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 ^'^'^ 
 
 V 
 
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Mr. Richardson at Forty. 
 
Memorial Letters 
 
 MY GRANDCHILDREN 
 
 MARY J. RICHARDSON 
 II 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 Beacon Press: 7-A Beacon Street 
 
 '893 
 
'i 
 

 Should any stranger or friend be interested to 
 read these pages of loving tribute to a sainted 
 husband and grandfather, he will kindly pardon tiie 
 simple and tender allusions and personal expressions, 
 remembering that they were not written for the public 
 eye but especially for those whom he loved and wlio 
 loved him with the love of kinship. 
 By his bereaved companion, 
 
 The Fond Grandmother, 
 
 Mary J. Richardson. 
 
To You, 
 
 My Beloved Grandchildren, 
 
 I dedicate this simple Memorial of your 
 honored and lamented Grandpapa, hoping that you 
 will see in his character, as it is developed here, a 
 stimulus to a noble and Christian life. I trust that 
 you will learn from it that first of all you should 
 seek to know Christ and to serve him, and thus 
 establish your hope, your faith, your all, for time and 
 for eternity, upon this Everlasting Rock. If this 
 shall be accomplished 1 shall be more than satisfied 
 with my labor of love for you. 
 
 Grandmamma. 
 

 
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 The Gkanuchildren at the Age of about Three. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 I. The Old Homestead 
 
 II. Infancy 
 
 III. I'OYHOOD 
 
 IV. High School Days 
 V. Choice and Confessio 
 
 VI. The Temptation . 
 
 VII. Correspondence . 
 
 VIII. A- Great Disappointment 
 
 IX. Normal School . 
 
 X. Varied Experiences . 
 
 XI. Indictment, Trial, Releas 
 
 XII. Happy Years in Dedham 
 
 XIII. Separation . 
 
 XIV. The Congkegationalist 
 XV. As Reporter 
 
 XVI. Anxiety and Sorrow . 
 
 XVII. Trip Abroad 
 
 XVIII. Darkness and Shadow 
 
 XIX. Visiting Old Haunts 
 
 XX. " In Journeyings Oft " 
 
 XXI. Home in Chelsea 
 
 XXII. Social Life . 
 
 XXIII. Church Interest . 
 
 XXIV. Summer in Franklin . 
 XXV. The Going Home 
 
 XXVI. Retrospect . 
 
 XXVII. The Funeral Service 
 
 XXVIII. Living Witnesses 
 
 XXIX. Tributes from the Press 
 
 XXX. Conclusion . 
 
 PAGE 
 
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 95 
 102 
 
 no 
 114 
 123 
 130 
 135 
 139 
 157 
 199 
 219 
 
MEMORIAL LETTERS. 
 
 LETTER No. 1. 
 
 My Dear Grandchildren : 
 
 I AM made very happy in the thought that you all were old 
 enough to know and remember your grandpapa. It is a pleasure 
 to think that he was near and with you during the last summer 
 of his life ; that you saw him every day and that you learned, 
 at least the older ones among you, to know his pleasant smile 
 and to feel that he loved you. I think, too, that you will re- 
 member the last time you looked upon his kindly face when he 
 lay peacefully at rest, and you placed your hand upon his cold 
 forehead, and he did not open his eyes to greet you or move 
 his lips for the usual kiss. And perhaps you will never forget 
 the sweet and tender services in my sick room, where you all 
 came to comfort me before the dear form was carried from my 
 sight to the church, where you listened to the solemn services, and 
 where you saw the many friend's who had gathered to pay their 
 last loving tribute of respect to him. I hope it will not prove to 
 be so sad a lesson as it seemed at the time, but that its memory 
 will be such a help and blessing to you in your future life that 
 the sadness will no longer overshadow it. 
 
 Though you may remember all these things about your grand- 
 papa, you will still know but little about his life that I think you 
 would like to know, unless some one, who was familiar with him, 
 is able and willing to tell you ; so I have determined to write you 
 a series of letters, beginning with his infancy, which shall give 
 you a brief sketch of his early home, his life, and his character ; 
 and this shall be my labor of love for him and for you. 
 
 You have all been to the pleasant old homestead where his 
 baby eyes first opened to the light of this beautiful world ; you 
 know the charming views from every point of the hill on which 
 the house stands, just in the edge of Franklin, Massachusetts, 
 and very near the Charles River, which runs at the foot of the 
 hill and divides Franklin from Medway. 
 
8 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. I. 
 
 Your great-grandfather's farm extended through the broad 
 pasture and down the hill to the river, along whose bank and far 
 up the hillside were clusters of oaks and evergreens and various 
 other kinds of trees which ornamented the tiny capes or points 
 of land jutting out into the stream. Along at the foot of this hill 
 the river was quite deep, because of a dam just below that had 
 been built for the use of a mill a little farther on. The beautiful 
 trees that fringed the bank, with the old mill and the picturesque 
 bridge below, made as pretty a scene in the landscape as one 
 will often find. 
 
 The house stood in a sightly place, " beautiful for situation," 
 on the summit of the hill ; your grandpapa has told me that not 
 less than twenty spires could be seen from different parts of the 
 farm. I do not remember in what towns the churches all be- 
 longed, but I do remember how pleased he was the first time he 
 took me over the farm to point them out to me with the many 
 other views and places which interested him so much, and which 
 he held so dear until the very close of his life. 
 
 One lovely ramble was down through the lane where he used 
 to drive the cattle to pasture, and which led to the river. 
 
 After I went there we used sometimes to take this walk down 
 to the river, where we could find pleasant seats and stay for a 
 quiet hour talking over the happy experiences of your grandpapa's 
 boyhood. Another interesting spot was the " Boiling Spring " 
 down in the meadow, whose water was always pure and cool and 
 so clear that the constant bubbling at the bottom could be plainly 
 seen, and for which reason it got its name from the boys ; it was 
 of this spring that your Uncle Albert wrote during one of his early 
 separations from home, when some of the pains of homesickness 
 got hold upon him, " and how dear the memory of ' the old, time- 
 haunted spring, up-bubbling midst a world of greenery.' " How 
 pleased your grandpapa used to be to dip the little tin cup into 
 its clear waters and hand to me the refreshing drink, saying, " Isn't 
 that fine water?" A young orchard had just been planted near 
 the house, in which he felt great pride because the trees were all 
 so shapely and regular ; then there was an ancient oak, nearly 
 one hundred and fifty years old, of fine proportions, a short dis- 
 tance off in the pasture, for which he had great admiration and 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. I. g 
 
 under whose shade he spent many hours in play and study. How 
 much tliis dear old tree could tell you of his life if it could talk ! 
 I would like to write you of the charming grove just below the 
 house, over the other side of the hill toward the south, which was 
 a halfway rendezvous for the young people of the neighborhood : 
 of the delightful woods but a few rods away on the farm, as a 
 resort for picking young wintergreens and for decoying rabbits 
 and partridges into warily set snares. In these woods, too, were 
 found a greater variety of orchids and wild flowers than anywhere 
 else around, and they brought many a merry company from the 
 Medway High School in after years to search among the tangled 
 underbrush for the varied specimens to pick to pieces and study 
 in the botany classes. The farm also included fine whortleberry 
 pastures and vines laden with delicious blackberries. Do you 
 not see that there was very much on the dear old homestead to 
 make a boy contented and happy? 
 
 But the treasures were not all outside. The rainy days had 
 their charms in no less a storehouse than the big garret, where 
 the children held grand "receptions" and played games and 
 " kept school " with amazingly ill-behaved children. If you could 
 have found your way into that great-grandmother's garret you 
 would have seen some things that would have made you laugh. 
 Let me tell you a bit about it, because I am sure you will 
 never see another like it and you cannot fail to be interested. 
 The garret extended the width of the house from end to end, 
 and had steep, narrow stairs leading to it which opened into 
 the center of the room like a big hole, for the door of entrance 
 was at the foot of the stairs. Half the length of the garret, 
 from the stairs to the window, a line was suspended, which 
 in summer held the heavy bed clothing of winter and in winter 
 accommodated the summer clothing. Among the winter things 
 were elaborately quilted covers ; white and blue checked woolen 
 covers, also, with blue striped borders ; these last had been 
 woven in the house years before. There was also great-grand- 
 father's big overcoat and great-grandmother's fine Camlet cloak 
 of red and white plaid, which was a grand affair when she was 
 married. Near the head of the stairs stood great-grandmother's 
 wedding trunk — a small box about twenty-seven inches long and 
 from twelve to fourteen inches wide and deep. This was covered 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. I. 
 
 with the skin of some animal, the brown and white hair remaining 
 on it as in life, and was studded thickly around the edges with 
 brass-headed nails. Then there was a famous old sea chest which 
 had belonged to a captain uncle. This contained curiosities of 
 numerous kinds, be- 
 side ancient books 
 having odd stories in 
 them which the chil- 
 dren used in their 
 school keeping, with a score or more of 
 ancient almanacs. The herb chest, loo, 
 which all good housewives kept freshly 
 replenished every year, stood just under 
 the eaves, filled with sage, summer 
 savory, thyme, camomile, balm, saffron, 
 sweet marjoram, peppers, pennyroyal, 
 sunflower seed, etc., giving out their pun- 
 gent odors whenever the lid was raised. 
 
 Two spinning 
 
 wheels, now set 
 
 aside, had a digni- 
 fied place among 
 
 the honored 
 
 things, and stood 
 
 as sure witnesses 
 
 of the labors 
 
 of past years. 
 
 Towering above 
 
 all other o c c u - 
 
 pants of the garret 
 was the stately old clock, still pointing with the finger of time not 
 to life, but to age and decay. Its wooden wheels were motionless, 
 for its life had run out in daily efforts to keep the family on time 
 at the rising hour, at their meals, and to bed. Its machinery 
 was worn out, and the heavy weights, pulled up by the cord 
 opposite, would no more keep the pendulum swinging by their 
 own weight slowly moving down. It was dismantled, useless. No, 
 not useless, for years later it found a place in which it came to 
 be of great service to the children of generations unborn when 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. I. 
 
 its life began. Do you remember the pretty cupboard, with its 
 glass door and tiny shelves, in which the dollies' china was kept 
 that used to be your mamma's when a child, and which afterward 
 gave you so much pleasure when you came to visit grandma.-' 
 That was the top of this same old clock, trimmed and garnished. 
 It is now in use for a company of children in a Children's Home. 
 But I must hasten or I shall make my letter too long. There 
 were odd-shaped old bonnets, some older and some more modern. 
 
 0J% 
 
 All these your great-grandmother or her mother had worn. And 
 there were queer-looking garments which helped greatly in the* 
 sport of their grand "reception" days; and many a time the old 
 spectacles added dignity to the pef//e figure of the adopted little 
 girl of the family. To be sure one eye- 
 glass was gone, but what of that when she 
 could see far better without it ! These 
 were made in 1749, and had been in pos- 
 session of your 
 great-grand- 
 mother's grandmother ; that is, they 
 had been worn by your great-great- 
 great-grandmotiier, and were kept in 
 a neat, wooden box made for them 
 with a jackknife by her uncle, a sea 
 captain. These were some of the 
 stately chairs stored away in the attic, used by the "grandees" 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. I. 
 
 at the receptions, and also on school days to seat unruly pupils 
 with their roguish faces turned toward the beam under the 
 eaves, on which side by side were ranged several wooden shoe 
 lasts, for use when a new pair of shoes was wanted, 
 
 for in those days each ^^ /f^' person nuist have his own 
 
 last to take to the shoe- "- " — --^ maker. On tiie great 
 
 beam beside the lasts was placed the tiny Japan tin 
 
 "petticoat lamp," which had served for many years in the hon- 
 ored position of sewing lamp for the women folks on the little 
 pine stand in the sitting room. It was 
 only about four and a half inches high, 
 had but a single wick, and gave but little 
 more light than a candle, being filled 
 with whale oil ; this was superseded at 
 length by lard oil and finally by burning 
 fluid, which could not be used in it, and so the petticoat lamp was 
 forever relegated to its place in the attic. 
 
 The parlor lamps were of glass and about as high as a goblet ; 
 these were used only on state occasions, as the whale oil was 
 quite expensive and could not be afforded. When your great- 
 grandmother was a young lady she wore a high-backed shell comb 
 which stood four or five inches above her head, and which she 
 
 could easily cover 
 with her heavy, curly 
 hair so as to be en- 
 tirely out of sight. This, too, was among the 
 curiosities to help on the fun. I think it was 
 the same comb that you see in the silhouette 
 taken when she was eighteen years old, and 
 which adds something to her height. There 
 was yet one thing more of which I must 
 speak, because it was your grandpapa's comfort when a babe ; that 
 was the old wooden cradle in wiiich he was rocked, and in which 
 he spent many hours with his playthings before he could walk. 
 My next letter will introduce the baby to you. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2. I^ 
 
 LETTER No. 2. 
 
 I KNOW you are all eagerly waiting to learn of the dear little 
 babe that came into the homestead described to you in my last 
 letter. The children, of whom there were five, all loved the new- 
 stepmother, and were pleased that this wee babe was hers and 
 had come to stay; especially so was the twelve-year-old sister. 
 She imagined all sorts of nice times in store for her when he 
 should be old enough to be her special charge. Already she 
 began to feel the care of a little mother. And this bit of humanity 
 with a red face and blue eyes and tiny clenched fists was to be 
 your grandpapa. Can you imagine that he whom you remember 
 with silver locks and smooth head and pale cheeks could e\er 
 have been so small ? He was, however, and he was just as sweet 
 and lovely to his mamma as you were when you were a babe, and 
 was just as helpless, too. I cannot tell you much of his tiny infancy, 
 but I remember one incident that occurred when he was but a 
 few weeks old which gave his mother great solicitude. She has 
 told me of it with many a laugh. 
 
 During the winter season when farmers visited a great deal, 
 thus taking their needed vacations in social improvement, they 
 often drove long distances to see a friend or relative and so 
 exchange hospitalities. It occurred that your great-grandfather 
 and great-grandmother went on one of these annual visits one 
 beautiful day, taking the new baby with them. They congrat- 
 ulated themselves on the mildness of the weather, and had 
 a fine, comfortable drive in going. But about three o'clock in 
 the afternoon a change came and the weather grew intensely 
 cold. They decided that it would not answer for them to stay 
 as late in the evening as they had anticipated, so prepared to 
 return immediately after supper. When the little one went to 
 sleep, about four o'clock, his mother wrapped his blankets care- 
 fully about him and laid him upon the bed all ready for a 
 start. When the time came he was tenderly taken up and other 
 wraps were brought into use, for that precious babe must not be 
 allowed to take cold. The mother then took him snugly under 
 iier own warm Camlet cloak, and got into the comfortable, high- 
 
14 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2. 
 
 backed sleigh and was tucked in with blanket and robe so that 
 no air could find its way to the child. After being some time on 
 the road your great-grandmother remembered that she had read, 
 only a few days before, of a dear little babe being smothered and 
 taken dead from its mother's arms 
 
 afier just such a ^^ ride as this. She 
 
 wondered that she "QA /mil '^^*^ "°^ thought 
 
 of this sooner, ^"^^^^^^^^^J^z^ ^''"^ became very 
 
 anxious. The " "^"^ -— — - "^^ child was so still 
 
 that she feared the worst. She 
 
 tried to loosen the wraps, to move him about, to arouse him 
 to life if possible. Nothing availed, there was neither sound 
 nor motion ; he lay like a dead weight in her lap. She was 
 afraid to remove the coverings lest he take cold if he were still 
 alive, so in terror and with great mental suffering she made the 
 remainder of her journey. The sleigh had scarcely stopped at 
 the home door ere the wrappings were torn away, and she bounded 
 into the house trembling with fear and scarcely daring to look at 
 the baby. She quickly uncovered the little face, however, to see 
 the blue eyes open and look at her very peacefully, then close 
 again with undisturbed serenity. 
 
 I suppose, like all babies, he had many tumbles and mishaps, 
 with bruises to be kissed well and a soiled face to be made clean. 
 Like all little ones, too, he did not keep his babyhood a great 
 while. It seemed but a few months before he was carrying a long 
 stick in his childish fist and pointing to a large card of letters 
 which hung on the wall in the sitting room, asking of every one 
 who passed what each letter was, and not being satisfied until he 
 was told. 
 
 When he was two years old he had learned all his letters — 
 a great feat in those days, as that was the first thing to be learned 
 on beginning to go to school. I remember well when the change 
 was introduced into the schools of teaching to read by sounds 
 what anxious fears were expressed by many mothers lest their 
 children would never learn to read properly, because they did not 
 learn their letters first. 
 
 When two and a half years old his sister took him to school 
 one day. He was so quiet and well behaved that at the close of 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2. 1 5 
 
 the session the teacher asked him if he would not like to come 
 to school all the time. Turning to his sister she said, " I wish you 
 would bring him every day, he is such a good boy." Just here 
 I am reminded of a question which one of you asked me when you 
 were about four years old. I was telling you about your grand- 
 papa's going to school when so small, and you quickly asked, 
 "Did he keep it up, grandma?" Yes, he kept it up, and went 
 to school regularly ever after. I presume that your grandpapa 
 was the originator of many amusing and funny speeches in his 
 childhood, which would be very pleasant for us to read today if 
 they had been preserved. But in those days children were not 
 allowed to appear forward, nor were their bright sayings registered 
 for the public. We know, however, that he was quite observing 
 from an incident which happened when he was between three and 
 four years old. 
 
 One day he sat listening to his father's conversation with a 
 neighbor about some person in whom they were both interested, 
 when he heard his father say, " I fear he is not a man of much 
 principle." Your grandpapa caught the word, and immediately 
 called out, " Father, father, what is principle ? " He persisted in 
 his inquiry until a satisfactory answer was given him. Whether 
 principle began to develop in him at so early an age I cannot say. 
 A little later on, when his father rebuked him for talking too much, 
 he replied, with some degree of satisfaction in his tone, "Well, 
 if I can't talk I can think, can't I .-" " This rebuke was probably 
 given at a time when company was present or the family was 
 gathered and the younger ones were made to understand that 
 "children should be seen and not heard." What a silence there 
 would be in your family if the children were held to so strict a 
 reverence for older people as that ! What a rule for such wide- 
 awake boys and girls as my grandchildren are ! Where would be 
 the laughter and the merriment around your family table ? In 
 my next letter I shall recount a few things relating to your grand- 
 papa's character as a boy in school and out. 
 
l6 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 3. 
 
 LETTER No. 3. 
 
 Doubtless you are anticipating a very entertaining letter 
 this time — something that will amuse you greatly about a boy full 
 of pranks and misdemeanors, a boy who made no end of trouble, 
 who was wild and careless, or bubbling over with fun and laughter, 
 perhaps unmindful, even, of the pain he caused other people to 
 suffer. If such is the kind of boy you are looking for you will 
 l)e greatly disappointed, though I hope not uninterested. 
 
 No, your grandpapa was not that kind of boy at all. One of 
 his schoohnates said of him, " He was too grave and correct in his 
 behavior to make an entertaining subject for a story," None of 
 those naughty mischiefs that read so marvelously afterward, when 
 one does not tell of the pain they brought to others, were ever 
 woven into his boyhood life. He handled no sharp-edged tools 
 that cut and tear and wound, leaving their ugly scars all through 
 after life. From very early years he showed that the principle 
 which had been explained to him by his father on that memorable 
 night had been implanted in his own soul, for nothing could tempt 
 him to deceive, or play dishonest tricks, or do mean things for the 
 sake of fun or to annoy another if it were possible to avoid it. 
 Life took on a sober coloring to him when his boyhood had only 
 just begun. By this I do not mean that he had no enjoyment 
 for real wholesome sport, for indeed he had. His pleasure was 
 as earnest as his more serious pursuits, but nothing that was 
 accompanied with wrong, however slight its appearance, e\er 
 entered into his pastimes. 
 
 When he was about five years old he went with his half- 
 brother to visit the city of Boston for the first time and to make 
 some purchases for use on the farm. It was a long ride for a 
 little boy. He was obliged to start at four o'clock in the morning 
 in order ta get back the same day and see many sights while 
 there. That was a great day, you may be sure, and any boy who 
 is well and strong is ready for such a journey. He visited the 
 State House, Quincy Market, the Common, and several other inter- 
 esting places, which he never forgot. 
 
 In his b^oyhood days working upon straw in some form was 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 3. 1 7 
 
 the chief industry by which the farmers' wives and children could 
 earn money, not only in Franklin, but in all the region for miles 
 around. The straw was usually raised on the place, and after 
 being cut was split and trimmed carefully by the women, while 
 all the best pieces were culled out and prepared for the braiding. 
 A small machine with a sharp iron point was used to run through 
 the straw to open it. On the edge of the machine was a brass 
 bar with fine or coarse teeth, as was required, which was drawn 
 through the piece to split it into strands for braiding. Most of 
 the boys and girls learned to braid 
 
 straw of a partic- .,-^0 ular kind called 
 
 "seven-braid." (^ CZLi-^^^R^'jk This was after- 
 
 wards made into kl^^w^^g^ "^^^"'"^ -— — '-" bonnets or hats. 
 They had their daily stints of 
 
 one or more yards, as the age and ability might warrant. Often 
 several of the neighboring children would meet for an afternoon 
 at the home of one of their number, or in the grove, or under 
 some tree, and have a jolly time chatting and laughing and having 
 their trials of speed to see who could get a yard done first. Some- 
 times there would be a little cheating by braiding loosely, or on 
 the sly stretching the braid for the coveted measure that brought 
 triumph to the nimblest fingers. Your grandpapa enjoyed these 
 good times with all the rest, but on no condition could he be 
 tempted to slight his work or tighten the measuring. Every straw 
 was laid with exactness so that the work should be even and 
 smooth. 
 
 When he was ten years old his half-sister, who was his loving 
 guardian, taught the school in the home district, where he was one 
 of her pupils. Though they held such near relationship he never 
 thought that he could take advantage of it in any way, or that he 
 could be favored because of it. She says, " He was as decorous, 
 studious, and faithful in all his studies as if I were a stranger," 
 
 During all his schoolboy days he was as tried and trusted 
 a friend as a man of mature years. A lady of the same age of 
 your grandpapa, and who attended school with him, bears this testi- 
 mony : "He was always so true and so in earnest that we were 
 never afraid to trust him with any secret, however sacred ; in any 
 differences which came up among us, whether in play or in study. 
 
l8 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 3. 
 
 he was our judge because he was so just. I remember, too, that 
 if ever any advantage was to be gained wherein he himself was 
 concerned he invariably yielded it to another, though the oppor- 
 tunity was as much for him as for any one else. His love of 
 order, too, was just as marked ; there was system and method 
 in everything he did, and I believe he exhibited this character- 
 istic from his earliest childhood." She adds, also : " We had a 
 glorious place for coasting down the long hill on the Franklin side 
 of Mr, Richardson's home. At every opportunity the scholars 
 would gather at the hill for this most exhilarating sport, and I re- 
 member well the rule that we must start for the schoolroom the 
 instant the bell rang, that we might be in our seats at the ringing 
 of the order bell for exercises. We girls had no sleds in those days, 
 but depended upon the gallantry of the boys for our part of the 
 fun. I was always glad when Charles Richardson asked me to ride 
 on his sled, because he steered so true and straight ; then, too, 
 I was sure to be on time in the schoolroom, for somehow he 
 seemed to have the faculty of measuring the minutes. He would 
 never go far up the hill at the near approach of the striking of the 
 bell, was prompt to leave the playground just in season to hang 
 his hat and coat upon their accustomed nail and enter the school 
 on the first stroke of the order bell. He was a minute early 
 rather than a minute late." 
 
 I heard some one remark not long ago, "When 1 think of 
 the boys of that age I feel a great pity for them, they had to be 
 men so young." I trust my grandchildren will never waste any 
 pity in that direction. I think if you should ask any one of the 
 grandpapas now living if he had a sorry time in his boyhood he 
 would be surprised at such a question, and immediately answer, 
 " Why, no ! those were some of my best days. We boys had lots 
 of fun." I believe that half the secret of the good times they 
 had arose from the fact that they learned to depend upon them- 
 selves for their entertainment. They also had regular habits of 
 industry, and when their playtime came there was a relish for it 
 and a freshness about it which no boy or girl can feel who does 
 nothing but play. More than that there was a consciousness 
 of having earned in a noble way time that they felt was theirs. 
 What a gladness such a feeling brings ! 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 3, 
 
 19 
 
 What did they have for sport ? Why just what you have, 
 and more than boys who live in cities. They played ball; they 
 went tishing, rowing, skating, coasting, berrying; they had candy 
 pulls in the evening, or cracked nuts and popped corn. Sometimes 
 their work was as good as play, especially when there came a husk- 
 ing bee and the neighbors were invited in and the piles of corn 
 were portioned off to the different parties, for in these good times 
 you may be sure that the children had their share. How merry the 
 
 scene was, all lighted up with 
 lanterns hanging about in the 
 barn ! Then came the after 
 part, with refreshments of pie, 
 cake, apples, etc. Beside this, 
 were evenings for shelling the 
 corn, and it was pleasant to see 
 the children each with a portion to shell, and the father sitting 
 astride a low chair beside his tub, on which rested a broad shovel 
 on the sharp edge of which he shelled his corn into the tub. 
 You see that work was so woven into the life as to be really a 
 part of its mirth and happiness. To be sure they had neither 
 tennis nor croquet, and perhaps their ball games were not quite 
 as scientific as they are now ; but they were fine games neverthe- 
 less, and your grandpapa was quick and ready at them. I don't 
 believe either of you boys can skate as well, at least no better than 
 he could, marking all sorts of figures on the ice, sweeping graceful 
 curves, cutting acute angles, and lining off parallelograms with a 
 beauty and ease that might astonish you should you see the 
 clumsy skates of that time. His first skates, and the ones on 
 which he learned, were called Club skates, 
 and were rightly named. They were a long 
 block of wood attached to a deep steel or iron 
 bottom. A few years later 
 
 ^~\ an improvement came in the 
 
 ^ ■' =£^^^ Acorn skate, and though it was nothing to 
 be compared with the fine steel-finished skates 
 of today, its iron runner, broad as it was, was a great improve- 
 ment. He was also a good swimmer, and had many a fine 
 swim in the Charles River running below the farm. Beside all 
 
20 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 3. 
 
 these delights much enjoyment was found in setting snares for 
 game in the woods. O, life was full of gladness even in your 
 grandpapa's day, when tasks began as a general thing at the 
 mature age of eight years, and sometimes at six. But you will for- 
 give my writing so long a letter this time, for I wanted to tell you 
 enough to insure your belief that your grandpapa had a happy 
 childhood ; though he had a sensitive nature and a tender con- 
 science, I expect that he also had a pretty strong will, and that 
 sometimes, perhaps, he lost his patience if things didn't go to suit 
 him. In fact, I believe he was like other boys in most respects. 
 Once when he went to sleep in church a most amusing in- 
 cident occurred, of which I must tell you, for it proved to be a 
 profitable lesson to him through the rest of his life. One rather 
 warm, oppressive Sunday, when he was feeling unusually tired, he 
 fell asleep during sermon time. Dreaming, he suddenly shouted in 
 his sleep, and with a quick start struck his heavy shoes hard against 
 the pew, making a loud, resounding noise through the church. 
 Opening his eyes quickly he saw the attention of many of the 
 congregation fastened upon him with smiles of considerable mean- 
 ing upon their faces, which revealed to him the situation of 
 things. He has often told me, laughing, that he had never for an 
 instant since that experience felt any inclination to go to sleep in 
 church. The mortification of it sunk too deeply. In my next 
 letter I shall tell you a bit of his life as a pupil. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 4. 
 
 LETTER No. 4. 
 
 In my last letter I told you something of your grandpapa's 
 boyhood, though not much of his school life and work. I wish I 
 knew more about them, but my personal knowledge of his habits 
 did not come until later ; however, I can tell you briefly of some 
 of the influences he had about him, and your bright minds will 
 quickly see that if boys and girls are brought up to industrious 
 habits, trained to be thoughtful and to believe that life means some- 
 thing more than play and pleasure, they will be manly boys and 
 womanly girls. They will be children of right impulses, and will 
 make men and women of the finest stamp. 
 
