
 brethren of yours," he added with a smile. 
 
 " Well, sir," replied Mr. Dunbar, " I'll ferret them out 
 if there are any. 1 find my people in Scotland have a great 
 habit of hiding themselves in corners." 
 
 He was directed to the one discoverable Baptist, and from 
 him learned the location of their place of worship. It was 
 
 something like this : '' Go up street, till you come to 
 
 a ' close ; ' turning in by the store of , follow 
 
 that till you come to a narrower ' close,' and go up that 
 till you see a cooj^er's shop. Beside that is a flight of out- 
 side stairs ; go up them, and turn to your right till you 
 come to another flight, and at the head of these ye'll find 
 the room wc meet in." 
 
 " How long has your church been fonned ? " asked Mr. 
 Dunbar. 
 
 " Twenty years or thereabout, and we've worshipped 
 all the time in yon same room," was the good man's 
 reply. 
 
 " How large is your church ? " asked Mr. Dunbar. 
 
 " We have about twenty-five or thirty members, sir." 
 
 " And how large a congregation ? " 
 
 " Thirty-five or forty ; just ourselves and our own chQ- 
 dren, sir." 
 
 '' And you are real Baptists, — are you ? " 
 
 " Oh, ay, sir, we are indeed." 
 
 " And you believe that your principles are of suffi- 
 cient importance to warrant your separating yourselves 
 from your Christian brethren of other denominations ? " 
 
 " Ay, sir, we do." 
 
 *' Well, then, my dear man, what are you thinking of? 
 
118 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 You believe that God's will is revealed plainly to you on 
 a disputed point, and that you must bear your testimony 
 on the subject to your fellow-men ; and yet you hide 
 yourselves as if ashamed of your sentiments. I have 
 
 been in a week, inquiring of every one if there 
 
 were any of my own denomination here ; and not till 
 yesterday could I find a person who had ever heard of 
 one ! You see w^hat progress you are making in that 
 ' upper chamber.' You have in twenty years gathered a 
 congregation of thirty -five or forty ! If I could stay a 
 little while, I would draw you out of that * close ' into a 
 place where men could find you. I would preach and 
 pray and sing w^ith you till every man and woman should 
 ask, ' Who are these people, and what do they believe, that 
 they are so earnest ? ' I should let all in town know in 
 tw^enty-four hours that there was a Baptist church here. 
 If your opinions are of no importance, you should have 
 stayed where the gospel is preached by good men, not Bap- 
 tists ; if they are, you should tell your friends and neigh- 
 bors your reason for breaking up your old relations. 
 When Christ came to establish the first Christian church, 
 he and his disciples sometimes met in an upper chamber 
 for fear of the Jews ; but they didn't stay there comfort- 
 ing each other in the hopes beyond. They went out and 
 preached by the wayside, on the shore, in the market- 
 place, — wherever they could reach men. Now, my dear 
 man, if they had lived and died in that upper chamber, as 
 you are doing, how far do you think their teaching and 
 example would have spread ? If your people ever expect 
 to do anything in Scotland, they will have to follow their 
 footsteps." 
 
 Soon after this, Mr. Dunbar returned to America, but 
 his heart was full of love to these brethren, and he felt a 
 
HIDDEN BAPTISTS. Ill) 
 
 strong desire to see them arise and labor, and become a 
 power for good in the land. He could cry with John 
 Knox, " Give me Scotland, or I die." 
 
 It was at this time Mr. Dunbar's full intention to re- 
 turn again with his ftmiily and lay the foundation of a 
 mission among his brethren, striving to form the many 
 little scattered bands into regular churches, under judi- 
 cious and well-qualified pastors. He corresponded with 
 many of the most influential men in the denomination, 
 and received much encouragement from all with whom 
 he conversed. But this w^as not in God's will concern- 
 ing him ; he had still work to do in McDougal Street. 
 There were veiy many souls yet to be given him there, 
 and there were storms and darkness before the church, 
 through which he was to stand at the helm and guide 
 her into calmer waters. His Master had drawn out a plan 
 for him, and, although at times he panted for work at 
 home, he fell cheerfully into his own place, not darino 
 to go contrary to the Divine will. His interest in 
 this subject ended only with his life. Other hands must 
 take up the work he planned and cany it to perfection. 
 Whose shall they be ? 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Jlrst Record of Interest in the Negro — Pro-Slavery Riots of 1834 — His Church formed 
 on Anti-Slavery Principles — Associational Letters — The Triennial Convention at 
 Richmond (1835) — A Pious Slaveholder — A Distracted Mother — A Visitor from 
 Florida — His Model Christian — Ned Dudley —Buying Sally — The Rolls Slaves — 
 John D ; how God rewarded his humble Hospitality. 
 
 >HEN Mr. Dunbar was residing in New Bruns- 
 wick, he received an invitation from the Baptist 
 Church in Frederickton, probably in the year 
 1819, to become their pastor. From his reply we 
 extract the following : — 
 
 " If God, by his sovereign grace, should add to 
 your number any of the unfortunate sons and daughters of 
 Africa, would you, as a church, be willing, without respect 
 of persons', to treat them as the redeemed of the Lord in all 
 things relating to the ordinances and privileges of the gos- 
 pel, and to discipline them according to the laws of Christ, 
 when it appeared at any time they abused such privileges 
 as food for their pride ? " 
 
 This is the first record we find of Mr. Dunbar's peculiar 
 sympathy for the oppressed people of color. The journal 
 he kept of his labors in New Brunswick frequently al- 
 luded to this class in the same spirit. It was of his gener- 
 ous and kindly nature, and also an inseparable part of his 
 religion, as a follower of Christ, to feel for the suffering 
 and outcast of every r^.^e and coloi". 
 
 In New York, he identified himself fully with anti-sla- 
 very men, and was at one time president of the New York 
 
 (120) 
 
PRO-SLAVERY RIOTS. 121 
 
 City Anti-Slavery Society, never hesitating, in public or in 
 private, to utter his opinion of slavery as a great crime 
 against God and humanity. And this he did when it 
 cost something to be an abolitionist, — when that name was 
 a term of reproach, and not seldom involved persecution. 
 Amid the frightful riots which disgraced New York in 
 the year 1834, and which terrified into silence some noted 
 associates in the anti-slavery cause, he maintained his con- 
 sistency, continuing through all opposition a stanch and 
 outspoken friend of human liberty. 
 
 While the rioters were battering the windows of the 
 Spring Street Presbyterian Church, on the right hand, 
 and the private residence of Dr. Samuel H. Cox, on 
 the left, and alarming the whole city, a cautious brother 
 in Mr. Dunbar's church, knowing that his pastor had re- 
 cently appeared on the platform, at a meeting of the Amer- 
 ican and Foreign Anti-Slavery S.ociety, — a meeting which 
 was ])articularly offensive to the enemies of freedom, — • 
 came and offered to unscrew his door-plate, lest the riot- 
 ers should assail his liouse, which, with others belonging 
 to obnoxious individuals, had been marked for attack. " By 
 no means, my brother," was the calm but firm reply. " I 
 have done nothing to be ashamed of, and I will not hide 
 my colors." 
 
 The church over which he presided in New York was 
 formed while slavery was yet existing in the State, and it 
 held an almost solitary distinction as expressly recognizing 
 th3 full rights of man. One of its articles of faith declared 
 disfellowship of all who held slaves, or trafficked in human 
 beings. 
 
 The annual letters of this church to the Association, af- 
 ter Mr. Dunbar became their pastor, which were written 
 by him, breath the spirit of freedom, and, in the light 
 11 
 
.122 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 of current events (1865), seem almost prophetic. They 
 were not always hstened to with pleasm^e ; for many good 
 men in that day were averse to the agitation of the 
 subject of slavery as threatening the peace of Zion. Some 
 of them warned him, plead with him, and even rebuked 
 him ; but speak he must, and speak he did, whether men 
 would hear or forbear. He hved to see the complete 
 triumph of the views wliich he so long maintained almost 
 single-handed and amid much reproach. 
 
 We select a few passages from these letters, the first 
 dated May 31, 1836 : — 
 
 " In every quarter of the globe tyrants are beginning to 
 tremble, and there is a growing conviction among civilized 
 communities that Bible knowledge and human liberty 
 must perish or prosper together. Ethiopia has long been 
 stretching out her hands unto God for help, and it can no 
 longer be concealed that the blood and tears of her op- 
 pressed and enslaved offspring, held in cruel and unjust 
 bondage in portions of our own favored land, have at length 
 prevailed with God. The signs of the times manifestly 
 indicate to every unprejudiced observer that the Ruler of 
 the universe is about to vindicate their rights, and to cover 
 with merited reproach and contempt their unmerciful, av- 
 aricious oppressors. 
 
 " Dear brethren, it is known to you that in some parts 
 of our country the privilege of learning to read the stat- 
 utes of heaven and the record of the glorious gospel of the 
 blessed God is by law denied to the unhappy sons and 
 daughters of injured Africa ; nor is it a secret that pastors 
 and church-members sell to the highest bidder their 
 brethren and sisters in Christ, communicants w^th them at 
 the table of the Lord ! And when we inform you that it 
 is an article of our faith, in which we have been long and 
 
LETTERS. 123 
 
 happily united as a church, ' that no slave-holder, or 
 person that traffics in human beings, is a fit member of a 
 church of Christ,' you will not wonder that, as friends of 
 God and of man, we should in this place congratulate our- 
 selves and you on the evidences which thicken around us 
 that God is about to banish from his churches and from 
 the land the guilt and disgrace which the shameful system 
 of slavery has entailed upon them. Surely, brethren, 'the 
 needy shall not always be forgotten,' for ' God is a refuge 
 for the oppressed ; ' and shall not we. Baptists, above all 
 people who are blessed with liberty and the free pursuit 
 of happiness, lift up one united cry to the throne of 
 mercy and justice, that liberty, political and religious, may 
 be speedily and universally proclaimed and enjoyed, from 
 the rising of the sun to the going down of the same, until 
 the whole earth shall be ' filled with the knowledge of the 
 Lord ? ' " 
 
 Again, in 1839 : — 
 
 " How painful, after having, as a denomination, suf- 
 fered for our love of liberty and defence of the universal 
 rights of conscience as the gift of God to all mankind, to 
 hear it stated that at the South, the Baptists, both 
 ministers and people, are generally slave-holders ; while 
 those at the North usually neglect, as a matter of pru- 
 dence, to plead the cause of the oppressed ! Brethren, has 
 it come to this with us Baptists ? No, blessed be God ! 
 We have to inform you with gratitude to the compas- 
 sionate Redeemer, who has all power in heaven and 
 upon earth, that every Baptist Association but one, in 
 all Massachusetts, passed resolutions at its annual ses- 
 sion, last year, condemnatory of the horrid system of 
 slavery as it exists in this country. In October, 1837, 
 a Convention of Baptists in New Hampshire, representing 
 
124 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 3500 members, unanimously denounced, in strong reso 
 lutions, American Slavery as a system of robbery the most 
 
 aggravated And, as we have ascertained 
 
 to our satisfaction, that in every portion of our free 
 States except the cities of New York, Boston, and 
 Philadelphia, and some few towns of less note, our 
 brethren have looked at the subject, and are more than 
 beginning to act, we cherish the blessed hope that the guilt 
 and reproach of this cursed system of slavery will soon be 
 wiped away from the escutcheon of American Baptists." 
 
 The next is dated May 31, 1842, addressed to the N. 
 Y. Association, meeting with the First Church, Broome 
 street, New York : — 
 
 " We moreover hope that the claims of oppressed 
 humanity will not forever be shut out from the sympathies 
 and deliberations of the New York Baptist Association. 
 We are perfectly aware that this department of Christian 
 philanthropy is unpopular in the eye of political partisans, 
 and that time-serving professors of Christianity will con- 
 temptuously frown upon the very efforts which the 
 providence of God may put forth to break every yoke 
 and to let the oppressed go free ; but, dear brethren, we 
 shall continue to hope better things of you. The holy 
 religion which you profess is emphatically a system of love 
 and mercy, and of good will to men. As sinners emanci- 
 pated fi'om the tyranny of Satan and the slavery of sin, 
 you represent among men the benevolence and compassion 
 of your great and gracious Deliverer ; and as baptized 
 followers of the blessed Son of God, you glory in the op- 
 pressed and incarcerated Bunyan, and the Insulted, per- 
 secuted, and expatriated founder of Rhode Island. 
 
 " For the oppression of the poor, and for the sighing of 
 the needv In this land, God has manifestly arisen. His to 
 
TRIENNIAL CONVENTION. 125 
 
 kens are clearly perceived and understood by Cliristians^ 
 philosophers, and statesmen throughout the civilized 
 world, and no man who is at all conversant with tb.e 
 character of eternal justice, the past history of Provi- 
 dence, and the equity of the divine government, can hesi- 
 tate to augur that the ultimate, perhaps speedy result 
 must be the triumph of liberty to every captive, especially 
 in this land. The rod of every oppressor shall then be 
 broken in pieces, and all who are found, either by their 
 marked silence or open sympathy, abetting the enslavers 
 of their helpless fellow-men, shall then be covered with 
 shame. God forbid tliat your beloved body should be 
 among the last of the associated churches of the Redeemer, 
 to proclaim before heaven and earth that liberty, — civil 
 and religious liberty — is, by the gift of the adorable Cre- 
 ator, one of the most sacred and inalienable rights of man, 
 and that you regard this high principle as extending to 
 all who bear our common nature. Let it he remember ed^ 
 dear hretJiren^ that the North Beriah Ba]jtist Church dis- 
 claims all participation or responsibility in the act which 
 expunged from your Annual Minutes the harmless but 
 honorable ' Resolution ' which^for two successive years^ ojp- 
 feared on their pages ^ recommending prayer to the God of 
 mercy for light and direction upon this important subject,''"' 
 In 1835 the Triennial Convention held its eighth 
 session in Richmond, Va. The Rev. Dr. Cox and 
 the Rev. Mr. (now Dr.) Hoby were present, as dele- 
 gates from the Baptist Union in England. Mr. Dunbar 
 went to the meeting with little love for slavery, but 
 he came home with less. He was the guest of 
 a widow, a lady of position in the church and the 
 world, and who extended to him and the brethren 
 with liim the largest hospitality. They had men to 
 11* 
 
126 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 brush their coats and black their boots, and perform all 
 the little services for them, which, in their homes, where 
 labor was honorable, they themselves were accustomed 
 to do. They were now seeing, in domestic life, the sunny 
 side of slavery, and were in danger of coming thence, 
 as other Northern Christians had done, with eyes so 
 dazzled by the false light as to be blind to the dreadful re- 
 ality. But Providence let them in behind the scenes. 
 
 They had noticed the day they took up their abode 
 with this slave-holding sister, a gray-haired negress, sitting 
 on the steps of the back area, wringing her hands and 
 swinging her form to and fro, as if in speechless agony. 
 Seeing her again and again in the same place and attitude, 
 they decided that she was insane, and Mr. Dunbar's sym- 
 pathy was greatly excited for her. One morning, he asked 
 of a fine fellow who was brushing his coat, and who was, 
 by the way, the son of a prominent gentleman and high 
 functionary, the cause of the old woman's grief. 
 
 With a solemn face, and a glance which told how deeply 
 the iron had entered into his own soul, he replied, " She's 
 losing her mind, sir." 
 
 " From what cause ? " asked one of the brethren, who 
 was listening. 
 
 The noble fellow looked around him cautiously, and then 
 replied in a subdaied tone, " She had two fine boys, sir, 
 and missus sold them, two weeks ago, to a driver; and 
 they's gone with a gang down to the rice-swamps. She'll 
 never see them again, gentlemen, and she knows it. They 
 say she cannot eat or sleep, and that her mind is leaving 
 her mighty fast." 
 
 With this fact and the picture of the poor distracted 
 mother in their minds, these ministers of the gospel which 
 proclaims liberty to the captive and opening of the prison- 
 
TRIENNIAL CONVENTION. 127 
 
 doors to tlieiii that are bound, had to attend those meet- 
 ings, where slavery strove to rule the house, shutting the 
 lips of many a Nortliern Christian, and causing some tu 
 bow the knee at her bloody shrine. 
 
 One morning, several of the ministers, determining to 
 see the lion at his prey as well as on exhibition for good 
 behavior, agreed to go at sunrise to the caboose, and see 
 if woman-whipping and kindred horrors were unblusliingly 
 practised in the United States. They came for Mr. Dun- 
 bar to accompany them ; but he replied, " I dare not trust 
 myself there ; for I know I could not stand quietly by and 
 see it. I might snatch the whip, and change victims ! " 
 
 The meagre record of proceedings, given in the annual 
 report for 1835, would leave the impression of a united and 
 peaceful session, free from the slightest allusion to the 
 troublesome question of slavery. To outward appearance it 
 was, indeed, unlike those stormy meetings which occurred 
 afterward in Baltimore and Philadelphia, especially in 
 the latter city, when the long-repressed feelings of 
 abolitionists burst tlu'ough all artificial bounds, and North 
 and South met in hot debate. But silent influences were 
 even then at w^ork, in the hope of compelling the North- 
 ern churches to submission, if not to an indorsement of 
 slavery. Public discussion was discouraged, because dark- 
 ness does not love the light. Mr. Dunbar, like many oth- 
 ers in the convention, felt a righteous indignation at these 
 insidious movements of the partisans of slavery, and longed 
 for the threatened division between Northern and South- 
 ern churches, as essential to the peace and honor of Zion, 
 and as tending to hasten the downfall of slavery. 
 
 Some time after these scenes occurred at Ricliniond, a 
 friend called at Mr. Dunbar's residence, to introduce "• A 
 young ministering brother, from the everglades of Florida." 
 
128 DUxXCAxN DUNBAU. 
 
 Of course, the conversation soon turned to the then ex- 
 citing subject of slavery, the young man manifesting a great 
 
 desire to enlighten Northern Christians and to soften the , 
 
 . . . ! 
 
 views of all fanatics. Mr. Dunbar heard patiently his ac- ' 
 
 count of the charms and advantages of the " patriarchal 
 
 system." The Southerner waxed warm in its defence, 
 
 proving its virtues, to his own satisfaction, from the Bible, 
 
 and finally declaring, "When I was a theological student 
 
 at W., I dropped my books, and shouldered my gun to 
 
 figlit for nullification ; and if ever the day should come 
 
 when it is necessary, I will do the same in defence of 
 
 slavery." 
 
 It was new to Mr. Dunbar to hear a minister talk of 
 fighting with carnal weapons in any cause ; but he was 
 shocked to hear one vow that he would do so for a system 
 which he believed to be accursed of God. But the stranger 
 was in his house, and common courtesy forbade him to 
 speak as severely as he might elsewhere have done. When 
 the young man stopped to take breath, Mr. Dunbar said, 
 " Kow, my young friend, do you not think I have listened 
 long and patiently to your views ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then, I should like to give you mine, if you will 
 listen as patiently." 
 
 The stranger nodded assent, when the friend who 
 brought him, prophesying a long session, withdrew, his 
 guest promising to follow him soon. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar very kindly, but with a plainness not to be 
 mistaken, then portrayed the system of slavery from every 
 point of view ; — as a curse to the negro, to the nation, and 
 even to the South itself. He spoke of the inconsistency of 
 slave-hol ling Christians, in praying for, and sending the 
 gospel to' the benighted abroad, while they had heathen 
 
MODEL SLAVE-HOLDER. 129 
 
 in tlieir fields, on their carriage-boxes, and in their 
 kitchens. 
 
 This was a httle more than our theological nullifier was 
 ready to admit ; and he cited case after case of slave-hold- 
 ers bribing their blacks to break the laws of the State by 
 learning to read ; and, finally, pronounced the whole sys- 
 tem Christian and philanthropic, not holding it responsible 
 for the sins of bad masters, any more than freedom should 
 be chargeable with the cruelty or neglect of wicked fathers 
 toward their little ones. " Why," he exclaimed trium- 
 phantly, " I could take you, brother Dunbar, to the house 
 of a friend in Richmond" (rather an unfortunate choice 
 of a place, for it was even then an offence in his ear) 
 " where parental care is given to the slaves. The mistress 
 is a leading Baptist lady, of great piety and intelligence. 
 When I stopped there on my way North, she and her 
 daughters gathered the family of blacks in the large dining- 
 hall on Sabbath evening, and taught them lessons from 
 Scripture, many of the men and women answ^ering as cor- 
 rectly as Sunday-school children would have done. This 
 lady is very benevolent to the poor, and very active in the 
 church. An acquaintance with her and others of her 
 class, would, I'm very sure, sir, modify your views." 
 
 " What is the name of this friend of yours ? " asked Mr. 
 Dunbar, \^ath an arch smile. 
 
 u Mrs. ." 
 
 " Yes, and she lives in street, does she not ? " 
 
 " She does," replied the young man in surprise. " Do 
 you know her ? " 
 
 '' I do ; and admit that she is, as you say, a prominent 
 Baptist, intelligent, and active in the church, and also that 
 she is a shrewd business woman ! " 
 
130 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 The stranger looked not a little confused, and asked, 
 " But where did you meet her ? " 
 
 " At her own house m Richmond, sir. I was one 
 among her many guests, and we were sumptuously enter- 
 tained, while attending the Triennial Convention. At 
 that very time there was a grav-haired mother in her 
 house, owned by her, going mad ^ rn ^vh-u heci^.r.'^e this 
 active Baptist Christian had just sold her two l^v.v-, to be 
 driven like cattle in a gang to the rice plantations of the 
 far South ! Did you ever hear of that ? " 
 
 The young man hesitated, and Mr. Dunbar asked again, 
 " Did you know this ? " He admitted that he did, but 
 assured Mr. Dunbar that he did not in the least degree 
 justify her course. 
 
 " Ah, but this is the one slave-holding Christian whom 
 you have held up to me as a model, an acquaintance with 
 whom was to modify my view^s of slavery ! " 
 
 The plumes of this young bird of chivalry drooped not 
 a little when this arrow struck at his high nest ; but the 
 calm, fatherly tone of Mr. Dunbar gave him no excuse for 
 pecking at him, or for fluttering oif in a passion. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar then took out his watch, and asked, 
 *' Have you said freely all you wished to ? " 
 
 "' Yes." 
 
 " And so have I. Now, It is one o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, and you shall not leave my house at such an hour. 
 Dr. and Mrs. F. will have given you up and gone to bed ; 
 so you are my guest for to-night," 
 
 To this the visitor cheerfully assented ; and Mr. Dun- 
 bar said, " I suppose, if I should go to Floiida and talk as 
 I have here, they would not thank me." 
 
 " Mr. Dunbar, they'd hang you for an abolitionist ! " 
 
 " They would, — would they ? Then see the difference in 
 
NED DUDLEY. 131 
 
 the Spirit of the two sections. You have said all that is in 
 your heart in favor of slavery, and yet you're not afraid 
 of us. You're going up to my guest-chamher to sleep as 
 quietly and securely as you would on your own pillow at 
 home." 
 
 His guest smiled, and replied, " They would bear better 
 with you than with an abolitionist, Mr. Dunbar." 
 
 " But Fm an abolitionist, sir, out and out." 
 
 " But you're not like the rest of them." 
 
 " Yes, I am, only worse ! I am not willing to admit 
 that any man alive abhors this system more thoroughly 
 than I do, root and branch ! " 
 
 And thus they parted for the night ; the stranger car- 
 rying to his dreams some faithful wounds, which, we fear, 
 the balmy air of Florida healed but too slightly. 
 
 One morning, a few days before Mr. Dunbar's sudden 
 voyage to Europe, in 1836, in search of health, a colored 
 man called to see him, and, as he said his business was very 
 important, he was ushered into the room where Mr. Dun- 
 bar lay on a sofa. He introduced himself as " Ned Dud- 
 ley," formerly a slave in South Carolina, but now a free 
 man ; and gave his story thus. 
 
 An old Scotch gentleman named Simpson, a neighbor 
 of Ned's master, had a fine estate, but being consci- 
 entiously opposed to owning his fellow-men, hired servants 
 from his neighbors. About a year before this time Mr. 
 Simpson fell sick, and Ned, having a good reputation as a 
 nurse, was hired by him from his master, and through long 
 months of suffering, acted in this capacity, fulfilling his 
 duties tenderly and faithfully. Ned, beside being a good 
 nurse, was a good Methodist, and, we doubt not, honored 
 Christ in the eyes of the gentleman, who one day asked 
 him if he had ever^ desired to be free. " Desii'ed to be 
 
132 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 free ? " Why, it had been the long dream of his hfe, the 
 aching void which a good home, plenty to eat, and liberty 
 for camp-meetings could not fill. " Well, Ned," said the 
 gentleman, " 3'ou have been faithful and kind to me in my 
 suffering, and I shall give you your liberty before I die." 
 But, alas, he died too soon for that, and left Xed in 
 the dark prison-house, made darker still by the gleam of 
 hght which for a little season had streamed in, and then had 
 been shut out. Everything was trusted in his hands for safe- 
 keeping until the arrival of the young heir, Robert Simp- 
 son, from Scotland, to take the estate into his hands. An 
 army could not have guarded the treasures more faithfully 
 than did this poor, disappointed Christian slave. After a 
 time the young man arrived, and received the keys from 
 Ned, whom he had resolved to keep by him while settling 
 his affairs. Now this gentleman was no greater admirer 
 of the " patriarchal system " than was his deceased uncle ; 
 and not unfrequently did he express his opinion of it in 
 Ned's presence ; but the poor fellow was too modest 
 to tell of the promise made him by the dead, and to beg the 
 
 gift of himself. When the estate was settled, and its 
 
 owner was preparing to return to Britain, his own noble 
 heart prompted him to open the subject, and to ask, 
 " Would you hke to be free ? " Ned replied as he had done 
 to the uncle. " Well," said Mr. Simpson, " spring on to 
 my horse, and ride over and ask the man what he will 
 take for you." 
 
 Probably that road was never passed over in the same 
 space of time before. Ned was soon back with his answer, 
 when Mr. Simpson, with the noble generosity of the 
 freedom-loving Scot, advanced the sum required, and Ned, 
 jubilant over his good fortune, hid his free papers in his 
 bosom. 
 
NED DUDLEY. 133 
 
 But alas for the joys of earth ! No sooner had Ned's 
 brow been crowned with the chaplet of freedom, than he 
 found he must leave South Carolina, and thus separate 
 himself from Sally, the wife of his heart, who was nurse 
 and seamstress in her master's family, and was to them in- 
 valuable. But the die was cast, and after a farewell, 
 which nearly broke their hearts, he made his way North, 
 to earn Sally's freedom. On reaching New York, he 
 told his story to some one, who said, " Go to Mr. Dunbar, 
 and he will get money for you to buy your wife." He 
 had accordingly found his way to Mr. Dunbar's house. 
 Among the inducements he held out to undertake the 
 work was this, " Sally is a right smart woman, and she is 
 a Baptist, too, sir." 
 
 " But, Ned, my good fellow," replied Mr. D., '' you 
 see me here sick ; day after to-morrow I sail for England ; 
 so, gladly as I would help you to buy Sally, I cannot 
 do it." 
 
 But still Ned hngered, with the painful expression of 
 " hope deferred " on his face, suggesting again that Sally 
 ,was a good woman and mighty smart. 
 
 His pleading look was too much for the heart thus 
 suddenly shut off from all its work of love, and Mr. Dun- 
 bar said, " Well, my boy, suppose you go to England and 
 Scotland with me ? I have plenty of friends there who 
 will gladly give us money to buy Sally." 
 
 " Pd go mighty quick, sir, but I've got no money." 
 
 " Well, we'll see about money ; you may go down to 
 the ship with me, and see the captain." 
 
 Captain F., with the noble generosity which characterizes 
 the sons of the sea, offered to give Ned a free passage if Mr. 
 Dunhar would lay in a little store of provisions for him. 
 
 After a short voyage they arrived in England. Mr. 
 
 1'2 
 
134 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 Dunbar had a beloved friend in Aberdeen, Rev. Mr. 
 Brown, of the Episcopal Church, a gentleman of wealth 
 and family, to whose care he felt quite free to consign his 
 sable charge. 
 
 Ned was received with the utmost kindness, and Mr. 
 Brown entered wath all his heart into the case of Sally, 
 giving nobly from his own purse to insure her freedom. 
 His liberator, Mr. Simpson, also aided in the work. 
 Suffice it to say, that Ned returned to New York before 
 his patron, well supplied with ftinds for his object. 
 Sally's owner reluctantly consented to sell her to him 
 for a high price, and she was forwarded to New York. 
 She was an interesting, motherly person, quite fair, 
 and of very pleasing voice and manners ; and, hav- 
 ing served part of her life as house-keeper, was com- 
 petent to fill any domestic position. She and Ned both 
 went into service, and ere long were able to have a 
 humble home of their own, kept tidy by the good Sally, 
 and cheered by the crowing of a little sable baby, whom 
 the grateful creatures named ^' Robert Simpson." They 
 maintained a good Christian character, and proved per- 
 fectly able to " take care of themselves." 
 
 There was a worthy old colored brother, John D , 
 
 who used to saw wood and put in coal for Mr. Dunbar. 
 He carried in his breast a twenty years' secret, which he 
 would not that the birds should carol out in Nansimond 
 county, Virginia ! 
 
 One evening, Mr. Dunbar, needing old J.'s services, de- 
 scended tlie steps leading to his cellar-home in Vandam 
 street, and found it crowded with sable guests. Many 
 of them, scorning the formality of chairs, or because the 
 demand exceeded the supply, were seated on the hospitable 
 floor. 
 
THE ROLLS SLAVES. 135 
 
 " Yoa have company, I see," Mr. Dunbar said. 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied the old man. " Is'e found a heap of 
 old friends to-day ! They'se just landed in a sloop from 
 Yiroinia, and I was working by the slip. I knew Uncle 
 Gil the first minute I see him. You see, Mr. Dunbar," he 
 added, with a twinkle in his eye, " I used to live down 
 there mvself once. Their master was a neighbor to 
 my old master, and now it 'pears he's died and left them 
 their freedom. But there's no justice in Virginia, sir, 
 for our people. The widow kept them till the year 'lowed 
 for free blacks to get out of the State was gone, and 
 then drove them off without what he willed them. Here 
 they are, sir, without a dollar, and they'se left a lot of their 
 people behind for security for their passages up." Here every 
 happy creature drew his free papers from his bosom, with a 
 copy of his master's will. Aggy, the mother of nine chil- 
 dren, carried ten free papers and ten copies of the will 
 about her person, as other mothers would hide their jewels. 
 
 With the blessed legacy of freedom, their master had also 
 left one third of the personal estate, to convey them 
 to a part of our country where they might enjoy forever, 
 unmolested, the blessing of freedom. 
 
 " One of the executors was a Quaker," said one of them ; 
 " master knew Quakers were good friends to our peo- 
 ple, and he tried mighty hard to get our rights for us ; 
 but he couldn't. So now we got to get on best we can, 
 and earn money to send for them we left behind." 
 
 Provision was made also in the will for several aged and 
 imbecile ones on the i)lantation ; but these the prudent 
 widow took good care to send North for the others to sup- 
 port. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar did his business with John, and departed, 
 
136 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 promising to see what he could do for " our poor friends," 
 as he called them. 
 
 He at once engaged rooms in Hammersley street for 
 them, and interested many friends in their behalf ; but they 
 were not in a waiting mood, and not seeing him the next 
 day, the whole troop, escorted by John's little girl, appeared 
 at his house, filling the door-step and sidewalk, — alarming 
 the astonished family not a little by their entree. Some 
 one remarked, much to Mr. Dunbar's amusement, that 
 people would surely think he was holding a slave-auction 
 on the stoop. He sent out to a baker's for bread and 
 cake, and fed the multitude before sending them away. 
 The ladies of the church soon clothed them, and their hum- 
 ble quarters were filled, through Mr. Dunbar's influence, 
 with articles of comfort. Soon they were as happy as 
 possible, keeping house as one large family. 
 
 Several gentlemen made an earnest but unsuccessful ef- 
 fort to secure the rights of the poor creatures ; but the 
 worthy Quaker executor wrote, assuring them that if a 
 suit should be instituted ac^ainst the estate for the amount 
 left them, there could not be found a jury in Virginia who 
 would crive a verdict in their favor. Here the matter end- 
 ed as far as the poor outcasts were concerned ; but who 
 can tell what punishment God may have sent on their o])- 
 pressors in these days of reckoning ? Where are they, and 
 where are their riches to-day ? 
 
 Having come North on the deck of a tobacco sloop, 
 without bonnets, hats, shawls or slioes, great nuuibt:'rs of 
 the poor creatures took colds, which ended in consump- 
 tion before the winter was over. They passed through 
 sad .scenes of suffering from poverty, sickness and bereave- 
 ment ; but not one of them was ever heard to wish him- 
 self back with " missus ; " the}^ rejoiced in their freedom. 
 
THE llOLLS SLAVES. 137 
 
 and all of tliem proved sober, industrious and grateful. 
 Poor, motherly Aggy, after seeing several of her children 
 laid in the grave, a sacrifice to the cupidity that sent them 
 here half clad, came to her own death-bed in peace. When 
 dying, she begged Mrs. Dunbar to look after Sarah, Ra- 
 chel, and Jack, which she promised to do. A friend took 
 little R. to Newburgh, and kept her, till she too fell a 
 victim to hasty consumption. Sarah and Jack were taken 
 into Mrs. Dunbar's own kitchen till other places were 
 found for them. 
 
 These poor cast-offs were peaceable and well disposed, but 
 their mental training did very little credit to the Christian 
 man whose conscience forced him to give them justice only 
 on his death-bed. Very few of them knew their own 
 ages, — one woman telling Mr. Dunbar that she was forty, 
 and that her mother was fifty years old ! One of the poor 
 imbeciles, who has outlived nearly all her friends, was cared 
 for by Mrs. Dunbar as long as she lived. It was her cus- 
 tom to go to her for a warm breakfast every morning, — a 
 practice she was allowed to keep up through Mrs. Dun- 
 bar's last illness. One morning she came in with the usu- 
 al earnest inquiries for the health of her patient, untiring 
 friend ; a servant told her, with tears, that she ivas dead ! 
 and then Meely's loud, uncontrollable wailings filled the 
 house. " Oh ! oh ! " she cried, wringing her hands in ago- 
 ny, " I got nobody left to take care of me now ! nobody 
 to say, 'Hungry, Meely ? ' nobody to say, 'Got warm 
 stockings, Meely ? ' nobody to give me warm shawl and a 
 new dress ! Lord, O Lord ! I lost my best friend, and 
 got nobody left to say, ' Poor Meely ! '" After piercing 
 anew the heart of every one in that house of mourning, 
 she seemed to exhaust her grief, and suddenly cried out, 
 " I'll see her again ; she's only gone up there, to my Fa- 
 
 12 * 
 
138 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 ther's kingdom ! Soon poor old Meely go up there too, and 
 I'll see her. I don't want to stay down here now, when 
 all my friends is in de kingdom ; I want to go there, too ! " 
 Her tone and manner were almost triumphant, as she raised 
 her thin, black hands and her tearful eyes to heaven, ex- 
 claiming again and again, " I'm going to my Father's 
 kingdom, too ! " and we doubt not she will find entrance 
 there, when many who knew their Master's will and did 
 it not, will be cast out. 
 
 Poor John, whose generous heart was so out of propor- 
 tion with his limited accommodations and his small means, 
 little dreamed that his own dark hour was so near at hand. 
 One Sabbath morning, a note was sent to the several 
 Baptist churches, from the City Hall jail, stating that " one 
 
 John " had been arrested by his owner, from whom 
 
 he had escaped twenty years ago, and that, unless money 
 could be raised to buy him, he would be taken to Virginia 
 the next day. There was some consultation between the 
 members of these churches, and the money was pledged 
 and John released. When the poor Rolls slaves had 
 come homeless to him, he took them in ; and, now that he 
 was in prison, there were not wanting Christian men to 
 go to him, and by their prayers and alms to save him from 
 a return to the dark prison-house of bondage. 
 
 The terror caused by his arrest and the terrible sus- 
 pense of the days which intervened between that and his 
 release was the ruin of his wife, a tall, fine-looking 
 mulatto, fi-dl of life and energy. Her reason gave way 
 under the blow, and when he hastened home to surprise 
 her with the joyful news of his deliverance, she did not 
 know him, but went on frantically bewailing his fate. In 
 a few weeks she was so wasted that old friends did not 
 know her m the street ; — another victim to slavery. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Call and Removal to South Boston — Return to New York — Compassion for the Strick- 
 en — Charity for the Starving Irish — Letter from Coolany — The Mission of a 
 Word — Labors to make the Poor Independent — The Old Ballad-seller — A 
 S-zreet Acquaintance — A Charge against " Blackwell's Island " — His Gratitude — 
 " Uncle M." — Knowing the Heart of the Stranger — Removal to Philadelphia — to 
 Trenton — Return to New York. 
 
 FTER laboring most earnestly and faithfully with 
 the McDougal Street Church for sixteen years, 
 Mr. Dunbar received a call from the church 
 in South Boston. Circumstances at the time 
 caused him to regard this as a voice from God, 
 and we do not believe that he ever regretted his 
 decision in responding to it. He resigned his charge in 
 Kew York with the deepest feeling ; and, followed by the 
 prayers of a large majority of the people, went to his new 
 home. This was in the winter of 1844. 
 
 He and his family were most cordially received in South 
 Boston. It was not with this church the time of harvest. 
 There were difficulties and trials among them, which 
 needed just such wisdom and experience as their new pas- 
 tor brought with him. His was not here, as in most 
 other places, the blessed work of gathering in the sheaves ; 
 it was the less pleasing, but equally important one, of pre- 
 paring the soil for a future harvest. Much of his labor 
 was that of discipline, in which he had the aid and the 
 wisdom of judicious deacons and brethren, and by which 
 the church was both purified and strengthened. In no 
 other period of his ministry did so long a time ever pass 
 without an outpouring of God's Spirit. But he did not, 
 
 (139) 
 
140 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 therefore, regard his work as unavaihng, fully realizing 
 that no effort in God's vineyard is without its advantage 
 and its reward. 
 
 He remained in South Boston but two years. The 
 McDougal Street Church, being without a pastor, felt that 
 they needed his counsel and guidance. They recalled 
 him, and their deacons came on from New York to press 
 his acceptance. His strong affection for that people, and 
 a belief that the hand of God was in the matter, induced 
 him to resign his charge that he might return to his old 
 field. He left the church m South Boston far more 
 united and prosperous than he found them, well assured 
 of their affection for him as a pastor and their appreciation 
 of him as a minister of Jesus Christ. 
 
 His interest in the welfare of this people continued 
 through life, as his many affectionate letters to those in 
 affliction there show. Here he formed numerous friend- 
 ships which will outlive the brief period of time, — some 
 of which are being now^ enjoyed in their fulness where 
 there is no more death. 
 
 His return to New York was followed by a blessing. 
 God again acknowledged his labors there, and souls were 
 given him as his reward. Again he took up his toilsome 
 work among the poor, the sick and the sorrowful. 
 There were no conceivable cases of trial which were 
 not brought before him, and in no one of them did he 
 seem powerless to aid and comfort. The weakest and 
 most stricken of God's creatures found a patient, pitying 
 friend in Mr. Dunbar. Many will remember how he con- 
 descended to the low estate of poor S., the life-long pro- 
 tege of Mr. Seton ; how kindly he used to listen to his 
 vague remarks, soothe his chafed feelings, and encourage 
 the children to deal tenderly with him. Once when S. 
 