 In the neighborhood where your grandpapa lived and went 
 to school most of his mates were the sons of farmers, who were 
 well read, thoughtful men and ambitious for their children to be- 
 come good and honored citizens, so they looked after their train- 
 ing in what you might call a rather rigid manner. Your great- 
 grandfather was one of those sterling men who were the bone and 
 sinew of our country, ready to go to the stake, if need be, for prin- 
 ciple. At that time it was a custom, brought over by the early 
 settlers of the country, to use alcoholic drinks with freedom ; but 
 he became strictly temperate in 1830, the date of his becoming a 
 Christian. He realized that the two things were not consistent, 
 and said, " I stopped supplying liquor to my help. Men didn't 
 want to work for me, but I said I would let my hay stand if 
 I couldn't cut it without rum." He was just as firm in discontin- 
 uing the use of tobacco. When a young man he had learned to 
 chew the weed, but when Christ came into his heart and awakened 
 the desire for perfect purity of life this led him to abhor tobacco 
 and never another bite did he take, though the abstinence cost him 
 much suffering at first. He also thought that as a child of God he 
 ought to let his choice to serve him be known and felt in his own 
 family ; and though he was a diffident man and knew what a cross 
 it would be he determined to have family prayers at his own fire- 
 bide. I am sorry that I have not the full and comprehensive prayer 
 which he committed to memory, and used as long as he lived every 
 morning of his life with the same solemn reverence, standing back 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 4. 
 
 of his chair, his arms resting across the top. Here is a picture 
 of the chair which your great-grandfather always used after I 
 knew him. He sat in it at table and stood behind it to pray, 
 and as soon as prayers were over he would lay the large Bible 
 on the corner of the 
 mantel, and place his 
 spectacles on the top of 
 it, always in the same 
 spot. Perhaps on ac- 
 count of this home train- 
 ing your grandpapa had 
 less temptations to go 
 astray than do many 
 boys in these days. 
 As he grew older he became still more persistent and deter- 
 mined in his studies, and though never a brilliant scholar he was 
 a real worker and bound to secure all he could by close applica- 
 tion. There are some boys, you know, who think if they can only 
 get through a recitation and not fail that is all that is neces- 
 sary. It was not so with your grandpapa; he coveted all that 
 he could learn for his own real benefit through life. It was 
 knowledge that he was seeking, and to gain this he was com- 
 pelled to hard study; he understood that he could not have it 
 without labor of his own. He entered with zest into all exhi- 
 bitions and monthly lyceums, and was ready and eager to do 
 his part in the best way. When he was fourteen he went to 
 the high school in Franklin Center, a distance of four miles. 
 Quite a number of the Latic boys went with him the same 
 year. " Latic " was the name given to the district where your 
 grandpapa lived, because of a fine pond in that vicinity called 
 Popolatic. 
 
 The boys and girls usually walked to and from the school, and 
 there were good walkers in those times, though they did not walk 
 for prizes. They often tried to outstrip each other in speed, and 
 reasonably prided themselves upon their success. So when Dr. 
 Williams, a rather eccentric divine living in a town not far distant, 
 declared tiiat he could walk four miles in half an hour, the boys 
 could hardly reconcile the statement with the possibilities, and 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 4. 23 
 
 decided among themselves that, minister though he was, it could 
 not be true. 
 
 Among the pupils was one Whitaker, a trifle younger than the 
 others, who sometimes complained of the hardship of the long 
 pulls up the hills and seemed to dread them considerably. They 
 had just formed a class in physics in the high school, and your 
 grandpapa suggested that now was the time to make a test of the 
 principle of obtaining the greatest momentum possible by going 
 down one hill so fast that the force should carry him up the other, 
 thus making his walk easy and at the same time putting study into 
 practice. As was often customary in schools of that kind there 
 were weekly declamations and writing of compositions, and the 
 scholars were allowed to take their choice of these exercises. Why 
 your grandpapa usually chose writing I do not know ; I am in- 
 clined to think, however, that it was because of a natural diffidence 
 to appear before others, a feeling which followed him all his life. 
 Still he might have considered it would be of greater advantage to 
 him in the future. That he had some good and carefully studied 
 reason you may be certain, for even then he did not settle a 
 question without giving it a thorough examination. 
 
 I have a letter lying before me which came from one of the 
 members of that same class, and she writes: "There is no one of 
 the old schoolmates of whom I have a more distinct recollection 
 than of Charles A. Richardson. There was an uncommon amount 
 of rivalry between the members of our class — a large one — and 
 C. A. R. was a conspicuous figure among us. There was never 
 anything proposed for the intellectual improvement that he was 
 not heart and soul in. He was noted for his strict integrity and de- 
 votion to principle, and ever acted on the motto, ' Be sure you are 
 right, then push ahead.' Were there debating clubs, he took a part. 
 Were there exhibitions to be held, he gave his attention in earnest 
 and helped to make them a success. Our spelling classes, in which 
 he became proficient and was most frequently the winner, were full 
 of interest. And never was he found to take part in any of the 
 petty quarrels that often occurred among the scholars ; indeed, 
 I am sure it would be more truthfully said of him that he was a 
 peacemaker among them. I never shall forget the page after page 
 of history which he committed to memory in the Franklin High 
 
24 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 4. 
 
 School, and would repeat without one mistake. I think he was 
 one of the most conscientious boys I ever knew." 
 
 And this is the testimony of all those who knew him in his 
 early years : that he was hopeful, helpful, trustful, faithful ; that he 
 was earnest, thoughtful, true ; that he was generous, high-minded, 
 pure. Is not such a record the standard for a good man ? Yet 
 something else was needed to perfect his character, and that some- 
 thing your grandpapa secured. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 5. 25 
 
 LETTER No. 5. 
 
 I HAVE now come to a time when, by his own free and thought- 
 ful choice, your grandpapa laid the foundations for a noble and 
 useful life, one that should honor God and which is now an honor 
 to you — a life that was full of all the qualities of heart and mind 
 which enriched himself and helped to lead those with whom he 
 associated to a better life. As you grow older you will understand 
 the force and beauty of this choice on which all true character is 
 built. 
 
 There were two great advantages which he had in aiding him 
 to become what he was. First, he was a farmer's boy; and 
 secondly, he was a poor boy. These two things have oftener proved 
 to be more of a help than a hindrance to a boy. As a farmer's 
 son, he had many hours in which to be^alone with his own undis- 
 turbed thought, and the great questions of life, which every one of 
 us sooner or later must settle for ourselves, came to him during 
 these solitary hours in the fields with only God and nature around 
 him. He often wondered what he should do or be when he be- 
 came a man. He tried to answer to himself what he desired most 
 to be like, and then, when he reached his conclusion, he asked how 
 he could best gain that end. 
 
 As a poor boy, he found one fact established. He must work 
 for whatever he wished to attain. In work he was saved from 
 thousands of temptations that surround the boy of wealth and 
 luxury. There was certainly one special aim before him — work! 
 He learned to honor work for work's sake and for the good it 
 brought him in every condition of life. 
 
 With these two advantages your grandpapa was taught to 
 reverence the Sabbath and his Creator. Up earlier on Sunday 
 morning than on other days, he hastened to be ready in good sea- 
 son for his walk of four miles to church. He was a constant 
 attendant and an earnest listener. His habit of thinking while at 
 his daily toil was of great service to him during the week, in 
 recalling the various heads of the sermons and applying the texts 
 with their solutions to his own improvement. 
 
 When he was between fourteen and fifteen years old he 
 
26 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 5. 
 
 seriously asked himself what bearing religion would have upon his 
 future course as a man. Would life be more to him and to others 
 through him should he avow himself as one among the followers 
 of Christ ? The more he thought on the subject the more he felt 
 convinced of his need of just the help the gospel brings in order 
 to overcome an evil nature, to stimulate to the highest possible 
 standard of living, and enable him ever to strive for the best in 
 character and influence. How keenly he realized that he had 
 faults to overcome and an ambition to gratify that should be made 
 holy instead of selfish ! And how much there was for him to learn 
 before manhood would be reached ! He resolved then that he 
 would cast in his lot with those who loved God. He now turned 
 all his thought and energies to that purpose, and determined to be 
 a Christian. After a few months of this state of mind he sadly 
 recognized a growing faintness in the resolutions he had so recently 
 made. His zeal appeared to be waning, and he was quite con- 
 vinced that he was not all right in his understanding of what a 
 Christian should be. He thought he had done all on his part to 
 meet God's requirements, and if he was not a Christian it must 
 be because of God's unwillingness to accept him. He was sore 
 distressed over his condition. He was fully aware that he had not 
 the real essence of the spirit of Christ in his soul. This mental 
 suffering increased to a great degree, and he feared that God was 
 so angry with him for his long neglect of him that he would cast 
 him off forever. During this period of his soul's agitation quite 
 a number of deaths occurred in the neighborhood, and the pastor 
 was led to preach upon the seriousness of life, its uncertainty and 
 failure to satisfy the soul. He dwelt upon the importance of com- 
 mitting our way unto the Lord while young, and of rejoicing in 
 early years in that wisdom which leads to everlasting life. 
 
 This sermon deeply interested your grandpapa, and made 
 a strong impression on his mind. He saw and felt how hard it 
 was for any one to do right without the help of God. Though he 
 had no glaring faults he knew that he was a sinner and that there 
 was no salvation for him save through the merits of a crucified 
 Redeemer. His guilt in refusing to accept him for so long a time 
 increased to a painful degree ; his sense of sinfulness daily grew 
 in magnitude until he almost felt that for him there was no ray of 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 5. 27 
 
 hope. For several days this horror of great darkness brooded 
 over him until at last, after strong crying and appeals for mercy, he 
 cast himself helpless upon Almighty grace. It was near the close 
 of day and he was alone in the field, when a new and amazing 
 light dawned in his soul. Christ appeared with tender and for- 
 giving love. All the gentleness of his being, his readiness to 
 forgive and receive him just as he wns, flooded his soul with an 
 unspeakable peace. God the Father seemed so great and so holy ; 
 Christ was so near and so precious. He could not understand the 
 strange peace within him. He says : " It seemed as if a great light 
 shone round about me, on the fields, the woods, the sky, every- 
 thing, and I was so full of praise that I could not speak. Every- 
 thing had a brightness such as I had never seen before. The 
 place was filled with God's presence, and all things looked as if 
 they had felt his touch anew. I did not understand the meaning 
 of this sensation that had taken possession of me. An indescrib- 
 able something that I could not explain filled my soul ; Christ 
 seemed strangely near and precious ; nothing was now too great 
 for me to undertake in his behalf. This state of ecstasy remained 
 with me for several days, until I felt sure that I had been accepted 
 of God, my sins had been forgiven, and he had vouchsafed to me 
 the Holy Spirit. Henceforth I was ready to live or die even as 
 he should will." 
 
 My dear grandchildren, was not this a glorious experience 
 such as would be likely to influence one's whole life ? He was 
 fifteen years old at this time, and life thereafter wore a grander 
 and nobler aspect because Christ was in it all. Now his purpose 
 was to glorify God, his aim to do the most he could for himself, 
 for the world, and for Christ's kingdom. He would never be an 
 eyeservant for his Master. God should have his faithful service 
 and his best alway. 
 
 The next spring, while he was at work for his half-brother in 
 his nursery near by, a stranger came to buy trees. He was so 
 interested in your grandpapa that he watched him narrowly while 
 engaged in his labors. The man liked his way of doing things, 
 and when leaving he asked the brother if he couldn't get that boy 
 to work for him. " I will pay him fifteen dollars a month," said 
 he. This was a great compliment at the time, that being the 
 highest wages paid to a man for such work. The stranger urged 
 
28 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 5. 
 
 his case, and asked the brother to lay the matter before his father 
 and let him know very soon. The suggestion was not received 
 very favorably, however, by his father, and the subject was 
 dropped. A short time after, his brother was at the nursery of 
 Hon. Marshall P. Wilder in Dorchester, where he was engaged 
 for a time, when he met the stranger again. He immediately in- 
 quired about "that boy" and the prospect there might be of 
 securing his services. When he found that his case had not been 
 urged very much he pressed it with new vigor. The result was 
 more favorable the second time, and some pains were taken to 
 inquire about the man, whose home was in Worcester. Your 
 grandpapa's brother was sent to see him in his home, to ask 
 about the work, and learn what the surroundings were. When it 
 was found that Mr. Hartwell was a Christian man, disposed to make 
 fair and honorable dealings, a written agreement was drawn up and 
 proper negotiations were made between his father and the man in 
 Worcester for the summer months. This was your grandpapa's 
 first experience in going away from home to live among strangers. 
 While he was absent at this time the subject of his uniting 
 with the church came before the officers, and the pastor being 
 desirous that he should join at the next communion, his mother 
 wrote him the following impressive letter : 
 
 Mv Dear Son: 
 
 . . . We called upon the pastor yesterday and conversed with him 
 about your making a profession of religion at the next communion, four 
 weeks from next Sunday. Your sister will unite then, and it seems 
 desirable that you should botli join at the same time. The pastor thinks 
 it is a bad thing to put off such a duty when one feels ready for it. But, 
 my son, it is a most solemn transaction, while it is also an important 
 duty, if a person has evidence to believe that the heart' has been renewed 
 by the Holy Spirit. My dear son, remember that you cannot perform 
 this duty in an acceptable manner without divine aid. Cease not, there- 
 fore, to look to God in constant, humble, and sincere prayer, for his 
 assistance in the examination of your heart to ascertain the motives 
 which influence you to profess Christ before the world. Let it not be 
 the applause of men, not even of Christians, that influences you ; but the 
 glory of your God and Saviour, whose you are and to whom you owe 
 your supreme love and affection. It will be necessary for you to come 
 home on Friday, the fifteenth, to prepare your " Relation " and to see 
 the pastor. . . . Your affectionate mother. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 5. 29 
 
 It was the custom in those days for each person who wished 
 to unite with the church to write out his exiDcrience and show why 
 he wished to take this step, and also express in this way the evi- 
 dence he had of being a Christian, in order that others might 
 judge if he was a proper candidate. I will inclose the "Rela- 
 tion" written by your grandpapa, then fifteen years old, in this 
 same letter : 
 
 CHARLES A. RICHARDSON's EXPERIENCE. 
 
 I iiave at times from my earliest recollection been the subject of 
 serious impression, but was particularly so in the summer of 1843. My 
 attention was then called up by no particular event, but it seemed to me 
 as though the Spirit of God was striving in my heart, though at first 
 unknown to myself. I was deeply impressed with a sense of my guilt 
 before God, and felt that then was the time to make my peace with him. 
 I felt so for several days, and then for a time hoped I had given my 
 heart to God, but it proved like the morning and early dew, which soon 
 passeth away. I then thought I had done all in my power to secure an 
 interest in Christ, and if I should be forever cast from his presence it 
 would not be my fault. 
 
 But in the month of December last God was pleased again to 
 arouse me from my sinful slumber to attend to the great and important 
 concerns of my soul. My attention was particularly arrested then by 
 hearing a very solemn discourse by our pastor, occasioned by the num- 
 ber of deaths about that time, and by the conversation of my parents, 
 calculated to impress the subject upon my mind. I at first thought 
 I would put off repentance till a more convenient time should come, but 
 upon reflection thought, should I neglect the present opportunity the 
 day of grace might be passed with me forever, and finally resolved that 
 I would improve the present opportunity, or perish in the attempt. 
 
 I felt myself to be one of the greatest of sinners, and that if justice 
 was done me I should be cast off forever. My greatest guilt appeared to 
 be in rejecting the Saviour so long. I saw that I had lived in continual 
 rebellion against God, and it seemed strange to me that he had not cut 
 me off in my sins. I continued in this state of mind for awhile, when 
 being alone, reflecting on my ruined condition, I thought I saw the will- 
 ingness of God to save all who came to him through the merits of 
 Christ. I thought I felt willing to be in his hand, and felt that he would 
 do right with me. It seemed to me that nothing could be too much to 
 suffer for him. The Bible appeared a different book to me from what 
 it ever had before — a revelation from heaven, the precious word of life. 
 
30 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO, 5. 
 
 The Saviour appeared precious to my soul, and I hope I was enaljled to 
 put my trust in him alone for salvation. Prayer appears not only a duty 
 but a privilege, the society of Christians desirable. Though I at times 
 have many doubts and can see much that is sinful in my own heart, yet 
 I feel it an important duty to profess Christ before the world and unite 
 with his friends in celebrating his dying love. I now offer myself to 
 this church, asking your acceptance of me, your prayers for me, and 
 watchfulness over me, that I may live agreeable to the precepts and 
 commands of Christ. 
 
 C. A. Richardson. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 6. 3 1 
 
 LETTER No. 6. 
 
 The experience in Worcester won for your grandpapa the 
 
 esteem of his employer and a desire for him to return ; and, as 
 
 was frequently the custom, he wished to have the boy bound out 
 
 to him for a series of years. He therefore wrote the accompanying 
 
 letter to his father, proposing terms and showing his appreciation 
 
 of him : 
 
 September 2, 1845. 
 Mr. Richardson, Sir: 
 
 ... In reference to Charles, I will give him seventy-five dollars 
 the first year, and three months' time to attend school in ; one hundred 
 dollars and three months the second year, and one hundred and seventy- 
 five dollars for the nine months of the third year. I can find good boys 
 of his age on better terms, but we are pleased with Charles; find he has 
 a taste for the business, will be trusty, and make a good nurseryman. 
 Should you think it best to have him come on these conditions I would 
 like to have him return as early as convenient, and I will give him his 
 board and furnish him with what books he may need this autumn for 
 his services night and morning. The Worcester High School is a good 
 one, and his advantages will be better than at Franklin. He can come 
 at any time. Yours truly, 
 
 C. W. Hart WELL. 
 
 As a more favorable opportunity came to him to work with 
 his brother at the nursery of Hon. Marshall P. Wilder in Dorches- 
 ter, he accepted the latter position. Among the letters which he 
 received from his mother while in Dorchester was the following : 
 
 Sabbath Morning, July 26. 
 My Dear Son : 
 
 ... I have nothing in particular to say except to remind you that 
 altliough you are absent in person you are not absent from the mind; 
 that there is a cord connecting you to the hearts of your parents, tender 
 and strong, which will be durable as life itself. Very much of our com- 
 fort and enjoyment must depend upon the character and virtuous con- 
 duct of our children. Have you not then a double motive to influence 
 you to pursue the path of virtue and wisdom ? You will do it I hope 
 for the promotion of your own happiness and that of your nearest 
 earthly friends. Our family has been the smallest for some weeks past 
 
32 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 6. 
 
 that it has ever been; but if we should all live for some years to come 
 we shall not probably all live together as in years past, but shall un- 
 doubtedly be separated many miles apart. Yet there is a consolation 
 in the idea that our Heavenly Father will guide and protect us when 
 separated as well as when together. How grateful should we be that 
 he is ever ready to hear and answer in his own best way all our reason- 
 able, submissive petitions. O Charles, neglect not the tlirone of grace 
 and your own heart! Ruin of soul and body often begin there. I would 
 write more, but it is almost dark and you will see that my pen is too 
 poor. 
 
 From your affectionate mother, 
 
 H. B. Richardson. 
 
 The following autumn and winter he spent at home in study. 
 A fine teacher had been secured for the Franklin School in 
 Mr. William Peck, afterward a lawyer of some prominence and 
 later an officer in the War of the Rebellion. Your grandpapa 
 accomplished much during this season in his intellectual improve- 
 ment, and I find stored away among his keepsakes a valedictory, 
 which I have no doubt was written for the close of this term of 
 school. It is written on a huge sheet of paper, measuring seven- 
 teen and one half inches in length and fourteen inches in width, 
 almost large enough to serve as a drop curtain with which to shield 
 the modest reader. The subject, "Education," is abundant in solid 
 thought, in wise and practical reflections, and in serious remarks 
 to teachers and scholars. That it was a decidedly grave docu- 
 ment for a youth of sixteen may be seen from this selection : 
 " There are none so highly favored that the cause of Education is 
 of no value to them, and there are none whose lot on earth has 
 been cast so low as to place them beneath its influence. The 
 mind of man when he first enters the world is like a rude block 
 of shapeless marble which has never come in contact with the 
 sculptor's chisel. But when some master hand has perseveringly 
 labored on it, and exhausted all the effects of his talents and 
 skill, it is reduced to a refined and beautiful statue, and remains 
 a monument of the untiring application of the sculptor. Thus it 
 is with the human mind. Every influence with which it comes in 
 contact, every example which is set before it, and every mind with 
 which it holds intercourse — each one of these is a blow which 
 assists in maturing it either for good or evil." 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 6. 33 
 
 Again the next year he went to assist his half-brother in Mr. 
 Wilder's nursery. As the two wrought together they had many 
 conversations concerning your grandpapa's future prospects. He 
 had often expressed a desire for a college education, and his 
 brother, anxious to learn his reasons, plied him with varied ques- 
 tions on the matter. He wanted to study for a profession, but 
 seemed to feel that it was out of the question entirely, and that he 
 ought not to think of it. 
 
 "Why is it out of the question?" asked his brother. 
 
 " Because I have neither money nor a father to help me, nor 
 friends to give me aid," he replied. 
 
 " For what profession would you study, the ministry ? " 
 
 " I don't know as I am fitted to be a minister; but is it neces- 
 sary for every educated man to be a minister in order to do 
 Christian work ? What do you want me to be } " 
 
 " O, I should like to have you become a good nurseryman, but 
 I think if you have a great desire to do something else you ought 
 to make the effort for it," replied his brother ; " I've no doubt you 
 would succeed. I will talk with father about it and see what he 
 thinks, but I believe that if you are really in earnest you could 
 work your way through college. Why, some of our most prominent 
 men are those who have made their own way without any help ; 
 but if you really needed it I think I could help you some." 
 
 This conversation encouraged him so much that he began at 
 once to plan his course for the future, and made up his mind that 
 this was the thing he would do if it were possible. It was at the 
 end of this season that the great temptation of his life came in 
 his path. Mr. Wilder, for whom he worked, had great interest 
 and confidence in him. Perhaps he was more particularly drawn 
 to him because he was the son of a beloved uncle of his wife ; 
 be that as it may he saw that he was a responsible young man, 
 one whom he would like to train for his business, and he offered 
 him great inducements. He assured him of a future partnership 
 with himself, and laid before him the probable chances of soon 
 accumulating a competence. The opportunity was a rare one, and 
 for so young a person a very tempting one. Your grandpapa 
 avoided any hasty decision. Though his heart was firmly set in 
 another direction, yet he stopped to think over the matter, to com- 
 
34 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 6, 
 
 pare the greatest advantages on both sides, and after deliberate 
 and careful consideration he still remained in favor of his first 
 decision. Mr. Wilder was disappointed, and urged more thought 
 about it, disclosing to him the satisfaction of entering at once 
 upon his life's work, setting before him the pleasure and comfort 
 of being independent and his own master, and also showing him 
 how great a strain he would constantly be subject to, for a series 
 of years, as a poor student, if he still resolved to go through 
 college. He begged him for his own best good not to make the 
 decision final then, as he would like to keep the position open for 
 him in case there was any prospect of changing his mind. But 
 the spirit so determined to do God's work was unmoved, and in 
 this calm retrospect he wrote to his mother, for whom he always 
 had the profound respect and reverence of a dutiful son. My next 
 to you will contain the correspondence with his parents upon this 
 subject now under such anxious consideration. I know the letters 
 will be of more interest to you than any that I could write. 
 

 
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MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 7. 35 
 
 LETTER No. 7. 
 
 In reading your grandpapa's letter I trust you will observe 
 how cautiously he weighed the entire subject before him, and then 
 sacredly and reverently remember that this was a trait in his 
 character which helped him to stick to a decision once made. He 
 took his position with a candid assurance of its merits. 
 
 Dorchester, August 23, 1847. 
 My Dear Mother: 
 
 I have long been waiting for a good opportunity to write home, but 
 my time has been so taken up evenings in accounting buds, answering 
 orders for scions, and so forth, that I have perhaps neglected it longer 
 than I ought. ... I turn now to a subject of much importance which 
 is constantly upon my mind. It is my own prospects, my situation in 
 life, should God be pleased to spare it. When I look to the future and 
 consider my hopes and expectations I feel sometimes encouraged, some- 
 times discouraged. I see before me on one hand long years of toiling 
 study, of labor which cannot be compared to bodily toil. I see my 
 health at stake, to be no doubt severely tried, perhaps severely injured 
 or partially lost in the efiort. I also see my situation here with regard 
 to a prospect of future success as to the accumulation of wealth should 
 I continue with Mr. Wilder as he would like. It seems to me that 
 I could wish for no better prospects of worldly success than are here 
 presented and for which I am wholly indebted to my brother. But what 
 of this? What though the wealth of India and the fame of Napoleon, 
 what though supplied with every luxury which art and vegetation can 
 afford, would that make me happy ? Would that secure life everlasting 
 and the approbation of conscience and of God? No! but just the 
 reverse. All might serve to make me live farther from God, to make 
 me worldly minded, and to wrest from me the desire to live to the glory 
 of God and the good of my fellow beings. True, it might not do all this, 
 but what would be the consequence should I become deeply engaged 
 in the worldly pursuits of life no one can tell. I hope that whatever 
 might be my situation in life I should never forget its great end and my 
 own duty to God. I think I now feel a desire to engage in such pur- 
 suits in life as will afford the greatest opportunity for usefulness, and 
 such as will be least likely to set my mind on things below rather than 
 on life everlasting in the world which is to come. I am constantly 
 reminded of the rapidity of time and the shortness of life. I am aston- 
 
36 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 7. 
 
 ished when I think how swiftly this summer is passing. In a few days 
 it will be fall, while it seems but a very short time since I first left home 
 in the spring. Indeed, it sometimes seems that life at longest must be 
 very short. It was not so when I was four or five years younger, but 
 the longer I live the more clearly do I perceive the swiftness of time. 
 
 With regard to the adaptedness of my constitution for study, I have 
 some fear, but hope for the best. But much as I fear from that and 
 other sources, tedious as the path of study looks, it is my greatest desire, 
 and I believe duty, to commence the great work. With regard to the 
 motives which actuate me I can sincerely say it is not any wish for fame 
 or honor or a life of ease. O, no! how can one expect a life of ease 
 with such a work staring him in the face? It is because it seems 
 impressed upon my mind that I am to do it, that it is a duty and a 
 privilege, and because in that way to all human appearance I may be 
 the instrument of greater good. I feel almost discouraged at times 
 when I think how prone my heart is even now to do evil and cling to 
 this world's alluring charms. It is my great desire and constant prayer 
 to God that my thoughts and affections may be set more exclusively on 
 the things which concern my everlasting welfare, and that I may be 
 fitted for the great work to which I am now looking forward with trem- 
 bling yet strong hope. Should I succeed in acquiring an education 
 perhaps it is unnecessary for me to say that I have not the least desire 
 for any profession but the ministry, and I think were that a blank I 
 would not stake my health and tax my energies (much as I love study) 
 for the sake of acquiring any other. 
 
 I heard an interesting sermon from the agent of the Education 
 Society not long since. Should it be necessary and judged best, I see 
 no reason why aid might not be expected from that, as the great object 
 is to educate indigent young men for the ministry. With regard to 
 that, however, you have spoken before. When you write again will you 
 not say something with regard to father and your discernment upon 
 this subject which I have good reason to believe occupies some small 
 share of your thoughts.'' I have written much more than I meant to, 
 and perhaps the postage is ten cents. I will be careful as to this 
 another time. Please excuse all mistakes. I have been in a great 
 hurry writing. 
 
 From your dutiful son, 
 
 C. A. Richardson. 
 
 You will remember that I have told you in what a dignified 
 manner the children were trained in the neighborhood where 
 your grandfather lived, so you are not surprised at the staid 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 7. 37 
 
 expressions of this letter. I will give you some extracts from 
 the response which he received to this letter from his parents : 
 
 Franklin, September 12, 1847. 
 My Dear Son: 
 
 . . . The subject of your letter is one of great importance, one 
 which will most deeply affect your future life. I have ever felt that it 
 would be a great blessing and privilege to have a son that was qualified 
 and disposed to make the sacrifice of leaving friends and home, going 
 to some destitute part of our own country to preach the gospel of Christ 
 to our dying fellow men. When we had reason to hope that God in infi- 
 nite mercy had renewed your heart I began to hope that he would one day 
 prepare you for that important station, but thought it not best for me 
 to suggest the idea, feeling that if God designed it he would impress 
 it upon your mind. The cry of " come over and help us " is urgent. 
 The call for preachers of the true gospel is very great, and no doubt 
 will increase for many years to come, while very few at the present 
 time are preparing for the ministry. If you have weighed this matter 
 thoroughly and feel that you can make the necessary sacrifices, which 
 must be great, and can be satisfied that your motives are right, it 
 appears to me that you ought not to relinquish all your plans for an 
 education. I can see the prospect of worldly prosperity and popularity 
 which might be within your reach should you pursue them, but what 
 are they ? Should I undertake to show you the danger of thus seeking 
 and obtaining riches and popularity, I should quote from your own 
 letter. You seem to realize the effect it might have ; give that its due 
 weight. . . . 
 