COMPASSION FOR THE STRICKEN. 141 
 
 saw others following Christ, feeling that he, too, loved 
 him, he came asking to be baptized. Mr. Dunbar felt 
 that this was not required of him, and that a judicious care 
 for the interests of the church would not warrant it. So 
 he put him oflP very gently, as careful not to injure his 
 feelings as if he had been the wisest man among them, 
 and thought he would soon turn to some other object, and 
 this be fororotten. This, however, was not the case ; he 
 came again and again, to be put off each time as gently. 
 When, at last, the poor fellow's ire being a little roused, he 
 threatened Mr. Dunbar that if he did not baptize him 
 pretty soon, he would go off and join the Catholics, Mr. D. 
 did not smile at his folly, but said, soothingly, " You need 
 not do that ; think about the Lord Jesus, and try to love 
 him more, and you will see him face to face by and by. 
 He will not cast you off, because you have not been bap- 
 tized." Even when entering the courts of the Lord's house, 
 he had a word and a smile for any " one of these little 
 ones." 
 
 For those whose minds, through sickness or great sor- 
 row, had been broken or turned astray, he had the great- 
 est compassion ; always listening with interest to their 
 imaginary wrongs, and trying to turn their thoughts into 
 a more hopeful channel. Many such, when feeling op- 
 pressed and crushed, turned instinctively to him as a 
 helper. 
 
 Once when Mr. Dunbar went with a party to visit an 
 Insane Asylum, a young man who was walking the hall 
 in a very hasty and excited manner, marked him from the 
 rest, and stepping up to him, asked, '' Sir, are you not a 
 man of God ? " On Mr. Dunbar answering that he was 
 a minister, the young man said to him solemnly, " I 
 dreamed last night that I saw that river, the streams 
 
Ii2 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 whereof make glad the city of our God ! " The words, 
 so plaintively uttered, and the worn, but intellectual coun- 
 tenance of the stricken youth, touched a deep chord in that 
 loving heart. His party was forgotten, and Mr. Dunbar 
 stopped to comfort him to whom much study had proved 
 a weariness of the flesh and a disturber of the brain. 
 
 Another instance of his tenderness to this class will 
 never be forgotten by the family. They were aroused one 
 night by a tremendous knocking. Mr. Dunbar asked who 
 was there, and learned that the stranger had just escaped 
 from a Lunatic Asylum, and had come to him for protec- 
 tion. The night was intensely cold, and the poor, terri 
 fied man was nearly frozen, and very wild ; and he 
 declared that if Mr. Dunbar did not come down at once 
 he would break in the door. The ladies were much 
 alarmed, and begged him to rouse the neighbors ; but he 
 said, " No ; I'll manage him, poor creature." He went 
 dow^n and took him in to the warm parlor, soothed his 
 fears of pursuit, and, instead of calling in the police to 
 take him away in the cold, sat beside him all night, min- 
 istering to his diseased mind. In the morning he restored 
 him to his family, who were in great alarm about him. 
 
 One day, a few years since, while Mr. Dunbar was 
 boarding, a pale, delicate lady called on him, a stranger 
 and a physician's wife, from the West. Her object was to 
 induce him to examine a manuscript she had ready 
 for the press ; and, after many excuses, as being too busy 
 to attend to such work, &c., he found she was not to be 
 put off. So he took her upstairs to his daughter, and 
 opened her papers. They w^ere elegantly penned ; but 
 the first few sentences revealed the fact that the author's 
 mind was deranged. It was a mass of incongruous matter 
 on every conceivable subject ; and yet, in her present ap- 
 
FAMINE IN IRELAND. 143 
 
 parently sensible mood, was all important and reasonable 
 to her, and she was very anxious to give it to the world. 
 
 Her gentle manner and feeble appearance greatly touched 
 Mr. Dunbar's kind heart, and he gave her the hours in 
 which he should have been resting, rather than repulse 
 her. In the course of conversation she alluded to having 
 been placed, for some inconceivable reason, in a Lunatic 
 Asylum, — from which she had, no doubt, escaped un- 
 known to her guardians. Evening came, but she made no 
 movement to go, and, indeed, did not know the way, in 
 the darkness, to her friends' home in a distant part of the 
 city. Mr. Dunbar interested his landlady in her, who 
 kindly cared for her and kej^t her till morning. When 
 she left, there was found on her table a beautifully touch- 
 ing note, thanking him for his forbearance and kindness ; 
 and, doubtless, the poor, stricken stranger bore, wherever 
 she went, the memory of this to cheer her gloom. 
 
 He believed that the true way to deal with such 
 sufferers was to humor their fancies, and the above in- 
 cidents illustrate the wisdom which guided his sympathies. 
 
 When the hearts of the American people were just 
 beginning to be touched by accounts of the famine in Ire- 
 land, in the year 1847, Mr. Dunbar received a most touch- 
 ing ap})eal from a student of the late Rev. Dr. Carson, in 
 behalf of his starving brethren in Coolany, Sligo County. 
 Scenes the most heart-rending were described, in which 
 the aged and infirm, and little children, who could neither 
 \\ ork nor flee to more favored parts, were dying of want. 
 Mr. I)unl)ar was a stranger to them ; but some one in the 
 little church had heard of his name and character, and 
 thus sent, begging him, for Christ's sake, to procure tliera 
 relief. 
 
144 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 Then doubtless came up before his mind the horrors of 
 that six months on the " Hahfax Packet," when the little 
 ones cried in vain for bread. Pity was a spring for action, 
 and not an hour elapsed between the postman's ring with 
 the letter and his first effort for these brethren of Christ. 
 He went from one personal friend to another and read the 
 letter ; and by the next steamer, which sailed a day or two 
 after, he forwarded $150, — the first assistance that left 
 our shores for those sufferers. While other churches and 
 charitable organizations were discussing plans and propos- 
 ing collections, the offering of McDougal Street was cross 
 ing the sea. Long before the applicants looked for an an- 
 swer, aid reached them. Their pastor, whose house was 
 the resort of all in distress, wrote that a " dear brother M., 
 a schoolmaster, had just been to him, in great anguish, 
 saying that his children were dying for want of bread." 
 They prayed together, and the pastor tried to comfort the 
 distressed man by telHng him that help would soon come 
 from their transatlantic friends. He went away, saying, 
 " We shall surely die ! " 
 
 Scarcely had he gone, when the postman brought an 
 American letter, with the bill of exchange for £ 31. Is. St?. 
 The pastor laid it down on a chair, fell before it, and gave 
 thanks to Him who had remembered their sorrows, and 
 then flew to the agonized father, whose last words to him 
 had been, " We shall surely die ! " In his own words, he 
 cried out as he entered the house, letter in hand, " Dear 
 Brother M., donH die any more ! Here's help from dear 
 Brother Dunbar ! " 
 
 In a long and touchingly beautiful letter from the 
 church at Coolany, is the following passage : — 
 
 " Dear and Reverend Sir, — No language can express 
 onr gratitude to you, and the generous, affectionate people 
 
LETTER FROM COOLANY. 145 
 
 under your pastoral care, for the aid administered to us in 
 this the time of our affliction and calamity ! It reached 
 us just as we were sinking under famine, starvation and 
 despair ; but not until one of our most beloved, intelligent, 
 and useful brethren had sunk in his suflerino-s, to rise no 
 more in this life. 
 
 " We are thankful for the names of our kind benefactors ; 
 — they shall never be forgotten by us at the throne of 
 grace, until we meet them on that happy shore where 
 these temporal trials shall be over. 
 
 " To give you any adequate description of our desolate 
 country is impossible. A gracious Providence seems to 
 frown upon us. Our cocks have ceased to crow^ our dogs 
 liave ceased to bark. Our strong and athletic men are 
 drooping, and wandering along our hedges. Our once 
 fruitful fields are rnw waste and fallow. Famine and 
 starvation are moving on apace. Disease and mortahty 
 are hourly increasing, and our numerous population de- 
 clining, not by hundreds, but by thousands, throughout 
 our ill-fated land. 
 
 " The humble individual who pens these 
 
 lines is one of those who have shared your bounty ; and 
 he firmlv believes that it was the means of savino; his life 
 and that of his family. And now, he and a few of the 
 brethren who sit around him meet for this purpose, to 
 assure you that you have secured the gratitude of their 
 liearts, and that their souls' petition shall ever ascend to 
 the throne of grace in your behalf." 
 
 Signed by John ]\Ionahan and four brethren. 
 
 This was but the beo-innino; of Mr. Dunbar's work for 
 Ireland. The money he forwarded after this was always 
 distributed, by his recpiest, " without regard to sect, creed, 
 or party." 
 
 13 
 
146 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 In other localities also, where was suffering from like 
 cause, he felt the same interest ; and there are yet living 
 many who will remember his efforts for the Cape de Verd 
 Islands, when ^^sited by a terrible famine. So fervent 
 were his appeals in public, that, on one occasion, he hav- 
 ing led the way, by giving freely, jewels were laid on 
 the plate by those who had not all the money they desired 
 to give. His friend Rev. Mr. H. being in the pulpit with 
 him, and his feelings going beyond his means, rose, 
 drew out his watcli, and leaned over to cast it in among the 
 offerings. But Mr. D., who knew his circumstances, qui- 
 etly took it out of his hand. He never expected others 
 to make the severe sacrifices that he himself did. 
 
 To a person in straitened circumstances, he wrote : — 
 
 " I am pushed for time, and write only to say, God bless 
 you all ! Tell your wife to roll up this little picture (a 
 ten-dollar bill), and transform it into a barrel of flour, or 
 chew it some other way, to shut, for an hour or two, the 
 mouth of old unbelief." 
 
 Mr. Dunbar walked the streets with his eyes open 
 to the interests of the strangers he met. 
 
 One day he went to pray with a person who was dying, 
 his path being along the river. On his way, his eye met 
 that of a young man who was standing listlessly by one of 
 the wharves. That was nothing strange in a city, where 
 crowds jostle each other and pass, never to meet again. 
 He noticed the face, — that was all, — and then went on, 
 performed his mission in the sick-room, and returned to 
 his home. 
 
 After the lapse of a few days, he again turned his steps 
 up town, to inquire if still the sufferer lingered on the 
 shores of time. Again he encountered the same young 
 
A STREET ACQUAINTANCE. 147 
 
 man in tlie same spot. He looked at him earnestly, won- 
 dering whether mere idleness, or what other motive, ,^ould 
 induce him to plant himself there at an hour when all 
 active men were astir either for pleasure or business. He 
 was minded to speak to the stranger, but lacked an ex- 
 cuse ; so he passed him, turning back, however, to take 
 another look at the erect form and fair young face. He 
 carried the stranger's glance home in his heart ; and after- 
 ward, when all save him were sleeping, while he walked 
 the floor of that study, hallowed by prevailing prayers and 
 unselfish tears, it rose up pleadingly before him. '' Who 
 is he ? What could his errand be there ? Could I have 
 helped him ? " — were the questions he asked himself; and 
 then he regretted that he had passed by on the other side, 
 and thus perhaps lost an opportunity of blessing one who 
 needed a fi'iend. 
 
 When next time the comforter soucrht the scene of suf- 
 fering, what was his surprise to see the young man in the 
 same place for the third time ! Then he felt that God had 
 sent him this way, and stepping up to him, said, pleasantly, 
 " My young friend, it is an unusual thing for two persons 
 in this great city to meet as you and I have done three 
 times in the same spot. I will tell you what has led 77ie 
 here, and then, if you have no objection, I should like to 
 know ^^'hy you stand thus so often, while all around you are 
 hurrying to and fro ? I am a minister of tlie gospel, and 
 have been on my way, the times we have met, to pray with 
 a dying woman in street. What were you doing ? " 
 
 The youth dropped his head, and tears filled his eyes, 
 as he said, " Oh, sir, my errand was a very different one 
 from yours. I am friendless, save for one sister, — a widow, 
 with three little children, — whom I ought to provide for. 
 But I have been out of employment for months, and, al- 
 
148 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 though I have left no stone unturned, can find nothing 
 to do by which I can earn even my own bread. My poor 
 sister is wearing her hfe away at her needle, cheerfully 
 sharing what she earns with me. But I can eat the bread 
 of dependence no longer. I am desperate, and three times 
 have come to this wharf to end my days by drowning ■ 
 Something each time has held me back ; but to-da}^ I must 
 end a life I cannot prolong without cruel injustice to a 
 feeble woman, very dear to me, and already crushed be- 
 neath burdens too heavy for her to bear." A wild light 
 gleamed in his. eye, as he added, '' I must do it." 
 
 " No, my son," said the man of God, laying his hand 
 tenderly on the young man's shoulder, " you must do no 
 such thing. God is not done with you yet. Go home 
 with me, and I will supply your wants until I procure 
 employment for you ; and then you can repay that dear 
 sister, and perhaps provide for her fatherless little ones." 
 
 And he drew him away from the scene of temptation, 
 and took him to that home which had been to so many 
 afflicted and disheartened ones a " door of hope." By 
 the influence of his new friend, who had almost mag- 
 netic power over others, the tempted youth soon found 
 employment at his own business ; and thus, by that word 
 in the street, was saved to his friends, and spared the guilt 
 of suicide.* 
 
 In no way was Mr. Dunbar's usefulness more promoted 
 than by this habit of speaking to strangers. " The cause 
 he knew not, he sought out." 
 
 A few years ago, he noticed a delicate, dejected-looking 
 lady in his congregation, and made an effort at the close 
 of a service to speak to her. She was a member of a Bap* 
 
 * Written for " The Macedonian." 
 
THE FORSAKEN ONE. 149 
 
 tist cluirch in another city, and liad come to New York to 
 reside. She was asked to his lionse, and Mrs. Dunbar, 
 being touched witli her lonely and melancholy state, be- 
 came much interested in her. Ere long, the stranger con- 
 fided to her her sad history. 
 
 She was an orphan, with a little property, and had, 
 from her earliest girlhood, been engaged to a young man 
 of much promise in the church to which she belonged. He 
 had commenced a course of study for the ministry, and, as 
 his prospects of success were most flattering, of course the 
 future was very bright before her. Thus, through long 
 years of patient waiting, her happiness was closely woven 
 with his progress. But, in an evil hour, ambition, or some 
 other device of the Evil One, tempted him to believe tliat 
 another than she was more suited to his growing taste ; 
 and he forsook the poor, faithful heurt that from childhood 
 had tnisted in him. He finished his studies, and married, 
 and settled, as a minister of Jesus Christ, in the veiy city, 
 we believe, where she lived. This crushing of her life's 
 hope was her death, — slow, but certain. Home, where 
 this was ever before her mind, was the last place she wished 
 to be in. She became restless and uneasy, and at length 
 left her home, unknown to the kind brother with whom 
 she lived, and was now trying to earn her bread by her 
 needle, the privacy of her departure preventing any provis- 
 ion being made for her among strangers. Mr. Dunbar 
 wrote to a minister in that city, and learned that her pain- 
 ful story was but too true. All efforts to induce her to 
 return, or even to report herself to her fi'iends, were un- 
 availing ; she desired only to hide her sorrows among 
 strangers. Mrs. Dunbar employed her herself, and intro- 
 duced her to others ; but her spirit was broken. Every- 
 thing that kindness and sympathy could do for her was 
 
 13* 
 
150 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 done in the few months that she came and went there , 
 but " a wounded spirit who can bear ? " 
 
 One day, a strange person, at whose house Miss W. 
 hved, called to tell Mrs. Dunbar that she was ill. She 
 visited her at once, but found her insensible. Every 
 attention, with medical advice, was provided, but in 
 vain. God was mercifully drawing her troubled life to a 
 close. 
 
 There was little display at that poor girl's funeral. A 
 few strangers, a prayer, a hearse, — but no mourners. 
 One carriage, in which were Mr. and Mrs. Dunbar and 
 the kind friend who so often accompanied the latter on 
 errands of mercy, followed the remains to Greenwood. 
 And thus ended a tragedy for which human law has no 
 penalty. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar's sense of honor and justice revolted at the 
 course of the man who had wrought this ruin ; and yet so 
 great were his forbearance and pity, that, when asked his 
 name by the writer of this sketch, he replied, " Never 
 mind, — he will suffer enough punishment when he hears 
 of her death, without my giving publicity to his sin. We 
 are all sinners, and if God has forgiven him, and is allow- 
 ing him to work for him, I shall not interfere." 
 
 While he was ever free in giving^ he was fully impressed 
 with the importance of encouraging the poor to become, 
 by industry and patience, independent. When men of 
 spirit came to him, depressed because they could find no 
 employment, he made it his own business to aid tliem in 
 the search for it. Hundreds, we doubt not, are living to- 
 day in easCi, and many in affluence, who sought him, heart- 
 sick from hope deferred, and crushed by the cold, rough 
 answers they met in looking for work. While his kind 
 word cheered them, and his delicate " loan " kept them 
 
LOVE TO THE POOR. 151 
 
 alive in the mean time, his active effbrts and wide influ- 
 ence put them in the road to competency or wealth. 
 Burns says : — 
 
 " See yonder poor, o'erlabored wight, 
 
 So abject, mean, and vile, 
 Who begs a brother of the earth 
 
 To give him leave to toil ; 
 And see his lordly fellow-worm 
 The poor petition spurn ! " 
 
 We doubt if ever an honest, sober man, seeking his in- 
 fluence to get employment, was turned coldly away. So 
 far did he carry this, that his study, in times of depres- 
 sion, often looked like an intelligence office for an hour 
 after breakfast. 
 
 " His love to the poor," says Rev. Mr. Paulin, " was with- 
 out bounds. He would subject himself to any amount of ex- 
 ertion to procure employment for the healthy, and charity 
 for the aged and the sick. Well do I remember his 
 hearing, one night, of a poor widow suffering with her 
 little ones in a comfortless basement. Havinoj no one to 
 send bv nio;ht, he went himself, carrvino; a large basket of 
 provisions. But when he reached the wretched abode, 
 there was neither light nor fire. He at once sent out and 
 bought candles, had chips and shavings brought from a 
 carpenter's shop, and saw the feeble mother preparing tlie 
 first warm meal her children had eaten in two days. Hav- 
 ing made them as comfortable as he could for the time 
 being, he went thence to his evening meeting, there to 
 rouse the never-failing sympathies of the sisters of McDou- 
 gal Street on her behalf. After that the widow's family 
 were well cared for as long as they needed aid. 
 
 " I have known many young men, strangers in the city 
 
152 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 to go to liim with letters of introduction from ministers and 
 others who knew his noble heart. These were usually in 
 search of situations, and often bore the sad traces only of 
 their better days ; so that their personal appearance was 
 almost a barrier to success. Often has he taken such to a 
 tailor and provided them with a complete outfit, with 
 the understanding that they should settle the bill when 
 able to do so, he becoming responsible for it. But too 
 often he was left to pay it himself ; and the worst I ever 
 heard him say in such cases, was, ' Alas, alas, for poor 
 human nature ! ' 
 
 " One little incident occurred when I w^as a young pro- 
 fessor, which made an abiding impression on my mind. I 
 w^ent with him to Nassau street, to attend a meeting com- 
 posed mostly of ministers. Many were already there ; but 
 before the opening of the meeting, a poor-looking man 
 came in, selhng ballads. He began at the door, otfering 
 them to all as he passed round the room. Some reproved 
 him for selling: such foolish thino;s, and others looked stern- 
 ly at him, as if they, too, thought he might better be at 
 work ; and, I confess, that was my own opinion. Mr. 
 Dunbar sat very near the door, and the man, as he was 
 going out, urged him to buy one of his songs. He looked 
 up in the poor creature's face with a smile, entered into 
 conversation with him, and found that he was a stranger, 
 who could find no work, and was penniless. He had taken 
 his last shilling and bought tl.iese ballads, hoping thus to 
 make enough to buy his bread for one day at least. Mr. 
 Dunbar then said, ' Well, my poor friend, I shall buy all 
 your stock, for I admire the spirit that is willino-, even in 
 this poor w^ay, to earn rather than beg. Now,' he added, 
 ' I am a minister of the gospel, and so are all these men. 
 We don't sing such songs as these, — they are of no use to 
 
BALLAD-SELLER. 153 
 
 US. But they are liarmless things ; you may take them all 
 again, and sell them to others, and thus double your capi 
 tal, and I hope you will soon get better employment.' 
 
 " Tears flowed down the poor man's cheeks, giving 
 eloquent expression to the gratitude of his heart, and, as 
 he closed the door, I heard him say, ' God Almighty bless 
 you, sir.' I could not but draw a contrast in my own 
 mind between the indifference of others and his ready 
 sympathy ; and I well knew which would have the most 
 salutary effect on the mind and heart of the poor ballad- 
 vender. 
 
 " More than once I have carried money to landlords to 
 pay the rent of poor widows, for which Mr. Dunbar had 
 become responsible, and which he then had to meet un- 
 known to any but himself and his messenger." 
 
 ]\Ir. Dunbar once met a tall, fine-looking, but overgrown, 
 or rather, as the garments would suggest, outgrown youth, 
 carrying a bundle tied in a red silk pocket-handkerchief. 
 As he passed him, he heard a most inhuman noise, which 
 seemed to issue from the bundle. Looking round, he 
 caught the eye of the boy, and asked, '' ^Y]mt have you 
 there that makes such sounds, my son ? " 
 
 " A chicken, sir," he replied, with a pleasant smile. 
 " I've a sick mother at home, and I've been to the 
 market for this to make broth for her." 
 
 Although the boy said this with a strong Irish accent, 
 Mr. Dunbar knew by his appearance and address that he 
 was a youth of no common ability. So he asked him : — 
 
 " From what part of Ireland are you ? " 
 
 " The north, sir, and I'm a Protestant." 
 
 " And what do you do for a living ? " 
 
 " Nothing since I came here, sir ; for I can get nothing 
 
154 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 to do ; so I help my mother while my father's at his 
 work." 
 
 " But what could you do if emploj-ment could be 
 found ? " 
 
 " Well, sir, I was fitting to be a clerk, at home, and I 
 can write the hand of a gentleman ; but indeed, sir, I'll do 
 anything that's honest for my bread, be it what it may." 
 
 " Well, my son," replied Mr. Dunbar, '' lun home 
 with the chicken and make your mother's broth. Come 
 to me to-morrow morning after breakfast, and show me your 
 hand-writing. I will see what can be done for a lad who 
 is wilhno; to do anything; that's honest." 
 
 The boy and the chicken moved off with improved 
 speed, and next morning the former came and proved the 
 excellence of his penmanship. Mr. Dunbar at once vis- 
 ited his home, and found the mother the victim of a worse 
 tyrant than either poverty or sickness, while the father 
 and son were struggling to keep the home neat and the 
 little ones comfortable. So he took the ambitious youth 
 under his patronage, and soon procured for him a good 
 place in a store. He conducted himself in such a way 
 as gained the confidence of his employers, and soon made 
 himself a necessity in the establishment. Years after this 
 a share was given him in the business. He was ever 
 honorable and upright, as well as dutiful and attentive to 
 his poor parents. He afterwards married very respectably, 
 was engaged in a large and profitable business. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar's compassion was boundless toward those 
 who were their own worst foes. W^hen warned not to help 
 any one of this class, because he was thriftless or intem- 
 perate, he would sometimes reply, " The more need of some- 
 body looking after him — poor fellow ! He must eat and 
 
BLACK well's LSLAND. 155 
 
 drink like the rest of us, and if we can find work for hiin, 
 that may prevent his steahng ; and if he rises above this, 
 who can tell but God will bring him to his rioht mind and 
 make a man of him yet ? God bears a great deal with us, 
 and we must bear with those whose circumstiinces have 
 been less favored." 
 
 Such people fully understood him and made good use 
 of his sympathies. We find a well-written and most 
 amusing letter from an old man, whom we judge Mr. 
 Dunbar and the other gentleman therein alluded to had 
 assisted. He had come from England, and had neither 
 friends, nor money, nor work. After havhig been helped 
 not a little by the McDougal Street people, he had, it 
 seems, one night, asked a policeman to show him to lodgings. 
 The policeman sent him, probably for good reasons, to Black- 
 well's Island, where this letter was dated. In the morning, 
 when preparing to return to the city, he was informed 
 that he had been committed for six months as a vagrant. 
 He writes Mv. Dunbar, afterward, that he is treated kindly, 
 and allowed to act in some humble capacity under an assist- 
 ant warden ; but then he brings a bitter complaint : '' I have 
 now been here a month, and if you believe me, reverend 
 sir, I have not seen, in all that time, a pint of beer, ale, or 
 any other malt liquor ! Now, sir, if yourself, and Mr. 
 Stewart and Mr. Seton would be kind enouoh to send 
 me up a little money, that I may get a few little necessaries^ 
 you will greatly oblige, your humble servant, J. M." 
 
 Mr. D. alwa\s ackno\\ lodged and, if possible, repaid 
 the least act of kindness. 
 
 Miss Grant, daughter of 'the Laird of Aucharnic writes 
 to Miss Dunbar : " When your father paid his first visit to 
 Scotland, about thirty years ago, he spoke much to me, ai 
 
156 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 the eldest of our family, and the one he best remcmbeied, 
 of his obligations to our father, for kindness shown him 
 when a boy, and begged of me to give him some oppor- 
 tunity of returning it, if ever I wished to befriend any 
 lad. This w^as the cause of L. G. being sent out to him, 
 an almost orphan and friendless youth. You know how 
 much he did for him, fully redeeming his promise to us. I 
 could tell you much of his interest in the Free Church 
 movement in this country, and how he set about finding 
 out ways to help us in our hour of need, and how much we 
 of the Free Church in Forres owed him for assistance. 
 My aunt, the Dowager Lady McGregor, who used to be 
 much with us in Aucharnic, when a young lady, says 
 she remembers your father w^ell as a little boy. She is 
 much interested in your account of his last days. She 
 begs to offer her kind sympathy with mine." 
 
 Mr. Dunbar's eldest daughter gives us the followino- 
 incident : — 
 
 " Not long after our removal to New York, an old man 
 presented himself at the house, who had been one of our 
 father's wealthiest and most influential friends when he 
 first cam.e to America. When about to return to Scotland 
 for his family, this man, although not a professor of religion, 
 gave him sixteen doubloons, saying, ' It takes a great deal 
 of money to bring a family comfortably across the ocean.' 
 
 "■ Long years had passed. His w^ife w^as now dead, his 
 property gone, his children scattered. He said he had a 
 model of a machine, of his own invention, for breaking ice, 
 to make passage for boats, and wished to know if Mr. 
 Dunbar's house might be his home wdiile he presented it 
 for the inspection of scientific men in New York. 
 
 " ' By all means, by all means,' was the reply ; and 
 ' Uncle M.,' as we little ones were taught to call him, 
 
" UNCLE M." 157 
 
 became our winter's guest. The machine proved to he 
 in its most incipient state in the })oor old man's brain ; 
 and he had neither money to support liimself, nor vet to 
 construct his model. Indeed, his mind was so shattered, 
 that it was unable to bring any idea to perfection. All 
 through that long, cold winter, he had the warmest seat 
 at the fire, and the best at the table. There he would sit 
 all day, talking about his invention to father, mother, or any 
 of us children. If no one would stop to listen, he would 
 talk to himself, explaining it over and over again. If ever 
 we were too noisy, and annoyed him, father would say, 
 ' O children dear ! Uncle M. has seen better days. He 
 has probably been richer than any of you will ever be. 
 And do you not know that he gave me sixteen doubloons 
 when I went across the ocean, to bring you to America ? 
 We must now return this an hundred fold, — in kindness 
 and attention, if we cannot in money. You know God's 
 book says, " Blessed is he that remembereth the poor ; the 
 Lord will remember him in time of trouble." ' And he 
 really made us children believe that it was the greatest 
 honor and privilege in the world to have that demented 
 old man sitting by the fire, talking to himself; for he 
 would stay nowhere else but beside our patient mother, 
 amid her nursery cares. 
 
 As " Uncle M." used to go about, talking to every one 
 who would listen, of his ice-breaker, it may be, that some 
 younger and stronger mind took up his idea, and carried 
 it out to perfection. 
 
 The sons of this poor man were neither unkind nor 
 neglectful, but had done all they could to keep him at 
 home. He had, however, become a monomaniac, in the 
 vain efibrt to regain his lost property ; and all the money 
 they gave him was wasted in castings, &c., for machines 
 
 14 
 
105 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 which were never to see the hght. So, when they could 
 no longer spare money for his visionary schemes, he left 
 them, and went to New York ; and they knew nothing of 
 him until they heard through Mr. Dunhar. They then 
 came or sent for him, and did all in their power to make 
 him comfortable ; but their efforts to keep him at home 
 proved unavaihng. We mention this lest any, knowing 
 of the case, might censure the family unjustly. 
 
 " I was at home on a visit, a few years since," writes 
 Mr. Dunbar's eldest daughter, " wdien my father urged 
 me to call with him on a physician and his family, who 
 had recently brought letters of introduction to him. We 
 had not gone far, when he said to me, ' Look at that poor 
 man and woman, with a child, across the street. By the 
 Avay they are looking at the houses and numbers, I 
 think they are strangers, — poor things ! ' 
 
 " ' It is very evident,' I replied, ' by the long tartan 
 cloak of the woman, and the tartan pants of the man, that 
 they are strangers ; but the city is full of strangers. Let 
 us hasten ; for you promised to be at home very soon.' 
 
 " ' Ah,' said he, ' my dear, I know the heart of a stran- 
 ger ! Let us cross over, and just speak to them. It will 
 cost us very little trouble, and, perhaps, we can show them 
 the place they are looking for.' 
 
 " So, over we went, and father said to the man : — 
 
 " ' Well, my friend, you seem to be a stranger. Are 
 you looking for any particular name or number ? ' 
 
 " ' Ay, sir,' he replied, ' we are strangers, indeed. We 
 are just now off the sea, and canna' get our boxes off the 
 ship, and have na place to tak' them to, if we could. A 
 man on the wlrarf bid us come to this street (McDougal), 
 and we'd find a gentleman that was e'er looking after poor 
 peo})le ; and said that he wad tell us what we'd do.' 
 
INTEREST FOR STRANGERS. lod 
 
 " ' There are a great many gentlemen in tins street, who 
 are kind to poor people and strangers,' father said. * Did 
 they not give you the name ? ' 
 
 " ' Ay, sir, I have it on a bit of paper here ; ' and he 
 l)ulled it out, and read, ' Kev. Duncan Dunbar, 46 Mc- 
 Dou<j;al street.' 
 
 " Father smiled, and said, ' Ah, yes, he lives in that 
 house, No. 40. King at the door, and tell the servant 
 that you are to v^^ait half an hour, till the gentleman comes 
 in. I will send him to you.' 
 
 " At the appointed time he returned, and, having told 
 the forlorn creatures that he was the one they were seek- 
 ino-, ordered a comfortable lunch for them. Then he went 
 out and hired a room, — probably paying a month's rent 
 in advance, — and sent them, with directions, to the ship, 
 for their little all. Then dear mother had to go — where 
 she had so often gone before, on the same errand — to the 
 garret, to see if there were not two or three chairs, or an 
 old table, or a bedstead, that she could spare ; and back to 
 the kitchen closets for a few old dishes or cooking-utensils. 
 Before nightfall, the poor strangers were keeping house, 
 with grateful hearts, not having been left homeless a day 
 in the New World. This is but one of hundreds of hke 
 acts that his family and friends remember, the full reward 
 of which he is to-day enjoying." 
 
 Some men are benevolent to the poor only, leaving 
 others who are in trouble to get on as they may ; but 1ms 
 compassion extended itself to all classes, whether their 
 want was money, employment, or kindness only. 
 
 One day, as he was walking in the street, he met a re- 
 spectable couple, who asked him the nearest way to a cer- 
 tain street. After directing them, he said, with a smile, 
 " I think you are Scotch, — are you not ? " 
 
160 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 " Yes," the good woman replied. " And I'm sure, sir, 
 you are Scotch, too." And then she told him that they had 
 just arrived in a steamer, and that their large family were 
 in one of the hotels, while they were seeking a house. 
 They had a list of places they had seen advertised, two 
 or three of which would have suited them ; but the land- 
 lords would not let them to a family with nine children. 
 Their last resort was a house in the street they were seek- 
 ing. If the same objection were made there, they would 
 be obliged to prolong their stay at the hotel, — a thing of 
 no small consequence to eleven persons with limited means. 
 '^ Come with me," said Mr. Dunbar, "and I will make it 
 all ripht. I know the ao-ent of this house." 
 
 He then turned his steps homeward, taking these stran- 
 gers, who needed only a friend, to lunch with him. He 
 heard their history, and entered into the case of each of 
 their children, for whose sake, that they might have the 
 advantages of the New World, they had left a good home 
 in Scotland. He then went with them in search of a 
 house, and, having found one, pledged himself to make 
 good any injury which might happen to it from the nine 
 children. These strangers wanted not silver or gold, but 
 only a friendly hand. 
 
 In the spring of 1850, Mr. Dunbar was invited to tlie 
 Second Ba})tist Chiu'ch, in Philadelphia ; and being greatjy 
 exhausted with labor, and full of anxiety about tlie debt 
 under wiiich McDougal Street, like too many other city 
 churcr.es. was groaning, he resolved to accept the call. 
 He felt tliat he might recover strength by a change, and 
 also that a younger man than he might draw in new men 
 to put their shoulders under the burden there. He there- 
 fore left his old home again; and none can doubt that 
 
REMOVAL TO PHILADELPHIA. 161 
 
 God's lumd was in the step. The Budd Street Church 
 had hjng been witliout pastoral hibor, on account of the 
 increasing infirmities of Father Dodge, whom they ten- 
 derly ciierished, and who, having given them the benefit 
 of iiis strength and vigor, they resolved should end his 
 long and useful life as their pastor. 
 
 The church had become somewhat scattered, and the 
 congregation diminished ; but there was a strong doctri- 
 nal symiiathy between them and Mr. Dunbar ; and he 
 also felt deeply their generosity and tenderness toward 
 his beloved friend, their aged minister. He decided to 
 accept their call. Father D. being still the nominal pastor. 
 It at once appeared that God had appointed him a blessed 
 work there. The people flowed back to hear the Word 
 of Life ; and a revival commenced, in which many were ad- 
 ded to the church. The body was strengthened and edi- 
 fied, the truth of God, as he believed and preached it, 
 havino- lono- been the food on which thev had feasted, and 
 which they still craved. 
 
 Here Mr. Dunbar and his family received great kind- 
 ness, and formed friendships never to be broken. Hence- 
 forth, Philadelphia was one of his homes and his Chris- 
 tian friends were like his own kindred. His work here, 
 though important, was brief. He left the church with the 
 kindest feeling ; and ere long God called him to a hke 
 short but useful ministry in Trenton, N. J., extending 
 from August, 1853, to November, 1854, during which the 
 church was much quickened, and thirteen were added by 
 baptism. 
 
 A brother mentions an incident which illustrates the 
 good accomplished by the habit of speaking to strangers. 
 Mr. Dunbar, one day, met a boy in the street, whose ap- 
 pearance interested him. He stopped and asked if he ^^■ere 
 
IG2 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 a Sunday-school boy, and was answered that want of 
 proper clothing prevented him from going either to Sun- 
 day school or church. Mr. Dunbar, at his own expense, 
 soon removed that difficulty. That boy, thus brought 
 under the means of grace, was afterward converted, and 
 is now a useful member of that church.^ 
 
 After seventeen months he was again recalled to Mc- 
 Dougal Street. Great efforts and sacrifices were made by 
 that affectionate people to order their financial matters so 
 as to renew the old relations between them without the 
 pastor again being worried by the church debt. He re- 
 turned ; and very soon God sent among them those 
 whose hearts and whose treasures were alike laid upon 
 his altar, — men who came into the church counting it an 
 honor to bear burdens for Christ's sake. His wanderings 
 in God's vineyard were now ended. The shepherd had 
 come back to the fold his own hand had gathered, to give 
 them his last care and toil, and to receive fi'om them that 
 tenderness and respect which he had so much encour- 
 aged toward other ministers of Christ in their old age. 
 
 From a letter from Rev. Octavius Win slow, written 
 many years ago, we extract the following in reference to 
 Mr. Dunbar's remaining with his old people, at their ear- 
 nest request, rather than seeking a new field. After ad- 
 vising him to do so, he says : " Many daughters have 
 done virtuously, but McDougal Street excelleth them all." 
 
 In expressing the gratification of his people at Mr. 
 Dunbar's visit in Leamington, where he then lived, and 
 their desire to hear him again before he should sail for 
 home. Dr. Winslow says, " You are not what Robert 
 Hall calls ' a safe supply.' I shall report you at McDou- 
 gal Street for stealing the hearts of my people." 
 ^ See Letter from Trenton, N. J. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Letter on Unwarranted Interference in Church Affairs, and on Minorities Resisting Ma- 
 jorities — Coufessions of Injudicious Kindness— Extracts from Letters — Ileaping 
 Coals of Fire — Advice to Young Ministers — A Solemn Providence. 
 
 ORE than a quarter of a century ago, Mr. Dun- 
 bar received a nearly unanimous call from a large 
 and wealthy church at a distance from New York. 
 But it seems there were two dissenting voices to 
 the call, — one in the church, and one in the con- 
 gregation ; and before he had sent any reply, the church- 
 member, more noted for his money than for his piety or in- 
 tellio-ence, induced the other to write to Mr. Dunbar, ex- 
 pressing in no measured terms their dislike of both the 
 matter and style of his preaching. If there were any two 
 things which annoyed him, it was to see a minority resist 
 and battle a majority, and to see those not in a church med- 
 dling with its affairs. Both of these occurring here, he 
 wrote, despite his natural kindness, a plain reply, feeling 
 that he was vindicating Baptist principles rather than his 
 own cause. We make the following extracts from his 
 letter : — 
 
 " Dear Sir , — At a late hour last night, I received a 
 long communication, to which your name is appended. 
 How far your gratuitous interference with the affairs of a 
 church of which you are not a member may be pleasing 
 to God or honorable to yourself, as a gentleman, is not for 
 me to decide ; but you ought to know that any church of 
 the Baptist denomination, regarding its sacred principles 
 
 (163^ 
 
164 ' DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 of independence, would justly rebuke any such officious 
 dictation. 
 
 " My respect for Mrs. , and my sense of gratitude 
 
 for your occasional hospitality, forbid me to add what a 
 regard for the peace and prosperity of the cause of Christ 
 in the Baptist church of would otherwise con- 
 strain me to say on this subject. Ministers may be found 
 who will listen to such unworthy arguments as you and 
 your hopeful associate advanced to me, and they may suf- 
 fer themselves to be influenced by your unmanly interfer- 
 ence with the scriptural and conscientious prerogatives of a 
 gospel church, and witli their own responsibility as minis- 
 ters of Christ ; but surely, sir, you must have mistaker 
 my character, if you supposed that I could, for a moment, 
 be swayed in deciding my course of duty by such unholy 
 
 suggestions as those made by yourself and Mr. . 
 
 Had I been at this time (which he was not) in circum- 
 stances to listen to the affectionate application of that 
 church, I have very ample and tangible proofs of their at- 
 tachment to me, both as a friend to the best interests of 
 their soids, and likewise to those precious declarations of 
 God, which constitute the gospel of salvation, and which 
 were never designed to foster the pride of man intoxicated 
 with the love of ' style,' and courting worldly popularity, 
 at tlie expense of that system of mercy adapted only to 
 nourish ' the poor in spirit.' 
 