 From your affectionate mother, 
 
 H. B. Richardson. 
 
 His father's letter read as follows : 
 
 My Dear C.: 
 
 As you wish to hear something from your parents with regard to 
 your future course in life, and as I never said but little on that subject, 
 I will write a few thoughts. It is a subject which has caused me many 
 anxious thoughts, which nothing but a parent's experience can truly 
 describe. I see on the one hand all the allurements of wealth and 
 honor and flattery held up to your view; on the other, the silent monitor 
 within saying you ought to do what will be most for the glory of God 
 and of your fellow men. When I think of the great responsibility of 
 a minister of Christ, and how many seem to fall short of preaching the 
 
38 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 7. 
 
 whole gospel, I cannot but look at it as a work of fearful magnitude. 
 But when I think of the promotion of the glory of God and the ever- 
 lasting salvation of the never-dying soul, it seems to be of infinite im- 
 portance that young men should be raised up who will preach the whole 
 gospel. I learn that it is a mournful fact that there is at the present 
 time, in proportion to the population, the smallest number of young men 
 almost ever known fitting for the ministry. 
 
 I hope you will weigh well both sides of this subject as your future 
 destiny seems to hang upon it. As you look forward you see on the 
 one hand wearisome days and years of toil and study, of which you must 
 meet a good portion of the expense, and on the other you might hope 
 to get a celebrated name and lay up much goods for many years. 
 I heard the remark sometime since that our best men in the ministry 
 were men who in a measure had educated themselves. Are not such 
 men laying up a treasure far more valuable than all earthly treasures ? 
 In making up your mind may you be led to watch carefully the provi- 
 dence of God and act from nothing but a sense of duty. This is the 
 sincere desire and fervent prayer of your father. 
 
 E. Richardson. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 8. 39 
 
 LETTER No. 8. 
 
 The letters that I sent you last showed you how thoroughly 
 your grandpapa's mind was settled as to his future work. Now he 
 immediately turned his attention to the means by which the end 
 could be accomplished. Before leaving Dorchester he wrote to 
 his father to secure for him a school, if possible, in the town of 
 Franklin for the coming winter. In this he succeeded. In the 
 early autumn of this year he began his journey through college 
 by attending the Holliston Academy, where he found a life-long 
 friend in Rev. Amos H. Coolidge, now of Leicester, a fellow student, 
 whose account of those days will tell you what I could not. He 
 says: "Mr. Richardson and I were members, in 1847, ^^ the 
 Holliston Academy, under the charge of Mr. Henry L. Bullen ; 
 we soon became acquainted, and the acquaintance ripened into 
 an intimate friendship. Out of study hours we were inseparable 
 companions. I well remember our gymnastic contests with impro- 
 vised apparatus in a grove back of my boarding place. Although 
 sober and earnest in aspect, there was another side to his character, 
 and he entered into these sports with all the zest which marked 
 his devotion to more serious pursuits. Which excelled, or how 
 our records would compare with those of the present day, in which 
 athletic exercises have become so prominent in the schools, 
 I cannot now say. 
 
 " Mr. Richardson's purpose, like my own, was to pursue a 
 course of liberal study with reference to the ministry. His life 
 was characterized by strict consistency and earnest and devout 
 piety, and by the single desire to serve Christ's kingdom and 
 win souls. His heart was set on the Christian ministry, to which 
 we had both given our lives. 
 
 " He entered the school in apparently robust health, coming 
 from active outdoor work in nurseries. He devoted himself with 
 great ardor to the study of Latin and Greek, studying fifteen and 
 sixteen hours a day. It soon became evident that the change in 
 his mode of life was telling upon his health. After struggling 
 for a time he was forced to suspend his studies, and at length, 
 
40 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 8. 
 
 after repeated trials, to abandon the plan of his life. I knew 
 him well in those days, and I know that this was the greatest 
 disappointment he ever met. But though baffled and at last 
 defeated he did not murmur or lose heart. When one course 
 was shut against him he accepted others that opened successively, 
 and thus he found at last his place. 
 
 " It seemed to him, as it did to me, a dark Providence that 
 prevented him from entering the ministry when men of such caliber 
 and piety and consecration were so much needed. But I can see 
 now, and I have no doubt that he came to see, how over that dark 
 path God was leading him to the mission of his life, was reserving 
 for him the work for which he was so well fitted, and opening to 
 him a sphere of Christian influence far wider than that of any 
 pulpit. 
 
 " I have been touched in perusing some old letters from him 
 that I had laid aside for more than forty years, and which I did 
 not know were in existence, not only by their expressions of per- 
 sonal friendship, but by the Christian spirit they breathe and by 
 their unconsciously pathetic references to his early trials, baffled 
 as he was in his high aims by recurring failures of health, as well 
 as by the calm and courageous determination they reveal to serve 
 in other ways the cause to which he had consecrated his life. 
 It has been a pleasure to me to renew these recollections." 
 
 He had begun his work too eagerly, though this eagerness 
 arose from a desire to shorten his preparatory course as much 
 as possible. Being obliged to leave the school and go home he 
 still hoped that a temporary rest would restore him. A long rest, 
 however, was absolutely necessary, and though he attempted to 
 teach schoo> he broke down, thus adding another bitter drop to 
 his cup of trial. With all these failures I find he still had some 
 hope that he might yet overcome and be able to enter college 
 the next year with his friend. He made the attempt, the result 
 of which appears in the following letter : 
 
 "School is now about half done; I am sorry to leave, of 
 course, but 'nature must obey necessity,' you know. . . . My 
 health was not very good any of the time, and therefore I did 
 not go very steady nor press onward. I have learned something, 
 however. . . . 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 8. 4I 
 
 " Friend Coolidge, the prospect for my obtaining a collegiate 
 education looks more and more desponding. I hope that I myself 
 may never be left to faint and despond. As the Lord shall favor 
 me I still hope and intend to pursue my studies with the confidence 
 that I may be able to occupy the position of a teacher, if it be 
 his will that as a minister of Christ I preach not the gospel." 
 
 I suppose no words can express the grief and disappointment 
 that overwhelmed for a time your grandpapa when he came at last 
 to the consciousness that there was no longer hope for him to 
 succeed in his desired purpose. I am sure that no sorer distress 
 of mind ever came to him. Though in after years he suffered 
 sorrows of affliction and mourned the loss of children, these 
 bereavements scarcely brought to him the terrible weight of dis- 
 appointment occasioned by the giving up of this cherished hope 
 of his heart. From this time on he saw that whatever education 
 he obtained must be secured by a slow and careful process. When 
 only seventeen he taught his first school with marked success, 
 and afterward found no difficulty in obtaining a situation when- 
 ever he sought one ; therefore he was led to attend some State 
 normal school, with hopes of fitting himself more thoroughly 
 for the profession of teaching. In the year 1848 he entered the 
 normal school at Westfield, where I was then a pupil. I shall 
 never forget how we, the old pupils of one term, secured our seats 
 early that we might watch the new class as it came in and pass 
 our judgment upon each one as he entered and took his seat. 
 I can see so well today that array of twenty as fine-looking young 
 men as ever formed a class in any school. My eyes selected and 
 rested upon your grandpapa's frank, ingenuous face, and turning 
 to my seat mate I whispered, " That young man is my choice ; 
 I shall win him." 
 
 She laughingly replied, " Dearie me, I had chosen him, but 
 if you say he is your choice then I will take the one who wears 
 glasses and has such a heavenly countenance ; I think he must be 
 the one whom they say was studying for the ministry and broke 
 down; he looks decidedly ministerial." She was joking, but I was 
 in earnest, though she little dreamed it. 
 
42 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 9. 
 
 LETTER No. 9. 
 
 I REMAINED out of school for scvcral days the first week, and 
 it was not strange that when I returned the next Monday your 
 grandpapa's attention was drawn to me as a newcomer, or that he 
 was interested to know who I was. Perhaps it was a bit singular 
 that my eyes should go roaming about to find the face which had 
 so impressed me on the opening day of school. We were in the 
 same classes and necessarily interested in the same studies, but 
 we did not become acquainted until near the middle of the term. 
 Then, shall I confess it ? I sought his aid in my algebra lesson, 
 though I did not need it. From that time on we were good friends, 
 yet, singularly enough, we were very careful not to manifest any 
 warmth of feeling toward each other until after a certain com- 
 munion Sunday when each, unknown to the other, had watched to 
 see if the other was a guest at the table of our Lord. From that 
 time onward we knew and felt that there was a link between us 
 to justify a closer friendship. I find another letter written to his 
 friend Coolidge telling him somewhat of his expectations and 
 hopes in attending this school. I will give you an extract from it : 
 
 Westfield Normal School, April 24, 1849. 
 
 My Dear Friend Coolidge : 
 
 . . . Feeling confident that I should not be able to resume classical 
 studies, I at length concluded to come here hoping that I might be able 
 to take up the common branches, though my advancement be not rapid. 
 It will be three weeks tomorrow since school commenced, and I rejoice 
 to say that I feel quite as well as for several weeks before. I have taken 
 no studies except the three common branches, and have not studied much 
 upon those. I anticipate much enjoyment here, as all who attend have 
 the same motive in view and wish to cooperate in the common cause. 
 Suppose you are expecting to come up this way the coming fall [mean- 
 ing to college in Amherst]. I wonder if you are 'lotting upon it much ? 
 O that I enjoyed the same anticipation ! But I am thankful that I am able 
 to pursue study with the idea of qualifying myself as an English teacher. 
 It seems but a very short time since we were associated together as 
 classmates ; indeed, I can hardly realize that it is so long. Time will 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. g. 43 
 
 soon bear us away into the limits of eternity, and what a work we have 
 to perform here in order that we may answer the great end of life! If 
 we are faithful and work while it is day we have the sacred promise of 
 that rest which remaineth for the people of God. When I consider how 
 little I am accomplishing for the cause of Christ and how much engaged 
 in the employments of the world, sometimes the thought rushes upon me, 
 What evidence have I of being a child of God.'' What a solemn ques- 
 tion it is ; what solemn future realities rest upon it ! Still do I hope that 
 Christ is formed in me " the hope of glory," and it is my fervent prayer 
 that I may so live as to honor that blessed cause for which my Saviour 
 died. If we are only faithful here what a joyful meeting shall we and 
 all the people of God experience in that world of bliss which is to come. 
 
 Tuus amicus, c. A. R. 
 
 During the winter a powerful revival was in progress in West- 
 field. We were both deeply interested and took an active part in 
 the meetings. Your grandpapa's earnest life was reflected, in 
 great measure, on his schoolmates, as many of them assured him 
 in subsequent correspondence. Unfortunately, most of those let- 
 ters, with scores of others, I destroyed after your grandpapa went 
 to his long home. This seemed wise at the time, as I expected 
 soon to follow him, not once supposing that I could ever recover 
 strength enough to do what I am now doing for you. I find this 
 one letter which probably escaped my notice, but it breathes the 
 spirit of many : 
 
 Blandford, December, 1849. 
 Dear Friend : 
 
 . . . During the first of the term I hardly became acquainted with 
 you, but I marked you as one who does not live altogether in the scenes 
 of this world ; whenever I think of our past in school you are before 
 my eyes. I cannot forget you. I remember the last time we met together 
 for social prayer. You sat in the corner by the stove, I sat opposite. 
 You addressed us, and as you stood before me I recollect your form, 
 your voice, your countenance as if it were yesterday. Your words sank 
 deep into my heart. . . . 
 
 Accept my thanks for your interest in my welfare and know that 
 you are not forgotten by Your Schoolmate. 
 
 In this deeply interesting religious work your grandpapa and 
 I were thrown more or less together. Our sympathies being en- 
 listed in the same cause our friendship grew apace, and on my 
 
44 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 9. 
 
 twentieth birthday he became my accepted and acknowledged 
 lover. Near the end of the term he was obliged to go home on 
 account of ill health, and I find another of his characteristic letters 
 a few weeks later to his friend Coolidge : 
 
 Medway, July 24, 1849. 
 My Dear Friend: 
 
 It is indeed discouraging to have one's ambition so hemmed in 
 and cramped by sickness, still I hope that I am in some degree thank- 
 ful for the blessings I enjoy. When I went to Westfield it was doubt- 
 ful whether I could stay a fortnight, but I did stay more than twelve 
 weeks. My advantages were good, and had I been able to make close 
 application to study I might have improved much. 
 
 Friend Coolidge, I wish you much success in your studies, and 
 hope that, your labors being at length accomplished, you may be per- 
 mitted to proclaim the gospel of peace. You have a glorious prospect 
 before you. Do not our own souls and those of our dying fellow 
 men present unparalleled inducements for labor? O how valuable is 
 a Christian's hope ! What could we do without it ! 'Tis, indeed, an 
 anchor to the soul. My own feelings accord with yours, while I join 
 with you in saying that it seems to me I am doing but little indeed 
 for the souls of sinners, though I think I do take a great interest in 
 their welfare. Sometimes feelings arise in my mind which lead me 
 almost to feel that one so unworthy cannot be a Christian. Yet I 
 think I have faith in Christ, and I look forward with joyous anticipa- 
 tions to the time when I shall be delivered from the power of sin and 
 all its alluring charms. 
 
 The religious advantages at Westfield were very good. I enjoyed 
 my mind most of the time while there. I shall depend upon you to 
 write me a good long letter, filled not with the anticipations but reali- 
 ties of college life. 
 
 Your sincere friend, c. A. R. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. lO. 45 
 
 LETTER No. 10. 
 
 In the autumn of 1849 he attended the normal school in 
 Bridgewater, and thence went to Montague to teach a district 
 school which had been offered him for that winter. He was 
 unusually successful in this school, and before leaving made prep- 
 aration to open a select school in the autumn before the annual 
 town school for winter should begin, which he had been asked 
 to take again. The summer before the opening of his select 
 school I went with him to make my first visit to the old home- 
 stead. We were having a joyous vacation when your grandpapa 
 was taken very ill with typhoid dysentery, and was confined to 
 his bed for weeks, his life hanging in the balance for days while 
 his mind was wandering in the mazes of delirium, God mercifully 
 spared him, however, to give happiness to many years of my life. 
 
 Though scarcely able to do so, he went to open the select 
 school at the date specified in the autumn, which, greatly to his 
 surprise, he found was to be quite large, and he sent for me to 
 come to his assistance. He continued this school for two years. 
 While in Montague his religious influence was as strong and per- 
 suasive as everywhere else. As soon as he was established in 
 his school his next step was to identify himself with the church 
 and give to it his best efforts. Always at the prayer meeting, 
 regularly at Sabbath service and at Sunday school, the pastor 
 found in him a help and a comfort. Ever putting foremost his 
 labors for the Master, his life was an example of living faith. I 
 want to send you a letter which he received the next year after 
 he left Montague to take charge of a school in the vicinity of 
 Boston. It was from this same pastor, who became a warm and 
 lifelong friend. The letter manifests the high esteem in which 
 he was held by this faithful minister. To me it is an evidence 
 of the brotherly love existing between them : 
 
 Montague, February 9, 1852, 
 My Dear Mr. Richardson : 
 
 Would a short Monday morning's letter from me be better than 
 none ? Surely you will not get any this week unless I take this time 
 when I'm hardly competent to the task of playing with a dry quill. 
 
46 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. lO. 
 
 much less to tliat of composing a letter. I think I must give all my 
 strength to my people. What ! have you a prospect of a revival ? 
 O, no; not as we commonly count prospects! Sinners are full of play 
 or business, the youth whisper as boldly on the Sabbath as ever, the 
 church is no means alive, our last Thursday's meeting was thin. But 
 I look up and it looks bright and promising; it shines on high. The 
 love of God in sending his Son shines ; the cross of Christ shines ; 
 the promises shine — especially the promise of the Holy Ghost; and 
 it seems to me sometimes as though I saw Satan falling like light- 
 ning to the ground and the kingdom of Christ coming with power. 
 And when the infinite grace of God in Jesus Christ gives me to see 
 such shinings above, I surely ought to employ all my little strength 
 in using means toward bringing in Christ's kingdom. . . . Now, my 
 dear friend, give me liberty to urge you to one thing. You know we 
 are bid to exhort one another daily. Be sure you please Christ. Do 
 not consult the wishes of men ; that is, do not aim as your end after 
 the honor that cometh from men or their good will even, except so far 
 as they will the same that Christ does. Look up to the eye of Christ, 
 and aim only, only in all things to see that beam with smiles. Then 
 if I do the same — and I beg your prayers that I may — then you and 
 I will meet one day on those glorious heights above and look back 
 even on our sins and mistakes and triumphs and bless the Lord for- 
 ever and ever. 
 
 I remain very affectionately yours, J. H. Merrill. 
 
 Be sure, my dear brother, you do not fail to pray most earnestly 
 for the conversion of our youth. I cannot be denied this. 
 
 J. H. M. 
 
 In many ways this good man proved to him a friend indeed. 
 I think you will like to read this extract also, which I find in a 
 Report of the Board of Education, on normal schools, several 
 years later. It was from the same kind hand : 
 
 . . . To this I may add a word from my individual experience. 
 Upon being appointed, several years since, prudential committee of the 
 center district in Montague, where I then resided, I repaired at once in 
 person to the normal school in Westfield and selected and engaged a 
 teacher. That gentleman taught two winters and two select schools 
 in Montague, and in my opinion, by the improvements he introduced in 
 discipline and instruction, he was instrumental of incalculable good to 
 the whole town. Also quite a number of youths, attending scliool and 
 learning his methods he introduced, afterwards taught school in Mon- 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. I O. 47 
 
 tague and elsewhere greatly to the acceptance of school committees. 
 The introduction of normal school improvements brought on a new 
 era in the district schools in one town in the State to my personal 
 knowledge. Very respectfully, 
 
 Your obedient servant, J. H. Merrill. 
 
 Perhaps you would like to see, too, the notice of the select 
 school as it appeared in the papers : 
 
 SELECT SCHOOL IN MONTAGUE. 
 
 The subscriber will open a select school on Monday, April 7, 1851. 
 The term is to continue eleven weeks — no school on Saturday. As 
 usual we shall aim to be thorough. As the school will probably be 
 small, patrons may rest assured that the advancement and general 
 deportment of the pupils will be well cared for. Tuition as last fall 
 — $3.00 and $3.50, depending upon the branches pursued. 
 
 C. A. Richardson. 
 
 In 185 1 he was elected to a grammar school in South Maiden 
 (now Everett), where he was to have an increase of salary and 
 a larger school. He knew that it had the reputation of being a 
 rather hard one, but had no idea of the trial in store for him in 
 making this change. 
 
 In the follovi^ing extract from a letter by one of the committee 
 you will notice an allusion to the doubt in your grandpapa's 
 mind as to whether he had better leave the school in Montague 
 without having given some notice of an intention to do so : 
 
 Malden, December 29, 1851. 
 Mr. Charles A. Richardson : 
 
 ... I cannot, in the compass of a letter, give you much definite 
 information concerning the character of this district. It is inhabited by 
 sons of Adam, who are very much like their brethren in these parts of 
 New England. I know not that you will meet with any encouragements 
 or discouragements except such as commonly fall to the lot of gentlemen 
 of your profession. There is no insubordination in the school, though 
 it is and long has been at a low stage of improvement. This gives 
 you, if you should undertake it, the better chance to show what you can 
 do. If you should succeed in raising the school to life you will at once 
 secure the confidence and affection of a thriving community where you 
 may, if God please, spend many pleasant and profitable years. If you 
 
48 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. lO. 
 
 should distinguish yourself you will have a prominent place in the line 
 of promotion. . . . 
 
 You need not feel any scruples about leaving your present situation. 
 Your post is like any other public office, which the incumbent is 
 always at liberty to resign for reasons satisfactory to himself. Your 
 school committee would not hesitate to discharge you or any other 
 teacher at a day's notice if they saw cause to avail themselves of the 
 express provisions of the law in that respect. You have the same moral 
 and legal right to discharge them if you can better yourself by so doing. 
 I hope that you will feel this a call in divine Providence to change your 
 
 location. . . . 
 
 Yours very respectfully, A. W. McClure. 
 
 At this time I was teaching a select school in Plymouth Hollow, 
 Connecticut. Your grandpapa thought it would be quite as pleas- 
 ant for me to assist him in school as to be teaching elsewhere, 
 so it was decided that we be married the coming spring and I take 
 the place of his present assistant. Accordingly I sent in my res- 
 ignation and left my pleasant situation in April. We were mar- 
 ried the third day of May, 1852. In my next I will tell you of 
 a trying experience in connection with his teaching the school in 
 Maiden. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. II. 49 
 
 LETTER No. 11. 
 
 The school in Everett proved to be a hard one, though it 
 increased in numbers and in popularity under the new instructor. 
 The parents appeared to be pleased and the children to enjoy their 
 studies. But there was one boy, about sixteen years old, who had 
 made no end of trouble in previous terms, and whose father called 
 to see the teacher to talk over with him the conduct of his son. 
 He was rather a rough man, but evidently wished his boy to do 
 well. 
 
 " If Fred don't do right," said he, " I want you to lick him ; and 
 if I know when he's been licked at school I'll lick him agin when 
 he gits home, I want you to make a good boy of him." 
 
 Your grandpapa thanked him for his interest, and assured him 
 that he should try to do his best for the boy. 
 
 A number of weeks later your grandpapa came home one 
 night looking much disturbed, and when I asked the cause he said 
 
 " I am in great perplexity over Fred ; he has done something 
 
 that I hardly know how to deal with. School was just out this 
 noon and most of the pupils gone when H , a rather trouble- 
 some girl, who was talking with him, said something to anger him, 
 then ran to the platform where I was sitting. Fred seized one of 
 those solid glass inkwells and deliberately aiming at her threw it 
 across the room with all the strength he could command, accom- 
 panied with some profane and angry exclamation. Fortunately the 
 bottle just failed of its mark, otherwise it must have killed her. 
 I jumped to my feet frightened and called him to me. 
 
 " ' Do you know,' said I, ' that if that missile had hit H 
 
 it would probably have killed her ? ' 
 
 " ' I wish it had. That's what I meant to do,' he replied." 
 
 For an instant your grandpapa could make no reply, then in 
 substance he said : " Such a high-handed act as this, Fred, deserves 
 more than ordinary treatment ; you can go now. I will think the 
 matter over and attend to the punishment at another time." 
 
 He visited his committee one by one ; he consulted with his 
 pastor ; he thought over it, prayed over it, and passed two restless 
 nights over it. All his advisers agreed that a severe punishment 
 
50 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. II. 
 
 was necessary, but left to the discretion of the teacher what the 
 nature of that punishment should be. In those days the pupils 
 were not suspended from school for misbehavior. Corporal pun- 
 ishment was resorted to and approved everywhere. 
 
 When three and a half days had passed Fred was told to 
 remain after school, and two of the older pupils were detained 
 as witnesses to the punishment. Fred confessed to his wrong, 
 acknowledged his deserts, took off his coat at the request of 
 the teacher, and received several blows across the back from the 
 master's switch without flinching or uttering a sound. The next 
 morning he was in his accustomed seat at school a well-behaved 
 boy, and nothing was heard from the punishment except a satis- 
 factory approval from many of the parents. 
 
 A few days later, however, the girl who had been the cause of 
 the trouble disobeyed some rule of the school — the same for which 
 she had been reprimanded several times before, and had been 
 assured that if the offense was repeated she would be feruled. 
 The teacher kept his word, and she was given three blows on her 
 hand. This angered her so, that on going home she greatly exag- 
 gerated the story to her mother, who also made much ado about it. 
 She made complaint to the committee, taking the aggrieved child 
 with her, her hand snugly bandaged so as to induce pity. The 
 removal of the bandage was demanded, and finding no occasion 
 for sympathy the committee decidedly upheld the teacher in his 
 discipline. Incensed at her failure she resolved on some other 
 course for redress ; she went to Fred's father, who had not been 
 told of the punishment, and asked if his boy had recovered from his 
 terrible whipping. 
 
 " What whipping ? " asked the father. 
 
 " Why, the whipping that he got at school on such a day," 
 mentioning the day. 
 
 "I didn't know that he had one. I hain't heard about it," he 
 replied. 
 
 " Didn't hear anything about it ? Why, it was terrible ! " 
 
 " I guess it didn't hurt him much, for he didn't say nothing 
 about it himself. Shouldn't wonder 'f he deserved it," and the 
 father paid but little heed to her. The cunning woman knew with 
 whom she had to deal, and was not easily turned aside from her 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. II, 5 1 
 
 purpose. She now put the subject in a new light before him — 
 magnified the disgrace to himself, the insult to his honor, the posi- 
 tion it gave him before others if he let it pass without protest. She 
 worked her card well until she was sure she had stirred up the lion 
 in him and then left. That evening he came to see your grandpapa 
 and demanded of him some apology. No explanation of the mat- 
 ter or reference to his former desire to make a good boy of his son 
 had any efifect ; he talked in a very abusive manner, and finally 
 when he left he vowed "he'd have the law " on him. This threat 
 he carried out, and your grandpapa was summoned to appear 
 before the justice of the peace and answer to a charge of " assault 
 and battery." The trial justice was unsatisfactory, and the case 
 was put over to the supreme court. The committee was unani- 
 mous in grandpapa's favor, and the many friends of the school ral- 
 lied around him ; but it made no difference, the trial must go on. 
 Meantime he had been asked to take a school in Dedham. 
 This was an agreeable change, though the cloud of that expen- 
 sive trial was weighing heavily upon him. At length the case 
 was tried, and the jury stood six to six. This unsatisfactory result 
 angered the father still more, and again he appealed to the supe- 
 rior court. This was indeed discouraging to your grandpapa, 
 especially so when he knew that it was urged simply from a sense 
 of injured pride and unwillingness to be defeated. We were con- 
 stantly hearing remarks to the effect that the father regretted 
 having meddled with the case — "His boy had never learned so 
 much nor behaved so well. The whole thing was a mistake." 
 While your grandpapa's case was up, we were told of several simi- 
 lar cases that were being tried. A change was evidently working 
 in the minds of people as to the methods of managing the public 
 schools. A letter from grandpapa's lawyer reads : 
 
 . . . Since you left me Mr. C.'s case has been tried and resulted in 
 a disagreement the same as yours, with a difference that the majority 
 was against him ; and yet the case was a better case than yours, and more 
 ingeniously and forcibly put to the jury. ... It was the first jury ; yours 
 was the second. Upon the return of the jury in your case the judge 
 admonished the district attorney that in his opinion the interests of the 
 Commonwealth did not require another trial of your case, and advised 
 that you be allowed to go upon your own recognizance at present, and 
 ultimately the indictment be nolle pros'd, if in the meantime no new 
 complaints were made against you. ... C, 
 
52 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. II. 
 
 But relief was coining to your grandpapa sooner than he knew 
 through the father himself, A letter came, just before the public 
 examination of his school in Dedham, telling him to go at once to 
 
 Mr. , for he was all ready to sign a paper which should nolle 
 
 pros the suit. Here was a quandary. He could not adjourn the 
 examination, neither could he leave it in other hands. I suggested 
 that I go and obtain the paper from his counsel and take it over 
 
 to Mr. ; he could sign it for me perhaps as well as for him. 
 
 Grandpapa looked at me with amazement. I had been quite an 
 invalid for months, and such a proposition seemed almost wild ; 
 he would not listen to it. I entreated, however, that he could not 
 go, neither could I care for his school. It was necessary to attend 
 to the matter then. God would give me strength if that was the 
 thing to be done. After long entreaty I prevailed. I must start 
 early in the morning for Charlestown, find the lawyer, get the 
 papers, then go to South Maiden via Chelsea, taking an omnibus 
 there which would leave me at the house of a friend, who would 
 
 take me to Mr. 's and witness with me the signing of the 
 
 document. 
 
 Early next morning I was sped on my way through a thick, 
 falling snow by the tender prayers of an anxious husband that 
 I might be kept in the hollow of God's hand whatever the success 
 of my errand. Can you imagine what a day of suspense that must 
 have been ? I was very early at the lawyer's office, and while I 
 stood shivering in the hall another door opened, and I was invited 
 in to sit by the stove until Mr. C. should arrive. I had not long to 
 wait. I asked with trembling if I could do the work as well as 
 your grandpapa, and was answered with an encouraging smile and 
 the words, " Yes ; and better, far better, for he'll have more sym- 
 pathy for you." You may be sure that I was comforted. 
 
 When the paper was put into my hand 1 started with consid- 
 erable lightness of heart for Chelsea. I reached there to learn 
 that the omnibus had just left and that there would not be another 
 until the middle of the afternoon. It was nearly a mile and a half 
 to my friend's house. The storm had increased in fury, and the 
 wind was blowing a gale. My strength was exceeding small to bat- 
 tle with such odds across that open marsh. Nevertheless, I thought 
 I must go, so I ventured. How many times I stopped on that jour- 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. II. 53 
 
 ney, thinking I might never breathe again, I cannot say. But after 
 repeated rests with my back to the wind I at last reached the 
 friendly shelter. I have often called to mind the exclamation of 
 Mrs. G. when I was ushered into her sitting room, and my speech- 
 less exhaustion as I almost fell upon the couch. She gave me 
 warm drinks, chafed my hands, warmed my feet, put comfortable 
 wraps about me, and bade me lie still until I was recovered. 
 I had just begun to tell her my errand when her husband entered, 
 and I delivered up my paper to him with the lawyer's message. 
 
 " Ah," said he, " this is just what I have been wanting to see ; 
 my horse is harnessed and I'll drive over at once. He is at home 
 now, for I saw him but a few minutes ago, and he spoke on this 
 very matter and said he wished the thing was done with. He'll 
 sign it gladly enough, though he may want to make a little show 
 about it." Then turning to me he added, " Mrs. Richardson, you 
 remain just where you are ; it is quite unnecessary for you to go ; 
 in fact, I think I can do better alone. I'll be back shortly with 
 papers signed and everything all right." And so he was, and 
 laughingly shook the paper in my face, saying such kind and 
 pleasant things that the nervous tension was relieved, and I — 
 well, I was overjoyed, and quite broke down. 
 
 " I never saw a man more pleased than he was to put his 
 name to those papers," said he, " though he was a little afraid what 
 his friends might say, and exclaimed : ' I never should have gone 
 into this if I hadn't been driven to it. Why, I would hold up 
 both hi:..nds to have that man come back into the school again.' " 
 My kind friend then took me in his carriage to the station, and 
 I returned with inexpressible gladness to a waiting and anxious 
 husband, carrying the good news. 
 
54 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 12. 
 
 LETTER No. 12. 
 
 We spent two happy years in Millvillage, Dedhain, but I will 
 not write you of your grandpapa's labors there, for they are better 
 told by another. When he entered the school he issued this cir- 
 cular to the parents, showing what he wanted to do : 
 
 To the Patrons of the Grove Gratiimar School: 
 
 My object in addressing you is to seek your hearty cooperation in 
 carrying out my plans for the improvement of those committed to my 
 care. 
 
 The interests of your children are as dear to you as life itself, and 
 next to yourselves he who occupies the position of their teacher, if he 
 is of the right spirit, can do most toward advancing their interests. 
 
 The earnest desire which I feel for their advancement and the repu- 
 tation of the School induces me to call your attention to the absolute 
 importance of regular zxxdi punctual attendance. 
 
 Those who are absent must lose the instruction imparted to the 
 others, or else the classes must be retarded while the teacher goes 
 over the same ground again as a special favor to the absentee ; hence 
 the absence of a child for a single half-day is a matter of no little 
 cojiseqnence. 
 
 Every tardy scholar must disturb the School in entering, and call 
 their attention from study nearly a moment, making in the aggregate 
 nearly half an Jiour. 
 
 It is estimated that the time of children ten or twelve years old in 
 school is worth 07ie dollar per day, and out of school only 7iinepence ! 
 
 In view, then, of the good of the School, and the importance of 
 training your children to correct and steady habits, will you not deter- 
 mine that they shall be sent regularly j and will you not encourage the 
 learning of at least one lesson at home ; and, moreover, will you not 
 encourage all our hearts and cheer us in our arduous toils in pursuit of 
 knowledge by your frequent visits to the Schoolroom. 
 
 Hoping that these few suggestions may be of use in securing unity 
 of action in our efforts to promote the true interests of the School, 
 I remain your and your children's friend, 
 
 C. A. Richardson. 
 
 Millvillage, Dedhain, April 28, i8jj. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 12. 55 
 
 This proved a stimulus not only to the pupils, but to the 
 parents as well. The following report witnesses for his school : 
 
 No. Three, Millvillage. 
 
 It is perhaps the Ajax of the schools. It has more vitality and 
 muscle and nerve than we ever witnessed there before — the first division 
 particularly. Hesitancy was ruled out of the schoolroom ; every scholar 
 was up to time; exercises were conducted right merrily; it was as dan- 
 gerous for a scholar to stumble as for an engineer to fall in running to a 
 fire — the rest were sure to run over him ; hence very few stumbled. 
 It was an excellent school. Other districts must be on the alert or 
 number three will pass them out of sight. 
 
 Aprils, jSs4- 
 
 At the close of your grandpapa's labors in Dedham as a 
 teacher, his school gave an exhibition, which was held three even- 
 ings, the hall being found insufficient to accommodate the crowds 
 who wished to attend. It may amuse you to read one of the 
 notices that were issued, also the programme of exercises : 
 
 AN EXHIBITION, 
 
 — CONSISTING OF — 
 
 DECLAMATIONS, DIALOGUES, AND MUSIC, 
 
 Will be given on Monday Evening, March 20th, and repeated on Tuesday 
 Evening, March 21st, 1S54, by the Grove Grammar School, at 
 
 DR. BURGESS CHAPEL, 
 
 IN MILLVILLAGE, DEDHAM, 
 Commencing at 7 o'clock precisely, — FIVE DIALOGUES, three 
 of which are original, have been prepared for the occasion, namely : — 
 
 RAILROADS; humorous, by ten lads. 
 
 THE ELOOMERS; by eight Misses, some of whom appear in that 
 costume. 
 
 THE SEWING CIRCLE; by twelve young Ladies,— two scenes,— occu- 
 pying one hour. 
 
 ALL FOR GOOD ORDER ; scene, a school in session. 
 
 JONATHAN IN THE CITY ; a comedy in four scenes. 
 
 It is confidently hoped that the exercises will not fail to meet the 
 expectation of all present. 
 
 ADMITTANCE, TEN CENTS. 
 
 The proceeds of the Exhibition will be expended in enlarging the 
 School Library. 
 
56 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO, 12. 
 
 The following appeared in a Boston daily : 
 
 Mr. Editor : Our village has been thrown into a very agreeable state 
 of excitement by an exhibition, consisting of declamations, music, and 
 dialogues, given by the pupils of Grove School for the purpose of enlar- 
 ging their library. The first public rehearsal took place Monday evening, 
 the twentieth instant; the house was again filled to overflowing on 
 Tuesday evening, and at the close of this rehearsal the teacher was very 
 unexpectedly called forward and presented with a beautiful Bible — a gift 
 of the pupils. Mr. Richardson acknowledged the gift in a neat and 
 appropriate speech. The exhibition was given for the third time on 
 Wednesday evening. — Boston Herald. 
 
MEMORIAL LE'lTER, NO. 13. 57 
 
 LETTER No. 13. 
 
 Your grandpapa was beginning to feel much worn at this 
 time from the constant nervous drain and the anxiety and solici- 
 tude of the past two years ; neither could he feel quite contented 
 to remain stationary as to his position in life. He was of too 
 progressive a nature to stay in so hampered a position as that of 
 a school teacher. He began to look about for some more con- 
 genial employment. He thought much of entering the book busi- 
 ness in some form, either as a publisher or a dealer ; but having 
 had no experience in it, he doubted the wisdom of a venture on 
 borrowed capital, though he had several opportunities of doing 
 so. He resolved finally to step squarely out of teaching and 
 make a start to prepare himself for what he was sure he should 
 like. He went to the well-known publishing house of John P. 
 Jewett, and offered his services at a very low figure for the sake 
 of learning the trade. It required a firm will and a brave heart to 
 take this step, with a feeble wife to care for and only the small 
 amount of money which he had, by strict economy, laid aside from 
 a school teacher's salary to live upon. This, however, he thought 
 was the thing to do if he would be a successful man in the busi- 
 ness he wished to adopt. Those were hard days, but we were 
 young and hopeful, and things took on brighter coloring than they 
 do when life has brought its experiences of disappointment, grief, 
 and ill health. 
 
 It was some time before we could decide just how we were to 
 live, but at length concluded that I had best go home to my 
 mother, for a time at least, while your grandpapa would get a 
 room in Boston and take his meals wherever he could procure 
 them cheapest and most convenient to his place of business. The 
 year proved to be one of bitter hardship. Discouragement and 
 poverty stared us in the face, dogged our steps, and pierced our 
 hearts continually. 
 
 It was always your grandpapa's custom from his earliest 
 years to keep a diary wherein even the smallest expenses were 
 noted, beside all the important events of his career. It pains me 
 more than I can express to read the diary of this year and learn 
 
58 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. I3. 
 
 the privations he endured for my sake, the meager sums he spent 
 for food, the solicitude consequent upon my suffering, and the 
 tender grief for my enforced absence from his care. I want to 
 send you a few of the entries that I find in his diary that you may 
 understand a little better what some of the self-denials were which 
 he encountered and struggled with. The sums he paid for his 
 breakfasts were from eight to ten cents. Once during these weary 
 weeks and months I find an entry of eighteen cents for a single 
 breakfast. Dinners ranged from twelve to fifteen cents, though 
 I find one that cost twenty, while his suppers seldom exceeded 
 six or eight cents. 
 
 It is hard for me, my dear grandchildren, to submit even to 
 your loving eyes the letters which he wrote me at this time. They 
 are full of tender memories and rife with sweet and private 
 thoughts for me alone. But I yield these secrets that you may 
 know better the real, true heart of your blessed grandpapa, the 
 heroism that characterized him, and the Christ spirit that was in 
 him through all his experiences : 
 
 Boston, May 22, 1855. 
 Dearest Mary Jane : 
 
 ... It must be a sad thing for a person to be without a home. 
 I now have a chance to learn what it is, though I am yet quite well con- 
 tented. I have no doubt that the time will come when I shall wish 
 I could go home when night comes. ... I know nothing more as to the 
 future than I did when you left. It is dark, but we may trust in God. 
 I am very, very glad you did not fail to unbosom all your sorrows to me, 
 as I hope you do. Think of one, far away though he be, who still loves 
 you more than he loves any other human being, and above all think of 
 the love of Christ, and " Let not your heart be troubled." Bear up 
 bravely and nobly, whatever may come. I have some of the time for 
 a week past felt quite disheartened, but I think the effect of your letter 
 has been to encourage rather than discourage me. O, let us pray ear- 
 nestly that whatever comes we may have faith in Christ! There can be 
 no harm in sorrowing at our separation, but let us be careful that we do 
 not carry it too far, lest it be murmuring. Love to all. Hope for the 
 best. Good night. 
 
 Boston, May 26, 1855. 
 ... I have been reading today a book entitled Rich and Poor, 
 which is very interesting and goes to show the vanity of wealth. I would 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 13. 59 
 
 like to realize and believe more practically than I seem to the truths it 
 inculcates. In contrast how important, how immensely important, is it 
 to have the riches which God has promised to them that love him. Let us 
 pray for one another that we may follow Christ more closely, more cour- 
 ageously, and with more zeal. What a consoling thought it is to feel that 
 if in the providence of God while we are separated — if one of us should 
 be called from time to eternity, how glorious is the thought that we 
 should meet again to be forever with one another and with the Lord. 
 I love to contemplate the joys promised to them that love Christ. Pray 
 for me that with you I may be wholly conformed to the will and service 
 of Christ. It seems cold, lonesome, and gloomy here tonight ; how 
 different would it seem if I could but be at home and spend the time with 
 you — then it would be short; now it is long. It is quite late, and 1 can 
 only say that I have been down to Providence and there is some pros- 
 pect of my having a chance to go into business there. Be satisfied till 
 tomorrow night when I will write more particularly. 
 
 May 30, 1855. 
 My Dear, Dear Mary Jane: 
 
 . . . Amidst all the toil and care and anxiety of the past few days 
 I am very much tired out, but my health is pretty good. I am now quite 
 hopeful, my dear wife, that I shall go to Providence to remain perma- 
 nently. There is no bargain made yet, but I shall endeavor to enter 
 upon it tomorrow morning, with the advice of Messrs. Jewett & Co., 
 although I do not expect any financial assistance from them. I wrote 
 out to Brigham to come and see me this afternoon. He came, and 
 although he could not determine definitely whether he would go in with 
 me or not, still he promised me some assistance and I shall take courage 
 from it to go forward, as the chance seems to be so good. They tell me 
 here that I may travel all over the West and spend several hundred 
 dollars in looking about, and there will be no probability of finding any- 
 thing that will look nearly as well for me as this does. It may not 
 amount to anything, but I have strong faith that it will ; but even should 
 it be brought to pass, my dear, our means for expending will not be 
 materially increased for the present probably, inasmuch as I should 
 be so involved that I should feel it a duty to economize in every possible 
 way. The main thing is, it would look like something for the future. 
 I will write you every day now until the matter is decided one way or 
 another. 
 
 Boston, June 3, 1855. 
 
 . . . The business matter rests on just as much probability and 
 possibility as it did when I wrote you last. It seems almost certain that 
 it must be decided before I write you again. I pray the Lord that it 
 
6o MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 13. 
 
 may i-esult as it seems to me now to be best; still I feel that he sees 
 the beginning from the end, and rejoice that I can commit the whole 
 matter into his hand feeling that he can and will do the thing that is 
 best. Should this opening pass by, I shall feel that for some reason, 
 though unknown to me, it was not best for us that we should go there. 
 As you say, it is a privilege to make this the subject of special prayer, 
 which I, and I know you, have done. 
 
 My dear wife, you know that although I am pained to hear of your 
 feeble health, still I am always desirous to have you open your heart 
 to me and tell me all, so that I may be the better able to sympathize 
 with you in any pain or suffering. Do not, then, as you value my sym- 
 pathy, and as you would have me enter into all your joys and sorrows, 
 do not keep from me anything which you have any wish to disclose. 
 I hope you are comfortable today and feel the presence of Christ. Let 
 us love one another and let us love Christ. 
 
 Have just returned from the union Sunday-school concert at Park 
 Street. The house was filled to overflowing, very many standing; the 
 children sang very prettily. It would have done you good to be there. 
 The Sabbath day is sadly profaned here, the streets are full of stroll- 
 ers Sabbath evenings, and probably more iniquity of a certain kind is 
 carried on upon Sabbath night than upon any other. How delightful 
 would seem the quiet old Puritan Sabbath we have read so much of ! 
 I have been reading every Sabbath of late The Footsteps of St. Paul, 
 a new and very interesting work. 
 
 How pleasant it is to remember one another at the throne of grace, 
 especially on Sabbath eve ! Yes, we can pray for, though not with one 
 another. How closely is our existence getting to be woven together ! . . . 
 
 Boston, June 4, 1855. 
 ... I am alone tonight, and have much of the eve yet to come in 
 which to think of you and write to you ; I love to, and I know you love 
 to have me. It is not now probable that we shall go to Providence, and 
 I have brought myself to feel that, as the providence of God does not 
 favor it, it was not best that we should go. I feel so, and I want you to 
 feel when you read this that the Lord knows best and that he will direct 
 our path. There was a time when I felt that I must go, that it could not 
 be otherwise ; that if I did not go there I should feel as though there 
 was no opening for us, no ray of light for the future. I have none of 
 that feeling now, and I don't wish you to have. Perhaps the Lord is 
 carrying us through these scenes that he may try us and show us what 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 13. 6 1 
 
 manner of persons we are; let us, then, look into our hearts and look 
 unto the Rock which is higher than we. I think I shall find my forti- 
 tude and courage increase and rise higher should misfortune assail us, 
 but we cannot yet say that we have been unfortunate ! Surely many 
 blessings have attended us. The knowledge and experience I have 
 obtained in investigating this Providence matter will always be valuable 
 to me, although it results in nothing just now. I have a strong, cheer- 
 ful heart, and I want you to have. I was glad to hear from you today, 
 but sorry your poor body is no better. After all it better be so than to 
 have the soul sick. Now, my dearest earthly friend, be of good cheer ; 
 remember the promises of God to those that serve him — "I will never 
 leave thee nor forsake thee." 
 
 Boston, June 24, 1855. 
 
 ... I have been alone today ; I am not lonely, but still I feel the 
 want of home and wife. . . . How delightful to be so near meeting; we 
 could walk and thence go together as I have seen hundreds do today, 
 and as many times have wished, but we must wait patiently. I trust our 
 time will come by and by. Think I told you I should go about to church 
 to various places till I found the most congenial one. Am about tired of 
 it; want to feel at home somewhere. The mind inevitably gets tired of 
 wandering, and wants a home to look to — an earthly and a heavenly 
 home. Home is not always happy, but I hope and trust that ours, yours 
 and mine, will always be a happy one ; let us be careful and not expect 
 too much. There is but one home where we can be fully satisfied ; that 
 is heaven. O what a glorious meeting when we are ushered in there and 
 can think that we are to go no more out forever ! How unworthy we to 
 be admitted to such joys ! But he is faithful who hath promised. Which 
 of us shall be there first? Shall we know one another there? Shall we 
 sustain any peculiar relation to each other there ? What numberless 
 questions of this kind flood the mind when we contemplate those scenes. 
 I would bless God for such glorious prospects for those who mourn ; 
 to such, dying will be but going home. May these be our feelings 
 whenever the last hour shall come. 
 
 Do you remember the prayer meetings we used to attend in Dr. 
 Davis' vestry when we were first acquainted? Do you remember the 
 prayer meetings we used to have during the fall term? I mean you and 
 I alone. It is very pleasant for me to think of them. I hope and trust 
 that we shall have many more just as interesting. And now I must say 
 good night, hoping to see you before many more Sabbath days shall 
 pass, and to spend one with you. Adieu, my love. 
 
 Later. It is now Sabbath night and it is rainy; as I shall not go 
 
62 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 13. 
 
 out to meeting, I have thought I would express some of my feelings in 
 the form of a prayer : 
 
 O Lord, I come before thee in behalf of myself and my loved com- 
 panion, who, though far away, is nevertheless near when I come to the 
 throne of grace. We love to remember thou God sittest on the throne, 
 that we can trust in thee and feel that thou doest all things well. We 
 thank thee for this Sabbath ; may its hallowed influence not be lost upon 
 our souls ; may we not go our way on the morrow forgetting to what a 
 glorious eternity we are aspiring. Although we are the greatest of sin- 
 ners we plead for pardon. We look for forgiveness through Christ; 
 thou hast promised it, and thy promises are sure. Blessed be thy name 
 that thou hast promised to forgive such sinners as we are ; that thou 
 dost say, " Whosoever will, let him come and take the water of life 
 freely." Our Father, we hope that we have drunk from this living fountain. 
 We pray earnestly that there may be no self-deception in our case. We 
 know that we have loved the world more than we ought, that we have not 
 served Christ faithfully as we promised, but, O Father, we still feel that 
 we have a sincere hatred for sin and a strong desire to live for thee. We 
 pray that thou wilt help us to subdue all our sinful desires and to give 
 ourselves up more fully to thy service. May we joy to deny ourselves 
 and to follow our Master. 
 
 Thou, Lord, knowest perfectly well all our circumstances in life ; 
 our prospects for time and eternity. We feel it to be a painful experi- 
 ence that we who love one another so tenderly are so long separated ; 
 but we know thy providence directs it and therefore it is right. O, maj' 
 it result in uniting us both more fully to Christ ! We rejoice to commend 
 each other unto thee ; may we soon meet again and such events transpire, 
 if thou seest best, that we may no longer be separated. Give us neither 
 poverty nor riches. May we have what is needful of the good things of 
 this life, and though we have nothing, yet having the love of Christ may 
 we feel that we possess all things. Thanks be to God that we hope to 
 meet in a world where there are no separations ! Preserve us tonight ; 
 give us health on the morrow to engage in the duties of the week; guide 
 us to the close of life; go with us through the dark valley, and receive us 
 to glory through the atonement of Christ. 
 
 Boston, June 29, 1855. 
 ... I have just got home from the Friday evening meeting at Park 
 Street, which was the preparatory lecture. The subject was " Long Suf- 
 fering," holding out and bearing up, being able and willing to say, what- 
 ever will come, " The Lord hath given, the Lord hath taken away." Mr. 
 Stone is a most excellent speaker. I am sure you would be pleased with 
 him. There is nothing new to write as to where I am to be, but I must 
 know very soon. I think we each feel willing to commit our way unto 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 13. 63 
 
 the Lord. In all my labor I love to feel that I am not only toiling for 
 myself, but for you. In any adversity that comes I remember that the 
 sadness is for you as well as for me, and when a new ray of promise 
 cheers my soul I love to think it is for your happiness and well-being. 
 
 And now once more farewell, having the full assurance that you pos- 
 sess the warmest love and most ardent attachment of your husband. 
 
 Boston, July i, 1855. 
 
 ... I have just returned from meeting. I find it uncomfortably 
 warm today. What a blessing is the Sabbath, temporal and spiritual, if 
 we but improve it in the best manner! My thoughts the past week, of 
 course, have been very much upon the uncertainty of where we are to 
 be, but I think I find myself more and more willing to leave it all with 
 God. 
 
 " In the world ye shall have tribulations," Christ says, but he adds, 
 " be of good cheer, I have overcome the world ; " and we are to under- 
 stand by this that we can overcome the world however much we may 
 have to meet. Perhaps the Lord is teaching us to "lay not up treasures 
 upon earth," but in heaven. Let us try, my dear wife, to realize how 
 infinitely important it is that we should love Christ more than the world, 
 and secure his favor rather than the favor of the world. I think that 
 with my present feelings I am prepared in some good measure to encoun- 
 ter whatever in God's providence we may be called to meet ; and perhaps 
 the more adversity, the more fortitude and the more faitli and confidence 
 in God. O, let us then toil on whatever come, and hold out, remember- 
 ing that "there remaineth, therefore, a rest for the people of God." This 
 afternoon is communion season. I wish you were here on that account, 
 that we might partake of these emblems together. When shall we again ? 
 It may be a long time. I rejoice to know that you can commit yourself 
 to the Lord and feel that you are entirely at his disposal, with a perfect 
 willingness that he should do with you and with me just as it seems to 
 him best. How I long to see you ! . . . 
 
 The following brief note, which was written at the close of 
 this long period of anxious waiting, will tell its own story. A place 
 was unexpectedly opened for him in the store where he had so 
 faithfully learned the duties devolving upon him : 
 
 Thursday Evening, July 5, 1855. 
 My Dearest Mary Jane: 
 
 It is a long time since we separated, yet you have borne it heroically 
 
 so far ; can you bear it with as much fortitude if we are to be separated 
 
 as much longer? I think I have been brought to the point where I have 
 
 felt that the Lord's will is my will. Perhaps we have needed just all this 
 
64 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 13. 
 
 discipline ; may it do us good. . . . Today the decision has come that I 
 leave here tomorrow, the sixth instant. You, even, little understand the 
 anxiety I have felt to know whether I was to remain. Anxiety not on 
 my own account so much as yours. But I can keep you in suspense no 
 longer. Can you, do you believe that I am to see you and you see me 
 tomorrow? I now expect to arrive in Westfield about half past six 
 tomorrow, and my heart would be almost too full to speak it that I am 
 to remain here at six hundred dollars, and the hope that we may once 
 more be together. Come to the depot if you feel able. I shall return 
 next Wednesday night. Isn't this as much as you wish to hear ? 
 
 Charles. 
 
 After the death of his sister Abby, which occurred in 1854 
 and when I was absent from him, I received a letter containing the 
 following reference to her : 
 
 ... I think I have realized today more than before Abby's death. 
 I don't know why it is, except that I have had more time to think. How 
 easy she died ! Her life seemed to depart like the light of a lamp when 
 the oil is burnt out. Her pain at the time, I think, was very little. But 
 " the sting of death is sin." How terrible must be this sting, especially 
 when accompanied with acute pain! "Thanks be unto God who giveth 
 us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 4. 65 
 
 LETTER No. 14. 
 
 I NEED not tell you of the gratitude that now came to your 
 grandpapa's heart and mine at the prospect of meeting again to 
 be united permanently, as we hoped. 
 
 I have endeavored to show you a little of the deep and firmly 
 grounded faith which sustained him at all times and under all trials. 
 The struggle through which he had been passing made the bright- 
 ness of our future prospects all the more glorious ; yet you can 
 little understand how great the brightness was when on July 6 he 
 came to Westfield to see me, with a situation established, a salary 
 assured, and a prosJDect that we were to have a home. When 
 he returned on the eleventh I returned with him for a short stay 
 in Franklin with your great-grandpapa and great-grandma until we 
 could arrange for more permanent quarters. We soon went to 
 South Maiden to board, where we were two very happy people. 
 Our hearts were full of praise to God, who had delivered us from 
 the gloom of the great cloud that had so long enveloped us. 
 
 Wednesday, October lo, your mamma was laid into my arms 
 as my own precious baby. How changed everything seemed to 
 us now — the night of our deep darkness gone, the sun shining 
 upon a full, clear day of union, home, child ! Could God bless us 
 more ? We had not thought to ask for more, but God gave with- 
 out the asking. He had had us in his keeping, and we believe 
 now that all the trying and hard experiences which we had been 
 passing through had been fitting him for the great work he was so 
 soon to assume. 
 
 In December we went to housekeeping in Chelsea, and were 
 living there frugally on his salary of $600 in the spring of 1856. 
 His duties in the store at this time were very laborious, often 
 detaining him late at night and calling him early in the morning. 
 
 Just across the street was the office of the Congi-egationalist. 
 He often met the men who had its management as they came into 
 the bookstore, but I do not think that a thought of ever being 
 connected with the paper had crossed his mind at any time until 
 Deacon Fay died in 1855. Then your grandpapa naturally asked 
 who was to be his successor. He also inquired into the obliga- 
 
66 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 4. 
 
 tions required of one in such a position, and he became convinced 
 that it would be a congenial work, one that would lead into a 
 channel of religious study and improvement such as he desired 
 more than anything else. He applied for the situation, and after 
 due deliberations and formalities was successful. In his diary that 
 year I find the following record : 
 
 Thursday, Jamiary //, 18^6. Signed papers to go into the Congi'e- 
 gatioiialist ofifice, having bought one fourth part of the paper for $1,375. 
 Paid for drawing papers, $2. 
 
 In less than three minutes after he had signed the contract 
 which made him an owner, his coat was ofif, and turning to Thomas 
 Todd, a young man of all work who had been connected with the 
 paper from its beginning, he said, " Thomas, I'm ready to go to 
 work ; what shall I do ? " 
 
 Looking up, Thomas replied, " Well, I don't see as there is 
 anything to do just now unless you take hold and help me direct 
 these papers." 
 
 It was no sooner suggested than he was sitting down to the 
 work with a mingled inspiration of energy and ambition, on fire 
 with youthful zeal and new-found hopes. He worked with his 
 might, but write as fast as he would he saw that Thomas could 
 easily turn off three papers to every two of his. He stood it as 
 long as possible, then seeing that he could not match him he sud- 
 denly stopped, and looking up with the great drops of perspiration 
 standing out over his forehead, he called out jovially, "Look here, 
 Thomas, you are a fraud ; you know you are putting that all on ! " 
 
 The Congregationalist was one of the several small, partially 
 religious papers started the same year with the Independent, in 
 1849 ; but it was strictly in the interests of the new school of Con- 
 gregationalists, then taking a more liberal position as against the 
 extreme views of many of the older theologians like Drs. Nathaniel 
 Emmons, Jonathan Edwards, Lyman Beecher, and others. Its head- 
 quarters were at 120 Washington Street, in a small room with no 
 special editorial apartment ; and the paper was managed in the 
 most simple manner, with but little system or regularity, as its su- 
 pervisors were all ministers in pastorates. Deacon Galen James, 
 of Medford, was the chief owner; Deacon Fay, son of Rev. Warren 
 Fay, of Charlestown, was his associate. The editorials were writ- 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 4. 67 
 
 ten under the supervision of Dr. R. S. Storrs, of Braintree, Dr. 
 Edward Beecher, Dr. H. M. Dexter, Rev. Parsons Cook, and others, 
 who gathered weekly in this one room of all work to hold their 
 social and not unpleasant meetings for discussing the necessities 
 of the times and the paper, deciding what subjects were to be 
 brought before the public and who should be responsible for them. 
 Your grandpapa was entirely ignorant of newspaper work, but 
 he had a determined purpose, indomitable courage, an unyielding 
 will, and an energy that knew no bounds save in physical limita- 
 tions. In the new business he spared neither himself nor those 
 whom he employed. Since giving up hard study and the nervous 
 work of teaching, his habits of living being also changed, he had 
 gained in vigor and strength and his health was much firmer, and 
 he could not understand why one man should not have equal 
 energy with another. He had been interested in the paper for 
 some time, and had sent an occasional article to its columns. The 
 first one ever published from his pen was a brief account of the 
 great revival which occurred in Westfield, of which I wrote you. 
 I am glad I preserved it that I may be able to send you this short 
 extract : 
 
 \^The First Article in the " Congregational ist.'''''\ 
 
 THE REVIVAL IN WESTFIELD. 
 Messrs. Editors : 
 
 I notice it stated in the last Congregationalist, in reference to the 
 late revival in Westfield, that several of the young men connected with 
 the normal school have become its hopeful subjects. I have waited 
 with much solicitude for an account of the interesting work which has 
 been accomplished in that institution, thinking that the religious com- 
 munity would be interested in the statement. But having seen no 
 account, I submit the following to your discretion. The interest com- 
 menced in the school about the last of September and extended to both 
 males and females. The young ladies held a series of weekly prayer 
 meetings during the spring term which continued in the fall, and it was 
 proposed to the young men that they should meet for a similar purpose. 
 An appointment was accordingly made, but on account of the inclemency 
 of the weather and the want of interest, it was not until it had been 
 made the third time that the first prayer was offered up. At that time, 
 however, there seemed to be considerable interest, and several were 
 present who professed no interest in the Saviour. One of whom then 
 
68 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 4. 
 
 declared himself on the Lord's side and spoke of the peace he had 
 found in believing, urging his companions to seek the Saviour then. 
 These meetings were held weekly, and the number who attended con- 
 stantly increased until almost every male member was included. Never 
 shall I forget those prayer meetings, at which many a poor sinner has 
 first openly unburdened his guilt or made known his hope in Christ. 
 This interest continued to increase until it seemed to be the main topic 
 of conversation among the students. At night, upon the close of school, 
 might be seen in the hall groups gathered here and there inquiring after 
 the welfare of each other's souls or striving to lead some burdened 
 sinner to the foot of the Cross. There seemed to be a subject of more 
 importance even than intellectual improvement; and in some instances 
 individuals were permitted to absent themselves from school, their minds 
 being so heavily burdened as to render them wholly unfit for study. 
 Never shall I forget the last of that series of prayer meetings. It was 
 one of the most interesting and affecting scenes I ever witnessed. There 
 were present those who had just tasted the Saviour's love who had met 
 as schoolmates for a few short weeks, but were soon to part, perhaps 
 never to meet again on earth. It sometimes seems to me that if there 
 is efficacy in prayer it must be that the Lord will deign to hear and 
 answer the earnest supplications which were then offered that we might 
 be faithful and accomplish much good in the world. But the scenes are 
 now past; those students are scattered far and wide, many having 
 assumed the responsibility of teachers. O, how different were the 
 emotions in many minds as they left at the close of the term from 
 what they were at the commencement ! As the parting hand was offered 
 and the farewell word spoken, earnest was the request, " Pray for me." 
 About forty have been hopefully converted, including about an equal 
 number of each sex. C. A. R. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 15. 69 
 
 LETTER No. 15. 
 