 •' You are much to blame for allowing yourself to be 
 imposed upon by parties who, I fear, have other objects to 
 accom|>lish than the glory of God and the peace and union 
 of the church, and for vour meddlino; in a matter which, 
 by the practice and privileges of Baptist churches, and by 
 the law of the land belongs in no way to you. I believe 
 the Saviour loves and reoards those whom vou affect 
 
INJUDICIOUS KINDNESS. 165 
 
 to despise as incapable of judging what is or is not 
 adapted to meet the wants of their own souls ; and if that 
 church should ever choose a pastor whose style or other 
 ministerial qualifications do not happen to accord with 
 your taste, it will be your i)rivilege to abstain from hearing 
 him ! But beyond that, your interference with him or 
 with the doings of the church will be regarded by all wise 
 and good men as a stretch of undelegated authority, which, 
 in the nineteenth century, an archbishop would blush to 
 assume. I say this frankly for your good. May you profit 
 in future by my candor. As to your associate in this 
 matter, I regard his conduct in a light much more repre- 
 hensible. He is a member of the churchy and is bound 
 peaceably to abide by its decisions, or quietly to withdraw 
 and join some other body. 
 
 " I am sir, yours, &c., 
 
 "Duncan Dunbar." 
 So kind were Mr. Dunbar's feelings, that, in the earher 
 days of his ministry, pity sometimes triumphed over his 
 judgment, in sympathizing with persons who, having been 
 under discipline in other churches, came to him for counsel. 
 Not that ever he censured those bodies for exercising their 
 rights in these matters ; but, if he believed the offending 
 one a child of God, he sometimes used his influence with 
 pastor or people to have him restored to the fold. But 
 in later years he looked very differently on this course, 
 believing, from his own observation and experience, that, 
 with rare exceptions, God gives his churches wisdom to 
 guide them in the exercise of their authority. Li 
 speaking on this subject a fcAV years ago, he said : 
 " Several times in my life have I, believing delinquents 
 to have repented, and thinking they might yet be 
 happy and useful in the Church of Christ, induced those 
 
166 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 ao-ainst whom they had offended to restore them and 
 give them letters of dismission. In nearly all these cases 
 it was soon proved to me and my brethren that I had 
 erred ; for no sooner were they warm in our bosom 
 than they turned round and stung us for our inju- 
 dicious kindness ; and became to us just what they were 
 before, ' troublers in Zion.' " 
 
 To an absent member of his flock, Mr. Dunbar wrote 
 of this class : — 
 
 " Evidently the eye of the Lord is upon this church 
 for good. Those who have vexed and afflicted them 
 first and last, have not greatly prospered, while I 
 can trace tokens of his gracious approbation in various 
 w^ays upon all who have sympathized with and helped 
 them. ........ 
 
 * God moves in a mysterious way, 
 His wonders to perform.' 
 
 " By the Lord's great and unmerited goodness, here is 
 poor old McDougal Street Church still in existence, — 
 'faint yet pursuing,' and here is their unworthy old 
 pastor still at their head. 
 
 " Be pleased to thank dear Mrs. from me for the 
 
 kind interest she feels and expresses for this people ; and 
 tell her not to vex her mind about not being able to do 
 more for them. Tell her that Zion's God and Redeemer 
 will surely send us aid ! I hear a voice from heaven 
 saying to them and to me, 'I know thy works, and 
 tribulation, and poverty ; and that for my name's sake 
 thou hast labored and not fainted.' " * 
 
 * This was at a time of great financial trial, after one of the divisions in 
 the church. The debt pressed heavily on them, and Mr. Dunbar was 
 making a strong effort among themselves and personal friends outside the 
 
SPIRIT OF FORGIVENESS. 167 
 
 There were two classes of people who, above all 
 others, seemed to have unbounded claims on Mr. Dun- 
 bar's pity, — those who had shown him kindness, and 
 those who had tried in any way to wrong or grieve 
 him. His gratitude was excelled only by his spirit of 
 forgiveness. In the early days of his ministry he in- 
 nocently gained the ill-will of an influential man, who, 
 being under the discipline of the church, tried to justify 
 his disorderly course by making it a personal matter 
 between himself and the pastor. The church, however, 
 pursued its own course, and it being proved that his 
 conduct and spirit were wholly at variance Avith the 
 gospel, they excluded him from their fellowship. The 
 whole body was too formidable a foe to grapple with ; so 
 the enmity the delinquent cherished against all, he con- 
 centrated on the pastor. He commenced a course of 
 annoyances which amounted to persecution, writing in- 
 sulting letters, and speaking disrespectfully of him as the 
 acrent of the church in the matter. Even then God was 
 in the place by his converting Sjjirit, and the church was 
 robed in her most beautiful garments ; but this man 
 was not awe-stricken by the majesty of God, nor melted 
 by the love of the brethren ; he pursued his work with 
 a diligence and persistency worthy of a better cause, re- 
 solving that the tender relation between pastor and people 
 should be sundered. 
 
 Ministers alone can fully realize the painfulness of Mr. 
 Dunbar's situation at this time. Cravino; above all thino;s, 
 
 church, to reduce it. And he whose heart and Imnd were ever opeu to 
 others, met with like kindness for the people to whom he had just returned 
 f•*;^r a few years' absence. The debt was very nearly paid some time 
 before his death, and since that, those who knew the desire of his heart re- 
 ^ardini; it liave swept it off. 
 
168 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 peace In the cliurch, and quiet In Lis own soul, to do lils 
 woi'k with singleness of heart ; pitying the nervous anxiety 
 and intense mental suffering of the meek sharer of his 
 trials, to whom the honor of Christ was dearer tlian life ; 
 he was tempted to lay down his weapons and flee before 
 the foe. Then came the fear, lest, like Jonah, he might 
 shrink, through a selfish desire to escape trial, from a bur- 
 den God had laid on him. He alone, who holds the stars 
 in his ricfht hand, and whose servants are dearer to Him 
 than the apple of His eye, knows the prayers, the tears, 
 the agony of those months. Mr. Dunbar w^as looking for 
 a token from the Lord ; and now, when pressed beyond 
 measure with labors and trials, he received an urgent call 
 to go to the help of the Lord in another place. This was 
 unsought and unlooked for ; and he concluded that God 
 had thus answered his prayers for release from a relentless 
 persecutor. He left a large, flourishing church, and w^ent 
 forth to toil with a few brethren, in a community where 
 the Baptists were almost unknown. 
 
 But God was not done wdth this matter. His servant, 
 driven ruthlessly from the people of his heart, had taken 
 up his instruments of toil among strangers, and was break- 
 ing new ground, and casting In the seed, from which others 
 were to gather, as they are doing even till this day, the full 
 harvest. But as for the oppressor, who had not feared to 
 put asunder what God had joined together, the glory de- 
 parted from his house in w^ays w^hicli would have made any 
 liuman heart pity and pray for him. Far be it from us to 
 draw aside the veil which time and the grave have spread 
 over the dealings of God with this man, from that hour to 
 his death. Our object Is to show how grace triumphed 
 in the heart of God's servant, overcoming all feelings of 
 enmity. 
 
HEAPIxNG COALS OF FIRE. 169 
 
 Long years had fled, and these two had never met. 
 When the report of the misfortunes of the one readied the 
 ear of the other, he always said, " Poor fellow ! I'm sorry 
 for him ! " There was no revenge to be gratified, no un- 
 forgiving spirit to stand between his soul and God. He 
 read, one morning, of a sad catastrophe which had just oc- 
 curred, and glancing over the names of the sufferers, who 
 had been brought to New York, exclaimed, " Ah, here is 
 
 among them ! He is poor now, and among 
 
 strangers. I must go down and look after him, poor 
 fellow ! " 
 
 Some one smilingly suggested, " You certainly do not 
 owe him a very heavy debt of gratitude." 
 
 " But," he replied, " I owe a great deal to God, and 
 this is one of his creatures in affliction. Perhaps He has 
 sent him to me to prove my spirit, and also that I may 
 show him how grace can teach a man to love his enemies. 
 This is the way in which w^e may heap coals of fire on the 
 heads of our foes." 
 
 He made this the first business of the day, and found his 
 old parishioner in absolute want of clothing, and every 
 comfort, and without a dollar. He hired a carriage, 
 drove w^itli him to his tailor, dressed him respectably, 
 took him home, and then supplied him with money to 
 reach his family. While he was his guest, questions were 
 asked and answered about the okl place and its people, but 
 no allusion whatever was made to the sorroAvs of by-gone 
 years. A foe was thus changed into a friend ; no unkind 
 word ever fell from that man's lips thereafter. 
 
 At another period in his early ministry, Mr. Dunbar 
 was toiling hard, and making great personal sacrifices to 
 build a church, which, even at this distant day, confesses 
 its obligations to him, as an instrument In God's hand, for 
 
170 
 
 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 its present position. He once heard a remark, which 
 went as an arrow to his heart. A brother, one w^ho pro- 
 fessed great friendship for him, had said, " Now we are 
 taking a good position, and have a fine house ; I think it 
 woukl be better for us to have a young man from one of 
 the colleges, to draw in a different class of people." 
 
 The meaning of this was, that Mr. Dunbar's stern ortlio- 
 doxy, and his plain, experimental preaching had few charms 
 for the liberals by whom they were surrounded, and who, on 
 account of their worldly standing w^ere regarded as profit- 
 able allies, could they but be gathered in. He realized that 
 this was but the beginning of an end ; and, having pressing 
 calls elsewhere, he resigned and left, — the church not 
 knowing the reason to this day. Mr. Dunbar was still 
 young in the trials of the ministry, and the opinion 
 and remark of one man affected him more than those of 
 fifty would have done in his later years. Such discourage- 
 ments hindered his work ; and he took to himself, perhaps 
 unwisely, the command of Jesus to his early disciples, 
 " When they persecute you in one city, flee to another." 
 
 This, no doubt, accounts for some of his frequent re- 
 movals at that period. As his faith grew stronger, so did 
 his courage ; and he learned to leave the question of his 
 changes with his Master, rather than with one or two men, 
 who might not always be actuated by the purest motives ; 
 hence the subsequent permanency of his pastoral rela- 
 tion. 
 
 In after years, the brother who wanted a " young man 
 from one of the colleges," found himself in sorrow and dis- 
 appointment, and in sore need of a sincere friend who 
 could lend him a helping hand. Having never known the 
 cause of Mr. Dunbar's departure from the church to which 
 he belonged, he made his case known to him, and met 
 
ADVICE TO YOUNG MINISTERS. 171 
 
 with a brother's sympathy. By money, hospitahty, and 
 the 'Tifluence he needed, he was made to rejoice that ever 
 he had met with Duncan Dunbar. 
 
 Early experience made Mr. Dunbar a wise counsel- 
 lor to young ministers. When one would come to him, 
 grieved and annoyed, and feeling that his only way 
 of escape was to resign his charge, he would say, " Do 
 nothing rashly ; you'll not get rid of trouble that way. 
 Leave this with the Lord, and he'll take care of you. He 
 is perfectly able either to remove the troubler, or to take 
 the troubled one to heaven. Just preach as well as you 
 can ; keep your own heart right, and tell the Lord Jesus 
 about it. He will make the case his own." Oh, how 
 many heavy-laden pastors have found encouragement and 
 sympathy in his study, and gone thence to take up, hope- 
 fully, the work they were before just ready to lay down ! 
 One incident we cannot refrain mentionincr. 
 
 A young pastor, in a large and important field in 
 another city, had been to him several times for advice and 
 sympathy in his trials. His church was united, and 
 the pastor beloved and useful ; " but," he said, " I have 
 one man who troubles me sorely, — he drove away my 
 predecessor, and now he's wonying me till I can endure it 
 no longer. I can't work with this constant chafing. I'm 
 going to resign my charge, and if you know of any church 
 in want of a pastor you may mention my name." 
 
 " Wait a little, brother," Mr. D. replied. " If you 
 have only one man to worry you, you are pretty well ofi' ! 
 
 Brother is a good man, — one of the Lord's crooked. 
 
 ones ; bear with hinr., and don't be diiven from your post. 
 The Lord will take care of him. He can either subdue 
 his vrill, or take him to heaven, where he'll be easy ! 
 Move straight forward, just as if he were not in your way ; 
 
J 72 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 do your own duty, and see if God does not take this affair 
 into his own hand.'* 
 
 The young man then listened to an account of Mr. D.'s 
 own early trials, when one or two men had power to 
 shake him, and of his later experience, which had taught 
 him to leave these matters wholly with God, rather thac 
 run fi^om his post. He went away strengthened by find- 
 ing that no strange trials had befallen him. 
 
 What was Mr. Dunbar's surprise to hear in a few days 
 that God had come in mercy to both parties, and in the 
 t^vinkling of an eye had taken his restless child to himself, 
 where he would be both easy and holy, and left his young 
 disciple to toil — for a season at least — unmolested. 
 
 This incident, which occurred several years ago, we 
 have from the lips of the minister himself, and who is still 
 pastor of the church he was then about to leave in dis- 
 couragement. God had a great work for him there, from 
 which he would suffer no man to force him. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Dark Days in McDoxigal Street — The Clou i Dispelled — A New Trial — Direct Answer to 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 tLLUSION has been made in tlie foregoing pages 
 to divisions whicli at times rent the church of 
 which Mr. Dunbar was so long the pastor; but it 
 is no part of our work to describe or comment on 
 tliem, and they are mentioned only to show, by 
 little incidents connected with those times, the char- 
 acter of Mr. Dunbar as a man of faith and prayer, and 
 also the sympathy and aid he received from Mrs. Dunbar, 
 in his work. At one time, when McDougal Street Church 
 was sitting in the dust, and her heart failing her for fear, — 
 when, many having slept, the enemy had sown the tares 
 of division, — Mrs. Dunbar, whose sensitive heart longed for 
 love and peace, fled from the tumult for a little time to 
 compose her troubled spirit in the quiet rural home of her 
 eldest dauo-hter. After a few davs, Mr. Dunbar, realizincr 
 fully and pitying deeply her sensitiveness for the honor 
 of Christ, went up the Hudson to her, to tell her that there 
 was a lull in the storm. 
 
 On the morning after his arrival, Mrs, Dunbar said to 
 • lini, " I am sure, my dear, you must have sat up nearly all 
 ihe night. 1 wakened when I knew it must be almost 
 morning, and you still sat reading ; and I see the oil is all 
 gone from the lamp. Did you remain up all night ? " 
 " No, my dear," he replied ; " I did not sit up quite so late 
 
 15 * (173) 
 
174 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 as that ; but I did sit up till I got my faith greatly strength- 
 ened by reading the whole account of the fall of the walls of 
 Jericho. I learned there how easy it is for the Lord to 
 bring about his purposes by means we never would dream 
 of, and would never think of trying. And I read also, in a 
 Scotch paper, which I brought up with me, an authentic 
 account of how the Almighty saved one of his ministers 
 fi'om trouble and strife by taking him suddenly to 
 heaven. It showed me how easy it is for Him to take 
 me away from the troublers, or to take the troublers away 
 from me." 
 
 The story, " There's nae strife up there," had made a 
 deep impression on Mr. Dunbar's mind, and tears filled 
 his eyes, as he said, " I believe that my brethren will sus- 
 tain me, and that God will carry us safely through this 
 trial." And he did so, allowing pastor and people to 
 see more than a score of years together in his service, ere 
 he called him to come up where " there's nae strife ; " and 
 these last were among the most peaceful years of his life. 
 
 His weapon of defence in these conflicts was " All- 
 prayer," and he used it with that confidence which in- 
 sured success. His place was not always an easy one. 
 With the menacing foe without, the trembling peacemaker 
 at home, and a conscience and will in his own breast which 
 never yielded to either threat or entreaty when duty was 
 plain, it required great grace, as well as real tenderness, 
 not to yield to any influence foj* the sake of peace alone. 
 
 Although timidity and nervous anxiety were natural to 
 Mrs. Dunbar, she sometimes rose above them, strong in 
 faith ; but it was always after first passing through waves 
 of sorrow and humiliation before God. 
 
 At one time the McDougal Street Church, having 
 quietly and justly withdrawn the hand of fellowship from 
 
DARK DAYS IN M'dOUGAL STREET. 175 
 
 an unworthy member, were thrown into no Httle per- 
 plexity thereby. The two deacons, who had borne the 
 unwelcome message to the offender, were threatened with 
 a lawsuit, with heavy damages, for defamation of character. 
 The case was filed and writs served, and although not a 
 doubt existed as to the result, they feared it would prove 
 an annoying and expensive business, causing a notoriety 
 anythincr but ai^reeable to a church of Christ. But it 
 had to be met. An eminent lawyer, a personal friend of the 
 pastor, was consulted, and gave it as his opinion that the 
 deacons must take the defensive in the suit, the church as- 
 suming all pecuniary responsibilities, as they were acting 
 for them in the matter. 
 
 The general opinion was that the movement was an 
 effort to obtain " hush money," by way of a compromise. 
 But both church and pastor, feeling their fidl liberty to 
 discipline, and, if necessary for God's honor, to expel un- 
 ruly members, firmly resolved never to consent to this, be 
 the consequence what it might. 
 
 So subpoenas and the like papers, which had never been 
 seen by Mrs. Dunbar before, now came to the house, 
 causing her great distress. The deacons and other ju- 
 dicious brethren always sympathizing with her sensitive- 
 ness, did all in their power to quiet her fears, by assuring 
 her that it must be well in the end, as the witnesses 
 against the prosecutor for open immorahty were so many. 
 But the honor of Christ seemed to her involved in the 
 matter ; she could not endure to see the name of that 
 church she loved bandied about in court and in the 
 daily papers. 
 
 Sleep fled her pillow, and she gave herself to prayer. 
 We know that for whole days, and nights too, she Uved 
 before tlie throne, pleading with God that, for his own 
 
176 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 name's sake, he would not leave liis heritage to reproach 
 nor suffer its enemies to rejoice over it. The agony of 
 those hours will never be known bj any save Him who 
 was touched by the feeling of her infirmity. 
 
 One evening, a gentleman in the congregation, in w^iose 
 Tiiendship and judgment she had great confidence, called 
 at the house, and, Mr. Dunbar not being in, he asked 
 for her. When she came down to the parlor, the friend 
 said : " Mrs. Dunbar, I've brought you good news. When 
 these people found that the church had no idea of compro- 
 mising, but were making preparations for a defence, they 
 w^ithdrew the suit ; and that will be the end of it.'' 
 
 She said very little but to express great gratitude for the 
 result, and to thank him for hastening to relieve her mind. 
 But when he left, she said to one of her daughters, who 
 was at home, " This is certainly very remarkable ! No 
 one can imagine what I have suffered about this affair. It 
 seemed for many days that I could do nothing but pray ; 
 and yet prayer did not relieve me of the dreadful forebod- 
 ing I felt. This afternoon, I went up to my room, feeling 
 that I never could leave the mercy-seat without an answer 
 of peace. And while I was praying, I felt such a calmness 
 come over my spirit as I cannot describe. I felt that God 
 would take the cause into his own hands ; that the church 
 was his, and that he w^ould see that its honor was main- 
 tained. I did not feel sure that the trouble was to be re- 
 moved, but that he w^ould take the management of it ; 
 and I left it there." 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Dnifl:3 on the Bank of Faith — Care for the Widow and the Fatherless — God's Ap* 
 proval of the Work — MUllcr's Life of Trust — Discouragement — A Joyful Surprise. 
 
 iR. DUNBAR began early to draw on the bank 
 of heaven ; and his drafts being honored, he grew 
 strong in faith, and in after years rarely ever 
 halted in any benevolent enterprise for want of 
 money. One of his earliest proofs of God's willing- 
 ness to give to those who trust in him and do 
 good is mentioned by a friend of his earlier years. 
 
 While in the Province of New Brunswick, Mr. Dunbar 
 used frequently to preach in a neighborhood where was 
 great religious destitution, — so far from home that he was 
 obliged to accept the hospitality of a poor fisherman over 
 night. The people in the settlement were all dependent 
 for their bread upon the fish they caught, carrying them 
 to the distant stores and exchanging them for provisions 
 and clothing. 
 
 On one of these visits, Mr. Dunbar found the poor man, 
 who had opened his house for religious services, in very 
 great distress, — a creditor having seized his boat for a 
 small debt, and thus cut off his whole means of living. 
 He felt very deeply for the poor father and his helpless 
 family, but had at the time no money, except a sum soon 
 due for rent. Still, their case pressed on his mind ; and 
 after much thought and j)rayer during the night, he rose 
 in the morning, paid the debt, restored the boat, and re- 
 solved to trust God for means to meet his own obligation. 
 
 (177; 
 
178 DUNCAN DUNBAE. 
 
 Thus, in tlieir affliction, did God reward the humble fam 
 ilv who had entertained him wdien about his Master's 
 business. 
 
 There was in his church, at this time, a family in great 
 anxiety about a beloved son, so long at sea that he was al- 
 most given up as lost. On Mr. Dunbar's return from the 
 fisherman's village, he found a me;<M!ge wain'iig him from 
 these friends. Their son had come home, and thoy sent 
 for him to their house to rejoice with them, and to give 
 thanks for his deliverance from the perils to which he had 
 been exposed. 
 
 After the first greetings were over, the joyful mother 
 said, " Mr. Dunbar, when I was in such trouble, hoping 
 and fearing about my boy, I laid away a sum of money I 
 had in my hand, resolving that, if my prayers were an- 
 swered, I would give it as a thank-offering to the Lord. 
 Here it is, a personal gift to you, his servant." It was 
 more than enough to pay for the fisherman's boat ! 
 
 Thus for his own wants, and those of others, the spring 
 of heaven's vaults yielded to his touch. This was not a 
 rare case, but one of hundreds, in which God gave him 
 direct answers to the prayer of faith . A few of the many 
 known to those famihar with his daily hfe are given here 
 for the encouragement of those less strong than he in belief 
 of the promise, '' Ask, and it shall be given." 
 
 In one of Mr. Dunbar's voyages to Great Britain his 
 generous people had made what they and he thought ample 
 provision for his expenses. But on liis return home he 
 found that, from causes beyond his control, he had ex- 
 ceeded this by the sum of four hundred and fifty dollars. 
 True, it w^as owed to a friend, who would never trouble 
 him ; but his noble heart abhorred debt next to sin. It 
 was never his custom to live beyond his means, expecting 
 
ANSWER TO PRAYER. 179 
 
 his willing people to make up the deficiency. For their 
 sakes, as well as his own, this indebtedness was kept a 
 family secret. Domestic arrangements were all made with 
 reference to swe^i^ing it off at once. 
 
 This little sum, which his friends would have cheer- 
 fully paid, had they known it, rose up like a moun- 
 tain to disturb his hours of ])rayer and of study. 
 He soon felt that Satan was making use of it to hinder 
 his access to God and to weaken his faith, and he re- 
 solved, in the divine strength, to throw it oft' his mind. In 
 alluding to this, which, to those not ministers, may seem 
 a small matter, he used to say, that in no trial of his life 
 did lie feel more surely that his heavenly Father had taken 
 u[) the burden he had cast down before him. There he 
 left it, and went about his work and his chanties with as 
 free a mind as if he had thousands at his command. He 
 was now amazed and mortified to see how he had allowed 
 himself to be vexed by such a trifle, when the word of 
 him who made the world was pledged for the wants of 
 his servants. 
 
 Shortly after this, he was sent for to attend the funeral 
 of Mrs. T., at White Plains, a beloved member of his 
 church, and a dear friend of his family. He did so ; and 
 remained all night at the hospitable mansion of Mr. Ged- 
 ney, the father of the deceased. In the moming, at re- 
 quest of the heirs, he was present at the opening of Mrs. 
 T.'s will. To his amazement, his name, as her beloved 
 pastor, was in the list of legatees for exactly the amount 
 of the indebtedness. 
 
 He said, in reference to this direct answer to prayer, 
 '' Dear Mrs. T. knew nothing of this want of mine ; but 
 God did, and made her the instrument of providing for it; 
 
180 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 not a dollar too little, nor a dollar too much ; but just 
 what 1 asked hhn for." 
 
 At one tmie, a worthy young man having procured a 
 lucrative situation in Washington, sent to his distant home 
 for his widowed mother and two young sisters. As they 
 were to wait in New York till he came there for them, 
 they were commended by a friend to Mr. Dunbar's care. 
 ]^ut day after day passed, and still there was no word from 
 him. Then came a letter with a black seal, announcing 
 his sudden death ! They were among strangers, and 
 almost frantic with grief. The mother was a delicate 
 woman, utterly unable to buffet with the waves of life. 
 The girls were young, and their education not sufficiently 
 advanced to be available as a means of support. 
 
 With that consideration for which he was so peculiar, 
 Mr. Dunbar saw that these afflicted ones could never earn 
 their bread either by hard labor or by the wearing work 
 of the needle. So, with the aid of his dear friend and ready 
 helper, Rev. Arcliibald Maclay, D. D., he found a few 
 generous men who joined them in providing for the pres- 
 ent wants of the femily, and in paying for the best musical 
 instruction for the eldest daughter, already quite a profi- 
 cient, that she mio-ht be able to teach. Nor did the work 
 end here ; all that sympathy, advice, and religious conso- 
 lation could do for them was done, causing the heart of 
 the desolate to sing for joy. 
 
 At one time, this poor woman could not secure a house 
 unless some one became responsible for her rent. She 
 came to Mr. Dunbar, as to her best friend, in the trial, and 
 he cheerfully gave his name as security to her landlord. 
 Some one suggested that he was not sufficiently cautious, 
 as it was very ioubtful whether she could ever meet the 
 amount. 
 
THE widow's rent. 181 
 
 " I cannot help that," lie replied. '* It may be as you 
 fear, and I may have to pay her rent, in addition to my 
 own, at quarter-day. In that case, I shall just look to the 
 Fatlier of tlie fatherless, and the Husband of the widow. 
 He will take care of her, and of us, too. 
 
 * We have aye been provided for, 
 And sae will l)e yet,' " 
 
 The time rolled round, and the rent was due. The 
 widow came in great trouble to say that it was entirely 
 out of her power to meet the demand. She was not in- 
 sensible to the obligation she was under, and wept bitterly 
 at her failure. But Mr. Dunbar comforted her by telling 
 her that he would cheerfully pajr the amount, and that 
 God, who knew his motives, would send it back in some 
 way. He put the money in her hand, and said, " If you 
 can ever pay it, you may do so ; if not, never let it trou- 
 ble you, for iJ shall not trouble me." 
 
 Very soon after this, Mr. I., an attendant on his 
 preacliing, but not then a professor of religion, called at 
 his house. He said pleasantly, " I came to pay you a ht- 
 tle money I owe you, Mr. Dunbar." 
 
 " My dear sir," he replied, " that cannot be ; for you 
 and 1 have never had any dealings together." 
 
 Mr. I. then told him that some time before, he had sent 
 out a small venture in a ship going to China, and had said 
 to Mrs. I., at the time, " I will give one tenth of the 
 profit, if there is any, to Mr. Dunbar;" and he handed 
 him just the amount of the loidow^s rent ! 
 
 Mr. Dunbar then related the whole circumstance, and 
 said, " You see how easy such things are to God. The 
 money for that poor widow's rent w^as on its way from 
 China when I adv^anced it." 
 
 Often, when warned not to give beyond his abihty, he 
 
 16 
 
182 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 would nod his liead, and say, " I haven't forgotten ho-^ 
 Mrs. C.'s rent was paid ; " or, " I can't spare so much 
 very well, just now ; but I'll give it, and the Lord will 
 send a marriage-fee, before long, to make it good." How 
 much those fees were relied on for works of mercy, and 
 how much good they accomplished, will never be known. 
 
 Mr. J. N., long a beloved friend and brother in his 
 church, says : " When I was a young man and a clerk, Mr. 
 Dunbar came into the store one day ; and the moment I 
 saw his face, the thought struck me, ' I must give Mr. 
 Dunbar something to-day for his poor people.' Not having 
 any money about me, I went downstau's and borrowed a 
 bill, came up and put it in his hand without a word. He 
 looked surprised, and said : ' This is a remarkable answer 
 
 to prayer, John ; for I wanted just this sum for , and 
 
 had been asking the Lord to send it to me.' " 
 
 A minister, who in his youth was a member of Mr. 
 Dunbar's church, and very often his messenger of mercy 
 to the homes of want, writes : — 
 
 " To show his strong faith in God, and his power at the 
 throne of grace, I will relate an incident known to me at 
 the time. 
 
 " A member of McDoagal Street Church, who was a 
 widow, kept a little store in H. street, by which she sup- 
 ported two or three little ones. One day she came to Mr. 
 Dunbar in great distress. It was the winter of the great 
 fire in New York, when all business was at a stand. She 
 stated that a creditor had just called and demanded a pay- 
 ment which she was wholly unable to make, because, ow- 
 ing to the pressure, she could not sell her goods. The 
 man was greatly enraged, said he was tired listening to 
 such stories, and asked her, with an oath, how she ex- 
 pected him to meet his payments ; and told her that if 
 
FAITH IN GOD. 183 
 
 slie did not raise tlie money by ten o'clock the next day, 
 he wonld seize lier stock, and sell it at auction. And 
 then the })oor woman cried out, ' O my dear pastor ! what 
 is to become of me and my fatherless children ? ' 
 
 " * Would you have means to pay this debt, if all your 
 goods were sold ? ' he asked. 
 
 " ' Yes, four times as much.' 
 
 " ' I am sorry, my dear sister,' replied the pastor, ' that 
 I have not the amount, or I would pay it for you. I 
 know of but one source whence you can get help in this 
 emergency. I will send you to a rich friend, — I will go 
 with you to him, and intercede for you and see what he 
 will do for us. Promise to go at eleven o'clock to-night 
 to the throne of grace. Do you kneel in your closet, and 
 I will do so in mine ; and we will then spread out your 
 troubles before our Elder Brother, and ask him to man- 
 age this sad business for us.' 
 
 " Cheered by his sympathy, and strengthened by his 
 faith, she went home. At the appointed hour, she awoke 
 her children, and explained the case to them ; and then, 
 as if to touch the heart of Jesus by the sight of her de- 
 fenceless lambs beside her, she took them with her to her 
 closet. Drawing them close to her heart, she implored 
 him to look compassionately on them, and to appear for 
 their relief. At this very time, fervent, effectual prayer 
 was ascending to the ' Husband of the wadow, and the Fa- 
 ther of the fatherless,' from that study in McDougal 
 Street, hallowed by the frequent presence of the Saviour. 
 No doubt there were cries and tears and pleadings that 
 would take no denial. 
 
 " The mother, after much prayer, put her little ones 
 back to bed, and lay down calm in spirit, wondering in 
 what possible way God would appear for her relief. 
 
184 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 •* Long before the liour named, the creditor came to 
 the door in a state of great excitement. Now her faith 
 was shaken ; and in tremulous tones she asked, ' Why 
 have you come so soon, sir ? ' 
 
 " ' To ask your forgiveness, madam, for my unfeehng 
 conduct last evening. Several who owed me, failed 
 to pay, and I was very angry ; but I did not close 
 my eyes last night. Indeed, I never had such feelings be- 
 fore. The case came home to me as if it had been that of 
 my own wife and children. I would rather never see the 
 money than to pass such another night. Take your own 
 time to pay me. I shall never ask you for it again.' " 
 
 When " Miiller's Life of Trust " was first published, a 
 daughter, at whose house Mr. Dunbar was visitintr, crave 
 him a copy of it. Learning, in the morning, that he liad 
 set up nearly all night to read it, she said, " It is a very 
 wonderful book, — is it not, father ? " " No, my dear," he 
 replied ; " not very ivoiiderful. It only proves that God 
 is as good as his word ; that he answers those who call on 
 him in faith. I have had a great many as direct answers 
 to prayer as any recorded there — only I never wrote a 
 book about them." He did not want Christians to look 
 on such cases as especial miracles, but simply as a fulfil- 
 ment of His word. 
 
 His faith, however, was sometimes clouded under partic- 
 ular discouragements ; but God always dispelled the gloom, 
 and often surprised him by remarkable tokens of his grace. 
 " There was a time," writes a minister, who w^as then 
 a member of McDougal Street, " when for months there had 
 been no baptism in the church, and he became much disheart- 
 ened ; for in those days it was unusual for a month to go by 
 without hearing the songs of the redeemed among them. 
 He took this barrenness of his field as a token that God de- 
 
LETTER FROM DR. PAULTN. 185 
 
 signed to send liim elsewhere, — that his work in dear Mc- 
 Dougal Street was ended. He had appointed liis usual in- 
 quiry meeting several months in succession, but not one 
 anxious soul had come to it, and now he had announced 
 another, and told me, in confidence, that he had laid it be- 
 fore the Lord, telling him that if at this time he should see 
 no evidence of his work being blessed to sinners, he should 
 consider it a token from Heaven that the time had come 
 for him to seek another field. I was greatly cast down at 
 the thought that I might lose my beloved pastor, for I 
 knew not of one in the congregation concerned for his ev- 
 erlasting well-being. During the afternoon, I went down 
 to the church and into the little Bible-class room in the 
 basement, and there alone plead with God that he would 
 pour out his Spirit on the souls of the people. I then 
 opened the Bible, wdiich lay on the table before me, and 
 my eye fell on this passage : ' \yait on the Lord ; be 
 of good courage, and he shall strengthen thy heart ; wait, I 
 say, on the Lord.' I again cast myself on my knees, 
 and poured out my soul in supplication for a blessing on 
 the church. It was one of the sweetest seasons of com- 
 munion with God, I ever enjoyed. I then went home, 
 and returned in the evening a quarter of an hour before 
 the appointed time. I met my dear pastor at the front 
 gate. He seemed very much dejected, and asked me if I 
 would go in and sit down with him a little while. * I 
 told Mrs. Dunbar,' he said, ' that if any one called, to say 
 I should probably return in half an hour, for I don't think 
 there'll be any one here.' We passed in together, and 
 when w^e reached the door of the little room, 1 tried to 
 open it, but there was some obstacle on the inside. Then 
 we heard ^ rusthno; and movino; within, a seat was drawn 
 from the door, so as to allow it to open half way, and we 
 
 16* 
 
180 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 entered. The sight that met our eyes, I shall never for- 
 get ! The room was full as it could be packed with poor, 
 anxious souls, each of whom had come to ask ' What shall 
 I do to be saved ? ' They were sobbing and weeping to- 
 gether. In a moment, the astonished pastor was on his 
 knees, and such a prayer I never heard — such weeping I 
 never witnessed. Within a few weeks sixty-eight were 
 added to the church by baptism, nearly all of whom have 
 worn well, while many of them are now among the most 
 useful of the members of McDougal Street Church." 
 
 *'>*• Deeuing time it shall be light." 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Charactenstics of his Preaching — A Sleeping Christian Awakened — Style and Manner — 
 Testimony of a Gifted Mind — Cultivation of Family-Feeling in the Church — A 
 Dream — A Word in Season — Helping Weary Pastors — Letter from a Young Min- 
 ister — Letter to the Association — Establishes a "Weekly Baptist Newspaper ia New 
 York — Deep Interest in Missions — Successful Plan to Remove the Debt of the 
 American Baptist Missionary Union — Letter from the Secretary. 
 
 fN the earlier years of Mr. Dunbar's ministry his 
 preaching was preeminently of an awakening chai^ac- 
 «^s^ ter. He had a sacred passion for souls, and felt a 
 © peculiar interest in the spiritual welfare of those 
 ^ whom others neglected. While residing in New 
 Brunswick, his heart was deeply affected in view of the 
 religious destitution which so extensively prevailed in that 
 region, and, in addition to his pastoral labors, he performed 
 much missionary work, particularly among the Indians and 
 colored people. He loved to preach the gospel to the poor. 
 When he came to the United States, his heart was much 
 drawn out toward feeble churches which were in a back- 
 slidden and discouraged state, and he readily yielded to 
 their invitation to visit them. He sought to arouse them 
 to a sense of their sad condition, and to a renewal of their 
 covenant with Christ ; and, in connection with this, he 
 made powerful appeals to the impenitent, which resulted 
 in extensive revivals. Hundreds of souls, during this 
 early part of his' ministry in New Brunswick, Maine, and 
 New Hampshire, and elsewhere, were brought to Christ, 
 and the churches which he served were established in the 
 fliith. 
 
 (187) 
 
188 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 Afterward, during his more permanent settlement in 
 New York, and his ministry at brief intervals, in Boston 
 Philadelphia, and Trenton, his preaching was more doc • 
 trinal, though scarcely less awakening, or less successfu' 
 in the conversion of sinners. 
 
 He loved to dwell upon the doctrines of grace. Indeed, 
 they formed the staple of his discourse, as they were, to use 
 the language of an intimate friend, " the food, the strength, 
 the comfort of his soul to the last feeble breath he 
 drew in the body, when he faintly but distinctly uttered 
 the words, " I have called thee by thy name ; thou art 
 mine." 
 
 No hearer could ever mistake his theological views. 
 They were strongly held, and clearly stated. The 
 moral depravity and helplessness of man, and his supreme 
 dependence upon the sovereign grace of God ; the eternal 
 election of a pecuHar people, who had been given to the 
 Son to be redeemed by his blood and justified by his right- 
 eousness, as their covenant-head, the second Adam ; tlif 
 special and irresistible influences of the Holy Spirit in the 
 enlightenment and regeneration of the predestined heirs 
 of glory, whereby faith in Christ, as a vicarious sacrifice, 
 is begotten in them unto sanctification and salvation ; the 
 deity of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, equally with the 
 Father ; — these doctrines, which he believed to be positive- 
 ly and plainly revealed in the word of God, — his only 
 standard of faith, — were constantly exhibited, and with 
 an earnestness which proved how deep a place they had 
 in his heart, and with what sacred jealousy he would 
 o'uard them from the assaults of error. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar's preaching was " emphatically experiment- 
 al." Doctrine and experience were happily combined. 
 " He delighted," writes one who long enjoyed his ministry, 
 
A SLEEPING CHRISTIAN AWAKENED. 189 
 
 " in comforting the mourner, in exposing the peculiar 
 temptations to wliich the young convert is Hable, and in 
 bringing to the light of divine truth the mistakes he is 
 inclined to make in judging of his own exercises. With 
 great skill he drew the line between the work of the Spirit 
 of God in conversion and the natural promptings of the 
 human heart, and never failed to impress the conviction 
 that nothing short of divine power could make us Chris- 
 tians." 
 
 His pungent conviction of sin in early life, and subse- 
 quent severe spiritual trials, w^hich led to deep self-exami- 
 nation and prayer, gave him a singular insight into the 
 human heart, the wiles of Satan, and the work of the Spir- 
 it, so that he was a true comforter and wise counsellor to 
 troubled souls. There was often great power in his fervent 
 appeals and expostulations. 
 
 One evening, a lady who was visiting her son in New 
 York, — a clergyman of another denomination, — attended 
 a Wednesday-evening lecture, wath a fi'iend w^ho was a 
 member of the McDougal Street Church. She was a pro- 
 fessor of rehgion and doubtless a Christian, but, like many, 
 Hving too much out of sight of the^ cross. 
 
 The text for the evening was, " O Israel, thou hast de- 
 stroyed thyself ; but in me is thy help." The sins of 
 backsliding Christians were portrayed in a vivid manner, 
 particularly their ingratitude toward God, and their put- 
 ting Jesus to shame after all his condescension and love in 
 dying for them. The heart of this stranger was pierced 
 as with an arrow. She went back to her son's *house, but 
 not to sleep ; God was dealing with her. She struggled 
 with her feelings as long as she could, and strove to pray, 
 but in vain ; the ear of Heaven seemed shut against her 
 cry. At length she felt this burden too heavy to bear 
 
190 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 alone, and aronsecl her son from his sleep to tell him of the 
 informal lecture she had heard, and to cry, *'I have de- 
 stroyed myself." 
 