 When your grandpapa went into the Congregationalist it had 
 about four thousand subscribers, yet he saw in it his great oppor- 
 tunity to do something in the line of Christian activity, especially 
 for the church at large, and he went to work with a determination 
 that held within its grasp success. He was ready to toil early and 
 late. He realized that the proprietors must be their own workmen. 
 In every department his was a ready hand ; if things pressed too 
 hard in the business room he was there to help lighten the load ; 
 if the mailing was behind, he was on hand to see what he could 
 do there ; if books were to be examined and reviewed he took 
 them home to read into the late hours of the night. He seldom 
 came home to his dinner because he could not spare the time ; 
 he looked more or less after the advertising; he was on the alert 
 for every bit of fresh news that should help to give dignity and 
 patronage to the paper. His first effort was to make it a journal 
 which should be indeed a " religious newspaper." This he made 
 it, seeking religious intelligence from every possible quarter ; he 
 took it upon himself to attend all the gatherings and meetings 
 of importance, for he must be his own reporter in those days. 
 
 How weary and exhausted he used to get during the anniver- 
 sary week in Boston, when so many different meetings were held, 
 morning, afternoon, and evening! If during these meetings he 
 found it difficult to finish his report in season to come home for 
 the night, he would stay over, not to the luxury of a bed in a hotel, 
 for he could not afford that, but often and often in those early 
 days he made the counter in his office his bed, with a few news- 
 papers for a pillow and his shawl or coat for a blanket. When 
 manuscript accumulated so as to crowd upon necessary work in 
 the office, he would bring it home by the basketful, and we would 
 sit down together for a long evening's work of reading and criti- 
 cism. Occasionally I would find in that brainy basket an un- 
 opened envelope, which had got accidentally hidden away among 
 the papers, containing subscription money. " Ah ! " I would say 
 playfully, " this belongs to the finder of course." " I wish it were 
 
yo MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 15. 
 
 mine to give you," he would answer, "but it belongs to the paper 
 and not to me." 
 
 It was a great pleasure to me to be able to assist him in this 
 work, and thus share in all his hopes and plans for the future of 
 the paper into which he was so joyously weaving his life, beat 
 by beat and throb by throb. His aim was high. He sought the 
 best for his readers. He prayed for his paper as for his child, 
 that he might give to it his highest spiritual and moral life, mak- 
 ing it a success for the good of others. He loved the work and 
 threw all his soul into its accomplishment until 1 began to fear 
 that his health would be undermined. He was young and pro- 
 gressive and had not a thought of sparing himself any task that 
 seemed necessary. I think the gladness of heart in finding a 
 work which he could make sacred, however, sustained him. But 
 he never became so absorbed in business as to neglect his reli- 
 gious duties. It only increased his zeal for the cause of Christ and 
 his ardor for the church. 
 
 Dr. H. M. Dexter still continued his association with the 
 journal, writing its weekly editorials. The proprietorship was com- 
 posed of Deacon Galen James and Mr. W. L. Greene beside your 
 grandpapa. Mr. Greene became one of the partners in the paper 
 at the same time with your grandpapa, and at once took charge 
 of the business department, your grandpapa being the managing 
 editor. Hard as he labored on his own, I find that he often 
 secured some minutes for other newspapers. A long report ap- 
 peared in the Boston _/o7irna/ by his pen of the meeting of the 
 American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, held in 
 Providence the year following his initiation into the mysteries 
 of newspaper making. 
 
 A second improvement on the paper was to reduce as soon 
 as possible the length of many of the heavier articles, especially 
 those on theology and kindred debatable subjects, of interest 
 mainly to students or persons engaged in professional studies but 
 not to the general public nor read by a great majority of the 
 subscribers. The labor on newspapers was much more difficult 
 then than now. It involved a large amount of manual effort. 
 For instance, the books containing the list of subscribers were 
 kept in writing instead of being printed. The papers sent in 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO, 15. 7 1 
 
 single wrappers were folded and directed by the proprietors them- 
 selves with the assistance of their employees. They did their own 
 mailing, and to secure new subscribers they employed canvassing 
 agents. 
 
 In the year i860 the proprietors found their one room quite 
 too small and looked for new quarters at 15 Cornhill, whither they 
 removed. The list of subscribers in these four years had increased 
 not a little, and the managing editor had grown neither sleepy 
 nor lax in his daily efforts. His enthusiasm for his work steadily 
 increased, and he found a pleasurable excitement in reporting 
 meetings in which such men as Dr, A. L. Stone, Prof. C, E. Stowe, 
 Rev. Dudley Tyng, and Dr. G. P, Cheever figured. This was just 
 before the war when Dr. Nehemiah Adams, supported by Dr, G, W. 
 Blagden, uttered on these occasions sentiments of sympathy for 
 the South, calling forth protests of disapproval from their audi- 
 ences. Once he listened to Henry Ward Beecher in one of his 
 great addresses, in which he charged those as being infidels who 
 whine at the preaching of the gospel as a penance. Again he at- 
 tended a meeting where Drs. J, E. Todd and G, W, Bethune advo- 
 cated the cause of the Southern Aid Society. The latter slandered 
 the New England ministry, while Drs. Stone and Cheever came 
 down with crushing eloquence against slavery. All these were 
 thrilling meetings, and made your grandpapa's young blood tingle 
 in his veins and set his soul on fire to help in the good cause of 
 advancing Christ's kingdom in whatever way he could. 
 
 For more than twenty years he reported the meetings of the 
 American Board held in Boston in connection with the May anni- 
 versaries. He also reported many of the annual meetings when 
 held in distant cities, and the hard work being over he would 
 extend his journey in order to gather new material for general 
 articles. I will note down for you a few of the places where he 
 went to report : Newark, New Jersey ; Salem and Springfield, 
 Massachusetts; Providence, Rhode Island, when Drs. Hopkins, 
 Anderson, Muzzy, Ferris, and Blodgett figured, and Dr. Thompson, 
 of Buffalo, preached the sermon. He was also at St. Louis, 
 Missouri; Detroit, Michigan ; Cleveland, Ohio ; Chicago, Illinois ; 
 Pittsburg, Pennsylvania; Minneapolis, Minnesota; Rutland, Ver- 
 mont, and various other places. He always managed to see some- 
 
72 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 5. 
 
 thing of these cities and became acquainted with their principal 
 characteristics before leaving. He was not confined to the report- 
 ing of these meetings in particular, but included all the religious 
 gatherings belonging to our denomination, such as the American 
 Home Missionary Society, the American Missionary Association, 
 Sunday-School Association, Social Science Association, State Con- 
 ferences, General Associations, National Council, etc., etc., with 
 the great Sunday-School Centenary held in London. 
 
 It was while he was absent on one of these reportorial ex- 
 peditions, attending the meeting of the American Board of Com- 
 missioners for Foreign Missions which was held in Newark, 
 that he met with a perilous adventure which caused us both 
 extreme anxiety. He was to be away several days, and I sent 
 for your mamma's Aunt N. to come and stay with me. When he 
 bade me good-by on the day of his departure he assured me that 
 he should take the Sound boat from New York for home at five 
 o'clock the next Friday night, and would thus be in the office 
 again early Saturday morning. When Friday morning came a 
 strange feeling of anxiety took possession of me, and I was quite 
 unhappy all day, telling your grandpapa's sister that I felt her 
 brother to be in great danger and that I could not wait to hear 
 or learn something from him. I was not able to explain my feel- 
 ings, neither did I like to tell her the indistinct picture which 
 seemed to hang constantly before my eyes all through the day. 
 Indeed, I could not define it myself. I simply saw him in great 
 peril, as if something was ready to fall upon and crush him, and 
 yet it was stayed by some unknown power which would ultimately 
 save him. Friday night I slept but little, and on Saturday morning 
 I was so overcome by my feelings that I could not control myself. 
 It was my usual baking day, but I did not attempt any work. 
 I dressed myself and prepared to go into Boston. My sister-in- 
 law was greatly surprised and made light of the matter. That did 
 not disturb me, and I started with a heavy heart. I went directly 
 to the office on Cornhill and climbed the stairs. I dared not 
 open the door, though it was nearly ten o'clock and the boat had 
 been due three hours previous. Being confident that your grand- 
 papa was not there and I should be so overcome that they would 
 not understand what to make of it, it was some time before 
 I could reason myself into the right feeling, which all the time 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 5. 73 
 
 hovered over me, that while in danger he was to be spared. 
 Finally I conquered and opened the door. Deacon James was 
 standing near, and immediately after bidding me a cheerful good 
 morning said, " Well, Mrs. Richardson, the good man has not 
 arrived yet, and we are afraid something has happened to him." 
 Looking up into my face he at once changed his tone of fear to, 
 " No, I think more likely that they were having such a good meet- 
 ing last night he wanted to stay and hear it through, and so failed 
 to reach the boat." 
 
 By this time I had recovered myself, and replied : "No, Deacon 
 James, he started on the boat last night as he said he should, 
 unless he was too ill to do so, and if too ill for that he was too ill 
 to send me word. Something has most surely happened to the 
 boat — some terrible accident, I fear." He now saw well enough 
 the depth of my anxiety, and talked hopefully but was unable to 
 reassure me. I said : " My husband always keeps his word ; he has 
 never failed me but once since I knew him, and that he could not 
 help and notified me as soon as it was possible. So I know that 
 he started last night if he were able. He is in trouble." 
 
 Though he urged me to sit and wait awhile, I could not, 
 and started down the stairs hardly knowing where I was going. 
 I walked aimlessly up Washington Street with my head bowed and 
 thoughtless of most that was going on around me. As I was near- 
 ing the Old South Church some one laid a hand on my shoulder, 
 and I looked up into your grandpapa's pale, haggard face. He 
 appeared to have passed through a terrible illness. 
 
 " O, what is the matter ? " I cried. " Nothing now, but I have 
 been through a severe shock, caused by an accident on the boat," 
 said he. " But, my dear, I am here now, and quite safe, so brighten 
 up. I will tell you all about it when I get home. It is enough at 
 present to know that I am here. You look ill, and had better go 
 directly home ; " which I did. I cannot explain the experience nor 
 the strange picture which had impressed me, but when your grand- 
 papa told me the story of the accident it looked just as I had 
 seen it floating before my eyes. 
 
 It seems that the boat started at the usual time, passed 
 through Hell Gate, and was on its way apparently without danger. 
 Your grandpapa had sat for some time on deck watching the scene 
 
74 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 5. 
 
 around, under the splendors of the full moon, and, as he said, 
 wishing that I was with him to enjoy it. After getting somewhat 
 weary he had gone into the saloon, and was drowsily leaning 
 against the central mast when, without warning, the boat was 
 shaken from bow to stern as a dog would shake a woodchuck. 
 He was instantly on his feet, not knowing what was the matter 
 or whither to flee. He knew there was danger, and seizing a 
 life-preserver followed the rushing and terrified crowd on deck. 
 There he met consternation and alarm. A lurid fire seemed to be 
 pouring over the side of the vessel, and every one thought she was 
 burning; in their mad haste some were making ready to spring 
 overboard, some were only held back by force. It was not long, 
 however, before the captain appeared, and shouted : " You are all 
 safe ! The vessel is not on fire ; it is only the coal being thrown 
 out from under the boiler to check the heating of the water and 
 the escaping of steam. We are safe, but disabled. We must 
 remain here until we can be taken off by some other boat." Then 
 he told them that the walking beam had broken, and had torn its 
 way down through the boat, smashing through every floor until 
 it reached the iron bottom, where it was stayed and the danger 
 was over. 
 
 Your grandpapa went back to the saloon to realize how nar- 
 row had been his own personal escape. Where he had sat drow- 
 sily resting there was a hole through the floor the size of a small 
 bedroom ; the mast against which he had so comfortably leaned 
 had been snapped like a pipestem just about where his shoulder 
 had rested ; but an invisible hand had been held out to rescue 
 him. Our prayers were thanksgivings. What a deep impression 
 that experience made upon your grandpapa's life in his sense of 
 his own absolute helplessness and his surer rest in the hands 
 of a loving God ! It is through just such experiences that we are 
 all helped in our own trust and that we help one another ; as proof 
 of this statement, at the next Friday evening meeting it became 
 the topic for prayer and conference and for devout thanksgiving. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 6. 75 
 
 LETTER No. 16. 
 
 In the year 1861 the great War of the Rebellion broke out. 
 This enlarged the scope of your grandpapa's work by the demand 
 for fresh news and vigorous opinions. He planned and prepared 
 a careful weekly summary of the latest and most accurate war 
 news, which proved to be a feature of widespread interest from 
 the fact that it was culled and sifted, and therefore always relia- 
 ble. None but confirmed news was ever permitted in the sum- 
 mary. It was copied extensively by other journals ; and doubtless 
 that increased the circulation of the Congregationalist quite a good 
 deal, for in 1863 six thousand new names had been added to 
 the list of subscribers. 
 
 Your grandpapa was a true Christian patriot. His heart 
 throbbed for his country, and at its cry for help he suffered as did 
 many another from a conflict of duties. He was in a strait betwixt 
 two. He longed to offer himself for his beloved land if needed. 
 But was he really needed ? Surely the attack upon Sumter was 
 but a flash of defiance, and would shortly be over. I was a help- 
 less invalid, and he had a far-reaching and important work upon 
 his hands. What ought he to do ? We prayed and talked over 
 it, and I did not fail in arguments by which I might hold him to 
 my side. I did not mean to be untrue to my home and country ; 
 but I pleaded my feeble health ; I pleaded for my children ; I laid 
 their claims upon him should they be left orphans by his going ; 
 I was wholly unable to cope with the world for their support ; 
 and I should be left without means. Then I urged the help he 
 might render to a large circle of those who were obliged to send 
 sons and husbands by the news through the columns of his 
 paper. Still further, I urged that the call was not loud enough 
 to summon men in his position until the young men without 
 families had offered themselves. Was I to be blamed 'i I was 
 so very ill ! O, how reverently I remember his coming to my 
 bedside the night after the news of the Baltimore Riot. My life 
 had been despaired of for several days. How vividly I recall that 
 night when he sat down at the head of my bed, and taking my 
 
76 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 6. 
 
 hand in his held it very gently without speaking, as if afraid of 
 breaking the brittle thread that held me to life and to himself. 
 I could feel the warm tears drop one by one, wetting my fingers 
 as if kissing them silently. I knew that something agitated him 
 greatly, yet I was too weak to talk, and lay very quiet. At length 
 he spoke so low and tenderly: "My dear, I have thought much, 
 you know, of enlisting for the war, but tonight I give it up. I do 
 not feel strong enough to say good-by to you. It breaks my heart 
 to see you so ill. I thought when the terrible news of yesterday 
 reached us that I must go ; now, when I find you so sick, my 
 courage fails me and I shrink and grow reluctant. I must wait 
 until the call is louder. As you say, I may not be needed after 
 all, so I will wait and see what God will have me do. If he means 
 for me to go I will be ready. I do not feel sure now. I can aid 
 those who do go, and I will serve those who are left." 
 
 With the heavy burdens that your grandpapa was carrying 
 during these trying years of the war not the least among them 
 was the severe strain of the imprisonment of his brother, Albert 
 D. Richardson, in the Southern prisons for twenty-one long and 
 weary months. The thoughts of his sufferings and probable death, 
 the distress felt for his poor wife — who was at one time in the 
 agony of despair because of no hope, at another buoyed up with 
 the most sanguine expectation for his release, until her weary 
 brain could bear the torture no longer and death came to her 
 relief — the efforts that were constantly being made for his 
 freedom by exchange or otherwise, while the government was 
 apparently so indifferent to secure it — though probably no one 
 in the army had rendered higher or more effectual service as a 
 correspondent of one of the leading papers of the land — all 
 these things led to a nervous prostration from which your grand- 
 papa did not recover entirely for several years. He grew pale and 
 worn. About this time I received a call one day from the senior 
 partner, who cautioned me with decided feeling to " take good 
 care of Mr. Richardson " and to urge upon him the necessity of 
 a lengthy vacation ; for, said he, " We at the office are unable to 
 induce him to leave. He thinks he cannot be spared because of 
 the amount of work and the few to do it. But I tell you, Mrs. 
 Richardson, we can let him go now for a little much better 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 6. 77 
 
 than we can afford to have him break down entirely, which he 
 certainly will if he does not have some rest. It would be a severe 
 blow to us if anything should disable him so as to lay him aside. 
 Why, he has the most remarkable executive ability of any man 
 I ever met ! " 
 
 The paper had been growing steadily in strength and popu- 
 larity and had constantly been increasing in patronage, until in 
 1865 it had reached nearly fifteen thousand subscribers and was 
 well established as a worthy and reliable religious journal, rep- 
 resenting almost exxlusively the interests of the Congregational 
 denomination in New England and the East. With the growth of 
 the denomination and its increasing power there began to be a 
 good deal of agitation with regard to starting a paper for its spe- 
 cial representation in the West. Your grandpapa received more or 
 less communications from committees appointed to confer on the 
 matter. I send you a brief extract from one, that you may under- 
 stand how his work as a journalist had become known and ac- 
 knowledged in the West : 
 
 Dear Mr. Richardson: 
 
 . . . You have known the history of the Christian Era written by 
 itself the last two years. We inclose to you a letter written by Mr. Hand, 
 the proprietor, offering it for sale. . . . We greatly need a paper and 
 must have one. It has been thought that after a little the three State 
 papers might be united in one at Chicago. Upon no one, we think, would 
 the friends in the Northwest unite more cordially than upon yourself. 
 It is possible that the time has not yet come for such a union, though it 
 is possible the other papers would even now consider proposals. 
 
 Our seven hundred churches in the Northwest, our seminary, and 
 our denominational interest demand and are suffering for the lack of 
 a central organ. No Eastern papers, no Pilgrim letters can take the 
 place. We shall be glad to have you consider the propositon of Mr. 
 Hand, and in connection with it the whole question of a paper for the 
 Northwest. May we not hear from you in this matter? With sincere 
 Christian esteem, Yours truly, etc. 
 
 This invitation troubled your grandpapa quite a little, for 
 he had many advisers at each end of the line, both to go and 
 to stay. He finally decided to remain steadfast and true to his 
 first love. The next year the same subject was renewed with 
 the following urgent call : 
 
 . . . Everybody in Michigan and Illinois is hungry for an Interior 
 
jS MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. l6. 
 
 paper. You could at once have access to the list of the old subscribers 
 to the Congregational Herald, and I think, also, to a large and more 
 
 recent list of names which Mr. has recently gathered. I have no 
 
 doubt that a paper started right here and pushed aright would give five 
 hundred subscribers the first year and might be run up even to a 
 thousand. All feel the need of a paper. The people want it. . . . 
 
 Yours, etc. 
 
 The project now began to assume a serious aspect, for your 
 grandpapa queried whether it might not be a call from God. This 
 was one among the trying questions of the year of 1866 to be 
 settled. Another cause for anxiety that year was the withdrawal 
 of Dr. Dexter from the editorial staff. They had so long depended 
 upon him for the weekly contribution to their columns that it was 
 with much regret they released him ; but his duties had grown too 
 onerous with the building of the new Berkeley Street Church, over 
 which he was pastor, and it seemed to him to be an absolute 
 necessity to give that and his people his undivided attention, which 
 he could not do with editorial work. 
 
 Every change of editorial force demands for a time some in- 
 crease of labor from those who remain, especially from the mana- 
 ging editor. But the live issues of the Congregationalist must not 
 falter under any circumstances, nor did they. With these encroach- 
 ments there was no stay of advance. Your grandpapa, having 
 often heard the readers of the paper speak of cutting out and 
 preserving various articles from its columns, thought perhaps it 
 might be a pleasant thing to make some short and desirable selec- 
 tions from the paper and publish them in book form. Accordingly, 
 during this same year the paper issued a book, entitled Household 
 Readings, made up from its own publications. This proved a great 
 success as a prize for new subscribers, for which it was used, 
 I think, exclusively. 
 
 The year 1866 was also the time for the Triennial Jubilee 
 of the Westfield Normal School. Your grandpap^ was president of 
 the association, and had many things to attend to in order to insure 
 a successful day. As no one can use his strength constantly with- 
 out ill effects, for " a continual dropping will wear away stone," 
 so when he refused to take the proper recreation nature asserted 
 herself, and, refusing to serve his activity longer, laid him upon 
 a sick bed with an attack of nervous prostration a few days before 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. l6. 79 
 
 the festivities were to occur. His work was accomplished for it, 
 but he was denied its enjoyment. He had prepared his address 
 of welcome, and hoped with much satisfaction to introduce his 
 brother as the speaker of the day. Alas for human hopes ! He 
 now realized that he, too, had nerves and was subject to weari- 
 ness of the flesh even as others, and that there was no alternative 
 but rest if he would pursue his work most effectually. 
 
 Then it was that we took our first carriage trip of any distance 
 with health for our aim. With a life in the open air, freedom from 
 care, and entire relaxation, he hoped to gain the end desired. As 
 soon as he got strong enough to arrange matters at the office 
 for a considerable absence, he drove our horse and carriage to 
 Derry, New Hampshire, where I was boarding to recover from 
 a term of invalidism. After remaining there for a while we went 
 out upon a drive of about one hundred and fifty miles, stopping at 
 short intervals for rest, or visiting for the night among friends, 
 until at length we arrived at the old homestead in Franklin to 
 remain for a few weeks of quiet. 
 
 In 1867, the next year, and after an absence of some sixteen 
 months. Dr. Dexter was persuaded to resume the place of editor- 
 in-chief on the Congregatioiialist. He resigned his pastorate of 
 the Berkeley Street Church and purchased an interest in the 
 paper. This was a glad day to your grandpapa, though the doctor 
 took only the same work as before — the weekly editorials, with 
 the addition of the book reviews — but with it was the interest 
 and responsibility of a proprietor. The same year your grandpapa 
 made strenuous efforts to purchase the old Boston Recorder, with 
 several other small papers, and he was successful in running up 
 the list of subscribers to twenty-five thousand. With all these 
 additions the responsibilities and anxieties grew rapidly, and more 
 laborers must be employed. Assistant editors were brought into 
 the work, extra hands must be called in, and so the interest was 
 ever moving upward. 
 
 In 1869 your grandpapa was so worn that his physician 
 declared a long rest and entire relief from office work, with change 
 of scene and climate, as absolutely necessary. In my next letter 
 I shall tell you what a great surprise came to me, and how this 
 change was brought about. 
 
8o MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 7. 
 
 LETTER No. 17. 
 
 How surprised I was when your grandpapa came home one 
 evening and announced to me that he had decided to go abroad 
 for awhile, provided he could get a companion to travel with him, 
 and asked if I would be that companion ! As I had a dear little 
 babe of six months, who was very delicate and required much 
 attention, I did not suppose that he could be in earnest, and only 
 smiled as I replied that I should really like to go for his sake, but 
 did not see how I could leave the baby. 
 
 " Well, then, I must give it up," said he, " because we can 
 never do what we are really unable to do. I am sorry ; I have 
 seen the doctor today, and he says I ought to have a thorough 
 rest and change, and if I don't get it soon I shall be compelled to 
 take it ' willy nilly.' I ought not to go alone in my present con- 
 dition, that is certain ; but if you cannot leave, why we will drop 
 the whole matter and I'll say no more about it. Perhaps some- 
 thing else will accomplish as much for me, though the doctor was 
 rather anxious that I should try a sea voyage." 
 
 This put a serious phase upon the subject at once, and I asked 
 if the decision must be made that night. 
 
 " O, no ! " said he, "but I would like you to think of it rather 
 seriously, and tell me as soon as possible, so I may decide soon 
 what to do. I am conscious that some change is necessary." 
 
 As I am not writing you about myself it is not important to 
 tell you of the mental struggle I passed through in coming to a 
 conclusion to leave an invalid babe in the hands of a stranger, 
 as I supposed I should be obliged to if I went. 
 
 A kind Providence, however, brought me help in the thought- 
 fulness of friends who came to my relief in the care of the three 
 little ones I was to leave behind. Your mamma would still remain 
 in the family of Rev. J. H. Merrill in Andover, where she had been 
 for some months, attending school. The excellent nurse who had 
 cared for my baby, but who had already made arrangements to go 
 home, kindly offered to take the two younger children (the baby, 
 Mary Agnes, and your Aunt A., who was then seven years old) 
 to Westfield to remain with them under your great-grandmamma's 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 7. 81 
 
 loving supervision until we could return from our journey. Now 
 what could I say? You see that I had no excuse for not going, 
 and at the end of a w'eek we began to make plans for our depar- 
 ture. We gave our little one into God's hands ; we feared that she 
 was already sealed for transplanting not many months hence. 
 But your grandpapa was ill and had need of me, and my place 
 was at his side first. Duty could lead in but one path. 
 
 In a little more than two weeks the younger children, with the 
 nurse, were at their grandmamma's. I remained in Boston to clear 
 out our rooms and prepare the goods for storing. We were to 
 sail on the steamship " Pereire " of the French line to Havre. After 
 disposing of our goods I was to follow the children to Westfield 
 on Wednesday of the week of our sailing. Grandpapa was to 
 join me Thursday night, on Friday we would go on to New York 
 to spend the night with your Uncle Albert, and on Saturday we 
 were to sail. Thus far everything had been very propitious and 
 a smiling providence had surrounded us. But discouragements 
 were in store and our faith was to be sorely tried. When I reached 
 Westfield on Wednesday I found our precious baby too sick with 
 congestion of the lungs to recognize me. The physician was out 
 of town ; but fortunately I had with me my case of homeopathic 
 remedies, and I immediately prepared the proper medicines and 
 began to administer them often and regularly, at the same time 
 applying cold compresses to the chest of the little sufferer. All 
 night I watched her breathing, attended promptly to every neces- 
 sity, and in the morning I had the satisfaction of seeing a great 
 improvement in her condition. On Thursday she appeared quite 
 like her sunny little self. As you will recollect, I was to expect 
 your grandpapa at seven o'clock that evening. When seven o'clock 
 came he did not appear; eight, nine, ten, and even eleven o'clock 
 came, and yet he remained away. For two nights I had not slept, 
 but nothing could pull my eyes together now, as I watched and 
 waited with almost feverish anxiety. At length, shortly before 
 twelve, I caught the sound of his familiar " ahem," and soon the 
 door opened and he came softly upstairs to tell me that he was 
 safe, though an accident had occurred which might easily have 
 proved very serious. One mile east of Palmer a rail was broken, 
 which threw the entire train from the track. The scene was fright- 
 
82 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 7. 
 
 fill, but no one was injured. With these several disasters so 
 quickly upon us, the anticipated journey took on an air of dread 
 which I had not expected. But there was no time for forebodings 
 now, nor for delay, and early Saturday morning found us on our 
 way to New York, having hope of the baby's complete restoration, 
 though we were sad to leave her so feeble. We had no further 
 drawbacks until fairly out to sea. Then the dreaded enemy of 
 ocean travelers played his pranks upon us and kept us in our 
 berths for quite a number of days. In spite of it, however, your 
 grandpapa began to feel the benefit of the rest, and though he did 
 not gain much in the brief trip across the water, he improved daily 
 and quite rapidly after reaching Europe, I am sure he would have 
 improved much faster if he could have been persuaded to throw 
 every thought of his journal to the winds and care only for himself. 
 That he was not able to do; his mind was on the alert for every 
 possible material which might be utilized for his paper. During 
 this trip of about three months he wrote no less than twenty-four 
 letters to the Congregationalist, beside various fugitive articles and 
 special editorials ; occasionally something would find its way to 
 some other periodical. 
 
 Six weeks we waited for home news, and great was our joy 
 when at last the letter reached us telling of the improvement of 
 our sick one and the health of the rest of the dear friends. We 
 traveled rapidly and saw a great deal, though not with the thor- 
 oughness that is desirable for real study. On our return your 
 grandpapa found himself wonderfully restored, and had no dif- 
 ficulty in making use of all his "Notes by the Way." 
 
 To give you some idea of his patient observance and care even 
 for minor details I will inclose in this letter a schedule which he 
 prepared, after getting home, of the distances he had traveled and 
 the cost it involved. He did this at first because he thought he 
 should like it for reference at some time in the future ; but in show- 
 ing it to some of his friends he found they were quite desirous of 
 keeping it. This prompted him to have several hundred copies 
 of them printed, and they were so often called for that eventually 
 they were all given away. As you look it over carefully you will 
 probably smile a good many times at the thought of such a patient 
 summing up. The schedule will give you a very good idea of the 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 7. 
 
 83 
 
 extent of country we traveled over, the cities we visited, and the 
 delightful side excursions which we took in. With your grand- 
 papa's systematic way of doing work it was natural that his jour- 
 ney should be thoroughly laid out before venturing forth ; and 
 so it was up to the day of starting for home again. It is quite 
 remarkable, too, that all the plan was carried out with the exception 
 of two minor things in the line of castle visiting. I know you 
 would be surprised if I should tell you how many people have 
 asked for one of these schedules and have expressed gratitude for 
 the help it has afforded them. Even as late as the present year 
 I have had several calls for them, and greatly regretted that I had 
 in my possession only one souvenir copy. 
 
 Trip to Europe, March 17 — July 25, I869. 
 
 C. A. Richardson and Wife were absent on their trip to 
 Europe four months and five days, and traveled in all about 
 12,300 miles, as follows : 
 
 March 
 
 17- 
 
 " 
 
 iS. 
 
 " 20-31. 
 
 April 
 
 I. 
 
 *' 
 
 2. 
 
 " 
 
 IS- 
 
 .< 
 
 16. 
 
 " 
 
 17- 
 
 "19- 
 
 -20. 
 
 " 
 
 20. 
 
 " 
 
 21. 
 
 May 
 
 27. 
 4- 
 
 " 
 
 5- 
 8. 
 
 *' 
 
 10. 
 
 " lO-II. 
 
 Boston to Westfield ..... 
 
 To New York 
 
 Steamer Pereire to Havre, Hotel de l' Europe 
 To Rouen, Hotel d'Angleterre 
 
 " Paris, Hotel du Louvre, Hotel de Lath 
 enee, and No. 9 Rue Castiglione . 
 
 " Lyons, Hotel Collet 
 
 " Marseilles, Hotel de Marseilles . 
 
 " Nice, Hotel de Grand Bretagne 
 Steamer to Genoa, Hotel de la Ville 
 Steamer to Leghorn, Hotel du Nord 
 To Rome, Hotel d'Angleterre . 
 
 " Naples, Hotel de Russie 
 
 " Rome, Hotel d'Angleterre . 
 
 " Pisa, Hotel Victoria 
 
 " Florence, Hotel Alliance 
 
 " Milan, Hotel Cavour 
 
 " Arona, Hotel de Italia 
 
 " Sierra, by diligence, 22 1-2 hours over Sim 
 plon Pass, Hotel Baur 
 
 " Bouveret 
 
 Miles. 
 no 
 
 132 
 
 3,300 
 50 
 
 88 
 316 
 217 
 141 
 120 
 no 
 160 
 162 
 162 
 172 
 
 49 
 210 
 
 42 
 
 130 
 
 55 
 
 Single 
 Fare, in 
 Specie. 
 
 $3-55 
 
 4-05 
 
 85.00 
 
 *2.00 
 2.31 
 
 8-53 
 4-75 
 *5-04 
 6.40 
 5.00 
 
 5-75 
 *6.9o 
 *6.98 
 
 *8.02 
 
 1.46 
 
 *9.2I 
 1.20 
 
 6.00 
 
 The * indicates double fare. 
 
84 
 
 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 7. 
 
 1869. 
 
 May 
 
 12. 
 
 By 
 
 15- 
 
 To 
 
 17- 
 
 " 
 
 18. 
 
 " 
 
 June 
 
 July 
 
 24. 
 24. 
 
 25. 
 
 26. 
 
 27. 
 28. 
 
 29. 
 
 18. 
 19. 
 
 25- 
 24. 
 
 25- 
 26. 
 29. 
 3°- 
 
 5-6 
 6. 
 
 7- 
 9- 
 
 steamer to Geneva, Madam Binfield's Pen 
 SION 
 
 Berne, Hotel Bellevue .... 
 
 Interlaken via Lake Thun, Hotel Victoria 
 
 Lucerne, via Lake Brienz, and through Brunig 
 Pass, by private carriage. Hotel Schweiz 
 
 ERHOF 
 
 Zurich, Hotel Baur au Lac . 
 
 Strasburgh, Hotel de Paris . 
 
 Baden Baden, Hotel Victoria 
 
 Heidelberg, Prince Charles . 
 
 Frankfort, Hotel d'Angleterre 
 
 Cologne, via Mayence and the Rhine, Hotel 
 
 DU NORD 
 
 Amsterdam, Brock's Doelen Hotel 
 Leyden, Lion de Or .... 
 
 Rotterdam, New^ Bath Hotel 
 Antwerp, Hotel de l' Europe . 
 Brussels, Hotel de l'Europe 
 
 Ostend 
 
 London, Mrs. Wood's, 75 Southampton Row 
 
 Russell Square ..... 
 
 Oxford, Roebuck Hotel 
 To Stratford-upon-Avon, Red Horse 
 Birmingham, Hen and Chickens Hotel 
 Bangor, via Liverpool, Hotel Bellevue 
 Liverpool, Hotel Victoria 
 Manchester, Trevelyan Hotel 
 Edinburgh, Cockburn's Hotel 
 Stirling, Golden Lion 
 Callander .... 
 Trossachs, by carriage 
 Loch Katrine 
 Inversnaid 
 
 Loch Lomond to Tarbet 
 Oban, by coach, Caledonian Hotel 
 Inverarnan, by coach 
 On Loch Lomond 
 Ballock to Glasgow, Waverly 
 Belfast, Ireland 
 Portrush, Colman's Hotel 
 Londonderry, Hotel Imperial 
 Dublin, Gresham Hotel 
 Killarney, R. R. Hotel 
 
 Hotel 
 
 
 Single 
 
 Vliles. 
 
 Fare, in 
 
 
 Specie. 
 
 45 
 
 
 102 
 
 $2.41 
 
 34 
 
 .87 
 
 46 
 
 2.60 
 
 30 
 
 *i.30 
 
 162 
 
 4.12 
 
 40 
 
 .86 
 
 57 
 
 1.32 
 
 54 
 
 1. 14 
 
 150 
 
 2.44 
 
 163 
 
 3-90 
 
 27 
 
 .80 
 
 23 
 
 .64 
 
 50 
 
 2.05 
 
 26 
 
 •65 
 
 80 
 
 1-34 
 
 136 
 
 3.80 
 
 60 
 
 2.08 
 
 40 
 
 1-75 
 
 20 
 
 .80 
 
 154 
 
 6.75 
 
 75 
 
 2.25 
 
 37 
 
 1.56 
 
 230 
 
 6.62 
 
 36 
 
 *i.5o 
 
 16 
 
 •50 
 
 ID 
 
 .87 
 
 8 
 
 .62 
 
 8 
 
 .62 
 
 3 
 
 •30 
 
 56 
 
 6.12 
 
 50 
 
 5.00 
 
 24 
 
 •75 
 
 20 
 
 .62 
 
 129 
 
 2.89 
 
 68 
 
 *2.12 
 
 40 
 
 1.25 
 
 209 
 
 7-25 
 
 186 
 
 *8.S4 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 7. 85 
 
 Single 
 iS6g. Miles. Fare, in 
 
 Specie. 
 
 July 10. To Cork, Imperial Hotel 67 *$2.i2 
 
 " 12. " Queenstown, Queen's Hotel .... 6 *.25 
 
 " 14-25. " Boston, by Steamer Siberia, Quincy House, 2,700 89.25 
 
 SIDE EXCURSIONS. 
 
 Miles. 
 April 7-8. Paris to London, and return ($22.00), Charing Cross 
 
 and Golden Cross 600 
 
 " 7. Paris to Versailles 24 
 
 " 22. Naples to Pompeii 24 
 
 " 24. " to Vesuvius 24 
 
 " 26. " to Baije and Pozzuoli 24 
 
 May 14. Geneva to Fernet ........ 8 
 
 " 17. From Interlaken to Lauterbrunnen and Staubbach Falls, 14 
 
 " 19-20. Lucerne to the Righi Culmn 24 
 
 " 27. Amsterdam to Brock 21 
 
 " 31. Brussels to Waterloo 24 
 
 June 5. London to Crystal Palace 20 
 
 " 10. To Ascot Races 4° 
 
 " 22. Birmingham to Bristol 220 
 
 " 23. Bangor to Menai Bridge 6 
 
 July 6. Portrush to Castle of Dunluce and Giants' Causeway, 8 
 
 " 10. Killarney Lakes, Ross Castle, and Gap of Dunloe . 42 
 
 Total distance 12,299 miles. 
 
 By rail alone 4.858 miles. 
 
 Cost of trip, exclusive of articles purchased, about $2,000 currency. 
 Whole amount drawn on Letter of Credit, 8,417 francs, or $2,521.57, as 
 paid in currency, when the drafts were presented at 15 Cornhill. 
 
86 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 1 8. 
 
 LETTER No. 18. 
 
 Just three weeks after coming home we were called to lay 
 away the dear little babe, and I want to tell you how the comfort 
 of Christ blessed us in all our journey and in the sadness of our 
 home-coming. A most remarkable assurance that our child would 
 be spared till we should return was vouchsafed to us, and the 
 lesson of trust which we learned in that experience was never for- 
 gotten. You may not be able to understand it if I tell you, but if 
 you ever find that Christ does fill your heart to overflowing some 
 day in the future of your life's experience, you will know what 
 I mean when I say there was a consciousness of his immediate 
 care and interest so great that his presence was continually recog- 
 nized as holding us by the hand, as it were, while we felt a thrill 
 of gladness in the watchfulness he was keeping over us, and our 
 babe with us, in our forced separation. Not until we were near 
 the time for sailing homeward did the new consciousness come 
 to us that we must now hasten, for God was calling us to come to 
 watch over her a few days before her departure to her beautiful 
 home with himself. Then we pleaded for her life till we could 
 once more lake her in our arms. We were comforted and our 
 anxiety fled with an assured feeling that we should see her once 
 more. Going from the station to the home where the precious 
 life seemed only waiting for us we met the messenger on his way 
 to the physician. I recognized him, and instinctively felt what 
 his errand was without a word from him. 
 
 We found her in spasms, taken ill that morning. She did 
 not know us ; I cried to my Heavenly Father that we might have 
 the joy of a last recognition from her baby eyes. God granted 
 this boon, and in a day or two she seemed to rally and clung to me 
 with manifest delight. But I knew she was going from us soon, 
 and prayed yet again that she might be saved a long and suffer- 
 ing illness such as I had been compelled to witness in my little 
 ones who had died before. O, how good God was and how ten- 
 derly he dealt with us! Could we ever deny his love? No, never! 
 " Though he slay me yet will I trust him " was our hearts' accept- 
 ance of his will. After this our little Mary Agnes clung to me 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. l8. 87 
 
 with her dear baby ways, and was enabled to laugh and play and 
 let me enjoy her to my heart's content. Slowly but surely and 
 without pain her strength left her, but not until three weeks after 
 our landing on our native shore did the heavenly messenger come, 
 when she left my arms for his. 
 
 Children, do you think we murmured ? Ah, no ! our hearts 
 were so full of gratitude that we could only see a tender Father's 
 love through it all. Had he not walked with us every step of the 
 way? Had he not spared the little one that I might go without 
 question with your grandpapa to be a comfort to him ? And then 
 had he not permitted me to enjoy her even as I had asked, 
 in your grandpapa's absence, when it had seemed as if the tiny 
 candle of her life had almost burned out? Had he not at the 
 very last saved her from great suffering? I could only sing a 
 song of thanksgiving for his mercy and love, so tender and so 
 sparing. I almost regret having made this digression of our ex- 
 perience in sorrow in the beginning of this letter, but some- 
 how I feel as if I want you to know how closely Christ's love 
 has been woven into all our life whether we were separated or 
 together, that you may understand how he has been the one 
 glad hope before us, and learn to know him as intimately that 
 he may be your life also. 
 
 Your grandpapa once more entered upon his newspaper work 
 with fresh courage, with other thoughts of the outside world, and 
 with enlarged ideas of things in general. It was by the benefit 
 derived from this European trip that he was led to see the abso- 
 lute necessity of longer vacations for himself and less push for his 
 employees. He learned to be watchful for others ; he arranged for 
 his own vacations with an interest he had not taken before ; and 
 went from home and the strain of the office at every indication of 
 brain weariness, which often came to remind him that too steady 
 application would be suicide. In 1870 he took an extended jour- 
 ney West in the interests of the paper and for recuperation. In 
 December came the fatal tragedy of his brother's death. 
 
 As into every life there come events of almost crushing weight, 
 so into every home there come bitter experiences which the world 
 cannot understand, though it may criticise and condemn without 
 knowledge and unjustly. Each heart knows its own bitterness, 
 
88 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. l8. 
 
 and it also is acquainted with the principles and motives which 
 have led perhaps to the misfortune, and, God be praised, one is 
 thus made strong and able to stand by the right against any 
 contempt or scorn of others. Try and remember this truth, will 
 you not ? 
 
 There were scenes in your grandpapa's life when none but 
 God could read the deep heart-agonies he suffered, and it was then 
 that his heroic nature stood forth with a calm and holy bearing. 
 In some of these personal experiences it seemed to me that he 
 was completely clothed with the glistening habiliments of right- 
 eousness, and that I could almost recognize the seal that had been 
 placed upon his brow by a divine hand. One such occasion which 
 presses upon my mind, and which caused suffering beyond words 
 to tell, was when this only brother was foully murdered and word 
 flashed over the wires for him to " come at once," with the reason 
 why he was wanted. For an instant he was overcome, but only 
 for a little, when he possessed himself with a calmness not born 
 of earth, and told me he must go and that I must help in this 
 extremity by prayer; that he might be absent some days but that 
 I should hear from him every day. He remained with this beloved 
 brother until his life went out. He was placed under the most 
 trying circumstances, amidst confused and disturbing statements 
 that would have shaken the faith of many another less loyal heart. 
 He believed in his brother, and knowing his kind and sympathetic 
 nature he was willing to wait patiently for any explanations that 
 should vindicate his true position. In this trying hour he gave 
 his tenderest attention to her who was suffering from an anguish 
 too exquisite to be touched by the most delicate breath, because 
 he believed in her. He learned beside this sick bed the high 
 place which his brother held in the hearts of thousands of the 
 great and the good all through the land who loved him as a 
 brother. When the flood of notes and inquiries and telegrams 
 came pouring in from day to day, with their tender solicitude, their 
 expressions of grief, their heartfelt sorrow, he was led to exclaim 
 in the midst of it and with tears falling, "I shall never forget the 
 power of sympathy ; " and the loved one whom he befriended in 
 that bitter trial says, "Of his loyalty, courage, and generosity in 
 all the great emergency through which he passed I cannot say too 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. l8. 89 
 
 much, nor can I hardly find words in which to express it." Your 
 grandpapa expresses himself in his grief in the following, which 
 I copy from an article in the paper : 
 
 What can the tongue utter or the pen write under the crushing sorrow 
 of laying in his last narrow home a brother loved and loving ; the young- 
 est of the household ; the sharer of all the pastimes of boyhood ; the 
 faithful and valued counselor of riper years ; the one for whom, of all 
 the members of the family circle, the future seemed auspicious? The 
 assassin's work was but too well done, and after a terrible struggle of 
 almost seven long days and nights, first hopeful and then hopeless, 
 Albert Dean Richardson breathed his last without a struggle, at the 
 Astor House in New York, on Thursday morning, December 2, at five 
 o'clock. Almost like a dream seem now the hours of watching and 
 nursing night and day, the thronging of friends toward the sick room 
 and their unbounded expressions of sympathy, the marriage tie sealed 
 just on the edge of the spirit land, the last farewells, the supreme moment 
 when the breath came and went no more, the funeral service in the pres- 
 ence of personal friends, the desolate journey by night to the home of 
 childhood, the fresh outburst of sorrow on meeting an aged mother and 
 family friends, and the last funeral rites. All this seems verily like a 
 dream, but, alas ! is a reality that cannot be reversed. 
 
 Such sorrows cannot be written for the public eye ; but for 
 you, my children, I refer to them as a part of the discipline that 
 God saw to be best to aid in the softening and purifying influences 
 that should so early prepare your grandpapa for his heavenly wel- 
 come home. 
 
QO MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. IQ. 
 
 LETTER No. 19. 
 
 The event of his brother's death proved to be so great a tax 
 upon your grandpapa's health that the year following he felt it 
 best for him to bring new scenes into his life, and accordingly we 
 took a delightful drive to the White Mountains in company with 
 a warm friend and near neighbor. We each went in our private 
 carriage until we reached Centre Harbor, where we spent a short 
 time ; then, putting the two horses into a mountain wagon, we 
 made the tour around the mountains, ascending Mt. Washington 
 from the Glen House, the Congregationalist being informed of our 
 progress and its interests in " Notes by the Way," wherein he 
 expresses his own satisfaction with this mode of travel as follows : 
 
 The ladies of our party persist in expressing the opinion that we 
 went too many miles in seventeen days for the highest enjoyment ; but 
 with that exception we are enthusiastic for carriage trips to the White 
 Mountains. 
 
 Your grandpapa abandoned himself to a real enjoyment of 
 the journey, and then was the time when the geniality of his nature 
 shone out. He could take the time to recreate. He made the 
 effort as he grew older to throw ofif care when away from its pres- 
 sure and to feel a certain freedom which he could never know 
 while unfulfilled duties lay before him. One morning, on this 
 drive, when we were not far from Suncook and were not quite sure 
 of the road, our friend hailed a farmer whom we met and asked, 
 
 " How far is it to Seekonk, sir? " 
 
 " As fur again as half," replied the man gruffly. 
 
 Such a curt answer greatly amused your grandpapa, yet he 
 was surprised at the unusual incivility — a trait seldom met with 
 in that region. Suddenly he burst into a merry laugh as the fact 
 dawned upon him that our friend had inadvertently inquired for 
 Seekonk, which was in Rhode Island, instead of Suncook, for which 
 we were aiming. Of course this explained the discourtesy. The 
 man thought the inquirer was making "game" of him. 
 
 Enjoying this vacation so much your grandpapa planned for 
 a longer one the next year, -and instead of two or three weeks' 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 19. 9I 
 
 absence we were gone five months with our horses. It was natural 
 that his thoughts should be more or less with his duties at the 
 office, and he not only did much work for the paper, but was study- 
 ing the country through which we traveled with the interest of a 
 pupil at his books. He noticed every improvement in the villages 
 through which we passed, inquired about the churches, the people, 
 the prosperity, the religious condition, etc. If there was a Con- 
 gregational minister in the place he never omitted to make him 
 a call. 
 
 It was in the early stage of this journey that he had an amus- 
 ing experience, which he recounts as follows : 
 
 Passing into a prayer meeting in a strange place not long since 
 I was recognized by the brother in the chair, who, by some surprising 
 miscalculation, it seems, had taken me for a minister ; for on commencing 
 the services he remarked that the pastor was absent, but that Rev. 
 
 Mr. from Boston was present and he hoped they should hear 
 
 from him during the evening. Avoiding all personal allusions, I took 
 part with the other brethren in sustaining the meeting; but in time I saw 
 my mistake in not openly repudiating the ministerial function, for at the 
 close of the meeting the leader, turning his eyes sharp on me, asked if 
 
 the Rev. Mr. would pronounce the benediction. I asked to be 
 
 excused; and none of my ministerial friends need feel jealous of their 
 prerogatives lest I may hereafter attempt to palm myself off as one of 
 "the cloth." If people will sometimes in addressing their letters prefix 
 Dr. or Rev. to my name I cannot help it; but when it becomes a spoken 
 prefix a plain layman like myself must rise and explain. 
 
 [Don't fail to read your grandpapa's letters written while on 
 these journeys, which you will find carefully preserved in his scrap- 
 books. . They will give you something new on almost every sub- 
 ject to be thought of, beside many experiences by the way.] 
 
 While stopping at Sandwich for a week or two an incident 
 occurred which came very near being a serious accident, and which 
 leads to the following item in one of his letters : 
 
 It is sometimes a great convenience to have your own team at hand 
 ready for use, but it is not always so. You can't always hitch a horse to 
 a tree and find everything in order after an hour's absence. A city horse 
 does not always know how to behave. First, the animal must rub against 
 the tree so hard as to take off the hair. Next, he is down for a roll on 
 
92 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. I9. 
 
 the earth and rocks, and the halter not being long enough he undertakes 
 to stretch it, but it snaps, and Bucephalus is off for a frolic. I try to heed 
 the old maxim " Never cross a bridge till you get to it;" but as I was 
 going down to the West Ossipee depot the other morning I discovered 
 a hole in a small bridge just too late to avoid it, and both hind legs of 
 one horse went down as far as the size of the aperture would admit. 
 The fall took the animal off her front legs also, and I saw no chance for 
 her to get up without help, yet she sprang forward and in an instant was 
 on four legs again and no bones broken, though with a bad wound on 
 one of her knees which I have already charged to the town of Tamworth. 
 
 One of these experiences to which he does not refer in his 
 " Notes by the Way," and which occurred while at Sandwich, I will 
 write you about. A large party of boarders went one afternoon 
 for an excursion to Whiteface. We drove our own horses and 
 carriage, while the rest of the company filled a large mountain 
 wagon. On our way 'home we were to cross a bridge which was 
 some twenty or more feet above one of the swift mountain streams 
 spanning it, and was without protection on either side. The 
 stream was rather low at the time, and the bed full of ugly, sharp 
 rocks rising above the water. As we neared the bridge a farmer 
 came toward us driving an unruly bull, having a board from three 
 to four feet long fastened over his eyes. Your grandpapa drove 
 very carefully, fearing the horses would see the creature and be 
 frightened. Just as we were on the bridge they caught sight of 
 him, and giving a sudden, simultaneous spring they wheeled partly 
 around and, leaping forward, stood within less than a foot of the 
 very edge. We expected to be dashed headlong upon the rocks 
 below, but in an instant your grandpapa was out of the carriage 
 and had seized the horse nearest the edge ; how he did it I never 
 knew; I know that we were a frightened, silent party the remain- 
 der of the ride home. 
 
 We made various stops of two and three weeks at dififerent 
 hotels during this trip, once at the Oak Hill House in Little- 
 ton, New Hampshire, where we met a number of friends, one of 
 whom has written as follows in her memories of your grandpapa : 
 
 With what pleasure do I recall a vacation season passed in the 
 White Mountains with himself and family! He had gone thither with 
 his nice "turnout" to enjoy the delightful drives from place to place. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 19. '93 
 
 It proved to be one of those summers when it "rains easy," and many 
 pleasure trips were interfered with by heavy showers. The horses 
 would be brought to the door when, seemingly without warning, the 
 rain would fall in torrents. The horses would be taken back to the 
 stable only to call forth a good-natured laugh from their owner that 
 the weather was " so catching." The three weeks were passed with 
 almost daily showers, but never was there a shadow of disappointment 
 upon the face of the owner, Mr. Richardson. It was evident to all who 
 saw him that he was pleased with God's way of doing things even 
 though it was contrary to his own plans. 
 
 I remember well the day near the close of Augtist when we 
 left this pleasant spot. We had hoped to start early in the fore- 
 noon, but as usual the clouds were very threatening and not until 
 four o'clock in the afternoon could we decide whether to go or 
 stay. After leaving Littleton we drove a distance of one hundred 
 and forty miles before we made another permanent stop ; one 
 hundred and twenty miles of this distance was down the Connec- 
 ticut Valley, of which your grandpapa says : 
 
 This was probably through as fine a region for a carriage trip as 
 can be found in the country. In delightful contrast with the highways 
 in the White Mountain region the roads are smooth and comparatively 
 level, and they are arched over by trees from time to time for a long 
 distance through the woods, while the scenery as a whole is charmingly 
 beautiful. Nearly every town has its bridge across the Connecticut and 
 some of them two. 
 
 It was while on this drive that we made a visit to the old 
 town of such pleasant memories to your grandpapa. We were 
 tarrying for a couple of weeks at Mt. Mineral Springs, and one day 
 took a ride of ten miles over to Montague, where, your grandpapa 
 says, 
 
 some of the happiest hours of my life were spent as a school-teacher. 
 I went there fresh from the normal school in Westfield, when youthful 
 enthusiasm doubtless did much to make good any lack of maturer judg- 
 ment. I had some excellent material to work with ; the schools had a 
 good name, perhaps beyond what they deserved, and many warm friend- 
 ships were formed. But for twenty-one years I had not seen the place, 
 and I had quite an unusual interest as well as curiosity to look once more 
 upon the faces of that community. 
 
94 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 19. 
 
 Across the way stood the old schoolhouse looking precisely as it did 
 twenty-one years ago. What memories it recalled ! How many battles 
 with Colburn and Greenleaf, Euclid and Greene, Cutter and Day, An- 
 drews, and other text-book worthies had been fought within its walls ! 
 It is pleasant now to recall the fact that during the two years of my reign 
 there not a blow was found necessary to secure study or enforce order. 
 As to the change wrought upon the face and in the personal appearance 
 of the old pupils and myself by a score of years, I found in most cases 
 that we readily recognized each other. It is pleasant to be remembered, 
 and I can scarcely recall a day that has afforded me more satisfaction 
 than this. And yet there was a melancholy side, for a great multitude 
 had gone to join the assembly of the dead. 
 
 Of these " Notes by the Way " your grandpapa said : 
 
 They have grown out of the observations made during a vacation of 
 five months, taken with the hope of regaining health seriously impaired 
 by too close confinement to office work in years past. And now, grate- 
 ful to a kind Providence for a safe return from a carriage trip of nearly 
 eight hundred miles, I am glad to resume work once more, believing 
 that work is vastly better in its proper place for all who can endure it 
 than all excursions and vacations. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 20. 95 
 
 LETTER No. 20. 
 
 As your grandpapa found much physical and mental invigora- 
 tion from these outings, at the same time gathering material for 
 future use and contributing to the weekly columns while absent, 
 he made such plans as he could for yearly travel. When engaged 
 in his weekly routine of duties he never was able to get the time 
 for reading that he needed in order to do the best work, and con- 
 cluded there was no better school in which he could broaden his 
 horizon of thought than in frequent journeyings. Thus while his 
 chosen profession involved close attention and often great weari- 
 ness it was not without its compensations. Every trial has its 
 comfort, so every labor has its reward. Attendance upon the 
 different convocations of religious interests, though wearisome, 
 gave him the opportunity to see new cities and towns, to meet new 
 people, to observe new customs, and to study the country which 
 might be strange to him. 
 
 In 1874 he went to California via the Isthmus of Panama in 
 company with his intimate friend, Mr. Charles Hutchins, agent of 
 the American Board of Foreign Missions, and during this trip his 
 pen was not idle, for I count not less than nineteen letters printed 
 in the columns of the Congregational/st, beside various articles and 
 communications to other journals. He visited the Yosemite Valley, 
 some of the mining regions, Salt Lake City, and climbed Pike's 
 Peak. But I will not write you at length of the several journeys 
 that have enriched his life and given him enjoyment as well as 
 added buoyancy to his spirits and strength to his system. I shall 
 only refer to a few. 
 