 The young man tried to soothe her, and prayed in her 
 hearing ; but he, perchance, did not understand the case. 
 In such agony was she, that he was glad, in the dead of 
 night, to call in a wiser physician. Mr. Dunbar was sent 
 for, and came with the balm of Gilead to bind up the 
 wounded spirit, and to point the backslider to the last 
 clause of his text, '' in me is thy help." He held up the 
 Saviour, in whom she had once trusted, as able to forgive 
 to-day as he was ten or twenty years ago. 
 
 Thus much is remembered ; the life of the stranger 
 thereafter is not known ; but, we doubt not, hers was a sec- 
 ond and more entire consecration to Him from whom she had 
 wandered while bearing his name and wearing his badge. 
 
 Says an intimate friend of Mr. Dunbar : "He was a 
 practical believer in predestination^ referring all current 
 events, and all that have come to pass since the foundation 
 of the world, to the eternal purpose of Him who ' work- 
 eth all things according to the counsel of his own will.' " 
 
 This was a strong point in his ministry, and made him 
 so effectual a " succorer to many " afflicted Christians. 
 Their trials, he told them, were embraced in the divine 
 purposes concerning them, and, so far from separating 
 them from the love of God, were the revealed evidences 
 of their adoption, the means of their spiritual disci- 
 pline, and the pledge of their final victory. " All things 
 work together for good to them that love God, and are 
 the called according to his purpose." 
 
 His strong belief in predestination did not make him 
 antinomian in his preaching or his conduct. *' While," 
 writes one of his friends, Deacon John J. Griffiths, " he 
 
STYLE AND MANNER. 191 
 
 always held firmly the great doctrines of the gospel, sover- 
 eign gi'ace and the eternal love of God to his chosen peo- 
 ple, he loved to urge the practical effect of belief in these 
 truths, purity of heart and holiness of life." It was his 
 constant practice to discourse, with earnest particularity, 
 upon the various duties of the Christian life, zealously re- 
 buking sin, at times with the utmost severity, as displeas- 
 ing to the gracious Sj^ii'it, and setting an eminent example 
 of what he preached. He was an earnest worker himself, 
 and urged diligence and activity as a Christian duty. He 
 preached and labored unweariedly, seeking to " pull men 
 out of the fire," improving opportunities which many would 
 have neglected, and, in every possible way, doing good to 
 his fellow-creatures. If the doctrine is proved by the life, 
 then was he sound in the faith ; for, " in season and out 
 of season," he served his divine Master, as a child rather 
 than as a servant. He loved to preach Christ and to fol- 
 low Christ. 
 
 His style aid manner, as a preacher, were all his own, 
 calculated to ^ommand attention even where his doctrines 
 were unwelcome. He was original, natural, earnest, and 
 persuasive. As a sermonizer, he did not follow scholastic 
 rules, but the bent of his own genius ; and yet his discourses, 
 though not uniformly systematic in the point of formal 
 divisions, by no means lacked the essential qualities of 
 unity. He always had a distinct aim in view, even when 
 he seemed, at times, to wander from it to follow out some 
 tempting train of thought suggested at the moment. 
 Seldom or never did he write out a sermon in full, — a 
 written discourse hampered him, — but he generally pre- 
 pared a full skeleton, which he had no difficulty in filling 
 up, even beyond the allotted hour. He abounded in happy 
 ilUistrations, which gave interest and ])rofit to his doctrine. 
 
192 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 We are permitted to record the impression made upon a 
 gifted and cultured mind by his conversation and preach- 
 ing. The writer, a distinguished hterary friend, and con- 
 nected with a rehgious denomination widely differing from 
 his own, says : — 
 
 " I went to hear him, at South Boston, when he first 
 went there, my Aunt P. having spoken of him as her 
 minister. I heard from him a most extraordinary sermon, 
 ft-om the text, ' Awake thou that sleepest,' which he made 
 to be the voice of the Bridegi'oom to a sleeping church. 
 It was a flood of fervent poetry, — which is the natural 
 language of spiritual revelation in our age no less than 
 in the old Hebrew times, — enough to ' create a soul un- 
 der the ribs of death ; ' and it did awake that church, at 
 least for a season. I went frequently to hear him ; and I 
 never heard anybody approach him in the power he had 
 of making the Old Testament history speak the everlast- 
 ing truths that make the spiritual life. A sermon on Ja- 
 cob's refusal to part with Benjamin touched into life the 
 soul of a person who went with me in a more defiant 
 mood than I ever knew any other, and who abused me, 
 all the way home, for going to hear such preaching. But 
 long afterward, when, broken a good deal by afflictions, I 
 was trying to lead her into true relations with God, I was 
 struck with her exclaiming, ' I cannot let Benjamin go 1 ' 
 which proved that, in spite of herself, the voice of the 
 preacher had reached her heart. 
 
 " It was a great trial to me, at the time, that I could not 
 get over to South Boston, to hear him read and comment 
 upon the Pilgrim's Progress, to his church, which he did 
 in the evening ; and I liave regretted always since that I 
 did not make desperate efforts, and overcome all obstacles 
 to it. 
 
SUCCESS OF HIS MINISTRY. 193 
 
 " Mr. Dunbar was a most remarkable person to me. He 
 gave me a new idea of a Highlander. He seemed to me 
 an improvisatore, an oriental soul, an organ of the Spirit ; 
 as if he had found a storehouse of jewels, in which he ran 
 riot, and with a fervor of love would have poured them 
 out over all with whom he was brought into contact. 
 
 " I am very glad if he counted me as a friend ; for I 
 did not know that he ever realized how much he was to 
 me at a certain stage of my experience ; for we hardly 
 had a common language, my own intellectual environment 
 was so ditferent." 
 
 But, beyond all natural advantages, Mr. Dunbar's power 
 as a preacher lay in his strong faith and fervent piety. 
 He was preeminently a man of prayer. He believed in 
 prayer as an appointed means of securing the divine bless- 
 inor. To him it was a most real thino; to draw near to 
 God. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar's entire ministry was greatly honored of 
 God, resulting in the conversion of large numbers, proba- 
 bly from twelve to fifteen hundred, in the various places 
 where he toiled. These results were almost entirely 
 the fruits of his own labors, in connection with the pray- 
 ers and efforts of his lay brethren. He had a noble confi- 
 dence in God and God's truth, and never played upon the 
 feelings of men by attempts to " get up revivals." He 
 was perfectly honest before God with his own soul and 
 the souls of others. 
 
 While thus laborious in his own field, he always wel- 
 comed the assistance of brother ministers during a season 
 of special awakening. And so he was ever ready to re- 
 spond to a call from a neighboring pastor ; and many 
 are the brethren who will remember with gratitude to 
 God his fraternal aid, at times when abundant labor had 
 17 
 
194 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 weakened tlieir own hands. He came in " the fuhiess of 
 the blessing of the gospel of Christ," to assist, uphold, 
 and strengthen the pastor. 
 
 Sometime before his removal to New York, he visited 
 Boston, in response to the earnest request of the Rev. Dr. 
 Sharp that he would assist him during a season of revi- 
 val in the Charles Street Church. He gladly accepted the 
 invitation, and, for several weeks, labored incessantly and 
 to the great satisfaction of the friends of Christ in Boston. 
 We find among his correspondence letters from Dr. Sharp, 
 Dea. Lothrop, Levi Farwell, and other good men gone to 
 their reward, showing how his labors and his spirit were 
 appreciated in Boston in that day. 
 
 The writer can never forget how his own heart was en- 
 couraged, and the work of God, then in progress in his 
 church in Bangor, Me., was helped forward by the com- 
 ing, a distance of hundreds of miles, of this dear servant 
 of Christ. He remained several weeks preaching and 
 conversing from house to house, with great fervor and 
 success. 
 
 This practice of mutual assistance among neighboring 
 pastors was more common among the " fathers " than, we 
 fear, it is in our day ; and it would be greatly to the ad- 
 vantage of ministers and churches could it be revived. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar had a great affection for good ministers 
 of Christ, and was especially tender and considerate in 
 his intercourse with those who were troubled because of 
 " false brethren." He entered at once into their case, 
 and made it, as far as possible, his own. The language 
 of Paul he might have taken to himself: " Who is weak, 
 and I am not weak ? Who is offended, and I bum not ? " 
 He often said, " There is too little brotherly love among 
 
THE MILLER STORY. 195 
 
 Christians and Christian ministers in our day ; too much 
 self-seeking ; too Httle bearing one another's burdens." 
 
 He felt great sympathy with his ministering brethren 
 in their pecuniary troubles, and was also pained for the 
 churches on tliat account. He knew that a man, whose 
 days and nights were spent in planning and contriving to 
 make a small income meet large expenses, could not give 
 his whole soul to the great work of the ministry. He 
 felt this policy to be " penny wise and pound foolish," 
 and believed it better for churches that could say before 
 God, " We have done our utmost," to call on their richer 
 brethren for aid, than to muzzle the ox that was treading 
 out their corn. He believed that in very rare cases did 
 God bring together so much absolute poverty in one 
 chiu'ch that a little more sacrifice could not be made for 
 the comfort of the pastor and the honor of the cause ; 
 and in these few cases he was always willing to help. 
 But how many times was his soul vexed by applications, 
 from places where every man owned his farm and stock, 
 to his and other city churches, where, perhaps, the great 
 majority never dreamed of possessing even a home ! To 
 such applicants lie always told the " Miller story," advis- 
 ing them to go home and try once more what they could 
 do among themselves. 
 
 A worthy miller — we know not the origin of the tale 
 — was once pained by hearing that the minister was go- 
 ing away for want of support, the church having decided 
 they could no longer raise his salary. He called a meet- 
 ing, and addressed his brethren very modestly, for he was 
 one of the poorest among these comfortable farmers. He 
 asked if want of money were the only reason for this 
 change, and if all were united in desiring the services of 
 the pastor, could they still keep him. There was but one 
 
196 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 voice in the reply. The pastor was useful and beloved ; 
 but the flock were so poor ! 
 
 " Well," replied the miller, " I have a plan by which I 
 can raise his salary without asking one of you for a dol- 
 lar, if you will allow me to take my own way to do it. 
 I will assume the responsibility for one year. Have I 
 your consent? " 
 
 Of course they could not refuse this ; although they 
 expressed surprise, knowing the miller to be but a poor 
 man. 
 
 The year drew to a close. The minister had been 
 blessed in his labors, and no one had been called on for 
 money. When they came together, the miller asked the 
 pastor if his wants had been supplied and his salary 
 promptly met ? He replied in the affirmative. When 
 the brethren were asked if they were any poorer than at 
 the beginning of the year, each one replied, " No," and 
 asked how they could be, when their church privileges 
 had been so mysteriously paid for. He asked again : " Is 
 any man here any poorer for keeping the minister ? " and 
 the reply was the same as before. " Then," he said, 
 " brethren, I have only to tell you that you have paid the 
 salary the same as you always did, only more of it and 
 with greater promptness. You remember you gave me 
 permission to take my own way in this matter ; and I 
 have done so. As each one of you brought his grist to mill, 
 I took out as much grain as I thought your proportion, and 
 laid it away for the salary. When harvest was over, I 
 sold it, and have paid the minister regularly from the pro- 
 ceeds. You confess that you are no poorer ; so you 
 never missed it, and therefore made no personal sacrifice. 
 Now I propose that we stop talking about poverty, and 
 about letting our minister go, and add enough to his sala- 
 
LETTER FROM A MINISTER. 197 
 
 ry to make us feel that we are doing sometliing." INlr. 
 Dunbar used to say, with a sigh, " Oh for a miller in 
 every church I " 
 
 A young grand-daughter, who was visiting him a few 
 years since, answered several letters for him one day 
 wlien he was indisposed. One of these was from a minis- 
 ter in the state of New York, a perfect stranger to Mr, 
 Dunbar, asking concerning some field of labor, he being 
 about to leave the place where he then was. The reply 
 returned was, as the writer tells us : " There are many 
 places where good ministers are needed ; but you should 
 be on the ground to know of them. Come to the city^ at 
 once. I have now no home to ask you to ; but come 
 where I am boarding, and I will introduce you to breth- 
 ren here. Tell your good wife not to get disheartened ; 
 and say from me that unless you are richer than your 
 ministering brethren in general, you are to leave the 
 purse and whatever is in it at home with her. Tell her 
 from me that there is a bank in New York city, on 
 which ministers of Christ can always draw in time of 
 need ! " 
 
 How many men, who have become poor for Christ's 
 sake, will remember the sunshine which some such letter 
 from his hand, or a like encouraging word from his lip, had 
 brought to them in a dark and gloomy day ! He bore, as 
 far as he knew them, the burdens of all these on his own 
 heart, and so fulfilled the law of Christ. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar felt a special interest in young ministers ; 
 and while they shared, as many of them did, his unstinted 
 hospitality, he spread before them the richer dainties of 
 free, sovereign, distinguishing grace, the conversation 
 often extendi ufTj far into the niorht. 
 
 " I find it very pleasant," writes one who was thus 
 17* 
 
198 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 favored, '' to recall those many talks with which he favored 
 me, and in which his deep experience welled out so richly 
 and instructively. No one that knew him could douht 
 that he was experimentally acquainted with Jesus, and 
 lived in close communion with him. With what hallowed 
 ardor would he extol the riches of free and sovereign grace ! 
 There were points on which we did not agree ; but I al- 
 ways admired the warmth of zeal for truth with which he 
 sought to bring me up to the full measure of what he con- 
 sidered orthodoxy. There was always an unction, charac- 
 teristic of those talks, that refreshed like the dew of morn- 
 ing, and made me greatly revere and love him. Religion 
 was ever his favorite theme, and particularly experimental 
 religion ; but to him the doctrinal was scarcely distinguish- 
 able from the experimental, so thoroughly were the great 
 truths of the gospel the aliment of his inner life and his in- 
 spiration to action. That genial flow of humor, and that 
 quaintness which provoked a smile every now and then, in 
 his most religious discourses, whether in the parlor or in 
 the pulpit, did not interfere with the moral impression, and 
 was an attractive feature and kept alive the interest." 
 
 Mr. Dunbar's views of doctrine, and his earnest zeal in 
 their defence, appear in the following Annual Letter to the 
 Association : — 
 
 "Beloved Brethren in Christ, — When, in the 
 providence of God, Baptist churches became sufficiently 
 numerous in this western hemisphere to admit of their 
 forming distinct associations, it was regarded as a matter 
 of sacred importance, that each church uniting in such 
 a social ecclesiastical compact should entertain and avow 
 the same views of the character and government of 
 God ; his sovereign, distinguishing grace in the redemption 
 
LETTER TO THE ASSOCIATION. 199 
 
 Biid complete salvation of his chosen people ; the nature, 
 design, and extent of the atonement of the Lord Jesus 
 Christ ; the total depravity of human nature ; the invinci- 
 ble operations of the Holy Spirit upon the souls of elect 
 sinners ; and the certain glorification of the ' church of God, 
 which he hath purchased with his own blood.' In those 
 days, care was taken to dehne, by printed associational 
 articles of faith, the glorious fundamental doctrines of tlie 
 word of God, and the holy tendency of those doctrines, 
 when cordially believed and experimentally felt, to pro- 
 mote the joy and hope of regenerated souls, and to produce 
 the fruits of that holiness^ without which no man sliall see 
 the Lord. Presuming, dear brethren, that Jehovali's re- 
 vealed method of saving lost sinners, and the moral quali- 
 ties of rigid and wrong in matters of faith and practice, 
 could not change their character with the lapse of time, this 
 church has, in its annual epistle to your respected body, 
 for a succession of years, solemnly and affectionately ex- 
 pressed a fear lest restless philosophical speculations, popu- 
 lar, ever-changing religious theories, or a conformity to 
 applauded customs, should tempt the churches of this Asso- 
 ciation to depart from the truth of God, as revealed in the 
 Holy Scriptures. Li our letter to you, of 1837, we frankly 
 stated the apprehension we then cherished, that a growing 
 disrelish of Bible sentiments and Bible morality Avas mani- 
 festing itself in certain portions of our beloved denomina- 
 tion The faith once delivered to the saints is not 
 
 considered by many of sufficient importance to be con- 
 tended for or vindicated. The simple avowal of a few 
 general articles of our Baptist faith is, in many places, a 
 sufficient passport into the fellowship and sisterhood of 
 associated churches. Other cardinal truths, involving the 
 sovereignty and veracity of Jehovah, the covenanted sub- 
 
200 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 stitution and sacrifice of the blessed Redeemer, and the 
 glory of his cross, may be embraced or repudiated at dis- 
 cretion, without any breach of fellowship. And in regard 
 to the obligation which, by the moral law of God, we owe 
 to our fellow-creatures, we fear that the departure from 
 Bible morality is no less alarming. For instance : the poor 
 laborer may be robbed of his wages, his person and family 
 subjected to unmitigated bondage and oppression, and his 
 immortal mind forbidden to feed upon the precious pastures 
 of divine revelation ; all these injuries may be tyrannically 
 practised upon the humble, defenceless disciples of the mer- 
 ciful Son of God, by members of the same church, and 
 ministers of the gospel of peace ; and yet such members 
 and ministers are regarded as proper objects of Chris- 
 tian fellowship, sympathy, and respect ; while the tears and 
 groans of their unhappy victims are unheeded, and those 
 who plead tlieir cause are viewed with suspicion and often 
 treated with contempt. These, dear brethren, are some of the 
 abuses, in principle and practice, now tolerated in our de- 
 nomination, which justly grieve and alarm us, in view of 
 the justice of Z ion's God, and the retributions of a judg- 
 ment to come. 
 
 " We desire, however, to unite with you in praying for 
 the purity, the peace, and the prosperity of the churches 
 of Christ, throughout our land and the world." 
 
 In laboring for the purity of doctrine and practice of his 
 church in New York, ever so dear to him, Mr. Dunbar 
 relied much upon the cooperation of his deacons, among 
 whom were men of great worth and solidity of judgment. 
 One of them, Deacon J. J. Griffiths, writes as follows : — 
 
 " Mr. Dunbar had the interests of this branch of Zion 
 very near to his heart, as his fi'equent private and officiaJ 
 
BAPTIST NEWSPAPER. 201 
 
 meetings with his deacons testify. He loved them, and re- 
 lied on their judgment, and they depended very mucli on his 
 advice and experience. They were all united in him, and 
 during a period of ten years, at the frequent official inter- 
 views when the interests of the church were spoken of, 
 there was an entire unanimity of feeling and of action be- 
 tween him and them." 
 
 In reviewing Mr. Dunbar's ministrv of nearlv half a 
 century, the genuine affection which always existed be- 
 tween him and the churches he served is worthy of note. 
 To three of these he was called three times, and by all 
 was ever welcomed as a beloved friend and minister of 
 Christ. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar's zeal for the defence and spread of God's 
 truth in its purity and fulness, and his desire for the prog- 
 ress of his own denomination, led him, soon after going 
 to New York, to encourage the commencement of a 
 weekly newspaper, which he himself edited gratuitously, 
 — " The Baptist Repository," published by Mr. E. Tripp. 
 It has since passed through many hands, and borne many 
 names, the New York Baptists ha\dng never from that 
 time been without a denominational paper. 
 
 To what has been said of Mr. Dunbar as a minister of 
 Christ, it should be added that he was deeply interested 
 in the extension of evanorelical truth in the world. He 
 was an early and a fast friend of the American and For- 
 eign Bible Society, and was for many years a member of 
 its board of managers. ^ 
 
 He was an active and liberal supporter of Foreign Mis- 
 sions, and deeply interested in the work of the Missionary 
 Union. His anti-slavery spirit had been sorely tried, dur- 
 ing the days of the Triennial Convention, by the union 
 of Northern and Southern churches, but he hoped the day 
 
202 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 of separation would come ; and none rejoiced more than 
 he in the triumph of principle over policy, in the forma- 
 tion of the American Baptist Missionary Union, — a free 
 organization for the spread of a free gospel. 
 
 When the debt of ^36,000 lay as a heavy burden upon 
 the Union, his heart was distressed at the crippled influ- 
 ence of the society, and the dishonor cast on God ; audit 
 was at his suggestion that the plan was adopted which 
 proved so successful in the liquidation of the debt. 
 
 One morning, early in February, 1859, the correspond- 
 ing secretary of the Union, being then in New York, 
 called at Mr. Dunbar's house ; after the usual courtesies, 
 Mr. Dunbar said to him, " Doctor, I'm a little surprised 
 to see you this morning, for I've been lying awake nearly 
 all night thinking of you and the Union and the mission- 
 ary debt, and I believe I've got hold of a plan that will 
 pay it." 
 
 He then w^ent on to say, that after his family had 
 retired to rest, the night before, he had taken up Dr. 
 Wayland's Missionary Sermon and read it through, not 
 finishino; it until lono- after midnIo;ht. It made such an 
 
 o o ~ 
 
 impression on his mind that he could not sleep. " The 
 debt," he said, "seemed such a small thing to press upon 
 all the Baptist communicants in the Northern States, that I 
 felt ashamed of it, and lay trying to devise some plan by 
 which it might be swept oflF. A small fraction from each 
 church-member would do it ; but suppose we get thirty -six 
 thousand individuals to give one dollar each, the work is 
 done ! If there are any In our number too poor to do that, 
 their richer brethren will make It up." 
 
 The plan struck the secretary favorably, and he prom- 
 ised to suggest It to the Board. But Mr. Dunbar, always 
 feai^l of " red-tape " delays, and now Impatient for a trial 
 
FOREIGN MISSIONS. 203 
 
 and a result, demurred a little, saying, " The Board will 
 think well of it, I know ; so I shall give the first instal- 
 ment," and drawing out that inexhaustible green purse, he 
 placed in the secretary's hand a gold dollar each for him- 
 self and Mrs. Dunbar and the two children at home 
 with him, calling on a daughter who was then on a 
 visit, to do the same, and pledging — as he always dared 
 to do — the McDougal Street Church for her share in the 
 good work. 
 
 The secretary returned to Boston, presented the plan, 
 which was adopted, and then issued circulars to the above 
 effect. The dollars flew in rapidly, — the simplicity of the 
 thing at once making it a " people's movement." It be- 
 came to Baptists " our debt," and not the debt of a few 
 rich men who might get rid of it as best they could.^ 
 Mr. Dunbar's own people gave far more than each man 
 his dollar, and their pastor crowned the sacrifice by laying 
 
 1 We insert the following letter from the secretary to Mr. Dunbar, written 
 a short time after the plan was put into operation : — 
 
 "Missionary Rooms, Boston, March 28, 1859. 
 
 " My dear Brother, — I came to the Rooms this morning, after the la- 
 bors of the Sabbath, not a little exhausted and careworn. But your letter, 
 so full of good things, has renewed my spirit and strengthened my heart for 
 the battle. As I read on, I said, this is too good to be true ; the Lord is an- 
 swering before we called upon him, and crowning our labors before we 
 put forth eflbrt. To his name be the praise. 
 
 " From all quarters there come expressions of approval of the plan, and 
 a readiness to take hold and carry it into effect. I may be too sanguine, 
 but I believe that we shall succeed, with God's blessing, and find thirty-six 
 thousand persons who will give their dollar each for so desirable an object. 
 
 " I think you need have no misgivings on the score of being made too 
 prominent. Talk the thing up with the pastors, and tell mc of your sue- 
 
204 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 twenty-five dollars from his own purse, in addition to all 
 he had already done, as the last on the altar. The 
 result is known. In the words of the secretary, " The 
 Union was freed from an incubus which had crippled its 
 energies for the last fifteen years." 
 
 Nor was Mr. Dunbar's interest confined to foreign mis- 
 sions. The heathen of our own land had a large share in 
 his pity and his prayers. 
 
 From the time that he first saw the red men, he never 
 lost his interest in them. For the Mic Macs of New 
 Brunswick and the Penobscots of Maine he labored per- 
 sonally ; and, in after years, interested himself greatly for 
 the Cherokees and other tribes under the patronage of our 
 Missionary Union. The name, Indian, was a passport to 
 his heart, and the sorrows and oppressions of this people 
 were to him a source of real grief and anxiety ; for he 
 believed that, with regard to them, as well as to the negro, 
 God would call us to account. Many will remember when 
 Rev. Evan Jones brought Oganaya to New York, in the 
 year 1835, how he took him by the hand, seeking not only 
 to benefit, but also to gratify him. At his suggestion, the 
 young men of McDougal Street Church presented him 
 with a watch, as they did also to more than one other In- 
 dian visitor. The ladies, also, sent many presents to his 
 wife and family, while a kind friend painted his miniature, 
 which was a matter of great surprise and delight to him, he 
 never having seen such a thing before. And these same 
 acts were i-epeated again and again for strangers of the 
 same class. Mr. Dunbar often said that a man always 
 thought more of himself if he had a good watch ! 
 
 About twenty-five years ago he met, — in the street, we 
 believe, — Andrew Meaux, chief of the Mic Macs, and his 
 wife. They were in deep poverty and distress, and wan- 
 
INTEREST IN THE RED MEN. 205 
 
 dering helplessly in the great, strange city. An unprinei- 
 pled man had induced the poor creatures, by fair promises, 
 to accompany liim to P]ng]and and exhibit themselves in 
 dances and war-whoops, as new to them, probably, as 
 tliey were to the English. They did so ; and hardly had 
 they ornamented themselves in blankets and moccasons, 
 feathers and beads, than they were prostrated with small- 
 pox. The hope of his gain now being gone, the heartless 
 wretch forsook them. Amid strangers, and in the very 
 deepest poverty, their two children died, causing them as 
 much anguish as a like affliction would do wiser parents 
 anywhere. A few merciful men, hearing of their sad con- 
 dition, sent them to New York, where they landed without 
 means to reach their tribe. God guided them to Mr. 
 Dunbar, and he accepted the charge. Every provision 
 was made for their comfort ; but the poor mother's heart 
 was full of her children, and she wept when she spoke of 
 them. 
 
 While they were in the city, Mr. Seton had a little 
 gathering of the Sunday-school children, for their benefit, 
 at which were sung hymns and songs written by him for 
 the occasion. One of these is well remembered by those 
 who joined in its notes when children, beginning, — 
 
 " Chief Andrew Meaux." 
 
 Money was raised to take the strangers home and to 
 supply them with numberless comforts. Their voyage had 
 been a most painful and unprofitable one ; but the sympathy 
 and benevolence they received in the McDougal Street 
 Church did much to soothe their disappointment. Nor were 
 their spiritual Avants forgotten. Mr. Dunbar, and others 
 interested in them, strove to instruct them, and to lead their 
 troubled minds to the compassionate Saviour. It was, 
 
 18 
 
206 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 after all, the soul preeminently which Mr. Dunbar sought 
 to benefit ; and often did he use the good things of this 
 life as means whereby to gain the heart of the sufferer, and 
 thus lead him from the trials of life to the peace and joy 
 found only in Christ. 
 
 We find a copy of a hymn, which he used often to 
 sing, and sometimes to repeat, when pleading for the red 
 men. We do not know its author, but insert it here as 
 another plea for a race which will soon be no more : — 
 
 "THE INDIAN'S APPEAL TO AMERICAN CHRISTIANS. 
 
 " I dwell with the tempest, I'm rock'd by the storm ; 
 No pillow of luxury come I to crave : 
 Sole lord of the brute, in whose furs I am warm, — 
 Yet pity the red man, ye sons of the wave. 
 
 " Ere the wide-spreading ocean, now rolling so blue, 
 Your forefathers bore from afar to our shore, 
 These forests comprised all of pleasure we knew ; 
 Then pity the red man, thus happy no more ! 
 
 " Ye dwell at the fountains of mental delight, 
 Where streams intellectual deliciously roll ; 
 And when the rich banquets so freely invite, 
 Oh, pity the red man — he, too, has a soul ! 
 
 "Oh, teach him the name to Christians so dear, — 
 Your passport to mansions of glory on high ; 
 That name which supports you, in death, without fear, 
 Declare to the red man, and teach him to — die." 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 ^ise to Win Souls — Preaching at the Gaming Table — The Children's Minister — Sym> 
 path J' with the Little Ones — Playfulness — Incidents — Extracts from Letters. 
 
 >ITH Mr. Dunbar the ministry of the gospel was 
 not viewed as a mere " profession." It was in 
 his heart to serve Christ and his fellow-creatures, 
 not only on the Sabbath, or in the pulpit, but dur- 
 ing the week, whether among his own people or 
 among strangers. By the wayside, at a casual 
 visit, in the cars, or on shipboard, he was ever the min- 
 ister of Christ ; careless of the set conventionalities of 
 office, and ready to do a kind deed, to speak a sympathiz- 
 ino;, instructive, or warnino; Avord, as the occasion suo;- 
 gested ; and especially solicitous, in all his intercourse 
 with his fellow-men, to lead them to the Saviour. 
 
 He had a rare and happy way of giving a religious turn 
 to conversation. The recital of some striking incident in 
 his own life would often lead the minds of his listeners to 
 themes far different from what they had anticipated at the 
 outset, and which were calculated to make deep religious 
 impressions. 
 
 Once, when going up the North River, a sudden shower, 
 about sunset, drove all the passengers from the deck into 
 the cabin. Here they surprised a party of gamblers round 
 a centre-table, whither they had drawn two or three un- 
 wary youths. After a little pause at this interruption, 
 they went on shuffling their cards, '' when," says one who 
 
208 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 was present, " a gentleman rose and went up to them. He 
 looked on as if with interest in the game ; and soon one 
 of the number offered him a seat, saying, ' Will you try a 
 hand with us, sir ? ' 
 
 " ' No,' replied the gentleman, who I then learned was 
 Mr. Dunbar ; ' I do not know the name of a card. When 
 I was young, I had a great many games which 1 enjoyed 
 as much as you do yours, and I now love to see all young 
 men happy.' He then told them of his early life in the 
 Highlands of Scotland, with its wild sports and its hair- 
 breadth escapes, until quite a group, besides the card- 
 players, had gathered round him. The young men ceased 
 playing, and gave him all their attention. Soon he spoke 
 of a time when he grew sick of these pleasures, and was 
 dissatisfied with himself ; when he felt that he was at enmity 
 with God, and that unless converted and reconciled to him, 
 he must be eternally lost. He told them of the despair into 
 which he fell, and of his ' fearful looking-for of judgment,' 
 and then of the manner in which Christ revealed himself as 
 the Way of Life, and of the change this made in all his 
 prospects and pursuits for this world. 
 
 '' By this time the cards had all been slipped into the 
 pockets of the owners, while the man of God, having 
 gained their ear, preached Christ to them. Even those 
 who, under other circumstances, would have scoffed, now 
 listened with interest and attention, and all treated him 
 with the greatest respect. But had he felt that he did well 
 to be angry at sight of sin, and harshly rebuked the game- 
 sters, threatening to expose them, he could not have held 
 tliem a moment to listen to the story of Calvary. Thus 
 was he ever wise to win souls. The stand he thus 
 firmly and decidedly took, commended itself to the Chris- 
 tians present there. They all gathered round him, like a 
 
THE children's MINISTER. 209 
 
 family, to talk of home and common interests. And 
 while the storm raged without, they enjoyed a blessed sea- 
 son, speaking of the glories of Him they loved, and singing 
 songs of praise to his name. 
 
 " His brave advocacy of his Master's claims gave him an 
 opportunity to do good to many who never went to the 
 house of God. Eternity will reveal the result of that 
 evening's labor. Thus was he ever sowing beside all 
 waters." 
 
 It may readily be inferred that Mr. Dunbar excelled as 
 a pastor. His genial disposition, his ardent piety, his 
 great experience in " cases of conscience," eminently fitted 
 him for this part of ministerial labor. In this work he 
 was unwearied, not only in his own congregation, but in 
 the wider circle of the needy, neglected, and sorrowful, 
 especially in New York. Many such made great lamen- 
 tation over him at his burial, for they had lost a friend 
 . indeed. 
 
 In that important, but difficult and much-neglected part 
 of a pastor's work, ministering to the children, Mr. Dun- 
 bar was very successful. They loved him, for he sympa- 
 thized with them in their little joys and trials, and ever 
 had for them a pleasant and instructive word, and often 
 gave them little tokens of his affection. By his gentle and 
 winning ways he was instrumental in leading many of 
 these lambs to the " Good Shepherd." 
 
 He always interested himself in the innocent pleasures 
 of the young, and was ever devising plans for their profit 
 and amusement. His kind smile and cheerful tones have 
 left impressions, never to be effaced, on hundreds of little 
 hearts. 
 
 A lady, who was much with his children in her youth, 
 says, " I well remember the charm he had for the young. 
 
 18* 
 
210 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 Whenever we were planning a visit to his house, we chose 
 an evening when he would be at home, that our pleasure 
 might be enhanced by his company." 
 
 One of Mr. Dunbar's deacons, who frequently went 
 with him in his visits of mercy, says he noticed in him 
 traits of character very uncommon even among the 
 benevolent. More than once he has gone with him to 
 the home of poverty and sickness ; and, if little children 
 were passing their time wearily in the sick-room, which, 
 perhaps, was their only one, or if they were disturbing 
 the sufferer by their noise, Mr. Dunbar would leave him 
 a few moments to converse or pray, and, after a short ab- 
 sence, return with toys for the little ones, that they might 
 be amused and quieted. Nothing pleased him more than 
 to be smiled on or spoken to in the street by children 
 whose names he had to ask. 
 
 A little grandson of four or five years, noticing that a 
 brother and three cousins were named " Duncan Dunbar," 
 came to his mother one day, saying he wanted his name 
 changed. When asked what he wished to be called, he 
 replied innocently, " I want to be named ' Grandpa Dun- 
 bar,' too." He felt that an honor was being unjustly kept 
 from him. 
 
 H. L. W., a dear little boy in the family, whom his 
 grandfather loved very much, spoke of him, after his 
 death, as a very rich man. When told that he was not 
 rich at all, he expressed great surprise, saying, " Why, he 
 always had his pockets fiill of pretty things for little chil- 
 dren." 
 
 When, a few years ago, Mr. Dunbar's portrait, painted 
 by Verbryck, was placed in a window of the store where 
 it had been framed, a friend of the family, passing by, 
 and not knowing it was there, saw a group of children 
 
INCIDENTS. 211 
 
 gathered around the place, and heard little voices joyfiilly 
 exclaiming, " Oh, that's Mr. Dunbar, that's Mr. Dun- 
 bar ! " proving both the success of the artist and the love 
 of the children. 
 
 Gifts of the children to himself always went by their 
 names. He spoke of " the httle Smith's dressing-case," 
 '' little Georgie's snuff-box," — the silver one he carried 
 with him to tlie last, — " little Willie's porte-monnaie," 
 &c. Amid all the confusion and sight-seeing of his last 
 visit to Europe, he did not forget the dear boys at home, 
 
 — who were gathering stamps and coins, — but sought 
 eagerly for rare specimens to grace their collections. 
 
 He thus closes a letter to a member of his church, 
 absent with her family for the summer : — 
 
 " And to the two dear little members of my congrega 
 tion, the princess and the duchess^ give my warmest love. 
 When are their dear little hands going to write me that ejns- 
 tle, promised last winter ? When shall I hear that their 
 dear little hearts are beatino; with love to the blessed Sav- 
 iour, tlie Lord Jesus Christ ? When will they ask and 
 urge me to baptize them in his name ? " 
 
 When the excellent carte-de-visite of Mr. Dunbar was 
 shown to one of his little grandsons, only four years old, he 
 at once recognized it, although he had not seen the original 
 for many months. " That's my dear grandpa," he said, 
 " with his cane in his hand." The spectacles in the other 
 hand being very indistinct, some one asked him what they 
 were. " Oh," he said, " that's a stick of white candy for 
 little children ! " 
 
 A nook in his desk was always supplied with penknives, 
 scissors, marbles, picture-books, and china dogs and cats, 
 
 — a little store, on which to draw for the benefit of his 
 juvenile friends. Sometimes, when asked, " Where did 
 
212 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 you buy that ? " he would smile, and say, " Of a poor 
 Jew, a son of Abraham, standing on the corner of the 
 street. He said he had sold nothing this morning ; so I 
 bouo^ht these, and told him other customers would follow 
 me. Poor Jew ! You know the blessed Saviour was a 
 Jew." No nation, no color, no religion, however false, 
 kept a fellow-creature outside the pale of his sympathy. 
 
 In a letter to one of his married daughters, Mr. 
 Dunbar says, playfully : " What shall I send the chil- 
 dren, in the shape of playthings for New Year's ? You 
 know that children are children, the world over. I love 
 to make them happy, especially when it can be done at so 
 cheap a rate. The value of a present never enters their 
 heads or hearts — but the color, the shape, and the oddity. 
 If one manages aright, he can make many of them hap- 
 py with a single dollar. 'Have they a stock of cats, dogs, 
 and lambs ? Let me know. If you begin to think that 
 grandpa is becoming a child himself, never you mind ! 
 The children and I understand one another, and that's 
 enough ! " 
 
 In a more serious strain, he writes to a beloved grand- 
 daughter : — 
 
 '' My dear, good C, — I received your nice, modest little 
 letter, and I thank you for it. Your mother says you are a 
 good girl, and grandpa believes that and more too ! I believe 
 you are a monument of God's mercy and grace, and that, 
 long after I am dead and gone to my rest, you will be in 
 a position to exert an influence in favor of the cause of 
 the Lord Jesus Christ in tlie world. 
 
 " It is very late at night, and I am much exhausted with 
 the heat, and the weariness of my evening lecture ; so, 
 hoping you will excuse my short epistle, I must close with 
 
INCIDENTS. 213 
 
 .ove ; — much love to your father, mother, and the dear 
 boys. Your affectionate grandfather." 
 
 Mr. Dunbar was very careful to promote a family feel- 
 ing among the members of the church. At the close of 
 the weekly lectures and prayer-meetings, he would come 
 down from the desk and greet the brethren with a grasp 
 of the hand and kind words, encouraging them by his own 
 genial example to interchange these tokens of affection 
 amono' themselves. He wished them to regard each other 
 as members of a family, and to feel an interest in whatever 
 related to their mutual welfare. His quick eye detected 
 a new face in the cono;ren;ation, and he sought to awaken 
 a home-feeling in the heart of the stranger. Sometimes, 
 when introducing a new member, he would say, " This is 
 
 brother , from the church in . He has come 
 
 among us, and you must welcome him, and do him all the 
 good you can. He builds houses, or, he keeps a store. 
 When you want anything in his line, go and encourage 
 him. ' Do good to all men, but especially to them who arc 
 of the household of faith .^ ' " Hundreds, we are sure, now 
 in comfortable circumstances, can look back to such words 
 as these for their first success. Thus was he truly a pas- 
 tor to the flock, in temporal as well as in spiritual things. 
 
 Not only did he pa}^ special regard to strangers him- 
 self, but he encouraged and urged his brethren to do 
 so, both in their homes and in the sanctuary, and thus 
 have many been brought into the fold of Christ. One of 
 the brethren relates the following remarkable incident : — 
 
 " A man who was perfectly regardless of religion, and 
 not even an attendant on the means of grace, dreamed one 
 night that a person appeared to him and said, ' Go to Mr. 
 Dunbar's church.' On awakening, he remembered hav- 
 
214 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 ing heard of a minister of that name, and resolved that some- 
 time he would go to hear him. Accordingly, one Wednes- 
 day evening, he went into the vestry and heard the lect- 
 ure without the least feeling. 
 