 He made four carriage trips to the White Mountains, vary- 
 ing the route each time, sometimes enjoying the valley of the 
 Connecticut River for many miles, at others the isolation of the 
 country drives. At one time Sebago Lake and the State of Maine 
 received his attention via Bridgeton and the lakes of that region, 
 yet not returning without the circuit of the mountains as far as 
 could be made accessible. Two other carriage rides were through 
 Rhode Island, Connecticut, and Massachusetts. At another time a 
 trip to Rangeley Lakes afforded him great enjoyment and recu- 
 
g6 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 20. 
 
 peration. Part of one winter was spent on the Bermuda Islands 
 with profit and pleasure. Three more were made happy in Florida, 
 two of them being passed on Fort George Island and one at Winter 
 Park. He made a special effort, while South, to visit several 
 schools of the American Missionary Association, inquiring into its 
 work and here and there advocating its interests. How full of 
 brightness these vacations were ! He seemed to renew his youth- 
 ful days of courage and enjoyment, and was full of brightness. 
 Rest with him, however, was not idleness. Each day had its 
 special task, even his pleasure was enhanced by allotted hours for 
 reading, for walking or riding, and for conversation. All the min- 
 utes were delightfully filled, but there was no hurry, no crowding. 
 We were scarcely separated for an hour during these vacations ; 
 everything was shared with one another. " How sweet their 
 memory still ;" how full of fragrance now ! 
 
 I believe his frequent visits to Saratoga prolonged his life, and 
 I know that new inspiration was gained when these visits were ex- 
 tended to Niagara Falls, as they often were. 
 
 It was during his absence on a trip to Nova Scotia that I 
 thought to plan a pleasant surprise for him the coming Christ- 
 mas. I had often heard him say when speaking of different 
 contributors to the paper: "I should like to see such and such 
 a man's face ; I have some curiosity to know if the face marks 
 the man." 
 
 I remembered this remark, and when he was fairly away it 
 occurred to me that it would be a capital idea to secure without 
 his knowledge an album containing a goodly number of the con- 
 tributors to his paper and surprise him with it at Christmas. Then 
 came the query how to carry the plan into effect unbeknown to 
 him Finally, I called on Miss Ellen M. Stone, who was then an 
 assistant editor in the office, and asked her if she would copy for 
 me a list of the names of the past and present contributors. 
 When I told her my secret she entered into the project eagerly, 
 and sent me about three hundred names. I immediately struck 
 off a circular letter stating what I desired and that the affair was 
 to be kept inviolate for the holidays. 
 
 Getting your Aunt Hattie to help me we wrote and mailed 
 about two hundred and fifty letters, inclosing envelopes addressed 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 20. 97 
 
 and stamped for return of the carte de visite; few cabinet photo- 
 graphs were then taken. These letters were all directed to the 
 house of a friend, with her understanding of the affair, and privately 
 passed to me. Even this was not so secret, however, but that I 
 came very near being found out one evening when your grandpapa 
 called to see the gentleman of the house, and one of the sons had 
 just brought home from the post office two or three letters ad- 
 dressed to me and gave them to him, the son being wholly igno- 
 rant of the ruse. I passed it off as possibly being from some one 
 who did not know our place of residence but did know that of our 
 friend. I had thought that if I could obtain a considerable number 
 before New Year's I should not hesitate to present the gift, and 
 he would be as pleased to receive the remainder of them him- 
 self afterward if they should come in. What was my surprise to 
 find that in less than three weeks I had obtained many more than 
 a hundred ! I was obliged to buy two large albums instead of 
 one, and at Christmas they contained a hundred and fifty pic- 
 tures. I think I enjoyed the personal letters that were sent with 
 the pictures quite as much as your grandpapa did the pictures 
 themselves. Some of them were very funny. I remember one 
 man who referred particularly to his personal beauty (he was an 
 exceptionally homely man) as being an ornament among so honor- 
 able a crowd, and closed by saying that his photograph must have 
 been sent for because of his good behavior, as his mother had 
 always taught him that " Handsome is that handsome does." 
 Another thought the album would make a fine menagerie with so 
 unique a collection of animals. He did not know just what to 
 give himself for a name. All seemed to enter into my scheme with 
 enjoyment and fidelity to the secret. 
 
 My hopes were high for my surprise, but alas for human 
 hopes ! As you boys would say, " I got left." When the albums 
 were given no amount of effort at pretended surprise on your 
 grandpapa's part could deceive me. I saw at once that some one 
 had betrayed me. He had been told of the coming gift, not through 
 forgetfulness, not by mistake, but 1 believe maliciously. It is a 
 hard thing to say, but I can see it in no other light, for the noted 
 doctor of divinity met him at a conference and asked him if he 
 had received his present yet. Your grandpapa smiled and said he 
 was aware of no present, thinking that the man was joking, when 
 
98 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2 0. 
 
 he added, " Well, you are going to have one, for I had a letter 
 from your wife, and as I hadn't any picture and couldn't send her 
 one I suppose I ought to have written, but you'll please tell her." 
 Then there was one other little episode. I said all seemed to 
 enter into my plan with zest. I had forgotten one letter which 
 I received from a well-known president of a college, giving me 
 quite a severe reprimand for undertaking such a thing, and say- 
 ing in a most decided manner that he should send no picture 
 of his to any one for such a purpose. With this one exception 
 the letters were very delightful reading for many a spare minute 
 of your grandpapa's. But the albums ! How can I tell you 
 the delight they afforded him for scores and scores of even- 
 ings, with his friends of brain and pen ? They were always 
 brought out to entertain ministers, professors, authors, and others 
 who visited us, and were the source of many an anecdote and 
 pleasant conversation, especially when a visitor found the picture 
 of a classmate or a personal friend among them. It gave him 
 more real pleasure the last years of his life than almost any one 
 thing beside, and he added many new contributors to the original 
 collection. I think the president who felt that I was doing such 
 a wicked thing at the time would conclude that he had made a 
 mistake in his judgment if he knew of the result. But the good 
 man is in glory now, and I have no doubt that there has been a 
 pleasant understanding between them ere this. 
 
 In 1880 he went a second time to Europe, having with him 
 your Aunt Alice, to attend the great Sabbath-School Centenary in 
 London, and also being accompanied by their mutual friends Mr. 
 Hutchins, Miss Farley, and Miss Dyer, the last of whom has ever 
 since their return been a valued associate editor of the paper and 
 of late years the special editor of the Home Department. He was 
 absent some three months, attending meanwhile the Passion Play 
 at Ober-Ammergau, visiting the missionary station at Prague — 
 meeting there Miss Stone, who was connected with the Congrega- 
 tionalist for eleven years before going as a missionary — beside do- 
 ing some traveling among the Alps. He also made a second trip 
 to California in 1882, extending it to Portland, Oregon, visiting there 
 the Indian school and looking up with great interest its history. 
 
 The following year brought to him a keen sorrow in the tragic 
 death of his lifelong friend, Mr. Hutchins. They had been to- 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 20. 99 
 
 gether on a brief visit to Saratoga. Mr. Hutchins returned a little 
 before him, and when your grandpapa a day or two later stepped 
 into the office of the Missionary Herald to greet his friend how 
 great was his astonishment to learn of the accident which had 
 occurred that morning, and had stricken down in an instant the 
 one from whom he had so recently parted, and whom he loved so 
 well ; while crossing a track in the Boston and Lowell station 
 Mr. Hutchins was struck by a backing engine which he had not 
 seen. In writing of this sad return your grandpapa says : 
 
 On opening the door of the Missionary Herald office I am startled 
 and almost bewildered at first on learning of his sudden death. He 
 had been a lifelong friend. We have journeyed together to California 
 and across the water • have been associated together in various trips 
 and in many other ways ; but we never had a short vacation together 
 that has been more satisfactory than this one. In our devotions from 
 day to day, both in the reading of God's Word and in prayer, he has 
 seemed to me more than ever like a man who " walked with God," and 
 one whom the prospect of death, even, could not alarm. 
 
 This brief outline of your grandpapa's travels is enough to 
 show you that observation was largely his teacher when he found 
 that books and college were out of the question. Everywhere he 
 went he met reliable people of whom to obtain the information 
 needed on matters he wished to know about. Perhaps this contact 
 with so many different minds and temperaments was what enabled 
 him to think on the varied topics which during these busy years were 
 presented in editorials to his subscribers. I should like to have 
 you glance over a partial list of the articles he wrote for those 
 columns, some longer and some shorter. It has been a great sat- 
 isfaction to me : 
 
 ARTICLES AS EDITORIALS. 
 
 A Successful Lecture Course. Letter from Boston referring to the 
 
 Normal Schools in Connecticut. New Congregational House on 
 
 Work to be Done Now. Chauncy Street, which could only 
 
 Granite State in Summer. accommodate the Congregational 
 
 Strikes in 1868. Library, the Home Missionary 
 
 Deer Island. Society, and the Congregational 
 
 Perfect your Manuscript. Board of Publication, and where 
 
 Labor Reform. the Congregational clergy held 
 
 Missionary Ship. their meetings. The matter was 
 
 Literary Critic. discussed of starting a new paper 
 
 Anniversary Week of 1857. at the time. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 20. 
 
 A Useful Ministry. 
 
 Pacific Steamship Co. 
 
 Our Feeble Churches. 
 
 The Jury. 
 
 Another Outlet for Boston. 
 
 Eastern Railroad. 
 
 Boston Clearing House. 
 
 A Work for the Ministry. 
 
 A Sunny Side View. 
 
 Letter from Philadelphia. 
 
 Letters from New York. 
 
 Railroads in Massachusetts. 
 
 Ministers and Churches. 
 
 The Centennial. 
 
 Hippodrome Meetings. 
 
 The Election. 
 
 Letter from Chicago after the Great 
 
 Fire. 
 New York Aquarium. 
 Sunday- School Work. 
 Christian Endeavor Societies. 
 Franklin House in Saratoga. 
 Anecdotes of Charles Hutchins. 
 Moribund Churches. 
 Dr. Meredith's Class. 
 Dansville Sanatorium. 
 Consolidated Missionary Magazines. 
 Reaction in Japan. 
 Enforcement of .Sunday Laws. 
 Bishop Leland's Address. 
 Stanley and Bartelott. 
 Facts to be remembered regarding 
 
 Riots, Introduction of Machinery, 
 
 and Habits of Extravagance. 
 Teachers in Schools. 
 Normal Schools. 
 
 On Giving and Methods of the Same. 
 A. B. C. F. M. and its Reports. 
 Troubles in Churches. 
 A. M. A. and its Reports. 
 Preparatory Lectures. 
 Funeral Scene. 
 
 Uniformity in Railroad Mail Service. 
 Absent Members of the Church. 
 Courses of Lectures as Friendly Allies 
 
 to Church and Parish Work. 
 Wanted — Heroism. 
 
 Churches and Lecture Courses with 
 .Suggestions. 
 
 Pay that Thou Ovvest. 
 
 Lancaster Industrial School. 
 
 Boston Clearing House. 
 
 Green liackers. 
 
 The Ministry. 
 
 Candidating. 
 
 English Protectorate in Turkey. 
 
 A. B. C. F. M. 
 
 The Silver Dollar. 
 
 That Gridiron ; or, .Serious Charge on 
 Dr. Edwards' Belief. 
 
 Looking for a Pastor. 
 
 The Public Documents of Massachu- 
 setts, including Researches on Ed- 
 ucation and Charities and Labor. 
 
 Compulsory Education. 
 
 Our Missionaries in Austria. 
 
 Suffrage. 
 
 Sunday- School Lesson. 
 
 Organization in Churches. 
 
 Story of Tyre. 
 
 Church Building. 
 
 The Ocean Telegram. 
 
 Camping Out. 
 
 Gettmg a Minister. 
 
 Sabbath School. 
 
 A Congregationalist Catechism. 
 
 Vacations. 
 
 Municipal Debts. 
 
 The Religious Newspaper. 
 
 A Woman's Home Missionary Society. 
 
 The Quincy School. 
 
 Railroads. 
 
 Congregational Publishing .Society. 
 
 How Elections are carried on. 
 
 Negro Preaching. 
 
 A Sunday in New York. 
 
 Robert Raikes. 
 
 Women's Missionary Societies. 
 
 The London Centenary. 
 
 Ober-Ammergau and its Passion Play. 
 Special Notes on a Foreign Trip. 
 Prague and Bohemia. 
 Kimballized. 
 
 That Door. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 20, 
 
 lOl 
 
 Congregational Publishing Society. 
 
 Bird's- Eye View of Congregational 
 Council. 
 
 A Remarkable Story of the Facilities 
 of Dakota. 
 
 The Week of Prayer. 
 
 The Congregational Club. 
 
 The Pulpit of Dr. Emmons. 
 
 The Pastor and the Sunday School. 
 
 Dr. Kimball and Church Debts. 
 
 The Missionary Concert. 
 
 The Lighter Drinks. 
 
 Three Stages in Missions. 
 
 Absent Members. 
 
 The Chicago Meeting. 
 
 Home Missions Now. 
 
 Sunday-School Work. 
 
 The Oregon Indian School. 
 
 Utah and the Mormons. 
 
 Light in Austria. 
 
 Responsible Insanity. 
 
 The Real Difficulty — referring to min- 
 isters choosing their places of 
 labor. 
 
 The Seven Societies. 
 
 Unanimous or Not. 
 
 Reminiscences of A. B. C. F. M. 
 
 Atlantic Cable. 
 
 He was Looking About. 
 
 American Baptist Missionary Union. 
 
 Light which may need 1863 to under- 
 stand why certain things are or 
 are not published in the Religious 
 Newspapers. 
 
 Sunday School. 
 
 Things to be Remembered Concern- 
 ing Newspapers. 
 
 Wild Lands of Long Island. 
 
 Pray for the Country. 
 
 A Dark Day, July 22, 1S61. 
 
 Caste in Sunday School. 
 
 Mason and Slidell Affair. 
 
 Ourselves and Other Congregational 
 Papers. 
 
 Talk with Our Contributors. 
 
 Public Documents. 
 
 As Our Neighbors See Us. 
 
 Various Reports for Committees. 
 
 Evolution of the Sunday School. 
 
 Old Anniversary Week, found in the 
 Last Volume of his Scrapbooks. 
 
 Church Work. 
 
 Completing Subjects in Sermons. 
 
 How Shall We Give. 
 
 An Evil and a Caution. 
 
 Christian Endeavor Societies. 
 
 Historical and Descriptive Article on 
 Chelsea. 
 
 News from Utah. 
 
 The Present Outlook. 
 
 Charleston. 
 
 Sabbath Sermons. 
 
 Henry M. Kellog, a Former Pupil 
 Killed in the Army. 
 
 Newspapers vs. Personal Favors. 
 
 Read the Eighty- Eighth Psalm. 
 
 Don't Give it Up ! — referring to prohi- 
 bition in council. 
 
 Congregationalist Enlarged and in 
 New Type. 
 
 A Step Forward. 
 
 Willing. 
 
 The Long Evening. 
 
 Railroad Improvements. 
 
 North Conway in Early Autumn. 
 
 Olden Time, from your Grandfather. 
 
 Prayer Meeting on Fulton Street. 
 
 Bought the Recorder. 
 
 This may seem to you like a long list, yet it is only a part, 
 and I may almost say there were hundreds of editorial para- 
 graphs beside on every conceivable subject that comes before 
 a community. You will remember, however, that he was con- 
 nected with this journal for thirty-five years and it was his daily 
 work all that time. It was his love, his life, his care. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 21. 
 
 LETTER No. 21. 
 
 I HAVE written you a good deal on the various phases of your 
 grandpapa's life, as a pupil, a journalist, and a Christian, but I have 
 not dwelt particularly on his life at home. It will take you into 
 a deeper sympathy with him if I write at some length upon the 
 spirit which influenced and molded our household. 
 
 As he did not favor secret societies he had no calls of that 
 sort to take him away in the evening. When he did go out it was 
 generally in connection with church work, or such gatherings as 
 were for the improvement of public affairs, or during some politi- 
 cal campaign attending a caucus now and then where he felt that 
 his presence ought to be known. 
 
 I think I told you that we went to Chelsea to live when your 
 mamma was a wee babe. This was when your grandpapa began 
 his business career at the bookstore of J. P. Jewett. We were 
 obliged to commence housekeeping in a very small way, because 
 the little we had saved previously was spent in our living while he 
 was learning his business at the store when he had expected that 
 would be his future employment. We furnished our rooms slowly, 
 getting a few things at a time as we were able. After a while, how- 
 ever, we found ourselves comfortably settled as to furniture, though 
 we were in a high brick house where the rooms were stretched 
 over four stories and divided with another family — a kitchen in 
 the basement, the parlor on the next floor, while on the floor above 
 we had three rooms; the other family divided in the same manner 
 except that they took the three rooms together on the upper floor. 
 I tried to manage for a time with my little family without help, ex- 
 cept for washing and ironing ; but I found it pretty wearing to have 
 a kitchen in the basement and sitting and sleeping room on the 
 third floor, compelling me several times in a day to go up over two 
 flights of stairs. So during the winter we made things as easy 
 and comfortable as we could, and as your grandpapa did not come 
 home to his dinner we lived mostly upstairs, using the pleasant 
 front room for a sitting room and at night bringing in the bed 
 from the cold room and making it up on the floor. This was on 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 21. IO3 
 
 account of the baby, lest she should take cold in the room with 
 no fire. There was no furnace in the house. 
 
 I must tell you right here of an amusing experience that we 
 had while living this way. I kept a good many eatables in the 
 little hall room next to our sitting room in order to save me the 
 long journey downstairs. In one corner was a bucket of Indian 
 meal, on the top of which was a plate with a good-sized piece of 
 fat salt pork in it covered with a tin basin ; near by was a pack- 
 age of dried herrings, beside other things that could not be so 
 easily disturbed. I speak of these in particular because they 
 enter largely into my story. At the further end of the small room 
 was a bureau, in which I kept various articles of clothing, espe- 
 cially in the bottom drawer where were two or three shawls folded. 
 On the night in question about midnight I was awakened by a 
 strange noise on the stairs. I listened, and could distinctly hear 
 footsteps, as I thought, going over them ; I could also hear some 
 one at work in the small room. I was quite disturbed, though 
 I knew that our own door was fastened. I bore the anxiety as 
 long as I dared, then woke your grandpapa and told him I was 
 sure there were rogues in the house. He listened for awhile, 
 but at last yielding to his weariness and the assurance he had in 
 the feeling of "blessed be nothing" quietly remarked, "Well, let 
 them have what they can find, I am sure there is not enough for 
 us to lose to pay for the trouble of getting up ! " then turned and 
 tried to go to sleep again. I continued to hear the hurrying and 
 scurrying over the stairs for a long time, till at last it dawned 
 upon me that possibly the cellar door had been accidentally left 
 open and that there were rats in the house. I had been told that 
 huge wharf rats did sometimes go from one house to another in 
 companies. The more I listened the more I became convinced 
 that the rodents were the marauders, and went to sleep again quite 
 content. The next morning the truth was revealed to some extent. 
 The paper of herrings which I had bought for breakfast as a nice 
 relish was nowhere to be found, not even a bone was to be seen. 
 The pork had disappeared also. The plate was on the floor and 
 the cover removed from the bucket of meal though partially 
 drawn over it. The meal being brought to a pyramidal form led 
 me to make a search into its depths, where I found the pork nicely 
 
I04 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2 1. 
 
 buried, not having been gnawed at all ; finding this, I looked for 
 the herrings, but they did not appear until a week later when 
 I went to take out my shawl and in it found the ten folded away 
 with great care for their and not our winter use. The rats dis- 
 appeared as quickly as they came, but they gave me a scare and 
 proved their wonderful instincts for thrift. It was not necessary 
 to tell you this whole story to show you the wise and ready decision 
 of your grandpapa, but I was sure you would enjoy reading a true 
 rat story. 
 
 I need not describe to you your grandpapa's looks or benig- 
 nant expression of face. You knew him as he was, and when you 
 call to mind the deep furrows that marked his forehead, making 
 him look as if he were stern and severe sometimes, you will remem- 
 ber that he was tender in spirit, most considerate and thoughtful 
 for others; that he was cheerful and full of good humor and greatly 
 pleased with the amusing developments of his grandchildren. He 
 seldom commented on them himself, for he was always reticent 
 about family matters ; but how many times I have heard his happy 
 laugh ring out when listening to the recitals of some of your child- 
 ish antics ! Those deep furrows in his forehead were caused by 
 the too anxious care he bestowed on everything that he undertook 
 to do. It was unfortunate, I acknowledge, because it misrepre- 
 sented him to the outside world. People did not distinguish 
 a look of anxiety from one of severity. 
 
 We were greatly amused at our dinner table one day when 
 Miss Higgins, then a member of our household, extended to me the 
 sympathy of a lady whom she had met that day and who expressed 
 much pity for me for having so stern and almost tyrannical a hus- 
 band that she was sure I could not act naturally in his presence 
 and must feel crushed and helpless — she had judged him from 
 this anxious look. You can well understand the merry shout that 
 went up from all who were at the table at your grandpapa's 
 expense, he joining with the rest. The exact opposite was so true 
 that it was really very funny to receive such sympathy. 
 
 Grandpapa always made the best of everything. If a matter 
 could not be helped he tried to pass it by and bury it ; if it could 
 be helped he set himself to work to cure it as soon as possible ; 
 and our good neighbor who was with us on our carriage trip at 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 21. 105 
 
 one time says : " There was a cheerfulness about him though not 
 playfulness [can you understand the difference?], and the more 
 I became acquainted with him the more I appreciated the warmth 
 of his love for his family, his friends, and his church ; and I want 
 you to be sure and impress upon his grandchildren that while he 
 was a sober-minded man he was a cheerful man, one whom his 
 neighbors and fellow citizens were glad to have say ' Good morn- 
 ing' to them at the station. Neither was he slow to enjoy a joke 
 or a little fun, as you will remember how, when I attempted to 
 settle one of my bills by shaking hands and wishing our host 
 a prosperous season, he burst into a right good laugh of enjoy- 
 ment. This good nature must have been well developed in his 
 office work, v^^here I once heard him receive and laugh off a terrific 
 explosion which came from a disturbed doctor of divinity. What 
 the text of the divine was I do not know, but I quite enjoyed his 
 being laughed out of court. This vein of good humor we all 
 appreciated." 
 
 In a previous letter I have referred to Miss Ellen Stone, who 
 was associated with your grandpapa on the paper for eleven years 
 and who eventually resigned her position to go as a missionary to 
 Bulgaria under the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign 
 Missions. At the same time Miss Susan B. Higgins was accepted to 
 go to Japan under the Methodist Board. This fact brought into our 
 home a fresh and more stirring missionary zeal, though we had 
 always held the subject of missions as a great stimulus in gospel 
 work and often expressed a wish for a more immediate relation 
 with foreign labors. But we could not realize that it would be 
 like applying a fresh torch to an inflammable material to send one 
 from our own family until these two went forth — one from the 
 office, where she had labored at your grandpapa's side daily ; and 
 the other who had been in the family as one of its loved mem- 
 bers for nearly nine years. It brought occasion for advice sought 
 and given ; missionary meetings were held here and there in which 
 we were personally interested; the missionary spirit was kindled 
 anew in every fiber and branch, I copy a report of one of the 
 meetings, which I find in a local paper, for you to read : 
 
 . . . The occasion was one of peculiar interest from the fact tliat 
 Miss Susan B. Higgins, a schoolmate of Miss Stone, who has been 
 
I06 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 21, 
 
 a teacher in the public schools of Chelsea for several years, now goes to 
 fapan under the Methodist Board. Farewell services for her had been 
 held in the Walnut Street Methodist Church, many who attended the 
 two services being mutual friends of Miss Stone and Miss Higgins. At 
 each of the meetings the outgoing missionaries said a few farewell 
 words. On the platform at this meeting in presence of the audience 
 they gave each other the right hand in token of consecration to the mis- 
 sion work. 
 
 This new flame of love for foreign work did not die out when 
 these missionaries had departed ; your grandpapa's prayers in- 
 creased in earnestness for those of us who remained at home that 
 we might have a more fervent love for Christ and the souls of our 
 fellow creatures. The thoughts centered on the absent ones were 
 deep and grateful. For eight months we were the recipients of 
 good and mostly hopeful news from them, but one Saturday morn- 
 ing there came a letter from Miss Higgins to your Aunt Hattie 
 written in pencil. It was only a few words saying, " I am ordered 
 home on the next steamer, I cannot write. Read Second Epistle 
 of John, twelfth verse," This was news indeed, and we could only 
 understand that there was something very serious back of it. The 
 evening of that same day we were startled by a telegram sent 
 from her brother. It came the evening of the Fourth of July and 
 was addressed to your Aunt Hattie M, Goodrich, She could not 
 open it, so great was her apprehension of evil tidings. I broke the 
 seal and read, " Sue has gone home." This was enough. It brought 
 a shock such as Aunt Hattie had never experienced and such as no 
 other death could inflict on her. Had not they two been com- 
 panions and roommates for nearly a dozen years? And between 
 them there had grown to be a love like that of David and Jon- 
 athan. Their first separation had been like the tearing asunder 
 of two hearts, though God had blessed it to a beautiful consecra- 
 tion of both lives — one in a foreign land and the other anew to 
 Christ in her daily toils here as a teacher, where her influence was 
 widened and deepened. But this second separation — who can 
 express in words its deep wounding ? She has described it since 
 by saying, " It seemed as if my own life had gone out." 
 
 The cablegram to the brother had come eighteen thousand 
 miles from Japan, through Northern Siberia and Russia and across 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 21. I07 
 
 England and the Atlantic, to bring this heavy and unwelcome 
 tidings : " Susan died peacefully at Tokio ; buried Friday." Thus 
 a life dear to many hearts had gone out as it were in a moment, 
 which for nearly nine years and until a few months previous had 
 been a blessing in our family, a leading spirit at home among her 
 own relatives, and a joy to her associates. 
 
 Now these two loving spirits are again united. Since I began 
 these letters to you some of you have looked upon the sweet and 
 peaceful face of your Aunt Hattie as she lay in her casket. Can 
 we not think of the three, grandpapa and Aunt Hattie and Miss 
 Higgins, as mingling their voices in the glorious anthems of praise 
 around God's throne ? 
 
 I have previously referred to the great respect that your 
 grandpapa had for the opinion of people older than himself, and 
 I may add also for all other people, for he was always deferential 
 in his manner. He gave great heed to the advice of his parents, 
 especially to his mother, to whom he never hesitated to tell his 
 anxieties if she cared to know them — and what mother does not? 
 And when the great sorrow of her life came to her and his father 
 was laid away from her sight, his heart, his arms, his home, all, 
 were opened to receive her. She did not come to us, however, 
 till many years later; she was happier to remain among the 
 people who had been her friends and neighbors so many years. 
 But when first the sister and afterward a brother, with each of 
 whom she had lived, died, and she had outlived most of her early 
 friends, she came to Chelsea to us. Do you not remember her 
 well as she used to sit at the window in her sunny room with the 
 white cap about her sweet, pale countenance and seeming to lend 
 a halo to her spiritual face even though the poor eyes were nearly 
 sightless ? How she loved to have you little ones come in to see 
 her when you visited us ! Your grandpapa was devoted to his 
 mother's wants, and nothing that he could do for her was left 
 undone. No matter how weary he might be on Sunday, after the 
 Sunday-school duties were ended he usually spent from one to 
 two hours in reading aloud to her or in conversation with her. 
 The readings she would have him select from the Bible, the hymn 
 book, the Congregationalist, missionary magazines, etc. She had 
 a sort of reverence for the Congregationalist, and wanted no part 
 omitted. 
 
I08 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2 1. 
 
 Your grandpapa placed such dependence upon prayer that he 
 made one feel it was indeed his vital breath and never could be 
 omitted any morning from the family altar with his loved ones 
 gathered around him, and each member knew that to be absent 
 from prayers in the morning caused him grief and sorrow. Occa- 
 sionally there would be some demurring by the younger members 
 of the family at this persistent regularity ; but it made no difference, 
 it was a law of the household, and I believe those fervent prayers 
 have saved many a harsh and bitter word that might otherwise 
 have been spoken. A family cannot be carried daily to the throne 
 of grace and placed in the Everlasting Arms for guidance in their 
 study, their play, their entire hopes, and be wholly unmindful of 
 it. So I am sure that our home was made far happier from the 
 enforcing of this rule as of highest importance. 
 
 Sunday evening was usually devoted to the most tender ap- 
 peals for each member of the family and for any friend or chance 
 visitor who might be providentially with us, and who was remem- 
 bered in the same manner. One guest remarked to me after one 
 of these prayers, " It seems like holy ground ; when he prays he 
 makes me share, too, in the family blessing." How those devo- 
 tional hours have often impressed me ! His soul was as if aglow 
 with the satisfaction he felt in placing us all in God's hands ; and, 
 my dear children, though you were not present in person, you were 
 never forgotten in those Sabbath evening prayers ; a fervent cry 
 for each of you was sent up that you should be counted among 
 those who walk in the ways of righteousness. He prayed not only 
 for your childhood years but for your future ; and O, how many 
 times he has consecrated you with your dear parents to the tender 
 love of your Heavenly Father ! 
 
 It is a precious memory in all my life spent with your grand- 
 papa that we had one leading thought which made all things else 
 subservient to its demand, viz., to live according to the precepts 
 of the Bible and to promote as far as we knew how the glory of 
 God. 
 