 *' When the meetmg was over, a good brother who had 
 noticed the stranger, stepped up to him, gave him his 
 hand, and welcomed him there. He also invited him to 
 come again. This little courtesy, it seems, gratified him 
 so much, that on going out he resolved to accept the 
 invitation. He came again, and then God met him. His 
 attention was arrested, and ere long he was brought to 
 Christ, and baptized into that church. 
 
 " A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures 
 of silver." 
 
 Mr. Dunbar did much to promote the happiness of oth- 
 ers, not only by acts of kindness toward the needy and 
 afflicted, but by the habitual sunshine of his genial dispo- 
 sition. There was about him a playfulness and humor, 
 never inconsistent with true Christian dignity, which made 
 his presence a pleasure in all circles. 
 
 One day the mother of a beloved member of his church 
 came over the feriy from Hoboken, to call on his family. 
 She was urged to remain to tea, Mr. Dunbar telling her 
 that he would send word to her son's counting-room that 
 she was there, and he would come and take her safely 
 home. She consented, and he sent a messenger to the 
 Iron Works to say that a lady who knew Mr. N., 
 and was greatly interested in him when a boy, was 
 at his house, and wished to see him ; and that he must 
 remain to tea. 
 
 With all speed, Mr. N. dropped his pen, and went down, 
 only to be excused, as he did not feel himself exactly pre- 
 sentable, coming as he had from his counting-room, where 
 
INCIDENTS. 215 
 
 the dust was flying about. This he said at the door, to 
 Mr. Dunbar, who, however, would take no excuse, but 
 insisted upon his coming in. 
 
 " But," asked Mr. N., '' who is this lady ? " 
 
 ** I can't tell you," he replied, " for I want to see if you 
 will know her now ; you knew her well when you were a 
 boy." 
 
 " Well," said Mr. N., ''^ I will go home first, and I prom- 
 ise you I will return in time for tea." 
 
 But no ; Mr. Dunbar assured him he could not let him 
 off, and that he was quite well prepared to meet the lady. 
 So, greatly against his wishes, Mr. N., was ushered into 
 
 the parlor to be introduced to his mother ! to the no 
 
 small amusement of all who had seen his first embarrass- 
 ment. 
 
 It was the practice of Mr. Dunbar, when union prayer- 
 meetings were held at the McDougal Street Church, to 
 invite those from a distance, home to tea with him, that 
 they might be near for the evening service. 
 
 On one of these occasions he had filled his parlors to 
 his heart's content, when a lady called at the door, asking 
 for Mr. Dunbar. She had known him when a child, and 
 having now come to New York, felt a desire to see him. 
 When presented to him, she looked a little confiised, and 
 said, " This is not the Mr. Dunbar I asked for ; it is the 
 old gentleman I wish to see, — your father, I suppose." 
 
 His wonderfully youthful figure and face were often 
 the subject of remark, and Mr. D. saw at once that his 
 guest had been expecting to see a bowed and gray-haired 
 grand sire. 
 
 '' Oh, yes," he said, giving her the hand of cordial 
 welcome, "you shall see him. Go with my daughter, and 
 
216 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 lay off your things, and when you come back the old gen- 
 tleman will be here." 
 
 After some little time, no old gentleman appearing, she 
 ventured to ask for him ao-ain. Mr. Dunbar then said 
 playfully, " Have a little patience till we go down to tea, 
 and you will find the old gentleman at the table." 
 
 When the company took their seats in the dining-room, 
 the stranger looked around ; but seeing no venerable face, 
 asked for him again, when Mr- Dunbar himself was pre- 
 sented to her as the veritable man she sought. She, remem- 
 bering him as the father of a family when she was a little 
 child in Bermuda, had expected now to meet an old man 
 tottering on the verge of the grave. When, however, 
 she became satisfied that the hale, vigorous, and active 
 pastor was he who more than forty years ago seemed 
 to her a man in middle life, she was amazed, and won- 
 dered what charm it was that thus defied the power of 
 time. 
 
 Once, wuen going up the Hudson, with one of his daugh- 
 ters, a iady asked her, on deck, if she would take the chair 
 next her husband^ and give iier the one she then oc- 
 cupied. 
 
 The daughter made the exchange, and said, " She 
 thinks you very young, father." " Oh, no, my dear," 
 he replied ; " she probably thinks me an old fool with a 
 young wife." 
 
 To a young lady of his congregation, when absent, he 
 wrote among other items of news : — 
 
 " Since this was commenced, I have been down to the 
 church, in the face of a dreadful rain-storm, to marry 
 Mr. — — to Mrs. ; and, would you believe it ? piti- 
 less and pelting as were the rain and lightning, the body 
 
INCIDENTS. 217 
 
 of the house was full. Saint and sinner were there, 
 gray hairs and infancy, vying with each other in pro- 
 found eagerness to see the bride. May the Lord help and 
 reform poor human nature ! Had this been a meeting, 
 appointed and extensively noticed, for the purpose of call 
 ing on God for pardon and eternal life, how many think 
 you would have ventured from their sheltered homes on 
 such a night ? " 
 
 To a daughter, visiting in New England, he wrote : — 
 *' I cannot be so cruel as to urge your sudden return 
 home if you are enjoying yourself; but for those ever- 
 lasting ' societies ' and ' picnics,' let them go to Jericho ! 
 / am sick of them ! ' Fools make feasts, and wise men 
 eat of them.' It is a drudgery which the Yankee ladies 
 love to impose on themselves, and in which they pay 
 dearly for the pleasure of killing themselves." 
 
 10 
 
CHAPTER XXIL 
 
 Changing Enemies to Friends — An Opposing Husband "Won — An Angry Visitor Con- 
 Terted — Making Peace — Comforting the Aged and Lonely — Regard for the Sensi 
 bility of the Poor — God's End of the Purse. 
 
 IR. DUNBAR was remarkable for his power of 
 conciliation, and for adapting himself to the char- 
 acter and circumstances of those with whom he 
 came in contact. 
 
 If ever, in his jealousy for God's honor, he 
 seemed to make an enemy, he sooner or later changed 
 him to a friend. Many who left him in the times of trial 
 in the church, came back, renewing the bonds they had 
 broken. 
 
 In want, sorrow, sickness, or perplexity, they sought in 
 vain for another heart or hand like his. Many of these re- 
 turned to the dear old fold to die within its enclosure. Many, 
 who had gone to other churches, sent for him when dying, 
 and desired that his voice might be the last heard above 
 their sleeping dust ; and not a few, who, differing widely 
 from him in views of discipline, had imagined their affections 
 weaned from him, were among the truest mourners over his 
 dear remains, beneath the pulpit where so long he had 
 called sinners to repentance, and confirmed and comforted 
 the saints. 
 
 His power was equally strong in overcoming the oppo- 
 sition of the unconverted. At one time a lady, who had 
 not been a church-goer, became deeply concerned for her 
 
 (218) 
 
AN OPPOSING HUSBAND WON. 219 
 
 soul, and imagined that she was losing her mind. A 
 friend advised her to consult the minister in McDouojal 
 Street, which she did , and very soon she found peace, and 
 then desired above all things a place among God's people. 
 But when she broached the subject to her husband, he 
 thought she was beside herself. The Baptists were a 
 peo})le he had only heard of ; and the idea of his wife be- 
 ino; immersed in the Hudson river, before a crowd of 
 curious people, was not to be for a moment entertained. 
 She heard the voice of her newly-found Saviour, saying, 
 " This is the way, walk ye in it ; " but across the path 
 of duty stood one to whom she, as a wife, felt bound to 
 submit herself. When she came to Mr. Dunbar with 
 this new grief, he said calmly, " Leave that with me. I will 
 make that right with your husband." He sought him in 
 his place of business ; found him reading his morning pa- 
 per, and was received most graciously as a stranger. 
 When, however, he announced his name, a little restless- 
 ness was seen under the effort politeness made to hide it. 
 He, not appearing to notice this, said, '* I presume, sir, 
 
 you are aware that Mrs. has been again and again 
 
 to my house and my church." 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes." 
 
 " And she has, of course, told you the great change 
 which has taken place in her feelings with regard to her 
 state before God ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; but it wont last, sir ; it will all pass away 
 when the excitement is over." 
 
 " But she believes she has been born again, and that old 
 things have passed away with her, and all things become 
 new." 
 
 " But my wife is very fond of gayety," persisted the 
 gentleman ; " and it will not be three months before she is 
 
220 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 again in the ball-room. I don't want her to join the 
 church and be a hypocrite ! " 
 
 " Well, my fiiend," said Mr. Dunbar, kindly, " you 
 can safely leave this with her own conscience before God. 
 She feels it a duty laid upon her to honor her Saviour by 
 a public profession, and I am sure you, who have always 
 been a kind and indulgent husband, will not tyrannize over 
 her in this solemn matter." 
 
 " By no means," replied the gentleman, blandly. " I 
 have never been a tyrant in my family ; and if she is re- 
 solved on this, I will not interfere, although it certainly 
 seems to me a very foolish step." 
 
 The lady was baptized, and lived long years to prove 
 that the change which drew her from the gay world 
 into the fold of God, was a real one ; and after a painftil 
 sickness, of long duration, her husband saw her die in the 
 triumphs of the faith which she professed. 
 
 And in scores of such cases, Mr. Dunbar won, by his 
 genial manner and kind words, the free consent of oppos- 
 ing husbands and fathers for those wishing to unite with 
 God's people. 
 
 A young lady called on him one day, in no lovely mood 
 for a stranger. She announced, with not a little spirit, that 
 
 her mother had been a member of the church, but was 
 
 recently excluded. She extolled her as a pattern of virtue 
 and piety, and denounced the church in scathing terms ; 
 adding, that, " she had come to him as one of the oldest 
 pastors, to ask if that was the way Baptist churches 
 always treated their members who chanced to differ from 
 them ; if so, she had had enough of them." 
 
 Without appearing to notice the tone of sarcasm, or the 
 flashing of anger, Mr. Dunbar said he could not decide on 
 
ANGRY VISITOR CONVERTED. 221 
 
 the right or the wrong of the case, because he knew none 
 of the particulars. She then went on to say, that, "in a 
 matter of discipHne, her mother had taken very decided 
 ground against tlie cluirch, and not yielding to the major- 
 ity, had kept agitating the subject until they withdrew the 
 hand of fellowship from her," probably for an unwarrant- 
 able use of her tongue. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar gave the young stranger all credit for her 
 affection, and her reojard for her mother's honor. He 
 talked to her in the kindest and most fatherly manner, and 
 when she rose to go, took her hand, saying, " You came 
 to me to-day^ my young friend, grieved and anxious for 
 the reputation of your mother ; I hope the next time you 
 come, it will be with anguish for your own soul ; that, see- 
 ing yourself lost and condemned, by reason of sin, you will 
 come, to ask, ' What shall I do to be saved ? ' Your own 
 state before God should outweigh all other thoughts 
 and interests." And with a most solemn charge to seek 
 her own soul's salvation, he dismissed her in a mood sof- 
 tened toward him, however much she might have felt in- 
 censed acjainst his denomination. 
 
 A week or two passed, and again she came to him ; but 
 this time it was under a burden of guilt her proud spirit 
 could no longer bear. His last words, on the former visit, 
 had been as arrows to her heart, and fi*om the hour they 
 were spoken, she had had no rest. In the same merciful 
 spirit he led her to Christ, as the great burden-bearer. 
 After a little time, she found peace in believing, and was 
 baptized into his church. 
 
 While so anxious and active for the well-doing of the 
 young under his influence, Mr. Dunbar, remembering th<j 
 folly of his own youth, was very lenient towards those who 
 
 19* 
 
222 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 erred through temptation or thoughtlessness, never forget- 
 ting, that, 
 
 ** To step aside is human." 
 
 Being on a journey at one time, he stopped on his way 
 to visit a family once attendants on his church, and whose 
 children were dear among the lambs of his fold. He found 
 them in great affliction. One of their young daughters, 
 on whom many fond hopes were centred, had eloped from 
 her home with a play-actor, to whom they learned she 
 was married. The mother and sisters were heart-broken, 
 trembling for the frail foundation on which her happiness 
 was built ; but the father, feeling that his authority was 
 also set at nought, was indignant at her course. Mr. Dun- 
 bar had come just in time to act as peace-maker between 
 the injured parents and the erring child. She had sent 
 home for permission to visit them, and, this being refused, 
 had asked for her wardrobe. Her father felt that she had 
 forfeited all claim on her family, and allowed no response 
 to be made to this request; and there the matter was 
 resting. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar, while he justly censured the giddy girl, 
 remembered that she was little more than an impulsive 
 child, and that if she had thrown away her happiness, she 
 was to be pitied as well as blamed ; and he encouraged her 
 friends, by representing the case as far from a hopeless 
 one. " Who can tell," he asked, " but by judicious treat- 
 ment now, she may see her ingratitude, and her husband 
 be drawn into some nobler path, where he may yet be an 
 honor to the family ? " He volunteered to make peace 
 between them. He visited them at their hotel, and found 
 the wayward child, although not sorry for her choice, 
 penitent that she had so deceived her parents. The young 
 
COMFORTING THE LONELY. 223 
 
 actor, who, we believe, was honorable and upnght beyond 
 his class, excused his course only on the ground that it was 
 his sole hope of securing the child of such parents. He 
 made all the apologies and pledges required, listened at- 
 tentively and respectfully to Mr. Dunbar's advice, and 
 promised to follow it. Thus reconciliation was effected. 
 Ere long, permission was given to the daughter to visit 
 her parents, and when the w^ound was a little healed, she 
 was received back as an erring child. 
 
 Of all classes of mourners, widows had an especial place 
 in his sympathies. The very word, " widow," had talis- 
 manic power to open his heart, and, when there was need 
 of it, his purse also. There were two or three of this class 
 in the " Old Ladies' Home," in whom he was much in- 
 terested from havmor known them before their goino^ there. 
 One of them, on the first Sabbath morning she spent at the 
 Home, was greatly cast down ; and, although there was to 
 be preaching in the chapel, felt that she could not leave her 
 room. She gave vent to her murmurings, saying, " Here 
 I am, in my old age, separated by death from my beloved 
 children and my affectionate husband, far from the friends 
 I love, and from my church-pri\'ileges." Her soul was in 
 great heaviness. She resolved, how^ever, to go to the ser- 
 vice. But when she took her seat, she could not help 
 weeping over her mournful lot. But soon, to her joy, 
 Mr. Dunbar entered the desk ! He gave out as his text, 
 " The Lord hath utterly separated me from his people." 
 '^ Ah," he said, " each poor, lonely heart here cries, ' that 
 is for me. I had just been saying those words, as I re- 
 membered the days gone by, when I walked with my hus- 
 band and children to the house of God. But they are 
 gone, and I am shut out even from the communion of the 
 saints, among whom my lot w^as cast, — my pastor, the dea- 
 
224 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 cons, and the brethren ; I am comparatively alone, few left 
 to care whether I live or die.' These wave your thoughts," 
 said he, " and I do not wonder at them. I have come 
 this morning to bring you a message from the Comforter, 
 my sisters " And his words were like healing balm to all 
 those poor, wounded hearts, as he drew their minds from 
 the sorrows of age and loneliness in the wilderness up to 
 that home where they should so soon meet the Saviour and 
 the ransomed ones who had gone before them. 
 
 Another of these widows, Mrs. J., a lady by birth and 
 education, had a large place in his kind heart. He me: 
 her first soon after his removal to New York, under cir- 
 cumstances, to her, of great trial and humiliation, and re- 
 ceived her into his own home, where so many sorrow'fiil 
 ones before and since found a refuge. Here she was 
 converted and was baptized into the fellow^ship of Mc- 
 Dougal Street Church. She remained witli Mrs. Dunbar 
 until her desire for usefulness was gratified, and she went 
 where her services were fully appreciated. Her humility 
 and piety made her a blessing wherever her lot was cast ; 
 but when the infirmities of age began to gather upon her, 
 she chose this quiet resting-place, as she had neither chil- 
 dren nor home. We find many beautiful letters express- 
 ing her gratitude and affection. Mr. Dunbar often went 
 to " the Home" to cheer her and others with the bright 
 prospect beyond the dark river. He has passed over be- 
 fore them, and is now enjoying the rest for which they 
 are lono-ino-. 
 
 About six years ago, several cases came to his knowl- 
 edge, of persons who had hitherto been in good circum- 
 stances, suffering for the time from want of employment 
 or from the expenses of sickness. At a communion sea- 
 son he mentioned this, saying, *' There is a fund in the 
 
god's end of the purse. 225 
 
 hands of your deacons, dear brethren, for the benefit of 
 several aged sisters who have long been cared for by you 
 and who have a perfect claim on you as the Lord's poor. 
 It is a matter of course with them, as they never expect 
 again to earn their bread, and have none but you on 
 whom they can rely. But there are those among your 
 members that you little dream of, who, for certain reasons, 
 are passing under a cloud in their temporal matters. 
 They do not care to come before you as applicants for 
 aid ; but a Httle private help, just for the time, would 
 comfort them greatly. I wish you would make me your 
 steward in this matter, and trust me with a little fund of 
 my own, to be given at my discretion. It will make me 
 feel very rich, and you will never be any poorer." 
 
 After the service, many gathered round him and put 
 into his hands three, five, and ten dollars, as they felt 
 able. When he returned home, he showed his long 
 purse, saying, " That end belongs to the Lord." One of 
 his dauixhters, who was at home on a visit, remembers his 
 speaking of the cases he meant to relieve, saying, " You 
 would all be surprised if I told you where I am going to 
 send a ton of coal to-morrow." But none, save Mrs. 
 Dunbar, did ever know where the contents of that end of 
 the purse went ; but we know it was never empty. Thus 
 he sought ever to save the feelings of the needy, and to 
 keep up their self-respect. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Letters of Sympathy, Condolence and Friendship, to Mrs. Charles S. Stewart — To De». 
 con and Mrs. Dexter — To Mrs. D. —Letter Acknowledging a Present — To Rev. Dr. 
 Kennard. 
 
 tMONG Mr. Dunbar's letters of friendship, illus- 
 trating also his pastoral character, are several to 
 that beloved and now sainted woman, Mrs. 
 Charles S. Stewart. The following was addressed 
 to her while she was attending the sick-bed of her 
 only brothw, then in Washington : — 
 
 " My dear Madam, — Most sincerely do I regret the 
 distressing providence which has, for the present, placed 
 you beyond a personal participation in that sympathy, 
 which unfeigned gratitude, as well as duty, dictates on my 
 part. 
 
 " But, dear Mrs. S., ' It is the Lord ; let him do as 
 seemeth him good.' I know that in view of all the vicis- 
 situdes through which a wise and gracious God has called 
 you to pass within the last few years, you may exclaim, 
 ' I am the ivoman that hath seen affliction.' Nevertheless, 
 it still remains a faithful promise, ' Whom the Lord lov- 
 eth, he correcteth ; therefore despise not thou the chasten- 
 ing of the Lord, neither faint when thou art rebuked of 
 him.' 
 
 " I know the sensibility of your heart. I have seen it 
 exemplified on more than one mournftil occasion. I have 
 also seen that as thy day, so thy strength has been. The 
 
 (226) 
 
LETTER OF SYMPATHY. 227 
 
 God of Jacob has been your refuge in seasons of afflic- 
 tion and sorrow heretofore ; and depend upon it, dear 
 madam, he will not at this time leave you comfortless. 
 
 " I cannot believe that this sickness is unto death ; but 
 that the Son of God may be glorified thereby. Oh that 
 God would graciously answer my poor petitions that his 
 soul may live, and that his life may be prolonged ! You 
 cannot conceive how I have felt for the last few days 
 about him. I cannot banish from my mind the hope that 
 dear Mr. S. will yet sing among the disciples of Christ as 
 poor Newton did : — 
 
 *Next door to death he found me. 
 And snatched me from the grave 
 To tell to all around me 
 
 His wondrous power to save.* 
 
 " I trust the Saviour is choosing him in the furnace of 
 affliction, and that he will soon exclaim, with the King of 
 Israel, ' It is good for me that I have been afflicted,' &c. 
 
 " Let him think on the sickness of King Hezekiah. 
 He was sick unto deaths and yet God removed his malady, 
 pardoned his sins, and added to his life fifteen years. Oh, 
 tell him of that precious blood which cleanseth from all 
 sin ! If his conscience is yet burdened, and the adversary 
 is tempting him to despair of mercy, remind him of the 
 invitation of the Lord Jesus, ' Come unto me all ye that 
 labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.* 
 ' All manner of sins shall be forgiven unto men.' ' Come, 
 let us reason together, saith the Lord. Though thy sins 
 be as scarlet, they shall be made white as snow.' God 
 has found a ransom ! Christ suffered, shed his blood, and 
 
228 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 died for sinners. His obedience, sufferings, and death 
 constitute, in the view of Divine Justice, a propitiation, a 
 perfect atonement for all the sins of such as are made sen- 
 sible by the Spirit of God that they are guilty and con- 
 demned, and unable, of themselves, to meet the awful de- 
 mands of Jehovah's violated law. This, you know, is 
 what constitutes the gospel's glad tidings to perishing sin- 
 ners, — ' By the obedience of one shall many be made 
 righteous.' 
 
 '' Oh, let your dear brother reflect much on the amaz- 
 ing love of the Son of God, the Friend of Sinners ! 
 Above all, let him ask the Holy Spirit, for Christ's sake, 
 to work in his soul that faith which is the gift of God, 
 and which enables the poor penitent to call Christ, pardon, 
 the promises, and eternal life, Ms own ! 
 
 " Again, for yourself, dear Mrs. S., I have only to add, 
 that your case strongly reminds me of Mary, when her 
 brother Lazarus was sick. ' Lord,' said she, ' if thou 
 hadst been here, my brother had not died.' Remember 
 what she added : 'But eveyi now I know that whatever 
 thou wilt ask of God, God will give it thee.' O my 
 dear sister, child of affliction, acquainted with grief, be- 
 reaved by death of your beloved father and mother, tell 
 the compassionate Jesus that your brother, your only 
 brother, is sick. I know that you do this, but do it again, 
 and be not discouraged. Remember how Jacob wrestled, 
 and how he prevailed ; also the importunity of the widow 
 before the unjust judge. Ask in faith without wavering ; 
 God is very gracious, and who can tell , . ? May 
 the Great Physician undertake his case ; then all will be 
 well. Give him again the grateful love of an unworthy 
 servant of the Lord Jesus Christ, to whom he has been a 
 kind and affectionate friend. If my imperfect prayers can 
 
LETTER OF SYMPATHY. 229 
 
 be admitted before the throne, through the intercession of 
 the glorified Mediator, your heart and the hearts of all 
 your beloved family will soon rejoice over a brother re- 
 stored to perfect health, and also redeemed." 
 
 " I felt last Monday morning as if I must start off to 
 see your brother. I have had very singular impressions 
 respecting him, for wliich I cannot, at present, account." 
 
 Soon after this the faithful pastor was summoned to 
 Washington, to what appeared to all the bed of death. 
 But those prayers of faith were not to be denied ; those 
 ^' very singular impressions for which he could not ac- 
 count," were evidences that they were accepted and an- 
 swered. That painful illness was not unto death, but for 
 the glory of God, and for the pastor's own exceeding joy. 
 The life spared was consecrated to God, and for many 
 long years Mr. Dunbar found strength, wisdom, and com- 
 panionship in labor, in him for* whose recovery he had so 
 agonized with God ; and w^hen about to be taken away 
 from the people of his love, he said to him, and to others 
 of the church who stood around him, and who urged him to 
 throw off all care and to compose his mind, " I will leave 
 my soul in the hands of the Lord Jesus, and the church 
 with you." 
 
 Mr. Dunbar wrote to Mrs. Stewart on the occasion of the 
 death of a dearly beloved sister : — 
 
 " Alas, my dear sister, that so soon after we saw you so 
 joyful in the sanctuary of the Lord, and at the table of a 
 Saviour's dying love, you should be called, by the decisions 
 of his wise, but inscrutable providence, to mourning and 
 lamentation. .... My prayers have 
 
 20 
 
230 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 ascended to the Father of mercies, that this new and un- 
 looked-for 'affliction may be graciously sanctified to you 
 personally, and to all the surviving children of beloved 
 parents now no more. .... 
 
 " ' How vain are all things here below ! ' and oh, how 
 good God has been to your as well as to her immortal 
 soul, to give you such an evidence, long before death ap- 
 proached, that your ' dear sister H.,' as you all loved to 
 call her, had passed from death unto life by the power of 
 the Spirit of God. You firmly believe that she died in 
 the Lord, and that it is now well, eternally well, with 
 her soul. No vexation of spirit can ever more disturb her 
 peaceful repose in heaven. Her last sigh has been heaved, 
 her last tear shed. Here we suiFer grief and pain ; but in 
 the mansions of glory above, the Lamb, who is in the midst 
 of the throne, leads them to fountains of living waters, 
 and God wipes away all tears from their eyes ; ' the former 
 things have passed away.' 
 
 " I was deeply afflicted to hear that the news of Mr. S.'s 
 sudden illness at B. had fallen upon your ear before you had 
 scarcely taken your last look of an endeared sister's mor- 
 tal remains. When I heard of this after the evening lec- 
 ture, I thought of you in connection with the sad experi- 
 ence of a man greatly beloved of his God, and yet greatly 
 tried : you remember his exclamation when addressing the 
 Most High in a day of excessive grief, — ' Thou hast afflict- 
 ed me with wave upon wave ! ' But I well knew that he, 
 the Lord, would be with you, as wuth the sufferers of old 
 in the fiery furnace. Have you not felt the everlasting 
 arms placed underneath and around your poor, wounded, 
 careworn heart during this, as well as former bereave- 
 ments ? Oh, how tender are the mercies of our covenant 
 God, our incarnate Redeemer ! . . . 
 
LETTER OF SYMPATHY. 231 
 
 ' In all thy afflictions, thy Head feels the pain ; 
 Yet all are now needful ; not one is in vain.' 
 
 " May the Lord Jesus be with you, and may you come 
 out of this new funiace, like * gold seven times tried.' " 
 
 From a letter of sympathy written by Mr. Dunbar, in 
 1852, to Deacon and Mrs. Dexter, of South Boston, on 
 the death of their only daughter, we make the following 
 extracts; — 
 
 '•'■ . . We know the depth of such a wound 
 
 as that which a wise and gracious God has inflicted on 
 your hearts ; but we also know how wonderfully the ten- 
 der-hearted, compassionate Jesus can support the sinking 
 spirits of surviving mourners, and, in spite of themselves, 
 dry up and wipe away all their tears ; and, knowing this 
 by sad and sweet experience, we could and did implore and 
 beseech him, that he would in like manner visit and re- 
 lieve and heal each of your wounded hearts. 
 
 " Oh, how aifecting, and yet how cheering, to think of 
 that dear, sweet, dying child saying to her weeping father, 
 ' I want to go to Jesus ! * . . No doubt, my dear 
 
 brother and sister, that her precious soul is now mingling in 
 seraph strains with the holy and happy multitudes who 
 surround the throne of God and of the Lamb, beholding 
 and adoring the dear God-Man who said, * Suffer the little 
 ones to come unto me.' Well, there she is, looking 
 at the wounds in his hands and feet and blessed temples, 
 and at his bleeding side ! . . Till a few days be- 
 
 fore her translation to gloiy, the blessed God, her Creator, 
 suffered her to enjoy the sweet, innocent pleasures which 
 childhood is merciftilly permitted to indulge in, in this vale 
 of tears. Her days of sickness and pain were compara- 
 tively few, and soon ended. God ordained that from a dear, 
 fond mother's lips, from a father's family prayers, in His 
 
/ 
 
 £32 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 sanctuary, and in the Sabbath school, she should hear the 
 name of Jesus. Yes, with her own eyes, before death was 
 suffered to mark her as one of his early victims, infinite 
 wisdom desio-ned that she should see and read her Redeem- 
 er's name, and something of his love and of his suffer- 
 ings and death on the cross. And just before he took her 
 home to his bosom, and to his everlasting kingdom of glory, 
 the Holy Spirit was sent to bring all these things to her 
 remembrance. . . And now it is all over. She 
 
 is forever happy and secure in the arms of God her Sav- 
 iour. Her work on earth is done ; but you will say, 
 ' What work ? ' Oh, did she not with her dying breath 
 preach and proclaim Jesus ? She was sent to do that very 
 thing which thousands upon thousands who have lived to 
 a great age have never been known to do, living or dying 
 — she confessed the Son of God, her confidence in him, 
 and her dying desire to go to him. 
 
 "I have no doubt that this heavy stroke from the Lord's 
 merciful hand, painful and sad as it may now feel, will be 
 sanctified and blessed to each of you for your good. May 
 it also be sanctified to us, your aflPectionate, sympathizing 
 
 friends. 
 
 * The bad may have a bitter taste, 
 But sweet will be the flower.' 
 
 " Your very aflfectionate friend, 
 
 " Duncan Dunbar." 
 In January, 1864, when the father of this dear child 
 was suddenly removed from earth, Mr. Dunbar wrote 
 thus to his afflicted widow : — 
 
 " My dear, afflicted, and bereaved Mrs. D., — 
 Ohj how mysterious and inscrutable 
 are the ways vif God, and his dealings Avith the children of 
 men ! 
 
LETTER TO MRS. DEXTER. 233 
 
 " I deeply and sincerely sympathize with you and your 
 dear sons in tlie loss of such a husband and father , and 
 yet since it was manifestly the Lord's will at that time 
 and in that way to call to his rest in the kingdom of 
 heaven his dear faithful servant, why should you, my 
 dear, afflicted sister in Christ, why should his now father- 
 less children sorrow as those who have no hope ? 
 
 " You know, and all who knew dear Deacon Dexter will 
 admit, that he was a man of God ; that the Lord Jesus 
 honored and employed him long in his vineyard on earth. 
 You know also that he was honored and beloved, and will 
 long be lamented by many true friends of the Saviour far 
 beyond the bounds of the one church where God assigned 
 him his work for so many years of his life. I can assure 
 you that dear Mr. Dexter's worth was appreciated far 
 beyond what you or any of his immediate family or 
 even himself could hear of or know. But you know 
 how sadly his loss will be felt in the church at South 
 Boston. . . . . . I do not wonder, 
 
 and surely I do not blame you, my dear Mrs. Dexter, if 
 you mourn and long mourn the loss of such a husband, and 
 your dear sons the loss of such a father. They will long 
 lament the want of his wise and prudent counsel and safe 
 advice even in the affairs of this life. Happy now for them 
 that they uniformly sought and yielded to the advice of 
 such father ! . . . . He has indeed left 
 
 them a great, a double inheritance, a good name and a 
 good example. His prayers for them and for you are 
 now ended, but they are not yet all answered. You shall, 
 as long as each of you lives, reap returns from heaven for 
 the many petitions which his heart and lips sent there 
 before him for you all. You and they are by no means 
 the only ones who weep and mourn over his departure. 
 
 20* 
 
234 DUNCAN DUNBAE. 
 
 I too, have lost a friend. I am sure that I loved him, 
 and I have abundant reason to believe that he loved me. 
 . Well, all we can say is, ' The Lord took 
 him.' I have not a moment's doubt that he is now with 
 Christ and all the redeemed in the mansions of glory. I 
 know the Lord will sustain you. You have tried him be- 
 fore in days of calamity and sadness. . . We all 
 love and pity you, and a gracious God will surely sustain 
 and heal your wounded heart.'* 
 
 As a friend, Mr. Dunbar was firm and affectionate. 
 Where he loved, he loved to the end ; and when death 
 removed his friends, his interest still lived for their 
 children and even for their grandchildren, he always 
 feeling that these had a strong claim on him for the sake 
 of the dead. In times of sorrow and perplexity how 
 many such have found in him a father and a consoler ! In 
 this sense his family was a very large one ; but there was 
 always room in his heart for more. 
 
 To a member of his church, residing on the Hudson, 
 Mr. Dunbar wrote in acknowledgment of a present : — 
 
 " My dear, good Brother, — It was veiy kind and con- 
 siderate in you to send your poor old pastor and friend such a 
 valuable present of the fruits of the earth. I pray that ' your 
 barns may every year be filled with plenty.' . . Your 
 present is doubly dear to me, as it gives tangible assurance 
 that you think of me although too far distant to profit by my 
 pastoral labors. . . I certainly desire to see you and 
 to make the acquaintance of that young lady whom you 
 have chosen to make your companion for life. May the 
 God of Abraham bless you both and make you helpers of 
 each other's joy, in your pilgrimage through a world of 
 
LETTER TO REV. DR. KENNARD. 2^5 
 
 strange vicissitudes, to * the rest that remain eth for the 
 people of God.' 
 
 " By the way, w^hat of that Baptist interest you and I 
 were to inaugurate at R. ? I beheve, however, the attempt 
 was only to be made whe^i I became too old to be of any use 
 in the city ! I hope you are both living near to God, by 
 much secret and family prayer, and by much reading and 
 meditation of the Holy Scriptures. Cast all your cares 
 on the Lord Jesus Christ. He careth for you. 
 
 " Don't be discouraged either for the ultimate salvation 
 of our dear country, or the final triumph of the cause and 
 kingdom of our blessed Redeemer. 
 
 ' Loud roaring, the billows would thee overwhelm. 
 But skilful's the Pilot that sits at the helm ; 
 His wisdom, and power, and faithfulness stand, 
 Engaged to conduct thee in safety to land.' " 
 
 To show the brotherly feeling Mr. Dunbar cherished 
 toward ministers with whom he was on terms of intimacy, 
 we give extracts from letters to one of his oldest and most 
 endeared friends. Rev. Dr. Kennard, of Philadelphia : — 
 
 " My very dear Brother Kennard, — This is Mon- 
 day morning. Your note by the poor Irish lad was deliv- 
 ered to me yesterday. I thank you for this and for every 
 opportunity you may afford me of showing any kindness 
 to strangers in the name of the stranger's God ; and I 
 thank you, in the name of the good Samaritan, for all that 
 you are doing from time to time for such homeless, friend- 
 less creatures. ' Blessed is he that considereth the poor ; 
 for the Lord will deliver him in the time of trouble.' 
 
 " I know your time must be occupied, you dear working 
 soul ; but cannot you lean your poor, tired head upon the 
 
236 DUNCAN DUI^BAR. 
 
 sofa, and dictate to one of my dear young friends who call 
 you • father,' and let her write ? I want to know how 
 you are now. 
 
 " Keep up your courage, you dear man ; for I have no 
 idea that your work in the Saviour's vineyard is done yet, 
 by a great deal ! May the Lord Jesus be with your 
 spirit ! 
 
 " God willing, I will be with you at the Philadelphia 
 Association, and can preach for the friends at Budd Street 
 the first Lord's day in October. Of this, please inform 
 them. Say, also, that I sincerely sympathize with them as 
 a church, under their present deprivation of the faithful 
 labors of their dear, afflicted pastor. May the God of 
 love graciously sustain our beloved brother Dodge, now 
 a prisoner and a sufferer ! If It be the Lord's will, mav he 
 yet be restored to his people, and spared to his dear family 
 for a great while to come. If the dear man is in a condi- 
 tion to be seen and spoken to, by all means do me the 
 additional favor to call and convey to him these expressions 
 of my love and sympathy. The day may soon come, my 
 dear brother, when a sorrowful wife and children will 
 bend over you and me, and behold us suffering and sink- 
 ing, without the power to relieve us, or to prolong life. 
 
 " Since my return home, my hands have been more 
 than full, visiting the sick, and trying to dispose of some 
 five or six strangers whom the God of the stranger has 
 thrown upon me, as he lately sent upon you poor brother 
 
 , with scores of others, no doubt, of whom I know 
 
 nothing. But He knows all about it, and if they are dear 
 to the Lord Jesus, as most of those wdio favor us with 
 
LETTERS. 237 
 
 calls in their distress profess to be, the day is not far dis- 
 tant when he will say unto you, before angels and men, 
 ' Inasmucli as ye have done to one of the least,' &c., * ye 
 have done it unto me.' May you be like David's ox, — 
 * strong to labor ' in such work ; may neither of us be 
 ' weary in well-doing.' Surely it ought to be regarded as 
 a mark of God's approbation, when he sends little jobs of 
 this nature to do for him. Think of this ! 
 
 " I am very sorry to learn, my dear brother, how poorly 
 you have been. Blessed be your gracious Physician, I 
 hope to see you again in the land of the living. 
 
 *' Thank, for me, the young lady whose nimble quill so 
 handsomely figured upon the sheet I received from you 
 before the last ; and do not let me forget to send love to 
 little Miss B. God bless you all ! 
 
 " Much joy to you and dear Mrs. K. on the loss of a 
 daughter and the gain of a son, since I saw you last. 
 May the Lord abundantly bless the dear young pair, and 
 have them continually under the shadow of his wing ! 
 
 " If I don't visit you soon, I fear some of the rest will 
 be running off from their mother I I must go on and see 
 about these matters ! 
 
 "Oh, my dear brother, how gracious the Lord is and 
 has been to your family and mine, so far ! Listead of 
 losing our children by death, as many parents do, He is 
 disposing of one now, and one then, where we know they 
 are happy, and where we can see and hear from them. 
 He has graciously begun with yours, and will doubtless go 
 on, as he has already with mine." ..:.••• 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Tenderness as a Father — The Midnight Praj'er — Family Lettert. 
 
 )R. DUNBAR was a most prayerful and affection- 
 ate father, tenderly regardful of the temporal and 
 spiritual interests of his children. 
 
 " A few years since," writes one of his daugh- 
 ters, " I was at home, sick and suffering intense 
 pain. One night my dear father said to me, ' Now that 
 you are a little easier, I want you to lie down in your 
 mother's bed. When a little child, you used to think 
 you would be well if you could only sleep there. Try 
 it to-night, and see if it does not help you. I will sit 
 down beside you and read ; if you need anything, you can 
 speak to me.' I did so, and tried to bear my intense suf- 
 fering quietly. He thought me sleeping. Long after 
 midnight, he closed his Bible, and prayed in an audible 
 whisper in Gaelic, of which, of course, I understood not a 
 word. After this, he prayed in English, and that earnest, 
 agonizing pleading I shall never forget. This was, doubt- 
 less, the hour devoted to supplication with reference to his 
 own spiritual needs. The words were few, but often 
 repeated ; ' O God, have mercy, have mercy, have mercy, 
 upon me ! For the Lord Jesus Christ's sake, have mercy 
 upon me. I plead for mercy through the blood of the 
 Lord Jesus Christ alone ! Have mercy, have mercy upon 
 my soul ! ' As I lay upon that pillow, hallowed by his 
 prayers and midnight communings with God, my tears 
 
 (238) 
 
LETTERS. 239 
 
 flowed fast, and I thought, ' If the righteous scarcely be 
 saved, where shall I, so weak and faithless, appear ? ' 
 Then he slipped softly out of the room to seek sleep else- 
 where, that I might find what rest I could beside my 
 tender mother. Notwithstanding all the loving-kindness 
 which has followed me since the day I have called an- 
 other house than liis ' my home,' I have often, often looked 
 back and longed to be a child again, that I might enjoy 
 the love and perfect sympathy that were ours when little 
 children." 
 
 The following letter was written under a little touch 
 of home-sickness perhaps, after leaving New York for 
 the first time, and before his family had joined him : — 
 
 " South Boston, Jan. 12, 1844. 
 
 " My dear K., — You cannot conceive how thank- 
 ful I felt for your kind letter. I really began to feel soU 
 tary, sad, lonely and homesick ; and your note, though 
 short, was worth fifty dollars to my poor, careworn mind. 
 Write often. 
 
 "• I feel as if the ties which had been cementino; me for 
 many years to those tried Christian friends in New York 
 were now, at least for the present, all burst asunder. ' I am 
 like a sparrow upon the house-tops, alone.' The account 
 you send me of the great kindness of our friends to you 
 in my absence makes me wish I were near enough to 
 thank them a thousand times for the deep interest they 
 lately manifested in the welfare of the church, and the un- 
 wearied and aflPectionate sympathy shown to us as a fam- 
 ily. I now begin to fear that we never sufficiently knew 
 and ai)preciated their worth as faithful, steadfast friends. 
 Do not fail to express to dear Mrs. I. my most grateful 
 thanks for her kindness since I left. Mav a irracious 
 
240 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 Providence richly reward her ! Tell her, her dear hus- 
 band was waiting at the steamboat to see me off, the day 
 I left New York. For that mark of his kind respect, and 
 the generous message which he whispered in my ear as he 
 parted with me, I shall ever love and remember him. 
 May I soon be called to New York to bury him with 
 Christ in baptism ! " ^ 
 
 To one of his daughters he writes : — 
 
 " Home, Tuesday Evening. 
 
 " My Dear, — "We are all sorry you are suffering from 
 that cruel inflammatory rheumatism ; but tiy and exercise 
 all the patience the Lord may give you in answer to 
 prayer. Be sure and keep up your spirits, trusting in the 
 goodness of the Saviour, who knows what hodily pain is, 
 as well as mental distress, and that of the most over- 
 whelming, excruciating nature Surely he has not 
 
 divested himself of the power with which he healed ' all 
 manner of diseases,' when here on earth — nor are his 
 bowels of compassion shut up, which so readily moved 
 here at the sight of human suffering. It was long after 
 he took his seat on the mediatorial throne that his blessed 
 spirit directed an apostle to write, ' Is any afflicted ? 
 — let him pray.' I tell you, my dear daughter, it is not 
 a vain thing to ask the Lord Jesus now in heaven to heal 
 our bodily diseases ! He often sends these, for they are 
 his servants, to bring us by necessity to speak to him. 
 He loves, oh ! he loves to hear from souls that he has 
 redeemed ; and when all things go well with them here, 
 they have often little or nothing to say to him. Hence 
 he sends off, as despatches from his presence, some mental 
 or corporeal affliction, just to compel us to open our 
 mouths wide^ that he may get to himself glory in our 
 1 These were the friends at whose house Mr, Dunbar died. 
 
LETTERS. 241 
 
 grateful thanks and praise for filling them. De^^end 
 upon it, it is even so. Ask Him, then. ' Ask, and you 
 shall receive.' ' Whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, 
 the Father will give it you.' .... 
 
 " Home, Tuesday, 1 o'clock, p. m. 
 " My dear Daughter, — In hasty reply to one part of your 
 welcome letter (,f yesterday, let me say, ' for I love to heal 
 broken bones,' cheer up, you poor, dear soul. Your very 
 consciousness of deadness and darkness and unfeelino-ness 
 and want of faith, love, confidence, gratitude, everi/ thing, 
 is to me a very clear proof that God the Spirit has put life 
 into your soul, to see, to feel, to condemn yourself. Did ever 
 one child of Adam since the fall, see and acknowledge, and 
 lament or disapprove of such things as grieve you, except 
 those souls that are savingly quickened by God's grace, to 
 see ' the plague of their own hearts ? ' ' To will is pres- 
 ent with me, but how to perform.' &c. 'Tis a great part 
 of the sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit, to show regen 
 erate souls the emptiness, the vanity, the vileness, the hard- 
 ness, the stupidity, the ingratitude, the desperate wicked- 
 ness of their own hearts, that they may be driven hy ne- 
 cessity to Jesus, the crucified, — to his blood, his merit, for 
 justification before God, having 7iotM)ig' in themselves on 
 which they can lean or rely, and to see and feel this, or 
 else they will never appreciate the Lamb of God as he is 
 set forth in the gospel. Oh for time to say more ! My 
 poor heart is full. God's presence attend you ! . . " 
 To one of his children, who while absent fi'om home 
 indulged a trembling hope in Christ, Mr. Dunbar wrote : — 
 
 " New York, Wednesday Noon. 
 
 " My very dear , Your affectionate letter to your 
 
 mother and myself was received yesterday afternoon. We 
 bless God, my dear , that your thoughts are still occupied 
 
 21 
 
242 DUNCAN DUNBA.R. 
 
 with the concerns of your soul ; for we knew that your 
 visit, under circumstances so exciting, had a tendency to 
 dissipate gracious impressions and lead you to grieve the 
 Spirit of God. It will, however, tend to convince you, by 
 painful experience, that ' the heart is deceitful above all 
 things,' and that you have need every moment to ' watch 
 and be sober.' For, 
 
 'Of all the foes we meet, 
 None so apt to turn our feet, 
 None betray us into sin, 
 Like the foes we have within. 
 
 * But let nothing spoil your peace, 
 Christ will also conquer these ; 
 Then the joyful news will come, 
 Child, your Father calls, come home ! ' 
 
 " You will yet learn more and more of the weakness, the 
 vanity, the sinful forgetfulness of the soul, after all that the 
 blessed Spirit of a Holy God has done in opening your eyes 
 and changing your will. I beg of you ever to remember, 
 however, that your pardon and the justification of your 
 soul before God is one thing, and the sanctification of the 
 powers and faculties of that soul is altogether another and 
 a very different thing. The first of these, pardon and jus- 
 tification, we obtain and maybe assured of, from the mo- 
 ment we really believe on the Lord Jesus Christ. It is al- 
 together on his account and for his sake that our sins are 
 forgiven, and that God becomes at once and forever recon- 
 ciled to us, — notwithstanding all we have ever done to of- 
 fend him, and notwithstanding our remaining ignorance, 
 imperfection in holiness, and proneness to forget and wan- 
 der from him in our minds and affections. The sufferings 
 to be endured and the spotless and holy obedience to be 
 rendered to Jehovah's righteous law, before pardon could 
 
LETTERS. 243 
 
 come to us rebels and transgressors, were all endured and 
 rendered for us, and in our stead, by the Lord Jesus Christ, 
 God's only dear and well-beloved Son. Hence the plain 
 meaning of such precious Scriptures as the following : 
 * Christ suftered for us, the just for the unjust.' 'Christ 
 loved us, and gave himself for ks, an offering and a sac- 
 rifice to God.' ' Christ died for our sins.^ ' We have re- 
 demption through his blood, even the forgiveness of our 
 sins.' ' He was wounded for our transgressions, he was 
 bruised for our iniquities.' 
 
 " Now, my dear, if you believe this, you will feel that 
 you are justified by faith (or believing), and will assured- 
 ly feel that you have peace with God, through the Lord 
 Jesus Christ. But the sanctification of your soul, as I 
 said before, is quite a difi^ereut matter. To procure for 
 guilty, lost, and hell-deserving sinners of mankind, free 
 and full pardon, acceptance with God, and eternal life, the 
 blessed Son of God had to act and suffer and die. And 
 whosoever believeth this record or testimony concerning 
 him, shall never perish, but have everlasting life, as the 
 free gift of God, for Christ's sake. But, after the soul be- 
 lieveth, after the disposition of the mind and heart is 
 turned toward God and holiness, the work of sanctifica- 
 tion has to be carried on by the Spirit of God, and is at 
 best but a work just begun. It will sometimes be going 
 forivard^ in the judgment of your feelings, and sometimes 
 going backward. There is so much corruption yet re- 
 maining in the heart, to be purged and overcome, that when 
 you discover this, and long to be rid of it, Satan, who is a 
 liar.) will strongly impress upon your mind that there is no 
 grace at all in your heart — that God never awakened or 
 called you by his Spirit — that you need not hope to be 
 saved or accepted of God while such contrary feelings are 
 
244 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 existing in your soul ; and that you must be holy and pure 
 and perfectly free from all these contrary things, before 
 you can hope that Christ will save you or hear your pray- 
 ers. 
 
 " Thousands of poor, trembling, sincere souls, have been 
 painfully tossed upon these billows, without comfort and 
 but little hope, just because they neglected to learn, from 
 the word of God, the great and important distinction be- 
 tween the work of Christ for our salvation and the work 
 of the Spirit for our sanctijieation. When Christ gave up 
 the ghost on Calvary, the work of our redemption and sal- 
 vation was finished and completed forever ; nothing more 
 is to be done by Him, and nothing can be done, by any of 
 us sinners, to make that great salvation more secure. We 
 receive it and the comfort of it, by believing^ believing^ 
 believing. ' He that believetli shall not come into con- 
 demnation.' ' He that believetli shall not make haste.' 
 
 * He that believeth shall not be confounded.' ' By faith 
 (believing') ye stand.' ' It is by faith^ that it might be 
 of GRACE.' ' It is faith that purifieth the heart' — that 
 
 * worketh by love ' — that ' overcometh the world ' — 
 and ' without faith it is impossible to please God.' We 
 must look unto Jesus by prayer, as the Author and Fin- 
 isher of this faith. It ' cometh by hearing.' You must, 
 therefore, as a new-born babe, desire (read and meditate 
 upon) the milk of the word, that you may grow thereby. 
 When the work of sanctification is carried on in youi 
 soul, you will often feel the remaining hardness of your 
 heart, your dreadful ignorance of the things of God and 
 of your duty. You will also feel sinful inclinations rising 
 up within ; you will murmur and be impatient, and you 
 may even fret against God for creating you or anything else, 
 or for allowing sin to enter the world. You may, moreover, 
 
LETTERS. 245 
 
 feel tempted to question whether there is a God, or 
 whether all that is revealed is not a mere fiction. You 
 may be left to fear that you have done despite to tlie 
 Spirit of grace, and that you need not hope, evermore, to 
 enjoy comfort or peace of mind ; and to feel that religion 
 is irksome, without any pleasure ; and that you had better 
 give up at once and go back to your former enjoyments. 
 But all this comes from the wicked one, of whose devices 
 you are yet comparatively ignorant. 
 
 " You are but a babe in Christ, in knowledge, in expe- 
 rience. Search the word of God. ' Think it not strange 
 concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though 
 some strange thing happened unto you.' ' Now, for a 
 season, if need be, you are in heaviness through manifold 
 temptations.' ' But the Lord is faithful, who will not 
 suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able, but will, 
 with the temptation, also make a way of escape, that ye 
 may be able to bear it.' 
 
 " Read this hurried epistle over and over, and oh, may 
 the Spirit of all grace show you that your salvation de- 
 pends not on what you feel, but upon what you believe^ 
 — even upon Jesus Christ and him crucified, — ' the end 
 of the law for righteousness, to every one that believeth.' 
 
 " God bless you, my dear child, and ' give you joy and 
 peace in believing.' Take a great deal of love and sym- 
 pathy from your affectionate mother and sisters. We shall 
 all remember you before the mercy-seat. 
 
 " Your dear and very affectionate father, 
 
 "Duncan Dunbar.'* 
 
 On the death of his only sister he wrote : — 
 
 " My own dear Daughter, — I thank you for your 
 sympathy and affectionate remembrance in my late be- 
 
 21 ^ 
 
246 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 reavement, — the death of my poor, afflicted, and only sis- 
 ter. God has graciously borne me up as on eagle's wings 
 above all that has ever befallen me ; but this last knock 
 at my door sounds louder than many former admonitions 
 of his providence. She was my junior by two years ; 
 since she is taken, why am I left ? 
 
 " Perhaps I may be spared a good while to take care 
 of her poor invalid orphan, Willie, and also of my own 
 dear M, Why, dear me ! I really feel that the more the 
 Lord lays on my shoulders, the broader and stronger he 
 makes them ! As my day, so my strength is. 
 
 '' Love to all my boys, from their affectionate 
 
 " Grandfather." 
 
 To one of his family, who was in trial and perplexity 
 he wrote : — 
 
 " Surely, my dear , one line, though written 
 
 hastily, and with pencil, is better than no letter at all 
 from poor ' Grandpa.' Well, I am somewhat better as 
 to the hurt I got from the pole of the omnibus. My cold 
 is also better, so that I preached once last Lord's day. 
 
 Oh, how I did wish that you and dear had been 
 
 with me to nurse me a little ! 
 
 " As to your own affairs, — ' do nothing rashly ' — (town 
 clerk of Ephesus). Keep still, believe, hope, wait. ' To 
 everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose.' 
 ' The Lord reigneth,' let that be enough for vou ! One 
 said, ' He knoweth the way that I take ; when he hath 
 tried me, I shall come forth,' &c. ' My soul, wait thou 
 only upon God. From him is all my expectation. 
 Blessed is the man that trusteth in him.' God bless you." 
 
 To another of his daughters he wrote, in a time of 
 spiritual trial : 
 
LETTERS. 247 
 
 " Come now, my dear daughter, let me have a long 
 letter from you at once. I want you to believe that Jesus 
 loves you, that he died to redeem you, and that while you 
 feel it in your heart to come unto God the Father by him^ 
 he will never cast you out nor forsake you. 
 
 ' He could not have taught you 
 To trust in His name, 
 And thus far have brought you, 
 To put you to shame.' 
 
 " I want you to begin and read through the New Tes- 
 tament, slowly, thoughtfully, and prayerfully. Short, 
 ejaculatory prayers to God the Holy Spirit, for under- 
 standing of what you read, will, insensibly to yourself, 
 nourish, strengthen, and tranquillize your whole soul. 
 
 " Alas for my want of time ! The foregoing was writ- 
 ten late Friday night ; on Saturday I had not a moment 
 to finish it, and now it is late on Sunday night, after three 
 services. If I leave it till mornino-, I shall a^ain be 
 interrupted. 
 
 " We fear your dear sister is not permanently bet- 
 ter. May the Lord pity and relieve her ! We can all 
 pray for her, and the Lord Jesus may graciously heal 
 her, as he healed thousands by his silent power from hea- 
 ven, and also by his word and touch when here on the 
 earth. Oh, what a mercy from his hand, to be free from 
 bodily pain, and from distraction of mind ! ' Bless the 
 Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits ! ' " 
 
 In another family letter he asks, ^' What do you think 
 of gi'andpa's plan for sweeping oli' that missionary debt ? 
 I trust the churches wliich are delinquent in this $ 36,000 
 matter, will come forward at once, and put their shoulders 
 under the wheel, till it is banished as a thing that was 
 but is not." 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Afflictions — God's Presence as the Comforter — His Mother's Death — A Great Sorrow 
 at Home — At Evening-Time it is Light — The Pure in Heart see God — Letter after 
 a Great Bereavement — Letters of Sympathy. 
 
 )R. DUNBAR'S domestic affections were very- 
 strong, and God dealt mercifully with him, send- 
 ing but seldom the shadow of death to his dwelling. 
 A little twin boy died in St. George, N. B., an 
 infant of weeks ; and not again for fifteen years 
 afterward was the circle broken. Then his mate, a youth 
 of rare beauty and promise, was called very suddenly 
 from earth, shortly after his return from Europe, whither 
 he had accompanied his j^arents. This last was a terrible 
 stroke to the family, wdio had allowed their hearts to be- 
 come very closely entwined about this son and brother; 
 but to Mr. Dunbar it Avas one of God's special visitations. 
 He remarked, afterward, that when he first looked the 
 danger in the face, he feared that the trial would prove 
 more than he had grace for ; that he might be left to 
 wound the Saviour, — whose supporting love he had so 
 often recommended to others, — by a want of submission 
 to his will. But with the affliction came strength to bear 
 it. So sensibly was he supported that he felt, in closing 
 those dear, beautiful eyes, with his own hand, that, had 
 God called him to yield all the eio-ht instead of one child 
 only, he could have done it without a murmur, so right- 
 eous and merciful did his will appear to him. 
 
 Previous to this last bereavement, Mr. Dunbar's parents 
 
 (248) 
 
HIS mother's death. 249 
 
 had both died in their Highland home. When the news 
 of his mother's death reached him, he wept Hke a child. 
 " I have always felt," he said, " that if ever a day should 
 come when every other door in the world were shut against 
 me, hers would still be open." Years and distance had 
 not weakened his memory of her love. " His mother," 
 writes a Scotch minister, "fell a victim to her Highland 
 hospitality." A poor stranger came to her house, complain- 
 ing that he was very ill. He had been at the fair, selling 
 almanacs, and was on his way home, but could go no 
 farther. He had fallen into merciful hands when he sank 
 at her door. All others were alarmed at the disease that 
 soon showed itself, and fled from him ; but she, with her 
 own hands, administered nourishment and medicine, and 
 did all that mortal could do to save him ; but it was un- 
 availing. He died, and was buried among strangers, in 
 the church-yard of Gran town. A fortnight afterward, she, 
 havincv taken the infection, closed her own w^ork on earth. 
 Such was the woman, who, in her narrow sphere in that 
 remote Highland home, reared this man of God to be the 
 consoler of many, the friend of the stranger, the helper 
 of the needy. Doubtless the seed of pity and gentleness, 
 sown in childhood, sprang up into that harvest of mercy 
 by which so many were fed and comforted in the nearly 
 half a century of his philanthropic labors. In this view, 
 no woman's sphere is narrow who has one child to train 
 for life. 
 
 For nearly twenty-four years after the loss, by death, of 
 his son, Mr. Dunbar's family remained unbroken. As his 
 children scattered, it was to make many homes, from each 
 of which they all looked back to their father's house as 
 still the home, by way of preeminence, until its doors were 
 closed forever by the hand of death. 
 
250 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 la 1859, a sorrow, like unto no otlier sorrow they had 
 ever known, was sent by an unerring Providence. Mrs. 
 Dunbar, whose domestic and Christian Ufe had been one 
 of rare beauty and consistency, was called to her rest. Her 
 piety was deep and earnest, strongly marked by that 
 charity which thinketh no evil, and by a keen and tender 
 sensitiveness for the honor of Christ and his cause ; and 
 yet so great were her humihty and self-distrust, so deep 
 her consciousness of indwelling sin, that she did not al- 
 ways enjoy that full assurance of acceptance, which is the 
 privilege of God's chosen, but was the subject of many 
 doubts and fears. This was her infirmity ; but it is cheer- 
 ing to know that, a few years before her death, these 
 clouds were all dispelled from her mind, and that, hence- 
 forth she lived more in the light, till she ascended to the 
 home where is quietness and assurance forever. The sum- 
 mer previous to her death, being in Massachusetts with 
 one of her daughters, she alluded to those habitual doubts 
 and to her fear of death as things gone by. She said, 
 " One day in searching the hbrary for a book, I laid my 
 hand on a little, old tract, called ' Venture on Him.' I 
 was struck with the title, and slipped the tract into my 
 pocket to read at my leisure. There was nothing in it 
 I did not know before ; but, while reading it, the way of 
 salvation seemed plain, and acceptance with Christ so sure 
 to those who sought him, that I wondered how any one 
 could doubt his willingness to save." 
 
 A few months after this, her scattered children were 
 gathered at home to stand round her dying bed. Then 
 this little passage in her experience was mentioned, and 
 the old tract songht, but not found. Probably she had 
 placed it in the hands of some one, who, like herself, was 
 seeking to be taken more fully into the light. 
 
MRS. Dunbar's deatfi. 251 
 
 During the previous winter, Mrs. Dunbar had been con- 
 fined for many weeks to a darkened room with an inflamma- 
 tion of the eye, and necessarily put on such low diet as 
 greatly to reduce her strength. In March, however, she 
 was able to leave her room and go to that of her daurrhter, 
 who had been ill at the same time. She, being weak, was 
 accompanied upstairs by her dear friend of more than 
 tliirty years, Mrs. Mary Parsell, who now resided in 
 the family. They spent a cheerful half-hour there, and 
 then left. But as she descended the stairs, Mrs. Dunbar 
 was deceived by the gas-light, and, missing the last step, 
 fell on her side. She at once felt that she was injured, 
 and with her usual disregard of self, she said, ^' Oh, don't 
 tell M. that I am hurt ! Poor father will be discouraged ; 
 he will think now that I am never going to be well 
 attain ! " 
 
 On his return from the evenino; meetinnr. Mr. Dunbar 
 called in his physician, who at once expressed great fears 
 of the result. These proved to be but too well grounded. 
 A fever, excited by the injuries, soon set in, and she be- 
 gan to sink, although not herself conscious of it. When 
 told by one of her daughters how^ alarming her case was, 
 she seemed a little surprised, but replied, calmly, " We 
 must just submit to God's will, my dear ; I am not afraid 
 of death." And that was the last allusion she made 
 to it. 
 
 On Sunday morning, March 11, 1859, after nine days 
 of suffering, she passed away to the rest and joy of the 
 sinless Sabbath. No spirit ever had less of earthliness to 
 cast off in its ujjward flight than hers, and few who moved 
 so quietly below ever left so wide a void in the homej the 
 church, and among the poor, " Blessed are the pure in 
 heart, for they si i all see God." 
 
252 DUNCAN DUNBAK. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar wrote thus to one of his daughters, who 
 had returned to her own home after the death of her 
 mother : — 
 
 " My dear Daughter, — I knew it would cheer you 
 to hear that those of us ivho are left are doing well, and that 
 the Lord is sustaining us under our heavy bereavement. 
 I have just a moment this morning, before company and 
 calls begin, to say that dear M.'s health is improving, though 
 slowly, and that God's goodness is wonderfully displayed in 
 her case and mine, causing us to mount up above all that has 
 happened ; in which grief you and your dear husband were 
 such deep sharers. I do hope, my dear, that you will try 
 to surmount your sorrow, and forget in a measure your 
 sad loss of a dear mother, in the consideration that ' it is 
 well,' eternally well, with her. 
 
 " I can truly say that I am more and more reconciled 
 to what the Lord has done, by the belief that she died in 
 the faith of a glorious resurrection with the Son of God 
 when he shall come the second time to gather from the 
 four winds the .precious dust of his redeemed. And it 
 ought to comfort you, amid your doubts and fears, to know 
 that to a far later period of life than that to which you 
 have attained, her mind was habitually perplexed with 
 painful doubts and fears about her conversion and her 
 eternal state, but that for the last few years the Saviour 
 favored her soul with clearer views of his own all-suffi- 
 ciency, and that she gi^adually ceased looking, as she 
 had long done, to her own unworthiness and conscious 
 imperfection and unbelief. Her mind was more in- 
 tensely occupied in reading and thinking of, and look- 
 ing at, the Lord Jesus Christ as he is set forth in the 
 Holy Scriptures. 
 
LETTER. 253 
 
 " It is the mistake of thousands who are really regener- 
 ated, to be seeking for that in their own hearts and lives 
 which God and his justice finds only in the great Media- 
 tor. God is well pleased with what his own dear Son 
 has done and suffered ; and if you and I and millions more 
 will only be satisfied, and thus believe on the Lord Jesus 
 Christ, ive shall be saved I So the book of God declares. 
 That is 
 
 ' the word of truth and love. 
 
 Sent to the nations from above ; 
 Jehovah here resolves to show 
 What his Almighty power can do.' 
 
 " Let me hear from you very soon. I do not feel sad 
 and lonely ; so you must not worry about your dear father. 
 I love you all more than ever. Give much love to G. and 
 the dear boys. I hope they have all escaped the conta- 
 gion you feared. If so, say to God, as David did, ' O 
 thou Preserver of men ! ' God bless you all. 
 
 " Your very affectionate father, 
 
 " Duncan Dunbar." 
 
 To his youngest daughter, absent on a visit, he wrote : — 
 
 " Sunday night, eleven o'clock. 
 
 "Dear M., — I thank you for your two good letters 
 
 since you left me I am very tired. It was our 
 
 communion, and I baptized and preached all day without 
 any help ; and I will only say that I am truly sorry that 
 your health is not more improved. ^lay the Lord give 
 you patience and submission to his holy will', my dear 
 dauorhter, and all will be well in the end. 
 
 * Thougli painful at present, 
 'Twill cease before long ; 
 22 
 
254 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 And then, oh, how pleasant 
 The conqueror's song ! * 
 
 Hear the blessed Saviour saying, — 
 
 ' Compare thy grief with mine, 
 
 Think what my love for thee endured, 
 And thou wilt not repine.' 
 
 Remember that the Lord has all power m heaven and on 
 earth to heal diseases and to forgive sins. 
 
 " K. and myself, with two of her children, will leave 
 here, the Lord willing, on Tuesday, by the Norwich route ; 
 so you will know when to look for us at ' The Corner.' 
 I must preach there for J. the last Lord's day in August, 
 althouo'h I ought to rest all the time given me as a vaca- 
 tion. 
 
 " I have been attending to the iron-fence around the 
 last resting-place of your dear mother ! Oh, how I miss 
 her ! Never before, till since you left me, did I realize the 
 depth of my bereavement. The Lord has, in mercy, kept 
 it at a distance from me ever since the day of her funeral, 
 and I have tried to avoid alluding to her often for your 
 sake. But now that you are absent, the fountains of my 
 heart have spurned the former control, — although I seem 
 to hear her constantly saying to me, — 
 
 * Weep not for me when you stand round my grave/ *' 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Physical Constitution — Sails for Europe — Arrival — Sight of the Heather — First Sab- 
 bath in Scotland — The Sacrament of the Lord's Supper — His Interest in 
 America — A Church in a Hotel — The Baptistery — Visit to Arbroath, Brechin 
 and Aberdeen — The Memory of a Voice — Reaches Grantown — The Queen's Cham- 
 ber — Her Majesty Scorned by a Highland Lass — Peter Grant — Sabbath Services — A 
 Highland Welcome — Castle Grant — The Haunted Room — The Laird of Dalrey and 
 his Scotch Paradise — Elgin — Inverness — Tour of the Caledonian Canal — Aban — 
 StaSFa — A Perilous Adventure — The Trosachs — Back to Edinburgh — York — 
 Loudon — Paris — Homeward Voyage — A Gale at Sea — Home Again — Fresh foi 
 Labor — Growing Meet for Heaven. 
 
 |R. DUNBAR'S physical constitution was as near- 
 ly perfect as often falls to the lot of man ; so that 
 through hfe he set at naupjht many of the laws of 
 nature in a way that would have sent most men 
 to an earlv OTave. It was loiip; his custom to turn 
 night into day, by beginning to read and study 
 after all others had retired to rest and the house was 
 quiet, — one and two o'clock in the morning being his usual 
 bedtime. This habit he probably acquired from stern 
 necessity, as, by day, his time was so fully occupied and 
 interrupted as to prevent retirement. 
 
 He was equally regardless of regularity in his meals ; 
 often, when going from a sick-bed to a ftmeral, and from some 
 society meeting to the home of poverty, forgetting his din- 
 ner, and not touching food between breakfast and tea. 
 This strength of constitution he always attributed to the 
 hardy manner in which he was reared in his Highland 
 home. When wanting but six years of fourscore, his form 
 was erect, his step firm, his eye bright, his hearing perfect, 
 
 (2551 
 
256 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 and liis heart young ; so that any stranger would have 
 pronounced him a vigorous man for sixty years. To thxis 
 may be attributed the vast amount of labor he performed, 
 — labor which would have crushed three men of ordinary 
 powers. 
 
 The latter years of his life were laden with increased 
 toil ; and sometimes he complained of weariness, which 
 was new for him. He felt the need of rest from the labors 
 of the pulpit and the cares of the pastorate, and often ex- 
 pressed a desire that he might " once more visit dear old 
 Scotland." Friends, both in his own church and out of 
 it, encouraged him to go, for his own sake as well as in the 
 hope tliat a sea-voyage might restore health to his young- 
 est daughter, wdio would accompany him. On the first 
 of August, 1863, they, with a young friend, sailed from 
 New York in the steamer " City of London," Captain 
 Petrie. After a voyage, rendered very agreeable by the 
 kindness of the genial captain and the company of intelli- 
 gent passengers, they reached Liverpool, and went directly 
 to Scotland. After leaving Edinburgh, Mr. Dunbar caught 
 sight, for the first time, of the heather, — that simple 
 flower, so dear to the heart of every Scot. It seemed to 
 put new life in him ; and he could hardly keep his seat in 
 the car, so anxious was he once more to grasp it, as in the 
 days of his boyhood. Nor did it lose its charm by the 
 daily and hourly sight. Every sprig he saw was a joy 
 to him. He remembered the love he bore it in childhood, 
 when he used to lie in a bed of it on a slope near his 
 father's house, and, buried among the blossoms, roll down 
 to the street, in his sport. It now seemed to him like the 
 face of an old playfellow, or of a long-lost, familiar friend. 
 That and the thistle were ever very dear, as the emblems 
 of the land he loved so tenderlv. 
 
SABBATH IN SCOTLAND. 257 
 
 It was remarkable that one, lovlno; his own land with 
 such fervor, should have so large a place in his heart for 
 his adopted country. He did not love America less, but 
 Scotland more ; and was as sensitive when a disparaging 
 word was said oF one as of the other. He once remai'ked 
 to a friend, that he loved to live in America, but that he 
 should like to die and be buried in Scotland. 
 
 The first Sabbath in Britain was passed in Anstruther 
 a very old town on the German Ocean. Here he visited, 
 and was most hospitably entertained, at the house of Mr. 
 Todd, whose relatives were connected with McDougal 
 Street Church, and " talked a little " to the brethren 
 til ere ; — he was forbidden to i^^^^^^h ^s his leave of ab- 
 sence was for rest. 
 
 Scotch Ba})tists celebrate the Lord's Supper every Sab- 
 bath morning ; and the simplicity with which it was ad- 
 ministered here was new to the ladles of the party. On 
 the table were placed cups, already filled, and on a plate, 
 four half-shces of bread, one of which was passed by one 
 deacon to another, who, having broken off a piece for him- 
 self, passed the slice — not the plate — to his next neigh- 
 bor, w4io, in his turn, gave it to another ; and so on, till 
 all were supplied. The communion was enjoyed as that 
 of the saints. But a question rose in their minds, whether 
 the mode was primitive as well as simple ; whether, to Bap- 
 tists, professing to follow their Pattern, even in the smallest 
 things, the sight of pouring the wine and breaking the 
 bread would not be more suo-o-estive of the flowino; blood 
 and broken body of Him whose death they commemorate. 
 
 During this journey, wherever he might be, Mr. Dunbar 
 made it a point, as a subject uppermost in his mind, to 
 present correct views of the great struggle then going on 
 in America. His intense hatred of slaver} was combined 
 
 22 * 
 
258 DUxXCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 with gieat love to his adopted country, and he never lost 
 an opportunity of denouncing the one and pleading for the 
 other. He often conversed upon this ever-fresh theme till 
 far into the night. When travelling, he would introduce 
 the subject, by offering his snuff-box to some sensible-look- 
 ing fellow-passenger, saying, " Will you take a pinch of 
 snuff which has just come from America ? " At this word, 
 all ears were open, and a warm discussion would ensue, 
 continuing, sometimes, for hours, — he always contriving, 
 when he reached his station, to have the last word through 
 the car-window. If ever he was absent from the ladies 
 under his care longer than the appointed time, they knew 
 that he had fallen in with friends who needed enlio-htening 
 on what he considered the one great movement of the 
 day. 
 
 When stopping at a hotel in Dundee, being anxious to 
 find the widow of a Baptist minister, to whom he had a 
 letter, he asked a waiter if he knew any persons of that 
 denomination in the city. He replied, that the proprietor 
 of the house was one of them, and at once brouo;ht him to 
 Mr. Dunbar. He belono;ed to a little band bearino- the 
 name of " Baptist," but differing materially from the 
 body so called among us. They believed the gospel 
 to be " free," and therefore denounced a paid ministry 
 as " hirelings ; " and held other views peculiar to them- 
 selves. Mine host visited Mr. Dunbar in his private par- 
 lor, and they discussed their differences at considerable 
 length. We believe he did not " hold to " houses set apart 
 for worship, — the church, of which he was one of the several 
 pastors, meeting in a hall on the lower floor of the hotel. 
 He took Mr. Dunbar and the ladies down to see it (a long 
 room, with pine benches), and said, pointing to the corner, 
 " Yon is the baptistery." After looking around in vain for 
 
CASTLE OF BRECUIN. 259 
 
 it, tliey were shown a rough box, which had probably been 
 extemporized for some rare occasion, — for this class of 
 Baptists do not make very large reprisals from the king- 
 dom of Satan, but remain much as they have been for long 
 years, — as Mr. Dunbar playfully expressed it, — "A fold 
 of five sheep, four of whom were shepherds/' 
 
 He met with, and talked to, his brethren at Arbroath, 
 where the only remaining relatives of Mrs. Dunbar reside. 
 Here they noticed, with pleasure, that at church, veiy many 
 of the sisters had in their hands tiny and exquisite bouquets. 
 When they were seated, an aged woman behind them 
 leaned forward, touched Miss Dunbar, and handed her 
 her own flowers, — a beautiful welcome to a stranger. 
 Here Mr. Dunbar left, as elsewhere, a brother's memory, 
 so that his death, the following year, caused sorrow to that 
 little band. A kind and sympathizing letter from two of 
 them to the family expresses their feelings on hearing of 
 the sad event. 
 
 He visited the fine castle of Brechin, on the South Esk, 
 and very near it saw, and pointed out to his companions, a 
 house which awakened memories of the past, — the one in 
 which he first met the wife of his youth, when he went, as 
 before mentioned, to dehver a letter from her pastor, Mr. 
 Penman, of Arbroath. 
 
 Soon after this, the party went to Aberdeen, and, after 
 visiting the University, the Cathedral, and other places of 
 public interest, Mr. Dunbar rode to the house where his 
 family resided at the time he left them on his first coming 
 to America. The same name was on the door-plate, but. 
 it was that of a stranger, who had never heard of their 
 visitor. Thus our homes remain, when we pass away, 
 to those who come after, — teaching a lesson of human 
 frailty. Tlie places here that knew the meek one whose 
 
^60 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 spirit seemed to pervade these scenes, know her no more. 
 Wearied with the changes of earth, she had found a housa 
 not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. 
 
 While in Aberdeen, Mr. Dunbar called at the dwelling 
 of old and valued friends, not knowmg whether either of 
 them was living. When a servant opened the door, his voice 
 was heard by Mrs. McA., who, with a friend, was in the 
 parlor. She exclaimed, " That is Mr. Dunbar, from 
 America. I know his voice, though I have not heard 
 it for twenty-three years ! " Thus are the voices as well 
 as the faces of those we love treasured up in the cham- 
 bers of memory. 
 
 When they reached Grantown, his native place in the 
 Highlands, Mr. Dunbar engaged rooms at the principal 
 hotel, — his relatives being all gone, — taking special pains 
 to secure the " Queen's Room " for the ladies ; who, how- 
 ever, were too thoroughly republican to rest any better on 
 the pillows because a royal head had pressed them. It 
 seems that Her Majesty, when travelling in Scotland, had 
 sent forward messeno-ers to encraoe rooms where she mioht 
 rest 17160 gnito^ and save herself the weariness of being 
 stared at and publicly honored. When she reached Gran- 
 town, of course the people at the hotel knew by the length 
 of her train that she was a noble lady ; but they had not 
 a suspicion of the great honor being done to their house. 
 
 When her private table was spread, a waiting-girl pre- 
 sented herself, but the Queen informed her that she 
 preferred being served by her own attendants. This 
 touched the pride of the Highland lass, and, her spirit 
 rising above her position, she replied tartly, •' Oh, 
 ay ; but I've served finer leddies nor ye^ mony a 
 time." 
 
 When the Queen was leaving, her munificence in 
 
PETER GRANT. 261 
 
 settlino the bill and feeins; the servants revealed her 
 rank. And then the poor, proud lass was terror-stricken, 
 iest she might be beheaded, or otherwise put out of exist- 
 ence, for her impertinence. 
 
 It was Saturday evening when Mr. Dunbar's party ar- 
 rived at Grantown, and a messenger was at once de- 
 spatched to the aged and honored Rev. Peter Grant, to 
 sav tliat a gentleman and two ladies wished to see him at 
 tlie hotel. He had given up the manse by the church, to 
 his son, the associate pastor, and had moved a httle way 
 out of tlie town. He, however, walked the mile, and pre- 
 sented himself before the strangers. His eye was dimmed 
 by the flight of more than eighty years, and twenty-three 
 had passed since last he had seen the friend of his youth. It 
 was not, therefore, strange, that he did not at first recog- 
 nize Mr. Dunbar, who tried for some time to make him 
 recall the face and voice. But in vain. At length, he 
 asked, '' Have you received any papers from America, 
 lately?" At the word, " America," his eye kindled, and 
 he exclaimed, " Oh, ay ; but it's very wonderful ! " And 
 then the two embraced, and kissed each other. 
 
 After reviewing the past, with its long line of dead, and 
 the present, with its sorrows and its joys, and talking over 
 many topics of interest to themselves alone, they came to 
 speak of their families, when Mr. Grant stated that he had 
 ten children ! Mr. Dunbar could boast of only seven. 
 And atrain Mr. Grant was in the ascendant, for he had 
 forty grandchildren ; Mr. Dunbar had only twenty-three. 
 Then, as a crowning glory, Mr. Grant told them that he 
 had one great-o-randchild ! It w^as the turn of Mr. Dun- 
 bar now to triumph over him, as he had three little lambs 
 of the fourth generation in his home over the sea. 
 
 This patriarch of Grantown is a dear, lovable old man, 
 
262 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 on whose calm face is written, " Peace and good-will to 
 men." This meeting, so near life's sunset, gave real 
 pleasure to them both. Mr. William Grant being ab- 
 sent, his father was to preach at home, and gladlj availed 
 himself of Mr. Dunbar's help. At twelve o'clock, the first 
 service commenced, which was in English, and which 
 the visitor conducted. Following this, without any inter- 
 mission, came a discourse to the older people in Gaelic, and 
 immediately after this, the Lord's Supper, concluding at 
 four in the afternoon. Then, again, in the evening, was 
 a service from six to eio;ht o'clock. How would the im- 
 petuous spirit, which complains of forty-minute sermons 
 and ninety-minute services with us, brook this " dwelling 
 in the house of the Lord ? " We fear the Sabbath would 
 be more a weariness than a delight, as it seems to be with 
 the godly Scot. 
 
 Extreme fatigue prevented Mr. Dunbar's companions 
 from attending the services during the day ; but at six 
 o'clock they rode to the church, and found that the cor- 
 dial soul-welcome given to the servant of God, was, for his 
 sake, extended to them. Casting away all the hollow 
 forms of etiquette, the brethren and sisters pressed around 
 them, shaking hands, and speaking words of kindness, — 
 a fresh and touching scene in a world so full of formality 
 and coldness. From the oldest women, — two or three 
 of whom, having outlived their own generation, wore full- 
 bordered caps, without bonnets, — down to the very 
 youngest, all gave these Americans a greeting they will 
 not soon forget. Nor were they overlooked by the male 
 portion of the congregation, but received from them all, 
 at the church-door, the hand of welcome. 
 
 On Monday morning, the door of the private par- 
 lor at the hotel was thrown open, and an old woman 
 
SABBATH SERVICES. 263 
 
 ushered in, who wislied to speak to them. She pioved to 
 be one of the aged sisters they had seen at church, in the 
 broad-frilled caps. She said she had come to shake hands 
 with Mr. Dunbar and the ladies again, and to tell him 
 how much she had been comforted by his preaching. She 
 was poor, and nearly blind ; and she had hesitated some 
 time before coming, because, she " knew very well they 
 would have so many visitors of a different class." She 
 gave the ladies two little, half-worn hymn-books as keep- 
 sakes ; but it was with the greatest difficulty they could 
 induce her to accept a little silver as a token of remem- 
 brance. She seemed very grateful for the kind words 
 given her ; and asked them if, when they were writing 
 irom America to the minister, they '' would please to send 
 their compliments to Margaret Grant." And we know 
 this humble request ^vas not forgotten by him whose 
 heart was open to the weakest and humblest of God's chil- 
 dren. Her wish was gratified ; she was remembered over 
 the sea. 
 
 While visiting at the manse, where were gathered sev- 
 eral of the aged minister's children and grandchildren, a 
 daughter referred to one of Mr. Dunbar's former visits, 
 which was attended w^th a great blessing to the little 
 church. She was at the time quite careless about her soul, 
 and felt no little opposition to the work of grace then o-o- 
 ing on ; so that when she saw her sister take a seat at the 
 Lord's table she felt real anger and enmity toward her. 
 Mr. Dunbar rose at the moment and gave out a hymn, and 
 her attention was arrested by the first line. Every word 
 in the sermon seemed an arrow pointed at her. At the 
 close of tlie service, one of the brethren of the church 
 asked Iilm* if she was not one of the class alluded to — im- 
 peniti'ut sinners. This simple question served to deepen 
 
264 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 the impression, which was so powerful that she shook and 
 trembled until she thought all eyes were fixed on her. 
 Her brother William was affected in the same way, though 
 neither mentioned it to the other. The result was that 
 both of tliem were brought at that time, with many others, 
 into the fold of Christ. 
 
 Mr. Dunbar's party w4th their friends, visited Castle 
 Grant, around which in his mind clustered so many recol- 
 lections of boyhood, with its wild joys and its hairbreadth es- 
 capes. After entering the gateway they rode through the 
 beautiful and well-stocked deer-park to the castle, which, 
 however, seemed to the Americans more like a large man- 
 sion-house, having neither turret nor tower, and lacking 
 the grandeur w^e attach to the idea of a castle. They en- 
 tered first the armoiy, the wall and ceiling of which 
 were covered with coats of mail, shields, swords, pikes, &c., 
 all artistically arranged, with which the Grants of long 
 ao"o defended themselves and their castles firom the invasion 
 of rival clans. 
 
 A stuffed fox, with that wily look which belongs of right 
 to the race, stood at the entrance ; and hollow coats of mail, 
 hanging around, seemed like grim sentinels guarding the 
 descendants of their liege lords of generations gone by. Go- 
 ing up the stairway, pictures of Scripture and warlike 
 scenes, and portraits of Grants innumerable met the eye. 
 The rooms were remarkable for their size and ancient ap- 
 pearance more than for their magnificence, the arrange- 
 ments being suggestive of comfort rather than of display. 
 There were chairs covered with close worsted work, and 
 high bedsteads draped with curtains of the same ; and a 
 large carpet in wrought medallion pattern ; — much of this 
 the work of the fair fino;ers of the ladies of this loner line 
 of Grants. But the flight of years has dimmed the colors, 
 
THE LAIRD OP DALVEY. 265 
 
 as it has also the eyes of those who once hung dehghted 
 over it. 
 
 They visited what is called the "haunted room.'' 
 A former Laird of Grant once occupied this as his own 
 apartment, but on one occasion, the house being full, it was 
 given over to a guest. A tame deer, which was a great 
 pet with the laird, and which was allowed free access to 
 his room, stole in during the night and made his way to 
 the bedside, arousing the sleeper, who, putting forth his 
 hands, felt the horns. These appendages were suggest- 
 ive of any but a welcome visitor, and the alarm they 
 caused and the mirth incident upon it gave its name to 
 the chamber. 
 
 The room of the little lord, then absent with his parents, 
 interested them much, pervaded as it seemed to be with 
 the sweet presence of innocence. Child -life is the same 
 essentially everywhere. The things which amuse the prat- 
 tler of the cottage charm also the pet of the castle. Pic- 
 tures cut from illustrated papers were on the walls just as 
 he left them, and all around were treasured trifles that 
 proved how little is required to make a child rich and hap- 
 py. To one who loved the young, as did Mr. Dunbar, 
 these were very touching, and we doubt not, as he looked 
 back on the child's ancestry and remembered their many 
 noble traits, he blessed his tiny lordship, who would all too 
 Foon forsake this pleasant nursery for the cares and temp- 
 tations incident to his rank in life. 
 
 From Grantown Mr. Dunbar went to Forres, to visit 
 valued and honored friends there. This town is beauti- 
 fully situated on a natural mound so regular as to look al- 
 most as if thrown up by art. A fine ride brought them to 
 the estate of the Laird of Dalvey, where they were most 
 cordially received and hospitably entertained. The place 
 
 23 
 
266 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 is a Scottish paradise, which seems to have quite escaped the 
 ruin Adam brought on nature's glory. The grounds are 
 laid out in " ribbon beds," with flo\vers of every hue and 
 variety. One large hot-house was devoted entirely to fuch- 
 sias, which hung from the glass above and around, like 
 grapes from the vine, and which the genial laird bestowed 
 with a lavisli hand on his delighted guests. 
 
 Tlie museum on the estate is filled with rare and beau- 
 tiful things from every land. From the centre of a pond 
 filled with every variety of lily, rises a pagoda in which 
 several families of ducks find shelter when weary of 
 their sports in the water. One of these ducks was a 
 South Carolinian, which sat on the little island, hanging her 
 head very mournfully, the laird said, because she had 
 just become a widow. But the American ladies knew a 
 better cause than that, and believed it was for very shame 
 at the conduct of her native State ! 
 
 Here in a cage as large as a summer-house was a huge 
 American eagle screeching out his plea for his country and 
 his faith in her triumph, in the ears of the kind-hearted 
 laird. There was an ominous contrast between his proud 
 confidence, and the cowed humility of the duck of the 
 " chivalry." 
 
 The charms of Dalvey House, and the kindness of its 
 owner, will ever be held in grateful remembrance by those 
 of the party who still live. 
 
 At Elgin, after visiting the family of a dear, deceased 
 friend of other days, — Mr. Peter McDonald, — Mr. Dun- 
 bar took his companions to the ruins of the cathedral, the 
 most stupendous in Scotland, around which clusters much 
 of tradition and interest. 
 
 Thence they went to the beautiful city of Inverness, the 
 former home of Captain Mcintosh, where they passed 
 
TOUR OF THE CALEDONIAN CANAL. 267 
 
 sevi.'ral clays. Its natural channs are very great, the waters 
 of Loch Ness flowing through it, bordered on either side 
 by grounds like those of fairy-land, these being connected 
 by tasteful little extension bridges. Here rise, beyond the 
 loch, the mountains of Craig Phadrich and Tom na 
 heuricli, or the " Hill of the Fairies." 
 
 The party made the tour of the Caledonian Canal, 
 which connects the five lakes, forming a water passage of 
 sixty miles from the German to the Atlantic Oceans, by 
 the noted mountains of Ben Nevis, Ben More, Ben Crua- 
 chan, and Cairngorm. Stopping at Oban, they took a 
 fine steamer through the Sound of Mull to the wondrous 
 Cave of StafFa, passing the ruins of many churches and 
 castles, powerful and grand in times long gone by. Leav- 
 ing the sound, the conflicting channels made the waves 
 more boisterous than they were at any time on the pas- 
 sage over the Atlantic ; so it was impossible to reach 
 the cave in the steamer. Taking small boats, they ap- 
 proached it by the back mouth, the waves as they thought 
 forbidding any attempt to reach the main entrance. The 
 vigorous among the tourists — there was quite a large par- 
 ty — clambered around the sides of the cave on the rugged 
 blocks of stone, holding by a rope fixed there for the pur- 
 pose, and thus made their way to the front. For this ex- 
 ploit, however, all had not strength ; and Mr. Dunbar, 
 unwilling to deny the pleasure to any one, bribed the boat- 
 men to brave the billows and meet the others at the main 
 entrance. Though repeatedly driven back after having 
 nearly reached it, they were at last rewarded for their per- 
 severance by a full view of this stupendous work of na- 
 ture. 
 
 On their return to Oban, the tourists stopped at the 
 famous island of Lma, — " The Holy Isle," — in the early 
 
268 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 ages a seat of sacred learning, and saw the ruins of the 
 cathedral and abbey. The next day they passed through 
 the Sound of Jura, the Crinan Canal, Loch Tyne, and 
 the Frith of Clyde, to Glasgow. Here a week was passed 
 visiting places of interest; and here Mr. Dunbar renewed 
 and enjoyed again old friendships and tender recollections. 
 
 From Glasgow they made the tour of the Trosachs, 
 passing scenes immortalized by Scott in " Rob Roy " and 
 " The Lady of the Lake," visited Sterling and Dumbarton 
 Castle and returned to Edinburgh in about six weeks from 
 the time they left it for the North. Here they went to 
 the Castles, where is still exhibited the regalia of Scotland, 
 — the crown, the sceptre, and the sword of state. 
 
 When here, a quarter of a century before, Mr. Dunbar 
 had visited and preached for Mr. Haldane. He was now 
 gone from earth ; but his pulpit was filled by Rev. Mr. 
 TuUoch, the son and also the son-m-law of men whom 
 Mr. Dunbar had known and loved in the early days of 
 his ministry. For him he preached, or, as he still said, 
 " talked a little." Every step he had taken in Scotland 
 had served to brighten the old flame of love, and to 
 strengthen the desire for the advancement of the Baptist 
 cause in Scotland. Still he was " ready for either," to go 
 there and toil, or to stay in America, and cheer on those 
 who did so. He felt the scattered materials in all the 
 small places too valuable to be lost, and still believed that 
 they would become a strong denomination, if they could 
 but yield their minor differences, and come together on a 
 common scriptural platf3rm. 
 
 From Edinburg, Mr. Dunbar and his companions went 
 to York, where they visited the Minster, the finest speci- 
 men of Gothic architecture in Europe, and afterward to 
 London, where they spent several weeks enjoying the 
 
EXTRACTS OF LETTERS. 2(39 
 
 vconders of art, seeing places of historic interest, and 
 listening to ministers whose names are familiar to us in 
 America. 
 
 Writing from London, Mr. Dunbar says : — 
 " I cannot feel thankful enough that there are yet so 
 many left on earth to care for and love me. I never real- 
 ized this before as I have done in reading the letters re- 
 ceived from eac-h of you, my own dear, dear daughters. 
 May the Lord spare and dispose all your own children 
 to return you the like kindness in your own days of lone- 
 liness and old age ! God bless you all ! " 
 
 Again, in a joint letter to two sons-in-law, he writes 
 from the same place : — 
 
 " Dear J. and G., I hate to speak of myself; but must 
 say to the praise of the divine goodness, that I feel my 
 health wonderfully improved by the climate and the rest I 
 am having. I have my cares, especially about dear M. and 
 the church ; but all these and the interests of my own soul 
 I can now and then — only now and then — cast upon 
 Him who has done such o-reat thino;s for me and mine 
 ever since I have had a being on his footstool. I must 
 say here, that I shall ever retain a grateful sense of your 
 kindness first and last to me and mine, — the living and the 
 beloved dead. We often speak of you since we left home, 
 — I mean since we left New York ; for I have no home 
 now, — I only ' hve out.' The Lord reward you both, 
 and the children you took away from me ! 
 
 " Divide this letter among yourselves in the two fami- 
 lies, and believe me your aftectionate father." 
 
 From England the Httle party went to France. While 
 attending the ladies to places which most interested them 
 m Paris, Mr. Dunbar's own tastes led him to examine the 
 
270 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 city with the great pubhc works then in progress, that he 
 might know what Napoleon was doing for his people. He 
 was pained at the perfectly Sabbathless appearance of the 
 city on the Lord's day, — the o]3en stores, the rumbling 
 teams, and the sounding hammer proving it a perfectly 
 godless place. He expressed great surprise when he looked 
 in, on a week-day, to the Catholic churches, to see the con- 
 gregations composed almost entirely of females, — there 
 being but one or two men to a hundred women, and these 
 oftener there as beggars than as worshippers. He spent no 
 holy time in viewing magnificent architecture, or in listen- 
 ing to artistic music and popish mummeries, but made his 
 Sabbaths, as at home, holiness unto the Lord. He heard 
 and preached for Dr. McClintock, at the American 
 Chapel. 
 
 He did not enjoy his sojom-n in France as he had done 
 that in England and Scotland ; as, being a stranger to 
 their language, he could not enlighten the subjects of 
 Napoleon on the great interests at issue in the American 
 struggle. Neither could he find much sympathy among 
 our agreeable and courteous countrymen whom he met at 
 his hotel ; for they were all bitter foes to the Union, al- 
 though not warm enough friends to the Confederacy to 
 stay at home and aid her in the conflict. 
 
 The party, after spending a few weeks in Paris, re- 
 turned to London, whence, after a few days, they took 
 the steamer for New York, having been absent nearly 
 five months. 
 
 The third nio;ht out, which was that of Thanksmvin^ 
 
 o ' too 
 
 at home, the ship was struck by a tremendous gale, and 
 went over at once on to her side. A mast was twisted 
 off like a twig, and its weight seemed bearing her down 
 to destruction. The confusion on deck, wdth the running 
 
A GALE AT SEA. 271 
 
 and shoutino; and sawiiio- tost^tlier with tlie shrieks of the 
 passengers, who rushed about half-clad in the darkness, 
 made the scene truly terrific. The bulwarks were car- 
 ried away, and the ship's side was stove in by the falling 
 mast, so that the water was rushing into the steerage, cre- 
 ating great terror among the poor emigrants crowded to- 
 gether there. There were two Catholic priests on board, 
 — one in the steerage, and one in the cabin ; and this 
 alarm gave them plenty of business. In the midst of the 
 confusion, one of these arrayed himself in his canonicals 
 and went down to " confess " the frantic creatures, who be- 
 lieved their last hour had come. One poor girl, who was 
 on her way to a new home with an aged father, became 
 perfectly distracted, and remained a maniac as long as her 
 fellow-passengers kept sight of her, — a sad ending of 
 bright hopes. 
 
 At the first alarm, and before Mr. Dunbar had left his 
 berth, a strong man, who had, before this, seemed to have 
 little fear of God before him, rushed into his state-room 
 and implored him to rise and pray for him. Others, who 
 had more self-control, were as glad to listen to his words 
 of comfort and encouragement. When he could disen- 
 gage himself from them, he went to his companions to let 
 them know the extent of the damage, and to urge them — 
 had it been necessary — to be calm. Then ladies from the 
 next state-rooms ran in ; and he, in perfect composure, led 
 their minds to Him who is the onl}'- refuge in time of peril. 
 
 This gale continued five days ; the ship, being somewhat 
 disabled, laboring terribly to mount the billows, and the 
 water at times threatening to put out the fires. All 
 through these days, Mr. Dunbar's little Bible was his 
 constant companion ; and, as he read, he marked many 
 passages referring to the sea and its dangers, and to God's 
 
272 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 care of those who upon Its troubled waves, put their trust 
 in him. 
 
 When it became calm again, and the immediate fear 
 was over, those wdio had manifested such alarm and 
 begged for prayers, and had followed the godly man about 
 as if safe in his shadow, became very brave. One of 
 these, seeing the Bible alluded to lying on the cabin table, 
 took it up, and, turning over the leaves, saw the marked 
 passages, when he said, jestingly, " Some folks were 
 pretty well frightened in the gale, I should think, by the 
 w^ay they marked up this book ! " 
 
 And yet he was glad, on that night of fear, to catch 
 the tones of a praymg voice, and to grasp the mantle of 
 a man of God ! 
 
 The voyage w^as protracted to sixteen days by the bois- 
 terous weather and the condition of the ship ; and, much 
 as Mr. Dunbar loved the sea, he was rejoiced once more 
 to reach home and greet his family and his beloved peo- 
 ple. Invigorated by the rest he had enjoyed, he at once 
 entered fully into the work he loved, not as an old man 
 rousing himself to a final effort, but with the energy of 
 one just putting his hand to the plough. 
 
 Amid all the changes and enjoyments of his absence, he 
 did not forget the poor pensioners he left behind. Just as 
 he was leaving bis home for the steamer, a forlorn stranger 
 had called to beg for his interference to save her from im- 
 prisonment, — unjust, according to her statement. It 
 was his last hour at home, and he could only commend 
 her to some other merciful man for help and pity. 
 
 Almost the first word he uttered, on again entering his 
 own room after the voyage, was to his nephew, " Well, 
 Willie, what became of my poor client. Were you able to 
 keep her out of prison ? " 
 
GROWING MEET FOR HEAVEN. 273 
 
 One of his sons-in-law said to him at tliis time, " Why, 
 father, you do not lo6k a day older than when you left." 
 
 " My son, I did not go to Scotland to grow older^''^ he 
 replied with a smile. 
 
 Soon after his return, he visited his children in Massa- 
 chusetts. Not one of his grand-children had been forgot- 
 ten in his travels, but each had a little kee})sake from 
 over the sea. No trouble was too great, if thereby he 
 could make young hearts happy. Long and vainly will 
 they look for another such friend to sympathize in their 
 feelings, and to meet their childish wants, as if he himself 
 had never trrown old. 
 
 o 
 
 He performed all his labor through the following win- 
 ter and spring with his usual energy, only that he occa- 
 sionally complained of weariness, and was more willing 
 than formerly to lie down during the day for rest. Those 
 beneath the same roof with him, who were wakeful in 
 the small hours of morning, heard from his study his 
 strong cries unto God. Shortly before his prayers on 
 earth were changed for praise in heaven, did the dear 
 friend, in whose dwelling the mortal put on immortality, 
 hear his voice breaking the stillness of night with plead- 
 ing and groanings which could not be suppressed. Who 
 shall know the burden of those prayers, which now are 
 ended ? The country that he loved, the church so dear 
 to him, the children of his heart, the poor, the sick, the 
 dying, the souls yet in sin, for whom he must, in a meas- 
 ure, give account, — all were then, doubtless, borne upward 
 on the wings of his faith. Who will now love these as he 
 loved ? who pray for them as he prayed ? and who, in 
 their hours of darkness, prevail as he prevailed ? God 
 help the weak, when the strong staff and the beautiful rod 
 is broken ! • 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Attends the MLsssionary Meetings in Philadelphia — A Silver Wedding — A Vi.^it to Ton* 
 kers — Increase of Labor — A Last Parting. 
 
 fN May following Mr. Dunbar's return from Europe, 
 he attended the anniversaries of the Missionary Union 
 ^^^^ and other societies in Philadelphia. He was then in 
 1^ his usual health, and enjoyed greatly the reunion 
 ^ with his beloved ministering brethren, and also with 
 the members of his former flock. Even here, per- 
 sonal ease and gratification were forgotten ; and, to the 
 disappointment of many who were hoping for a share of his 
 company in their homes, he assumed work when he should 
 have given himself up to rest. At the earnest solicitation 
 of friends he went to Allentown, Pennsylvania, to preach 
 for and encourage a little church in which, from its organ- 
 ization, — truly a day of small things — he had been 
 greatly interested. He also preached for his grandson, 
 Rev. Morris Sutphen, of the Spring Garden Presbyterian 
 Church, in whose pulpit his genial spirit and sound 
 orthodoxy always found a welcome. Here he labored 
 and enjoyed not a little; and after visiting and biessing 
 his three little great-grandchildren, he returned to his 
 home where there was work awaiting him enough to try 
 the powers of one just putting on the harness. It might 
 seem as if the toils of nearly four score years had won for 
 him the right to rest ; but he neither asked nor desired it. 
 • As the season advanced his labor at sick-beds and fu 
 
 (274) 
 
A STLVKR WEDDING. 275 
 
 nerals increased, tlie larger portion of it being beyond the 
 bounds of his own congregation. One Sabbath he preached 
 twice, and at six o'clock in the afternoon attended a funer- 
 al a long distance from his home. As he entered the house 
 of mourning, he was told that another dear child of the 
 family was very ill with the sad disease which had laid this 
 one in its coffin — diphtheria. After the solemn services, 
 he hastened home to tea, and thence to his evening meeting, 
 which he conducted, as was his custom, with remarks and 
 exhortations, longer than the sermons of our younger min- 
 isters, — work enough, one would think, for a single day ! 
 But hardly was he seated for rest in his study, after his re- 
 turn from the vestry, than he was again sent for. The other 
 child of that stricken family had died, and they desired 
 to have its funeral at ten o'clock at night, that the two lit- 
 tle forms might be taken away together by an early morn- 
 ing train for burial at a distance. He was at this time also 
 a constant visitor at the sick-beds of several strangers. 
 All this he accepted as a part of his ministry, which was, 
 in his view, to men and not to one particular church only. 
 
 About this time, Mr. Dunbar was sent for to attend a 
 silver wedding given by the Reformed Dutch Church of 
 Bedminster, New Jersey, to Rev. William Brush, their 
 pastor and his son-in-law. Thither he went full of spirit, 
 and found himself surrounded by a beloved circle of chil- 
 dren, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. The richly 
 laden tables were tastefully spread on the lawn in front of 
 the beautiful parsonage, with the skill as well as pro- 
 fuseness in which the ladies of that region excel. 
 
 When the ont-door entertainment was over, the host of 
 friends, who had gathered to congratulate their pastor on 
 God's mercy to him and his family, passed into the parlors, 
 where was spread out, in glittering array, the silver-plate, 
 
276 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 with other rich and beautiful things they had brought, to 
 show that his work was appreciated among them. After 
 some prehmlnaries, Mr. Dunbar was called on for a speech. 
 Of this we can give no minute sketch. He said, " This is 
 a silver wedding, friends, which I presume means that your 
 pastor has invited us all here that he may present each of us, 
 his guests, with a piece of silver ! He then told them that 
 many years ago, when visiting at a friend's house with his 
 eldest daughter, he met a young student from Rutger's 
 Seminaiy, who conceived a great attachment for him. He 
 soon called on him to borrow a theological book, which he 
 read in an inconceivably short space of time and brought 
 back ! At this visit he asked the loan of another work 
 from Mr. Dunbar's library, which in its turn was read in 
 a wonderfully short space of time, and exchanged for 
 another ! And thus his books went and came, until he 
 began strongly to suspect they were never read at all ! 
 And soon the young man ceased to be satisfied with his 
 books, and wanted his daughter ! That young man, he 
 told them, was now their pastor, and the rest they knew. 
 Mr. Dunbar, by his cheerfulness and pleasantry, made 
 himself the charm of the hour ; but this opportunity, like 
 all others which came in his way, was seized on to impress 
 on the minds of old and young their obligations to God 
 for temporal and spiritual good, and their solemn rela- 
 tions to him. With Mr. Dunbar, an innocent merry-mak- 
 ing was always turned to as good account for the benefit 
 of others as was any solemn event. He never forced 
 religion rudely forward on any occasion ; but brought it in 
 gently and with such a charm as made it always seem nat- 
 ural ; and thus w^as his Master w^elcomed and honored in 
 many a place, where, with another's introduction, he 
 might have been thrust out without a hearing. 
 
CHARACTERISTICS. 277 
 
 One of his dauo-liters visited him about tliis time, and 
 lie greatly enjoyed tidking ^vith her of his voyage and his 
 travels abroad ; but more partieularly of the beloved dead 
 whose memory, ever precious, was brought up anew at 
 the family meetings, where their presence was so sadly 
 missed. His time was now much broken up by applica- 
 tions for help of all kinds, and he requested her to make 
 several calls for him on family friends, and also on some 
 of the sick, to explain the reason of his not coming. He 
 was greatly troubled by hearing, on his return from 
 Philadelphia, that his dear friend and efficient helper, Dea- 
 con G., w^as ill, and he could not wait till his leisure came, 
 to learn that he was better. Never will his messenger for- 
 get the gratitude expressed In his countenance, when told 
 that this good man w^as restored to his usual health. That 
 gratitude extended to the one who brought the news, and 
 he thanked her again and again for thus relieving his mind. 
 
 This daughter accompanied him on Sabbath evening 
 dowm to his meeting. His theme was Heaven ; and his 
 own remarks and prayers, as well as those of the brethren, 
 were fervent and impressive. Mr. Dunbar gave out and 
 joined in singing that beautiful hymn appreciated only by 
 those who, having given themselves to God, are longing for 
 the time when they may serve him perfectly day and night 
 in his temple : — 
 
 " We speak of the realms of the blest, — 
 That couutiy so bright and so fair, — 
 And oft are its glories confessed ; 
 But what must it be to be there 1 " 
 
 At the close of the service, the flock gathered as usual 
 around the desk ; for we believe no one was wont to leave 
 24 
 
278 DUNCAN D UNBAR f 
 
 tlio McDougal Street vestry in those days without taking 
 the hand of the pastor ; — Hke a scattered family meeting at 
 niglit around their father, each to recount his progress 
 through the day, and to learn of the prosperity or the 
 trials of the others. 
 
 On leaving the place and walking homeward, Mr. Dun- 
 bar remarked, " This is a long walk for an old man like 
 me ; but that is all ; I am as comfortable as 1 can be ; they 
 are all so kind and attentive to me." 
 
 " He now complained often of being tired, and would 
 frequently say, " I am getting to be an old man," — a new 
 admission for him. When going to lie down in the day for 
 rest, he still always requested to be spoken to when any one 
 called for him. Often he would be disturbed two or three 
 times by the door-bell before he could find an hour for 
 sleep. 
 
 There were no idle moments in those few remaining 
 days of his' blessed life. 
 
 He went up the Hudson, about this time, to meet a little 
 party of children and grandchildren at Yonkers, and there 
 seemed as youthful in spirit as ever, entering heartily into 
 the amusements enjoyed with such a keen relish by the 
 young. At the table, where was gathered a little social 
 party, he interested them there by relating incidents in 
 his early ministry, proving how certainly God will aid 
 those, however weak and feeble, who resolve to establish 
 churches to his glory, proving his statements by referring 
 to the Eastport and South Berwick (Me.) churches, and 
 also many others where men and women resolved to make 
 personal sacrifice for Christ's sake. He also gave some 
 accounts of great revivals in the past, particularly the 
 one in Nobleboro', mentioned in the preceding pages. 
 
 At table he asked pleasantly of the pastor of the Yon- 
 
VISIT TO yONKERS. 279 
 
 kers Church, who was present, " Brother C, are my chil- 
 dren here kind to you ? " and, on being answered to his 
 satisfaction, he smiled, and said, " That is right. If ever 
 the time comes when they are not so, you must come 
 down to the city and let me know, and I shall come up 
 and see to them. Ministers' children know the trials of a 
 minister, and of all others they should be good parish- 
 ioners." 
 
 And once again in a few wrecks he repeated this visit 
 for a change and rest. The weather was exceedingly hot, 
 and he was urged to remain at least one day longer ; but 
 he could not be prevailed upon, as '' his hands were so full." 
 He visited the families of Mr. Stewart, Mr. Trevor, and 
 Mr. Jacob Hays, all of whom were then or had been 
 members of his church in McDougal Street. The mother 
 of Mr. Hays, a friend long and highly esteemed by Mr. 
 Dunbar, was at the time very ill, and he expressed great 
 fears that if he did not go then he might never see 
 her again in life. Well was it that he pursued his own 
 Avay and made these visits; for they were the last to those 
 dear fi'iends, who for so many years had welcomed him 
 to their homes with cordial and affectionate hospitality. 
 
 When Mr. Dunbar's children, who had been visiting in 
 New York, left for New England with a little family party, 
 he met them at the Boston boat some time before the hour 
 for saihng, and sat with them on the deck, talking in his 
 most s])rightly and entertaining manner. Never did he seem 
 more full of life and energy than when he there spoke of his 
 projected visit to them, and sent messages ot love to those 
 at their homes. But the victor's race was almost run, and 
 the crown, unseen by our poor vision, was even then de- 
 scending on him, — so soon to become a king and a priest 
 unto God. 
 
280 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 This parting was not in gloom or in tears, dearly as this 
 father was loved by his children ; for they did not realize, 
 that his age, added to all the other uncertainties of life, made 
 another meeting on earth doubtfnl. It was only regarded 
 as saying " good-by " for a few weeks, nntil his summer's 
 vacation should give him time to visit them, and " to grow 
 vouno- ao'ain in the bracino; air of New Enoland." 
 
 But for them there was to be no meetincr again, until 
 the one in that home where they shall go no more out for- 
 ever and where : — 
 
 " They who have safely gone before. 
 Whose feet grow weary never more, 
 Receive in that dear land of bliss 
 All their souls panted for in this ; 
 And their enjoyment ours shall be 
 When we have crossed the crystal sea." 
 
 Amid the waves and storms that for six months beat 
 around the frail " Halifax Packet," when wreck and star- 
 vation seemed vying with each other for the prey, there 
 rode another bark, bound for the same port. In the 
 first was the man of God in his early strength, girded for 
 the strife, panting for victory in his Master's cause, and 
 unwearied in his efforts to win over his foes ; on the other 
 a young sailor-boy, regardless of his eternal interests, and 
 anxious only to escape the dangers of the sea, and to reach 
 the desired haven. The same gale may have filled their 
 sails, the same waves washed their vessels' sides in the 
 darkness ; but they did not see each other's faces then. 
 Long years after this, however, they met as pastor and 
 hearer in McDougal Street, and a strong personal friend- 
 ship grew up between them. 
 
 Years ago, when Mr. Dunbar's family were about him, 
 he was at the house of this friend, Mr. George H. Irwin, 
 
VISIT TO YONKERS. 281 
 
 with Mrs. DunUir, at a social visit. He made some remark 
 on the lai-ge hospitality of his house, and said, in his pe- 
 culiar manner when in pleasantry, " When I have no 
 home of my own I shall know where to come." Mr. 
 Irwin re})Iied, " If that time ever comes, you shall have 
 a home here, Mr. Dunbar." Neither of them dreamed 
 that the contract thus playfully made would ever be ful- 
 f:Ued; but, long after this, when Mr. Dunbar souglit 
 permanency elsewhere in vain, this door was open to him ; 
 and here he found a home in place of the one death had 
 destroyed. 
 
 For a few^ short months these kind friends ministered to 
 his wants, and bore patiently with the poor, the sorrowful, 
 and the erring who came seeking their unwearying 
 helper ; and then the angel of death visited their dwell- 
 ing, clothed in no terror, and bore him a\vay to the joys 
 of his Lord. No strange hands were allowed to minister 
 to his wants ; no harsh sounds to break upon his ear ; but 
 everything that love and kindness could do was done to 
 save his hfe and to soothe his departing spirit. The grati- 
 tude of afflicted children and of a bereaved church will 
 ever be theirs, and the prayer that they in their old age and 
 dying hours may be cheered by the same tenderness which 
 they manifested toward this beloved and honored servant 
 of God. 
 
 24* 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 His Last Sabbath — Illness — Only Christ — Anxiety for the Church and the Country — 
 A Blessed Visit — Setting his House in Order — The Valley made Light — Visions 
 of Glory — Safe at Home — Funeral and Burial —Funeral Sermon. 
 
 *N Sabbath, July 16, Mr. Dunbar preached as usual 
 to his own people. In the morning his text was 
 Psalms xxxvii. 3 : " Trust in the Lord and do 
 good ; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily 
 thou shalt be fed ; " and in the afternoon, the last 
 clause of the 10th verse of the 81st Psalm : " Open 
 thy mouth, and I will fill it." He spoke with his ac- 
 customed vigor, and most impressively ; a dear friend say- 
 ing as she walked home, " If I should never again hear 
 Mr. Dunbar preach, I shall remember what I have heard 
 to-day through life." 
 
 On Monday night he was attacked with dysentery, ac- 
 companied by faintness, and not being better the next day, 
 his daughter living in Jersey City, was . sent for ; the 
 youngest one being at the time absent from him on a visit. 
 She found him suifering very severely, but patient, submis- 
 sive, and resigned to God's will. 
 
 " All Monday night," she writes, " I, with our kind 
 ^•iend. Miss L., watched with him. He never for one mo- 
 ment slept, but prayed incessantly for patience and strength 
 to bear all that might belaid upon him. 
 
 For three days and nights his sufferings were extreme : 
 he was nervous and much excited, so that it was very dif- 
 
 (282) 
 
LAST ILLNESS. 283 
 
 ficult to keep him quiet. He once said '' Oh, I vvisli I had 
 all my children about me ! " It was proposed to send at once 
 for them ; but he replied, " not yet : I do not Hke to give 
 them a false alarm." 
 
 Everything that affectionate daughters and sons, physi- 
 cians and friends could do, was done for him ; and on Fri- 
 day the 21st, he seemed improving, but said to his son-in- 
 law, Rev. Mr. Parmly, ''Sometimes I think I shall never 
 preach again, and it becomes a solemn thought whether I 
 have done my whole duty and am accepted in Christ I O 
 my son, preach Christ ! None but Jesus can do helpless 
 sinners good." On Saturday he continued better. On 
 Sunday, in her efforts to keep him quiet, his daughter asked 
 if she should read aloud. '' No," he said, " my brain is too 
 restless." Then she asked, "May I repeat some of your 
 favorite hymns ? " 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " say your dear mother's hymn : — 
 
 * Ye angels who stand round the throne — *" 
 adding, with deep feeling, — 
 
 " ' I want to put on my atth'e, 
 Washed white in the blood of the Lamb.' 
 
 You and dear Mrs. I. think I ought to keep still ; but 
 since I have been lying here, suffering in the body, I have 
 liad such views of eternity, such a sense of my sinfulness ! 
 My whole life appears now one continued scene of rebel- 
 lion against God ! How solemn to appear before the Judge 
 of the whole earth ! But my sins are not laid to my own 
 charo-e ! The blessed Redeemer stands between the naked 
 sinner and his offended God." 
 
 Then he began to plead with Christ that he would in- 
 tercede for him with the Father. 
 
 His daughter said, '' Father, it must now be a great 
 
284 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 comfort to you that you have brought so many souls, in- 
 strumentallv, to Christ, and comforted and encouraged so 
 many famting saints." " Oh," he cried, " that is nothing ! 
 
 ' Knowledge alas, 'tis all in vain, 
 And all in vain our fears, 
 
 If love be wanting there.' " 
 
 Tliese remarks were not made as if he doubted his in- 
 terest in Christ ; but rather to show how fully he trusted 
 in his blood alone, aside from all works. The one sacri- 
 fice for sin, which he had so long preached to others, was 
 now his own sole and perfect rehance. 
 
 As the hour for the prayer-meeting drew near, he said, 
 " See, my dear, who of the family are going to-night.^ — 1 
 cannot ; but oh, if God would only permit me once more 
 to stand before that dear people, I would talk to them as I 
 never talked before ! Oh, how I would lament my past 
 
 1 So important for the life of the church did Mr. Dunbar always consider 
 a regular attendance of the members on the devotional meetings, that in 
 one of the Association letters, he asks the body to decide the question, 
 " What course shall churches pursue toward tliose of their members who, 
 living convenient to the place of worship, and being in perfect health, 
 habitually absent themselves from prayer-meetings, shun the society of their 
 Christian brethren, and choose that of the world ? " 
 
 The following year, in accounting for a large number of exclusions, 
 the letter states that the fellowship of the church was withdrawn, in nearly 
 all these cases, for absence from the prayer-meeting and, for refusing, when 
 perfectly able to do it, to aid in sustaining the ordinances of God's house. 
 
 In the year 1847, Mr*. Dunbar's people were able to make the following 
 statement in their associational letter, comforting indeed to one whose views 
 of discipline were as rigid as his : " No case of discipline has called for the 
 action of this church since we last addressed your respected body and for 
 months before, except one — the exclusion of a brother residing in a dis- 
 tant part of the Union, and of whose conduct we were appi-ised by the faitii- 
 fulness of a ministering brother in that region ; and in disposing of thia 
 case, God graciously bestowed on the whole church, including the immedi- 
 ate family of the delinquent, ' one heart and one mind. '" 
 
LAST ILLNESS. 285 
 
 unfaithfulness, and ask their forgiveness I Oh that I could 
 look on their faces just once more, — the dear friends who 
 have been so kind to me all these long years ! 
 
 " If the Lord spares my life, it vv^ill be months before I 
 can preach again ; but He who has the hearts of all men 
 in his liaiid, will provide for my wants. My dear sons 
 and daughters all say I must rest. I will go to Newton 
 first, as soon as able. G. and M. will nurse me ; and J. is 
 so near. Mary can go with me. How I am blessed ! " 
 
 During these first days of his illness, his mind seemed 
 pressed with care about the country and the church. He 
 asked every one wdio came in if there was any news from the 
 army, and always inquired who was at the prayer-meeting. 
 One evening, one of the young brethren came in after the 
 meeting, to watch with him. He asked by name if one 
 and another Avere there ; when answered repeatedly in the 
 negative, he drew a heavy sigh, and exclaimed, '' Oh, 
 why will they not be faithfiil ! " 
 
 " We were now," writes his daughter, " much encour- 
 aged, the physician assuring us that he was still improving ; 
 his years and his unwillingness to remain quiet seemed the 
 only things against him." 
 
 In the first week of his illness, a young member of his 
 church, who watched with him, says, he asked, about day- 
 break, '' What o'clock is it ? " and being answered, " Five,'' 
 he repeated those beautiful lines, — 
 
 " Lord, in the morning thou shalt hear 
 My voice ascending high ; 
 To thee I will direct my prayer, 
 To thee lift up mine eye." 
 
 He then engaged in prayer most fervently, thanking 
 God for the preservation of life during the night, and ask- 
 in*: that this sickness mio;ht not be unto death, but for tlie 
 
286 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 glorj of God and for tlie accomplishment of his purposes ; 
 but added, " Nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done, 
 O Lord." He prayed for the church, that God would 
 give the members sound judgment rightly to understand 
 the truth and to stand firm in the faith once delivered to 
 the saints. He implored God to be with the sick, to com- 
 fort the sorrowing, to bless the Sunday school, and to 
 bring sinners unto Christ. He plead for the country, whose 
 interests ever lay so near his heart, that God would send 
 peace, — peace with righteousness, — that we might have a 
 proper settlement of our troubles according to God's will ; 
 that brother might no longer shed the blood of brother. 
 When, nearly exhausted, he exclaimed, " O Lord, I know 
 not where to stop, but thou know est all our wants ; dis- 
 play thy power and accomplish thy purposes, for the sake 
 of Jesus Christ, thy blessed Son, our blessed Saviour." 
 
 During the same night he said, " James, I have one re- 
 quest to make of you. When 3'ou meet with any mem- 
 ber of the church whom you believe to be 2i prayiny mem- 
 ber, ask him to pray that this sickness may not be unto 
 death, but for the spiritual good of myself and the church ; 
 that it may awaken us all to more earnestness in God's 
 cause, and more anxiety for impenitent sinners. I should 
 ike to live a little longer, that I may be enabled to wipe 
 off the rust that has been accumulating for years upon me. 
 But it may be the Lord is done with my unworthy services, 
 and is about to remove me. Perhaps this is best ; ' His 
 ways are not our ways, nor his thoughts our thoughts.' " 
 
 This young friend replied, " Your thoughts are not your 
 people's thoughts ; they all think you have been very 
 faithful, and do not see how you could possibly have been 
 more so." Mr. Dunbar shook his head and smiled, as if 
 to say, " that is but the verdict of your affectionate heart." 
 
LAST ILLNESS. 287 
 
 During these days of weakness and suffering he seemed 
 drawn with peculiar affection toward all around him. Every 
 ring of the bell excited him, lest some one might go away 
 disappointed at not seeing him or at least receiving a mes- 
 sage from his lips. A neighboring pastor, beside whom he 
 had labored long, and for whom he had gi'eat respect and 
 affection, called one morning to inquire for him. Pru- 
 dence forbade the admission of company into his room ; 
 but when he learned that Dr. W. had been and gone with- 
 out his knowing it, he was greatly disappointed, and could 
 not rest until the kind friend with whom he resided offered 
 to go t-G his house, explain to him that very few were al- 
 lowed to go in, but that, had he known who was there 
 he should have insisted on seeing him ; and also to 
 get the promise of a visit on the following day. Thus 
 toward all his friends he felt more love, as the parting 
 hour drew on. Another ministering brother, to whom 
 Mr. Dunbar was most tenderly attached, called one 
 day during his illness, and manifested such an af- 
 fectionate interest in all his personal matters as to make 
 his visit a great blessing. When he left, Mr. Dunbar said 
 to the daughter who was with him, while tears filled his eyes, 
 " My dear, the Saviour could not come to me in person 
 to-day, so he sent dear brother Osgood to comfort me ! " 
 
 Again it was proposed that all his children should be 
 sent for ; but he said, " Wait till I am a little stronger." 
 When his youngest daughter returned from Yonkers, 
 she was greatly shocked at his appearance and at seeing 
 her brother-in-law lift him in his arms, like a child, from 
 the bed to the sofa. But when his bed was arranged, 
 and lie re])laced in it, she saw less change than when 
 phe had first entered his room. He seemed so like 
 himself tliat she wondered she had felt any alarm. He 
 
288 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 thanked Mr. W. for lifting lilm so carefully, and speak 
 ing to him, but looking at her, said, " When she needs 
 a little recreation and country air, you always take her 
 away from me ; but the moment I need her you bring her 
 back ! " And after that, through the remaining days of 
 his illness, he would often reach out his hand to clasp hers, 
 repeating over and over again, " O Mary ! O Mary ! 
 O Mary ! " When she had been ministering to his 
 comfort, he would exclaim, " There is so much for a child 
 to do for a father ! " Once, he said to her, " They were 
 all as kind to me as they could be, before you came 
 back ; but O Mary, I missed mother ! I missed mother ! " 
 For a few days he remained much the same, — his 
 symptoms not being considered dangerous ; but he 
 seemed unnatural much of the time from the effect of 
 opiates. When free from them, he talked incessantly, 
 one subject following another in quick succession, some- 
 times clearly, but again as if the mind were wandering. 
 Places and persons at the ends of the earth occupied his 
 thoughts, and every one's troubles became his own. He 
 worried a great deal about the poor, talked of all the 
 societies in which he was engaged, expressing hoj^e that 
 things would be so managed that those for whose benefit 
 they were formed might get all the money intended for 
 thorn. The smallest matters became intensified in his 
 mind. One day he worried much about the photo- 
 graphs of dear friends, — the late Hon. Joseph Taylor 
 and wife, — which Mrs. T. had promised him, but which 
 he had failed to get by missing her when in Philadelphia. 
 He requested his daughter to write at once for them, 
 and to ask all the minute particulars of Mr. T.'s sick- 
 ness and deatli, his exact age, and all that he said in 
 his last hours. She left the room to write ; but scarcely 
 
LAST ILLNESS. 289 
 
 was she seated in the study, when he called her back, 
 asking with a grieved look, " Why did you leave me 
 here an hour alone ? " He then dropped asleep for a 
 moment, and on waking asked if the letters he had just 
 dictated had all been written. Thus that day passed, and 
 not a moment was found to write for the photographs. 
 The very next morning a letter came, and he was greatly 
 rejoiced, on opening it, to see the faces of the friends on 
 whom his mind had been so fixed. He called for his 
 spectacles, and examined the pictures over and over, as 
 also the beautiful letter which accompanied them. And 
 thus through his sickness his smallest desire was mercifully 
 gratified. 
 
 When wakeful and conscious, every breath was spent 
 in audible prayer, exhortation, or recitation of favorite 
 hymns. The constant endeavor of those around him 
 was to keep him quiet, according to the strict orders of 
 his physicians ; and he would strive to regard their wishes, 
 when reminded of the importance of rest ; but in a mo- 
 ment his Hps would overflow with the themes with 
 which his soul was filled. He would not allow his 
 youngest daughter out of his sight, even though two 
 others were beside him. On waking he always w^anted 
 to take her hand, once saying, as he did so, '' Some- 
 thing tangible, something tangible ! There surely must 
 be somethincr tanmble left of earth ! " 
 
 One morning, feeling much encouraged about himself, 
 he said to this daughter, " Close the door just half 
 way, my child." She did so, thinking it had been too 
 light or too cool for him. But he motioned her to the 
 bedside, and said, " Just kneel here for a moment and 
 thank God that I am so much better." He wanted all 
 the deacons and brethren who came to inquire for 
 
 25 
 
290 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 him, to come into his room and pray, but this, of 
 course, could not be allowed, when his brain was so 
 active, and his other powers so weak. Once, on being 
 told who had called, he requested that a list might be 
 kept of all who did so, that, when he recovered, he might 
 not think any one who had taken this trouble had been 
 forgetful of him. 
 
 He called acrain and again for his desk, and after each 
 eifort to write, would sink exhausted ; but no sooner was 
 it removed, than he had it brought back. When told that 
 he would soon be well, and have time enough to attend to 
 all these things, he said, '' I'm better now than I ever ex- 
 pected to be ; and perhaps I may get well, though for so 
 many days I've been lying at death's door. If it is the 
 Lord's will, I should like to live to do two or three things 
 more ; but if not, I feel that everything has conspired to 
 make this the best time for me to die ! But I cannot 
 rest till these little things are attended to, lest I may not 
 recover." 
 
 He then gave his daughter several sums of money to be 
 given to friends who had been kind in his sickness, wishing 
 each to select some little keepsake, as he could not go out 
 to do it himself. He seemed distressed lest she might not 
 make them understand his motive so as to accept the gift. 
 When he was told that they promised to do so, to gratify 
 him, he manifested more pleasure than at anything during 
 his illness. He then requested twenty dollars, the bal- 
 ance of a little sum he had promised the young church in 
 Allentown, Pa., to be laid aside, with directions for send- 
 ing it. He gave his daughter his life policy, regretting 
 that it was not for a larger sum, and showed all the 
 receipts, and explained the business to her, saying that, 
 if he recovered, he should not rest till he increased it ; 
 
VISIONS OF GLORY. 291 
 
 adding tenderly, '* You see your father thinks of you.'* 
 Thus he continued to converse, in a perfectly rational, 
 although somewhat excited manner, until so overcome 
 that he slept for hours. 
 
 All business matters for himself or others, were left in 
 perfect order. In closing his own, he said, with an expres- 
 sion of gratitude, " O Mary, what a mercy to owe no 
 man a dollar ! " There was no mournino; that after so 
 long and laborious a life he had laid up no treasures for 
 his children ; but gratitude that he had been enabled to deal 
 justly W'ith all men. Such is the unselfish spirit of the 
 true minister of Christ. 
 
 About five o'clock in the afternoon of Thursday, the 
 second week of his illness, the air became very sultry 
 and oppressive, and he sank into a state of disturbed ex- 
 haustion. His daughter left him from twelve at night 
 till five in the morning, with one of his brethren whom 
 she knew to be an excellent nurse. About that time he 
 became excited, beiro-ino: to sjo " into the street, on to 
 the Atlantic — anywhere ! " He asked, in pleading tones, 
 " Couldn't I go in a carriage, if the horses just walked 
 down the avenue?" When reminded that he was so 
 weak that he sometimes fainted when his head was raised, 
 he said, '' Oh, yes, you told me that yesterday, and I forgot 
 it." It was but a moment before ; but he had lost the 
 power of reckoning time. 
 
 When his daughter was fanning him, he suddenly lifted 
 his hands, and raising his eyes upward, with a beautiful 
 expression, and as if he saw a form invisible to those 
 around him, exclaimed, " Whose child is it ? Whose 
 child just going to glory ? " And with his tones gradu- 
 ally softening, he added, " And its wings just touching 
 the border." 
 
2^2 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 Ho was told til at he was dreaming, and that it was 
 only the fan which had accidentally touched him. " Oh, 
 no," he said, " Oh, no, I see it ; its wings just touched 
 the border. Aoain he said, as if lookino; into the unseen 
 world, " Col. Fuller, of Connecticut — forty years ago." 
 
 When the physicians came in the morning, they saw a 
 great change, and feared effusion of water on the brain ; but 
 hoped it might be but the effect of nervous depression after 
 the great efforts of the previous day. Stimulants kept up 
 the pulse for some hours, when it began gradually to fail. 
 He lay in a stupor all that day and the next night, only 
 rousing himself to take his nourishment and medicine. 
 Once during his last night he called, as if missing the sweet 
 presence, " Mother ! mother ! " And again he asked, " Is 
 there a hai-p here ? " He was answered, " There is no 
 harp here." But it occurred to his daughter that he might 
 mean the little hymn-book, used in his vestry, and that 
 was brought. He then asked her to read the hymn, be- 
 ginning ; — 
 
 " Servant of God, well done/' 
 
 There were but three verses in the book, and he asked 
 for a copy of Montgomery's poems. This not being at 
 hand, he repeated the whole hymn, as if to see whether he 
 could apply it to himself. After his death, a copy of it, 
 in full, was found in a drawer of papers which had not 
 been unlocked for months. 
 
 When his children were by him, he would say repeat- 
 edly, " O my son ! O my children ! O my son, my 
 son ! " 
 
 Toward evening, on Friday, after having lain long in a 
 state of stupor, he spoke out, when his daughter asked, 
 " What did you say, dear father ? " 
 
FUNERAL. 2yb 
 
 He replied, " I was saying, ' Thou, Lord, knowest nie 
 by my name. ' " 
 
 After this he said no more until just before he died, 
 when the word, " Happy, happy ! " was repeated dis- 
 tinctly. All clouds had vanished ; and his soul was even 
 then basking in the smile of Him, whom, not having seen, 
 he had so long loved and honored. 
 
 All the absent children of Mr. Dunbar had been sum- 
 moned to him by telegraph. Those nearest, reached his 
 bedside in time to see him pass away ; but the others 
 only came to hear the sad words, " Too late." He fell 
 asleep in Jesus on Saturday morning, July 30, 1864,' and 
 ascended to meet the beloved who had gone before him 
 to the rest that reraaineth for the people of God. Bitter 
 as was the anguish of this parting, it was no small com- 
 fort to his children, his church, and his friends, to think 
 of the exceeding joy with which he would greet the hun- 
 dreds of ransomed souls God had given him while here, 
 and join wdth them in hallelujahs to Him who loved them, 
 and who gave himself for them. 
 
 During the three days preceding his burial, the house 
 was one scene of weeping and lamentation. Until far into 
 the night, members of the church and other personal 
 friends gathered around the beloved form for a last, tear- 
 ful look ; many, particularly the aged, the afflicted, and the 
 poor, feeling that earth could never fill the place now 
 made void. The sobs and tears of the- lambs of his fold, 
 whom he so tenderly loved, were a beautiful tribute to his 
 memory. 
 
 His funeral was very largely attended from the Mc- 
 Dougal Street Church ; Rev. Howard Osgood, at the re- 
 quest of the family, taking charge of the services. A 
 just and beautiful eulogy on Mr. Dunbar's character, 
 
 1 In the 74th vear of his age. 
 
294 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 was delivered by Rev. W. R. Williams, D. D., than 
 whom no city pastor knew him better, they having 
 labored side by side for more than thirty years. Drs. 
 Somers, Dowling, Anderson, and others, took part in the 
 solemn services ; and many other ministering brethren 
 mingled their tears with those of the bereaved family and 
 church. 
 
 When the remains were placed beneath the pulpit amid 
 the tears and sobs of the multitude gathered there, a strange 
 lady came forward, and placed in the hands of one of 
 the deacons a cross made of his own beloved heather, from 
 his native hills, with a request that it might be laid on the 
 breast of the sleeper. Well was it that he who loved both 
 America and Scotland with the heart of a patriot, should 
 rest in the dust of the one, with the flowers of the other 
 above his heart. 
 
 From the church the remains were borne to Greenwood, 
 and laid beside hers whom he had so sadly missed, in his 
 hours of health and happiness, as well as on liis dying bed. 
 But being dead he yet speaketh, by his long, loving, and 
 useful life, as well as by his peaceful death, to his family, 
 his church, and to the community in which he was so 
 widely known, bidding them all to work while the day 
 lasts, for the night cometh in which no man can work. 
 
 At the request of the church. Rev. Dr. Anderson 
 preached a memorial sermon a few weeks after his death, 
 his theme being, " A Blameless Ministry." He gave a 
 sketch of the life and labors of the departed, and showed, 
 in a manner highly gratifying to those who loved him, his 
 earnestness, ability, and fidelity, from his birth into the 
 family of God even to the end, when he fell asleep, with 
 his armor bright from service, and his lamp trimmed and 
 burning. 
 
TRIBUTES FROxM THE POOR. 295 
 
 It was most touching to witness the many poor, aged, 
 and sorrowful, of all nations and colors, who gathered with 
 bereaved hearts at his funeral. Each one had a secret 
 buried in his heart of tlie charity he had received from 
 that hand now cold in death ; of the gentle, encouragint^ 
 word from tliosc now silent lips. Those nearest the coffin, 
 who mourned him more deeply than all others, were 
 greatly comforted by the tears of these whom he used to 
 call so tenderly, " our poor friends." 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Letters from Early Friends — Tribute of Rev. Octavius "Winslow, D. D. — of Rev How- 
 ard Osgood — Mr. W. H, S. J. — Deacon Griffith. 
 
 '^^NE of Mr. Dunbar's earliest friends in America 
 
 writes to the person who had informed her of his 
 
 death : — 
 
 " I received your letter last evening, and was 
 
 not a little shocked at the intelligence it contained. 
 
 Dear Mr. Dunbar ! Is it true that I shall never 
 meet his kind, genial hand-grasp again? — never again 
 look in his benevolent face ? Alas ! I feel that I have 
 sustained a personal bereavement in his death. He was 
 one of the very few old friends left me, and now he 
 is gone ! Gone to his unspeakable rew^ard, I doubt not. 
 But what a loss to his church, to the community in which 
 his influence was felt only for good, to his circle of bosom 
 friends, and last and most of all, to his sorrowing chil- 
 dren !........ 
 
 " Forty-two years have I known and loved our venera- 
 ble friend ; and in all that time I have felt no abatement 
 of my interest in him, nor seen any inconsistency on his 
 part to diminish my respect and esteem. It is no small 
 comfort to me now, that I aided in granting him the de- 
 sire of his heart, — to revisit his native land last year. I 
 recollect saying to him in my letter on that subject, that 
 probably, at his time of life, he could hardly hope to re- 
 peat the visit, and urged that as a reason why he should 
 
 (296 i 
 
LETTER OP SYMPATHY. 297 
 
 allow himself ample time. Little did I think how near 
 his journey's end he was ! I had always imagined he 
 would live to a very advanced age ; but he is through 
 with his toils, and has already, I trust, received the wel 
 come, ' Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou 
 into the joy of thy Lord.' 
 
 "• How your mother and E. will miss him. The latter 
 felt for him almost the affection of a child. As to my 
 own feelings, I can hardly analyze them at present. I 
 shall feel more aIo7ie in the world than ever before. Your 
 mother is now all that is left me of ' auld lang syne ; ' 
 and I tremble when I think by what a frail tenure that 
 last link remains unbroken. . . . N. S." 
 
 Upon hearing of his death, Rev. Dr. Kennard wrote to 
 one of the family : " For thirty- three years, he was my 
 faithful, sympathizing friend and adviser. I know not the 
 man on earth I loved more than I did your honored fa- 
 ther ; and when he fell by the death-shaft, I was deeply 
 affected. When I had the pleasure of meeting him in our 
 May meetings, we little thought how short his time was. 
 I deeply sympathize with you all in your affliction in 
 the loss of a loving parent. But your father's God is 
 also your God, and will be your guide even unto death." 
 
 Rev. Octavius Winslow, D. D., of Bath, Eng., was a 
 most valued and beloved friend of Mr. Dunbar. For 
 years they kept up a correspondence, beautiful both for its 
 spirituality and its affection, under the significant names 
 of '' David " and " Jonathan." 
 
 Dr. Winslow writes : " Mr. Dunbar's history in its 
 earlier and more interesting incidents was strangely 
 blended with the family recollections of the writer." 
 (Here follows a full account of the wreck of the '' Hah- 
 
298 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 fax Packet," when Mr. Dunbar became the guest of Dr. 
 Winslow's honored grandmother, Mrs. Grant, on one of 
 the Bermudas.) 
 
 " It was no inhospitable or unchristianized shore to 
 which the famished missionaries were tlms driven. White- 
 field, the great apostle of his age, had j^ears before sought 
 repose and health amid its citron groves and balmy 
 breezes. The traces of his sojourn lived still in the pre- 
 cious fruit of souls converted to God through his labors. 
 A Christian church had been gathered, which, though 
 small and feeble, was holding up the lamp of God's truth 
 amid much spiritual darkness and religious formalism. 
 Their minister, being about to dedicate a new chapel, 
 longed and prayed for the sympathy and aid of his breth- 
 ren in the ministry. God heard his prayers and guided 
 to them the distressed vessel bearing these missionaries 
 just as their sanctuary was ready for the solemn service 
 of dedication. God, who comforteth them that are cast 
 down, cheered the heart of his servant by the coming of 
 Mr. Dunbar and his associates. Mr. Dunbar preached 
 one of the dedication sermons from Gen. xxv. 19. 
 
 " Such, briefly, was the event, so signally exhibiting the 
 finger of God, from which is dated the commencement 
 of an intimacy between the beloved subject of this memoir 
 and some dear to me, who now blend their spirits with his 
 before the throne of God and the Lamb, in the perfect and 
 eternal fellowship of heaven. 
 
 " The pen of a long-existing and warm friendship at- 
 tempting the portrait of such a devoted servant of Christ 
 as Mr. Dunbar, is, necessarily, in danger of exaggeration. 
 The original appears to the eye of the admiring artist so 
 beautiful and faultless, that, whatever defects there may 
 be in the statue which the chisel moulds, the ideal is the 
 
LETTER OF SYMPATHY. 299 
 
 only and prevailing conception of the sculptor's mind. 
 Mr. Dunbar was no ordinary man. His natural charac- 
 ter was itself a study, composed of some of the noblest 
 elements, and adorned with some of the rarest traits, of 
 humanity. Even apart from divine grace, his natural or- 
 ganization would be considered by many, one of the most 
 faultless of the species. He was princely great. Possess- 
 ing one of the kindest hearts, combined with one of the 
 most generous and high-minded souls, sweetened with a 
 disposition extremely amiable and winning, it was * the 
 daily beauty of his life ' to increase the happiness and pro- 
 mote the well-being, temporal and spiritual, of all who 
 were privileged to participate in his friendship and appeal 
 to his sympathy. 
 
 " In sketching the Christian character of one possessing 
 such native loveliness, it is often as difficult to distinguish 
 nature fi'om grace, as to define where the rays of the rain- 
 bow commence or terminate. But Mr. Dunbar's relig- 
 ious character was an exception to this rule. The grace 
 of God in him was so strongly marked, his Christianity 
 was so fully developed, his holy and consistent life stood 
 out in such bold relief, that, lovely as he was by nature, 
 that lovehness was eclipsed by the transcendent beauty of 
 holiness which clad and adorned him. The Holy Spirit 
 moved upon him in early life. He was brought to know 
 the plague of his own heart, to feel that he was a sinner, 
 and to see that the amiable instincts of nature were not 
 holiness ; that the works of righteousness, which his own 
 obedience wrought, were, in the sight of the holy and 
 heart-searching God, but as ' splendid sins.' Discovering 
 tlie moral leprosy, failing of peace with God by the deeds of 
 the law, and with a guiltrburdened conscience and a heart 
 bowed with sorrow, the same divine Spirit who convinced 
 
800 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 him of sin discovered to him the remedy, and led him to 
 ' Christ, the end of the law for righteousness to every one 
 that believeth.' In faith receiving Christ, he passed from 
 the gloomy region of guilt, into the meridian sunshine of 
 God's forgiving love. Henceforth, until his sun went 
 down, cloudless and glorious, his path was that of the just, 
 shining more and more until lost in perfect and eternal 
 day. This was the foundation of his remarkable effi- 
 ciency and usefulness as a preacher, and of his high 
 moral position in the Christian church as a man of God. 
 Apart from experimental religion, a renewed mind, a 
 Christ-adoring soul, a loving heart and a holy life, the min- 
 isterial vocation, the most exalted and useful, as the most 
 solemn and appalling with which mortal can be invested, 
 becomes rather a badge of shame than the insignia of 
 honor ; a calamity, rather than a blessing ; a weight, 
 sinking its blinded and unhappy possessor into the deepest 
 woe, rather than pinions of Hght and love floating him to 
 the highest pinnacle of glory and bliss. 
 
 " The spirituality of Mr. Dunbar was above the ordinary- 
 standard. He was remarkably a man of prayer. When 
 he closed the sacred Book, and turned from man to ad- 
 dress himself to God, his real forte and true power were 
 conspicuous. It was then that he appeared in his high- 
 est glory. 
 
 " His varied approaches at the Throne of Grace, — in the 
 pulpit, at the church meetings, at the administration of 
 baptism, presiding at the Lord's supper, at the ordination ; 
 above and beyond all, in the season of affliction, at the 
 bed of sickness, at the couch of languor, in the house of 
 mourning, — will long be precious and fragrant in the 
 memories of thousands who will hear that fervent voice 
 pouring forth the solemn utterance of a loving, sympa- 
 
LETTER OF SYMPATHY. 301 
 
 thizing heart no more. Were we to search for the hidden 
 spring of his personal piety, ministerial power, consistent 
 walk, and his honored reputation as a pastor and Chris- 
 tian, we should perliaps find it in his prevaihng power 
 with God in prayer. 
 
 '' It were trite to remark of Mr. Dunbar's ministry, that 
 it was decidedly evangelical. And yet in a day when 
 many assume the title but as the badge of a party, adopting 
 and wearing it apart from that high scriptural order of 
 ministerial excellence which the term implies, it is of the 
 utmost importance that, in sketching the character of Mr. 
 Dunbar, this essential and all-commanding feature should 
 assume its distinct and proper position in our portrait. As 
 a preacher, he was preeminently evangelical. The gospel 
 trumpet, as blown by him, gave forth no vague, uncertain 
 sound. " Christ crucified" was the grand theme of his 
 ministry, the central object, around which were draped in 
 graceful festoons all the great fundamental doctrines, pre- 
 cepts, and promises of the gospel. The doctrines of grace 
 were precious to his heart, and formed the staple of his 
 ministry, imparting a living power to his preaching and to 
 his life. I will not say that he preached the doctrines of 
 Calvin or of Paul, but emphatically the doctrines of Christ ; 
 truths revealed by Christ, taught by Christ, of which Christ 
 was the author, substance, the sweetness, and the glory. 
 Those divine truths which abase the sinner and which exalt 
 the Saviour, which promote the sanctity and comfort of 
 the saints, and build up the church of God, were faithfully 
 and effectually preached and holily exemplified, and formed 
 the beautiful mosaic in the ministry and life of our de- 
 parted friend. 
 
 " I cannot conclude this imperfect sketch without a refer- 
 ence to a marked feature of Mr. Dunbar's personal Chris- 
 
 26 
 
302 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 tianity, — his Christian catholicity. No man ever held his 
 distinctive principles with firmer tenacity or more uncom- 
 promising loyalty to the Lord Jesas Christ, and yet with 
 greater breadth of Christian tolerance and love than did 
 my beloved fi-iend. 
 
 "Conscious of human infirmities while in the body, — 
 and to no eye were they more visible than his own, — he 
 is now mingling with the * spirits of just men made 'perfect ; ' 
 and, washed from every sin in the atoning blood, he is now, 
 * without a fault,' before the throne of God and of the Lamb. 
 Very pleasant hast thou been to me, my brother ! " 
 
 Rev. Howard Osgood, a dear friend and neighboring 
 pastor in New York, writes of Mr. Dunbar : — 
 
 " In a time of deep trial God sent to me his beloved 
 servant. Rev. Duncan Dunbar, to refresh me with his 
 sympathy, support me with his counsel, and by his exam- 
 ple to confirm me in the truth. He had long been conver- 
 sant with wounded hearts, and had learned fi:'om the Chief 
 Physician how to treat them, — an art known to few. 
 Himself tried by long experience and comforted of God, he 
 was able, by revealing that experience, to comfort those 
 who were cast down. He knew what it was to have the 
 sufferings of Christ abound in him, and he had received 
 in himself the priceless reward of such service, — the over- 
 flowing consolation of Christ, and the delight of imparting 
 that consolation to others. 
 
 " This may explain the seeming inconsistency between 
 his experience and his appearance. No one would ever 
 suppose, from any outward sign, that he had been trained 
 by bearing heavy crosses ; yet, were the burdens and trials 
 he had borne summed up, men who do not know the 
 secret of the Lord would be astonished that he ever smiled. 
 
LETTERS FROM FRIENDS. 
 
 Cheer and joy and happiness beamed from every feature 
 His presence was a rebuke to gloom. His Hie was an 
 epistle of God against murmuring. A childlike, harmless 
 playfulness of spirit imparted a genial warmth to every 
 word. 
 
 " He loved the gospel. It was every-day glad tidings 
 to him ; for, in his sight, Duncan Dunbar was the greatest 
 miracle of God's grace. Every day he found something 
 new in it for his soul's nourishment. To him the gospel 
 narratives were not merely histories of Christ's walking 
 and talking and dealing graciously with men ; but they 
 were also prophecies and promises, sealed with the blood 
 of the Lamb, — of a similar, daily, personal presence with 
 his people in all ages. They were living oracles, — not 
 merely the basis of a logical system of divinity, but the 
 fountain of the power of endless life. While he held with 
 great distinctness and firmness that system of doctrine 
 known as Calvinistic, because the Bible taught it to him, 
 and he most truly beheved it, yet he did not pretend to 
 bound God's revelation by man's logic. His faith was 
 far higher and deeper than his logic. The truth first en- 
 tered his heart and so affected his intellect. His faith led 
 and directed his train of reasoning. 
 
 " His whole intercourse with his friends gave proof of 
 this abiding and ever-deepening love for Christ and his gos- 
 pel. He was deeply learned in the school of personal ex- 
 perience with Christ. ' He weakened his ear to hear as 
 the learned,' and He gave him ' the tongue of the learned 
 to know how to speak a word in season to him that is 
 weary.' His learning was profitable both for this life and 
 for that which is to come. 
 
 " Under the cross, Jesus had taught him to discern the 
 devices of the natural heart, deceitful above all things and 
 
304 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 incurable. He knew it as the skilful pilot knows the 
 reefs and eddies and uncertain currents of some dangerous 
 channel. He knew it for himself and for others also. En- 
 deared as he was to those who heard him preach the Sav- 
 iour he loved, he became knit in indissoluble bonds to 
 those to whom he ministered. He was a pastor for the 
 heart. Those who drew near to him could not fail to see 
 and feel that, while his deepest affections were given to 
 Christ, no human sorrow was there in which he did not 
 sympathize, no human joy which did not awaken a re- 
 sponsive chord in his heart. None gave their hearts more 
 unreservedly to Mr. Dunbar than little children ; for chil- 
 dren often discern the heart with clearer vision than those 
 who are older. 
 
 He was strong in those traits which endear a man to 
 his brother ; his sympathy was cordial, earnest, active ; it 
 was proved by actions as well as by words. No self-denial 
 was too great for him to bear, if he could alleviate a woe, 
 or add to another's joy. His affections clasped tightly 
 around his fi'iends ; he had no ear for the whisperings of 
 suspicion. Faithful and true, his friends always knew 
 where to find him. His word was his bond, no matter 
 how much unexpected trouble it brought him to fulfil it. 
 It could be relied on to the last jot and tittle. 
 "Generosity was both a necessity and a principle with 
 him. The love of Christ, which filled his heart to over- 
 flowing, made its way to the world in a channel of gener- 
 osity. The last few dollars in his pocket were given as 
 cheerfully, and pressed as eagerly upon the poor, as if he 
 had a balance of a hundred thousand in the bank." 
 
 " The following letter to one of the family, from a gentle- 
 man of piety and culture in the Episcopal Church, shows 
 
LETTERS FROM FRIENDS. 305 
 
 how Mr. Dunbar was esteemed as a man and a minister 
 outside of his own denomination : — 
 
 " I cannot refrain from expressing to you the deep feel- 
 ings I have experienced in learning of the death of my 
 greatly esteemed friend, the Rev. Mr. Dunbar. My rec- 
 ollection of him is associated with many of my earliest and 
 tenderest memories ; and though I have been privileged 
 to meet him only at long intervals, there is no Christian 
 minister I have ever known who so spontaneously com- 
 manded my highest respect for his faithful standard of du- 
 ty, and the hearty earnestness of his devotion to its every 
 requirement. I have loved to recur to him as beautifully 
 illustrating, in his entireness of sympathy with all his peo- 
 ple, my ideal of a true, earnest, and devoted minister of 
 Jesus Christ. My earnest sympathies go out for those 
 who have known him in the tender relations of home. 
 It is a rare blessing to have had the guidance and fellow- 
 ship of such a parent, and I can imagine the deep shadow 
 that the removal of such a genial, cheerful, hopeful spirit, 
 will cast on those who knew him best in these relations. 
 
 " To those of my own relatives, to whom for years he has 
 been at once a pastor, a cherished friend, and an almost 
 daily counsellor, the blow is indeed one the severity of 
 which time will but slightly alleviate. But for himself, how 
 much cause for o-ratitude there was in all the circumstances 
 
 o 
 
 of his life ! Was he not blessed more than usually in his 
 Christian and social relations, in his family, in the dura- 
 tion as well as in the active and effective usefulness of his 
 life, and the cherished memory he bears to all who ever 
 knew him ? 
 
 W. H.S.J." 
 
 2«» 
 
306 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 A valued friend in the Budd Street Church, Philadel- 
 phia, writes : — 
 
 " The Lord abundantly owned and blessed the truths 
 preached in such kindness and love by our dear, departed 
 and beloved pastor. The precious seed he sowed was like 
 bread cast upon the waters, to be found after many days. 
 Very many, who have since then related the dealings of God 
 with their souls in their first awakenings, say that they 
 were first convinced that they were sinners and felt their 
 need of a Saviour, while sitting under Mr. Dunbar's min- 
 istry. He did, indeed, preach the truth in sincerity and 
 simplicity, and God owned and blessed his work. 
 
 " Never shall I forget the deep sorrow we felt when 
 our faithful friend and pastor resigned his charge of our 
 church. We bless the Lord that ever we were privileged 
 to become acquainted with him, and that he inclined his 
 heart towards us, and gave us a place in his affections." 
 
 The following letter from Trenton, New Jersey, will 
 show the esteem in which Mr. Danbar was held by the 
 church over which he presided for a short time there. 
 
 '' His stay with us, though short, is remembered by the 
 church as comprising a most interesting portion of her his- 
 tory. Being ripe in years and experience, and withal a 
 man full of the Holy Ghost and good works, the relation- 
 ship of near kindred manifested itself between him and 
 the elder brethren. There was great similarity of views 
 between them, and they reposed implicit confidence in his 
 judgment in matters of church polity and other subjects 
 relating to the progress of the Redeemer's kingdom. 
 This affinity was never more apparent than in Mr. Dun- 
 bar's social intercourse with the class alluded to, most of 
 whom have now joined company with him in the better 
 land. Our church has been blessed with other good pas- 
 
LETTERS FROM FRIENDS. 307 
 
 tors, younger in years, and on this account it may truly be 
 said that none of them during the same length of time 
 ever had so great an influence. 
 
 " With the younger portion of the church, the feeling 
 towards Mr. Dunbar was of a different character. They 
 did not consider themselves his immediate associates, as did 
 the older members of the family. They regarded him as 
 a father, and cherished an earnest desire to follow whither 
 he might lead the way ; and from trustworthy data in our 
 possession, that following ever was to know the Lord. It 
 is a most gratifying fact, that not one of this class whom 
 it was his privilege to lead to the Saviour, has become 
 weary of the journey, or turned from God, — a convincing 
 proof of the thoroughness of his teaching, and the great 
 caution he displayed in encouraging applicants for admis- 
 sion to the church. He aimed to have all such thoroughly 
 indoctrinated in the great truths and principles which form 
 the basis of Christian belief and character. 
 
 " But perhaps with none were these feelings of .ove 
 and attachment stronger than with the Sunday-school 
 children ; and groups of them gathering around the min- 
 ister was no uncommon sight. On one such occasion, 
 T distinctly remember, as he stood by the stove in our 
 quaint old lecture-room, with many a bright eye throw- 
 ing back the reflection of his cheerful, animated face, Mr. 
 Dunbar, in giving them one of his pleasant greetings, sud- 
 denly straightened himself up, and, with great ardor, 
 preached them a pithy discourse on church extension, say- 
 ing, ' I tell you, girls and boys, the end of this old build- 
 ing has got to burst out, or a new one push it out of the 
 way altogether.' Sure enough, it was but a little while 
 and the ' pushing-out-of-the-way ' process was enacted ; 
 and now, our beautiful lecture and Sunday-school rooms 
 
808 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 occupy the site, and to this day the young folks (children 
 at that time) make pleasant allusions to Mr. Dunbar's ser- 
 mon by the old stove. 
 
 " During Brother Dunbar's sojourn with us, we had none 
 of those large in-gatherings of souls with which, at times, 
 God deig-ns to refresh his church ; but we had the Word 
 preached with power and in demonstration of the Holy 
 Spirit. The church grew in grace and in the knowledge of 
 our blessed Saviour ; the understanding of the people was 
 enlightened, and their judgment convinced. The seed he 
 sowed was well selected and good ; and, divining, perhaps, 
 that the great Husbandman might not very long permit 
 him to hold the sower's commission in this part of the great 
 field, he would, at times, with great pathos and impressive- 
 ness, call attention to the sad fact that sinners seemed to 
 be tardy in accepting of the Crucified, assigning as a reason, 
 that, perhaps, he was not faithful enough to the charge 
 committed to his hands. And then, under the influence 
 of considerable emotion, as though looking back over the 
 way in which God had brought him and gathering 
 encouragement from the retrospect, he would give his 
 audience the benefit of his thoughts, the burden of which 
 seems to be this : that although he might not be reaper, 
 some servant of God would. The closing up of the last 
 sermon that he ever preached in the pulpit of the Baptist 
 
 Church of T was in these words (and spoken, too, 
 
 with deep emotion) : ' Finally, dear brethren and sisters, 
 I rejoice that the time is soon coming, when both sower 
 and reaper shall meet together, in the kingdom of God.' 
 
 " How prophetically significant and true ! Duncan 
 Dunbar and Lewis Smith are now at home in the kingdom 
 of God. The sower and the reaper have met, and are rest- 
 ing from their labors. During the short period he was 
 
REVIEW. 309 
 
 our pastor, he buried with Christ in baptism thirteen 
 joyful converts, and welcomed to the church by letter, 
 from other churches, fifteen. 
 
 " I should fail to do justice to the sainted man, if I omitted 
 to mention his visitation of the flock. It was, for the most 
 part, regular and systematic ; and not to see his familiar 
 face, at specified times, was a disappointment. The kind- 
 ness of heart and the sympathetic tenderness evinced on 
 such occasions won for him among us the appellation of 
 the ' Good Shepherd ; ' and those of his flock who sur- 
 vive him accord to him the original distinction, of having 
 ' no equal, in this respect, in all of the list of good pastors 
 that we, as a church, have been favored with.' " 
 
 In reviewing the life of this good minister of Jesus 
 Christ, none can fail to acknowledge his unselfish devo- 
 tion to the interests, temporal and spiritual, of his fel- 
 low-creatures. Much of this was, no doubt, the result 
 of natural generosity and sympathy ; when these were 
 sanctified to God they became a great power, constrain- 
 ing him to labor in season, and out of season, for fi-iend 
 and foe. 
 
 Those who loved Mr. Dunbar most, — who sat at his 
 table, and dwelt beneath his roof, — do not regard him 
 faultless. Some prudent persons pronounced him too im- 
 pulsive in his sympathies, and prodigal in his charities. 
 Others considered him stern in his views of church disci- 
 pline, and unduly tenacious of the doctrines of grace, and 
 of the ordinances and polity of his church. To his views 
 of truth and convictions of duty he held fast, and for them 
 he plead with a persistency peculiar to his nation, and not 
 always agreeable to those who differed from him. These 
 were what would have been called by some, Mr. Dunbar's 
 
810 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 frailties ; but all must admit that if not virtues they surely 
 " leaned to virtue's side." 
 
 And even had there be^ very marked imperfections in 
 the Christian character we have striven to delineate, it 
 would avail little to record them in these pages. Our ob- 
 ject has been to present traits worthy of emulation and to 
 glorify God's grace, by showing how much can be accom- 
 plished by one life consecrated to his service. 
 
 The Christian's life, viewed in its results, never ends ; 
 " his works do follow him ; " like good seed yielding fruit 
 as the years roll on until the frill harvest shall be gathered 
 in on high. Mr. Dunbar's own words, in regard to a 
 sainted friend, " His prayers are all ended, but not all an- 
 swered," were prophetic of his own. When nature was 
 sinking, and those whose love would fain have detained 
 him here, plead with him to remain calm and try to 
 rest, his soul was pressed with anguish for the impenitent. 
 When the hand that never shrunk from labor was palsied 
 in death, he dictated a letter to a young and feeble church, 
 and enclosed therein a gift, — almost from the borders of 
 heaven. It was forwarded after his burial, and received 
 by that people as a voice from the eternal world. From 
 his death-bed, as well as from his pulpit, he had preached 
 Christ ; and his work of love was rewarded. This last 
 sermon was the means of salvation to several souls, and 
 thus was his heart's desire granted, " to die with his har- 
 ness on." 
 
 Mr. Dunbar left six daughters, a son, and a nephew, — 
 who was as one of his children, — twenty- three grand- 
 children, and four great-grandchildren. Three of his 
 sons-in-law and a grandson (in-law,) are toiling in the 
 profession he loved and honored, and two grandsons are 
 just putting on their armor for the same glorious work. 
 
REVIEW. 311 
 
 Will not those who loved this dear, departed servant of 
 God pray that his mantle may rest upon these, and that 
 their's may also be acknowledged in the final day as " an 
 earnest ministry." 
 
SI 2 DUNCAN DUNBAR. 
 
 " Servant of Grod, well done ! 
 Rest from thy loved employ ; 
 The battle fought, the vict'ry won, — 
 Enter thy Master's joy. 
 
 " The voice at midnight came ; 
 He started up to hear ; 
 A mortal arrow pierced his frame, — 
 He fell, but felt no fear. 
 
 " At midnight came the cry, 
 * To meet thy God prepare ! ' 
 He woke, and caught his Captain's eye j 
 Then, strong in faith and prayer, 
 
 " His spirit, with a bound. 
 
 Left its encumb'ring clay ; — 
 His tent, at sunrise on the ground, 
 A darkened ruin lay. 
 
 " The pains of death are past ; 
 Labor and sorrow cease ; 
 And life's long warfare closed at last, 
 His soul is found in peace. 
 
 ** Soldier of Christ, well done ! 
 Praise be thy new employ ; 
 And, while eternal ages run, 
 Rest in thy Saviour's joy.*'