 Though our dispositions, our temperaments, our tastes, our 
 likes and dislikes were quite opposite, our single aim of striving to 
 be Christ-like brought all other traits into such harmony that we 
 were one in spirit, and it is a sweet satisfaction to my lonely heart 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2 1. I09 
 
 when I call to mind the many instances of the expression in action 
 of that unit^^ It was a common saying among our children when 
 they were the age that some of you are now and came to me with 
 requests which I had doubts about the propriety of granting and 
 would say to them, " Go and ask papa, and if he thinks it best I 
 will consent," " O, that's no good, for he always thinks just as 
 you do. You always think alike about everything ! " 
 
 It was the same if they went to your grandpapa first — " What 
 does mamma think about it?" Sometimes a private conference 
 was necessary, and then the children were sure to say, " O, you've 
 been talking it all over, and of course you are agreed about it." 
 
 No words can express to you, dear children, the sweetness of 
 such a memory. We both came to recognize when near the end 
 of our journey together the varied molding influences each had 
 had upon the other. It was but a short time before that fatal ill- 
 ness when one day grandpapa seemed somewhat under that inher- 
 ited cloud of depression and expressed words of deep discourage- 
 ment on some matters near his heart. I asked him if God had 
 departed from his heaven and left him without hope, and added : 
 "I think matters are really brighter than they were, and I am sure 
 you have greater reason to be glad and rejoice than you have for 
 despondency. Don't you think so, on the whole ? " 
 
 He smiled as he took up his coat to go, saying : " Well, I am 
 ashamed ! I have no business to be desponding. I don't mean 
 to allow such moods to get possession of me. I've struggled hard 
 all my life to overcome them, and I think I have a good deal, 
 don't you? I know it is wrong, and I don't mean they shall hold 
 me at all." Then he said '*Good-by," with the brightness of that 
 determination. 
 
 While there were many very pleasant things which came into 
 your grandpapa's home life of which I want to tell you, I find 
 there is one great drawback about it — I cannot always separate 
 entirely my own share in them. I want my letters to be so entirely 
 of him that I shrink from any intrusion, and yet as his life was 
 so woven with mine what else can I do ? I must acknowledge a 
 bit of satisfaction, too, in having been able to bring some share of 
 happiness into his busy hours ; so while you read the particularly 
 pleasant things you may confine them as much as possible to 
 thoughts of him. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2 2. 
 
 LETTER No. 22. 
 
 I HAVE told you something of your grandpapa's religious life, 
 which was the leading feature of all his being. This, however, did 
 not shut him out from all social life, for he meant to be a faithful 
 citizen as well as a true Christian. He identified himself with all 
 the best interests of the city where he lived as one loyal to its pros- 
 perity. While not dealing in politics as a politician he neverthe- 
 less gave them such attention as to insure what to him appeared to 
 be the right side of every important question. I think he never 
 failed to cast his vote on State, county, or municipal issues no 
 matter where he was, and he usually felt that he ought to attend 
 such caucuses as would give him the best side of the matter under 
 debate. Though he did not feel a love for political life he did not 
 refuse such positions as were conferred upon him by his fellow 
 citizens without effort of his own. Several times he was elected as 
 delegate to the State convention. He filled the position of mem- 
 ber of the school board for a number of years and was associated 
 with B. P. Shillaber, with whom he formed a most delightful friend- 
 ship. I would like to refer you to just a few things that have been 
 said with regard to his work in the interests of schools by an 
 associate on the board : 
 
 Boston, July 6, 1892. 
 ... I well remember that when I was first elected to the school 
 board Mr. Richardson promptly called upon me and with great courtesy 
 gave me welcome. I ever found him one of the few doing the most and 
 the best part of the work, exhibiting all those sterling qualities which he 
 displayed elsewhere. His original and assigned work was always well 
 and faithfully done. As to his own projects he always knew his own 
 mind, and that mind was a judicial one. As to the projects of others 
 he was considerate. In the matter of text-books he always carefully 
 considered cost, scope, practicality, and illustrative and typographical 
 features. He was a prudent and kindly adviser of teachers ; he was a 
 Christian gentleman, a contrast and a foil to slippery politicians and 
 men of doubtful ethics and hollow religious pretensions. I will quote 
 the remark of a valued associate on the board made in reference to the 
 composition of the board, " The best men have gone." Accepting this 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 22. Ill 
 
 opinion, I know of no name more fitted to lead all the rest than that of 
 your deceased and lamented husband. 
 
 Alonzo C. Tenney. 
 
 The following was sent me from a principal of one of the 
 grammar schools, who held a prominent position during all your 
 grandpapa's terms of service : 
 
 Dear Mrs. Richardson: 
 
 It seems to me very beautiful that you should enter upon this work 
 which you propose for your young people, who could not, by reason of 
 inexperience and immaturity, appreciate a character like his whom you 
 seek to honor. I am deeply touched by the tender tribute you seek to 
 render with your returning strength, thus living over again the old 
 days while recalling the influences which have made your life so blessed, 
 even now that he has gone on to a fuller life elsewhere. It was only in 
 a general way that I knew of Mr. Richardson's work on the school 
 board ; but his genius was, I think, for broad and general work when 
 changes were to be effected which required calm, clear, and unswerving 
 judgment and inflexible determination. He was eminently a righteous 
 man, and even when special interests must be sacrificed to the general 
 good his teachers believed in him. Of course it is not possible that 
 such a character should always please. His virtues were of a rugged 
 kind, purposeful, effective, sometimes aggressive, and are best appre- 
 ciated when the events affected by his action have become remote in 
 time. Many times we thought him hard, severe, willful, and often 
 openly expressed bitterness was felt when some individual interests 
 were sacrificed through his forcefulness ; but after the "smoke of 
 battle " was cleared judgment grew kinder toward him, and, as I said 
 before, the teachers felt that he meant to do right, that he was above 
 personal spite and selfish considerations. In later years I suspected the 
 tenderness and sympathy and appreciation of the teacher's work which 
 was not patent at the time when the rush of daily cares, clash of opin- 
 ions, and the hurts of the conflict forced the gentler judgment into 
 abeyance. 
 
 E. G. HoYT. 
 
 While your grandpapa was connected with the school board 
 he gave a reception at our home on Washington Avenue, Chelsea, 
 inviting all the teachers of the city, with the members of the 
 school committee past and present, and the superintendent. The 
 gathering was a pleasant one, and was certainly conducive to good 
 feeling among the teachers and committee, affording the latter some 
 
112 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 22. 
 
 opportunity to see the bearing of the teachers of their children, 
 and the teachers a chance to meet on equal grounds with their 
 employers. I write you of some of these duties because I like to 
 have you know that he was not only earnest in his own legiti- 
 mate business but was just as earnest in the work he did for 
 others, embodying the rule of doing his best in everything that he 
 undertook. 
 
 I shall never forget a bit of conversation that came to my 
 ears once when riding in the steam cars on my way into Boston. 
 I think I must write it to you as nearly as I can remember it. 
 Two men were sitting in the seat behind me whom I did not know, 
 and of course they had no idea who I was. They were busily 
 engaged in conversation on public matters, to which I gave no 
 heed, though I could have easily understood what they were saying 
 had I so desired. Suddenly I caught your grandpapa's name, and 
 was interested to give attention. One said to the other, " Do you 
 know Mr. Richardson?" "What Richardson?" asked the other. 
 "Why, C. A. Richardson, of the Congregationalist ; lives on Wash- 
 ington Avenue." " O, yes, I know him well ! " " Pretty square 
 man, isn't he ? " " Yes, he is decidedly that." " Isn't he a very 
 positive sort of man?" "Yes, he is, very. But I'll tell you one 
 thing about him. It is not a willful positiveness, but a positive- 
 ness of conviction. He is a man who comes to a conclusion 
 slowly ; he looks at a subject on all sides before he makes up his 
 mind, and then he sticks to it. I tell you he's the right kind of 
 a man, for when you go to look for him for anything that is 
 needed you can find him right there every time." 
 
 I felt that I had been justified in listening to get such an 
 unbiased opinion of your grandpapa as that. It showed me the 
 confidence of one man, at least, in his uprightness. I could tell you 
 many positions of trust which he held if I were talking with you, 
 but a long letter on such topics would become wearisome in the 
 reading, so I will close by speaking of one of his most marked 
 characteristics in all his dealings with others. 
 
 He was a wonderfully prompt man. Although he served on 
 many important committees, which consumed much of his time and 
 thought, I think I may safely say that it was a most remarkable 
 thing if he was ever late at an appointment. He believed that 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 2 2. 
 
 113 
 
 a man should not take a position on any committee which he 
 could not generally fill, and that on time. He had but little 
 patience with men who were invariably five, ten, fifteen, or more 
 minutes late at a committee meeting. He has often said, " No one 
 man has a right to waste so much of other men's time. We are 
 made to lose many precious minutes by the careless ones on 
 a committee." It was told me by a physician that your grand- 
 papa's promptness became a standing joke in a family where at 
 one time he called regularly at a certain hour. If by any means 
 the time was lost they would say, " Never mind, we can set the 
 clock by Mr. Richardson when he comes ; he'll be just on the 
 minute." 
 
 In any of the little things of life which might make trouble 
 for another he was ever thoughtful. If he were going to the 
 house of a friend to visit or spend the night he never forgot to 
 notify the family at what hour he would be there, whether before 
 a meal or after, and whether to remain over night or not. Many 
 times he was inconvenienced by some minister who was to remain 
 with us over the Sabbath and who would fail to be specific on 
 these points. By this neglect, perhaps, your grandpapa would 
 be detained from some important work, or the supper would be 
 cleared away after having waited for some time beyond the hour 
 the guest was due, or, after sitting up quite late for him, he would 
 not appear at all until the next morning. Such things were always 
 annoying to your grandpapa, and he considered them almost un- 
 kind and discourteous in their thoughtlessness. But perhaps 
 I have told you enough to assure you of his public interest in 
 whatever makes for improvement and for peace. 
 
114 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 23. 
 
 LETTER No. 23. 
 
 After we became well setttled in Chelsea we united our- 
 selves with the Winnissimmet Congregational Church, of which 
 Dr. I. P. Langworthy was then pastor. Your grandpapa loved 
 that church ever after even as himself; he prayed for it, suf- 
 fered for it, and labored for it with a spirit of tender devotion. 
 In all its prosperity he was exceeding glad ; in its adversity he 
 suffered with a sorrow that could not be comforted except at the 
 throne of grace. In many ways he rejoiced to use his strength 
 and means for its welfare. 
 
 At one time when missionary concerts were among the regu- 
 lar meetings of the church he had special charge of them and 
 made them of the most intense interest. He laid out a plan for 
 the entire year, chose a committee with whom to confer, and pre- 
 pared topics for each concert. These were assigned to competent 
 speakers, previously secured, and every meeting was arranged with 
 care and attention to detail so that no time need be lost nor the 
 interest flag. How packed the vestry used to be, with many stand- 
 ing for lack of room and unwilling to depart because of the desire 
 to hear the subjects brought forward ! Ah, those were what one 
 might call enthusiastic meetings, and how we did enjoy them ! 
 
 I must tell you a laughable experience that occurred at one 
 of those concerts. It was soon after the war, and the subject, I 
 think, was "The Freedmen." I had just taken into my family 
 for help a freedwoman who had but recently come from the South, 
 where she had been a slave all her life. She was very tall, very 
 large, and very black, beside being clumsy and rheumatic ; but 
 she was extremely grateful for the instruction I was giving her. 
 I pitied her, and thought it might be a comfort to her to go to 
 the concert and hear what was said about her people. I was not 
 able to go, neither could I send her alone in her ignorance of 
 our ways and on the icy streets. I suggested to your Aunt Hattie 
 that she take the woman along with her and give her a seat. " O, 
 yes!" said Aunt Hattie, full of fun and thinking it might make a 
 little sensation when she should walk in with her. Betsey — for 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 23. II5 
 
 that was her name — soon appeared with her big coal-black face 
 encased in a huge white satin poke bonnet, looking verily like a 
 " huckleberry in a big pan of milk." Aunt Hattie, who always 
 saw the funny side of anything, was convulsed, and so was I ; but, 
 knowing it would never do for her to go in such a striking cos- 
 tume, I told Betsey that I would tie a veil over her bonnet, as 
 I feared it would be too dressy for an evening meeting. " 'Tis 
 putty fine," said Betsey, but " de missis gib it to me dun gone two 
 years." I arranged a thick brown veil over it as well as I could 
 for so large a bonnet, while, to relieve ourselves and not hurt 
 Betsey's feelings, we laughed at my awkwardness in arranging the 
 veil. At length they were ready. When they reached the vestry 
 it was so full that Aunt Hattie could get no seat except by going 
 to the very front. Putting on a bold face she walked up, Betsey 
 following her, and found a seat. She had noticed several young 
 friends as she passed them roll up their eyes at her, and she dared 
 not look either one way or the other for fear of losing her self- 
 control. When she herself was seated she caught the eyes of 
 two young men opposite who were shaking with merriment, and 
 that almost unbalanced her. Betsey was jubilant over the meet- 
 ing, and so long as she was with us did not cease to talk of it 
 nor of " de good folk at de Norf." 
 
 He served for years on the parish committee, and was often 
 chairman on the committees for the benevolences of the church. 
 For several years he acted as deacon, and it was through his sug- 
 gestion and influence that the old method of choosing the deacons 
 for life, in that church at least, was done away with and they 
 were chosen by rotation in office. I think I never knew him to 
 refuse to serve for the welfare of the church or any of its members 
 in any duty, however unpleasant it might be or however much he 
 might shrink from it, if it was the desire of the church that he 
 should serve. 
 
 I call vividly to mind one time in its history when he shrank 
 with great reluctance from the performance of an unusually trying 
 work which had been placed in his hands by the vote of the board 
 of deacons. He begged to have some one else take it. But they 
 said, " It must be done, and there is no other man who can do it 
 so carefully or so judiciously." He was so pained over this mat- 
 
Il6 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 23. 
 
 ter that it was more than two weeks before he could make up his 
 mind to attend to it. Then he went in the strength of earnest 
 prayer after many a wakeful night. He took up the cross, con- 
 sidering in the most delicate manner he could devise how to make 
 the truth known to the individual he was to see. The result proved 
 as he feared. His coming was accounted as a personal affair, and 
 bitter offense was taken toward him. No amount of explanation 
 could ever set the matter right or help the brother beloved to see 
 that your grandpapa was simply the agent or bearer of the un- 
 pleasant decision arrived at by the deacons. What your grandpapa 
 suffered from this unhappy affair can never be known, for he was 
 a stanch and loyal friend to the individual personally though in 
 great doubt about the wisest settlement of the matter in hand. 
 I think he always carried a pain in his heart over this uncalled-for 
 alienation and misjudgment of motive. 
 
 He loved the Sunday school and its work ; was its superintend- 
 ent for five consecutive years, laboring without stint for its wel- 
 fare. How he studied to make the most of every opportunity to 
 improve the school and cause it to become a nursery of the church ! 
 I will copy for you a few words that were written to me in a letter 
 of condolence soon after your grandpapa had gone to his new and 
 more glorious labors. They will tell you more than I can from 
 my own observation because I was so seldom able to be in the 
 school. They were written by one of the superintendents of the 
 primary department. She says : 
 
 How honored am I that Mr. Richardson was my friend is a thought 
 that comes to me whenever I enter my schoolroom, especially since 
 to me was granted the priceless boon of standing beside your sainted 
 husband when he was with us there for the last time on that never to 
 be forgotten Communion Sabbath in January, 1891. He asked particu- 
 larly about the Sunday school, and I said: "This is my anniversary, Mr. 
 Richardson. It is six years today since you put me in charge of this 
 blessed work — a work that grows dearer year by year." A smile broke 
 over his face as he replied, " And I have never seen any reason to regret 
 the part I had in it." Do you wonder that today and many times before 
 today those words have come to me like his parting blessing, and that 
 my ceaseless prayer is that today, with his clearer vision and perfect 
 understanding, he may be able still to say of the labors in this nursery 
 of the beloved church where the tiny feet are set in the paths that lead 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 23. II7 
 
 to God, "I do not regret my part in appointing their leader?" O Mrs. 
 Richardson, can you know what it has meant to me all these seven 
 'years to have received my commission from such a man of God, or how 
 much of the blessing that has attended the labors of my coworkers has 
 come from the inspiration received from that good man full of the Holy 
 Ghost ! 
 
 Another of the constant and faithful teachers sent me the 
 following with regard to his work in the school : 
 
 . . . The work which Mr. Richardson put into the Sabbath school 
 alone when he was superintendent was astonishing. How many pleas- 
 ant and profitable evenings the teachers have passed in his hospitable 
 home to go out and do better work for God because of his refreshing 
 and helpful words ! The little sermons that he gave in a few words at 
 the close of the Sunday school often proved as barbed arrows which 
 remained in the hearts of the scholars. 
 
 While your grandpapa was thus connected with the Sunday 
 school it was his custom to hold an annual reception at our 
 house of all the officers and teachers of the school, including the 
 officers and teachers of the mission chapel which was under the 
 auspices of our church. These gatherings were made a place for 
 mutual help. Persons were invited to write brief essays on 
 methods of teaching, on the results of certain methods, on any 
 discouragements or encouragements that might have come in their 
 way, and upon any and every subject that could aid the teacher 
 in his labors. Rev. Asa Bullard, the veteran Sunday-school worker, 
 was with us one evening to interest and inspire. More or less 
 chorus music wzs interspersed and the whole evening was always 
 made profitable to all. 
 
 When he was not superintendent he was never without a 
 class except for some unavoidable reason. At one time when he 
 had a class of young men in whom he was specially interested 
 a severe illness in his family compelled his giving it up, much to 
 their mutual regret, I will inclose the letter he received from them 
 after his resignation : 
 
 Chelsea, November 12, 1865. 
 Dear Sir : 
 
 It was with emotions of deep disappointment that we heard read 
 last Sabbath your kind yet unwelcome note informing us of continued 
 
Il8 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 23, 
 
 illness in your family and your consequent inability to meet longer with 
 us at present in the capacity of teacher. But sympathizing with you as 
 we do in your domestic trials, and fully believing that you would not 
 unless necessity had compelled have sundered that relation which has 
 so long existed between us — a connection which has always been so 
 pleasant to us, we trust to yourself also, and which has gained for you 
 our merited and profound respect and sincere affection, even though it 
 has thrown upon your burdened shoulder an additional weight of respon- 
 sibility; with these feelings of sympathy and perfect confidence we 
 could not feel it right or consistent on our part to give utterance to the 
 natural impulse which led us to say, "We cannot give up our beloved 
 teacher." 
 
 We must needs then accept your kind words of counsel and the 
 grateful assurance that your prayers will still be with us, though we 
 shall miss the instruction which has given us such pleasure and enlight- 
 enment, stimulating our love for the Word of God, and above all point- 
 ing out to us the straight and narrow path of Christian duty as the only 
 road which leads man's footsteps to the city of eternal life, and in which 
 we were made to feel that the consistent example of our teacher com- 
 mended to us the perfect model of Him whose cross opens to us all a 
 free highway to heaven. 
 
 Accept then, dear friend, our heartfelt thanks for the interest which 
 we have been so happy to feel you have ever taken in our temporal and 
 spiritual prosperity, for the labor you have bestowed to render our 
 lessons interesting as well as instructive, and the care you have taken to 
 draw out and consider our often imperfectly expressed ideas, as well as 
 to acquaint us with your own more mature thoughts. That you may 
 soon rejoice in the restored health of your family and again be enabled 
 to meet us in the Sabbath school is the earnest desire and prayer of 
 each one of your affectionate class. 
 
 Charles F. Dole, 
 A. L. BROVi'N, 
 
 For the class. 
 
 Here is a letter that came to me bringing comfort from a 
 class of young ladies who more recently had been under your 
 grandpapa's instruction in the Sunday school which he had so 
 lately left : 
 
 Chelsea, March 6, 1891. 
 Dear Mrs. Richardson : 
 
 So often am I reminded of the many pleasant associations with the 
 one whom I was so happy as to have for a teacher in the Sunday school 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO, 23. I 19 
 
 that I cannot refrain from sending to you some expression of my 
 thoughts. Those hours spent with Mr. Richardson on Sunday, when 
 he so lovingly and faithfully instructed us in the Word of God, will 
 always be a source of happy recollection and of inspiration to higher 
 living and thinking. I always felt that every word came from a soul 
 true to its convictions of truth and duty and with a strong hold on the 
 deep things of God. You can well understand how fruitless any attempt 
 would be to express in words this appreciation of what he has done for 
 us all. . . . The class joins with me most heartily in sending you this 
 expression of our loving remembrance of Mr. Richardson and of deep 
 sympathy for you and yours in this great loss and bereavement. 
 
 Most sincerely, 
 
 Alice M. Allen. 
 
 His thoughts were not alone for the teachers in Sabbath 
 school or for the children, he was interested in all the church peo- 
 ple and felt that he had something to do for the aged also, as the 
 following newspaper clipping will show: 
 
 On Wednesday afternoon of this week there was a gathering of the 
 old people of the Chestnut Street Church [the name " Winnissimmet " 
 had been dropped for some reason] at the house of Mr. C. A. Richard- 
 son on Washington Avenue. The invitation embraced all the members 
 of that church over seventy years of age, of whom there were thirty, in- 
 cluding Mr. Richardson's mother, who was nearly seventy-seven. One 
 member had the opportunity of celebrating his eighty-fourth birthday. 
 After tea brief devotional exercises were conducted by Rev. Mr. Lang- 
 worthy, including a most tender and appropriate address. One of the 
 aged members recited a devotional poem appropriate to the occasion, 
 which had not been in print for nearly half a century. Another gave 
 a solo of sacred song to the great delight of the company. 
 
 Later in the evening the past and present officers of the church 
 came in to give a churchly greeting to these aged members of the 
 Heavenly Father's household. When they were ready to go home 
 all were sent in the family carriage. The aged man who recited 
 the poem was the grandfather of the dear little Mellin boy who 
 was found murdered on the beach by the notorious Jesse Pome- 
 roy some time later. 
 
 No one of us is ever conscious of the many silent ways in 
 which our influence goes out to affect the lives of others, and this 
 
I20 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 23. 
 
 thought leads me to refer to the testimony of a teacher in Chelsea 
 who had long known your grandpapa. She was lying on her bed 
 very sick, and singularly her thoughts turned to him, dwelling 
 upon his life and how it had affected hers. She says : " I remem- 
 bered how constant he was at the prayer meeting, always sitting 
 in just about the same seat. How regular his attendance at the 
 Sabbath school ! I could see him as, years ago, he would go out 
 carefully about five minutes before its close and I almost knew 
 that it was to go home to relieve his wife in her care for the little 
 ones. Then I thought Mr. Richardson can never know how much 
 I owe him ; that silent influence of his has blessed me ; why, 
 even the luxuries I am enjoying in my convalescence are due to 
 him, though he knows not of it. O, how little he knows what 
 he has done for others ! I should like to tell him so." In the 
 afternoon of the day of these meditations she was told that the 
 carriages that were gathering about the church opposite her home 
 were those attendant upon the funeral services of your beloved 
 grandpapa. A few weeks later when she was speaking to your 
 Aunt Hattie of this marked coincidence she added, " Do you re- 
 member what he told you once about trying to be careful of your 
 expenses, and how he gave you instruction what to do, and you said, 
 ' I am doing just what he told me to do and I have so much in the 
 bank ? ' Well, after you had gone I said to myself, ' What is there 
 to hinder my doing the same thing ? That advice is as good for 
 me as it is for my friend.' I have followed it from that day, and 
 now in the time of my need I enjoy the comforts I have earned. 
 Without that influence I should not have had them." 
 
 I have written considerably about your grandpapa's connec- 
 tion with the Sabbath school, because it was work that he loved. 
 I may now add a similar testimony to his love for the prayer meet- 
 ing. It was an ordinance of the church that was especially dear 
 to him. Not simply as a duty, though that feeling had great 
 weight with him, but because he knew that here he found a near 
 approach to the mercy seat in the company of others who were 
 often heavy laden and weary like himself, and their prayers were 
 sympathetic and helpful. His voice was not always heard in the 
 meeting, because he was sometimes too exhausted either to speak 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 23. 121 
 
 or pray, and though his heart was full of praise he could not sing. 
 Usually, however, he had a few words to offer either in prayer or 
 exhortation and sometimes both. Some who have heard him may 
 not be able to realize the cross it was to him to take part in these 
 gatherings, but he suffered often from a diffidence that was hard 
 to overcome. He never allowed this to hold him to his seat, how- 
 ever, and bore the cross for the pleasure he gained in giving his 
 testimony for Christ. How many a message he has brought to 
 my own heart during that "sweet hour of prayer!" That others 
 enjoyed him also in the prayer meeting I have abundant evidence, 
 and write you from what I know. Often I have had the remark 
 made to me, " How much Mr. Richardson helped me tonight ; " or, 
 " I always like to hear Mr. Richardson because he gives me some- 
 thing to take home that I can think of or pray over ; " or, " I wish 
 Mr. Richardson would always take part in the meeting, his sin- 
 cerity and devout spirit are such an inspiration to me." 
 
 So I could fill pages with similar expressions to show you that 
 his life was "hid with Christ in God." Yi& felt his prayers; he 
 asked for what he thought was needed. His exhortations ever 
 had a word of appeal or a word of real help or were the word of 
 praise just fitted to the hour. Reverence was a marked feature 
 of his character and attitude toward God. A friend who has 
 known him from her childhood and who was at one time a mem- 
 ber of his father's family makes this statement : 
 
 The first prayer that ever impressed me and at all made me realize 
 what prayer was came from that good man's lips. The solemn rever- 
 ence in his voice when he said " O Lord," or " Our Father in heaven," 
 made a lasting impression on my child heart. I loved to hear him pray. 
 He made " Our Father " seem so like a real person. 
 
 A constant attendant upon our weekly prayer meeting says : 
 
 The meeting never seemed complete to me till Mr. Richardson had 
 taken part either by testimony or prayer. How well I remember the 
 first time I ever heard him ! It seemed as if he must have lived in 
 St. Paul's time and gone about with him in his journeyings, he made his 
 life and teachings so vivid. The effect upon me was to create a desire 
 for the Word of God. I began to study it more and more as I saw there 
 were heights and depths of riches that I had never explored. 
 
122 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 23. 
 
 Another person, alluding to his careful habits of speech, once 
 said : 
 
 I know of one man who will never have any idle words to answer 
 for, and that is Mr. Richardson. I never knew a person so careful to 
 keep a watch upon his lips lest he say something he ought not. 
 
 I might continue these testimonies that show to you and to 
 the world that prayer was life and health and joy to your sainted 
 grandpapa while on earth ; and is not this where we need such 
 prayer ? It is only praise that he renders now in the " many man- 
 sions " on high. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 24. 1 23 
 
 LETTER No. 24. 
 
 During the last dozen or fifteen years of your grandpapa's 
 life an unusual number of changes occurred in the editorial de- 
 partment of the Congregationalist. The original firm, however, re- 
 mained unchanged until 1887, and the business relations between 
 himself and his beloved partners, Dr. Dexter and Mr. Greene, 
 were singularly harmonious to the very end. The tie which bound 
 them together was more like that existing between brothers. Of 
 these three Mr. Greene is the only one now left, and he withdrew 
 from active labor at the date mentioned. Among those who were 
 more or less closely associated with your grandpapa in the office 
 during that period were Rev. Edward Abbott, D.D., who resigned 
 in 1877 and entered the Episcopal ministry; Rev. Frank T. Lee, 
 now of Muscatine, Iowa ; Mrs. Sarah K. Bolton, the well-known 
 author ; Rev. C. C. Carpenter, still occupying his " Conversation 
 Corner" in the person of " Mr. Martin; " Rev. M. D. Bisbee, the 
 present librarian of Dartmouth College ; Henry E. Bourne, now a 
 professor in Adelbert College, Cleveland, Ohio ; Miss Henrietta 
 H. Stanwood, who filled the position of church-news editor for 
 five years with remarkable skill and fidelity ; Rev. F. H. Kasson, 
 now editor of Education ; and Miss Ida E, Kittredge, the first 
 stenographer of whose services your grandpapa ever availed him- 
 self regularly, he being himself a skillful manipulator of both the 
 caligraph and the Hammond typewriter. There was no change 
 during this period in the New York correspondent, that place 
 being admirably filled, as it still is, by Rev. Dr. A. Huntington 
 Clapp ; but the Chicago correspondence was conducted first by 
 Rev. Dr. Simeon Gilbert, the present editor of the Advance, and 
 now by Rev. Dr. E. F. Williams. His other associates, who still 
 remain, were Rev. A. E. Dunning, D.D., Rev. Morton Dexter, 
 Rev. H. A, Bridgman, and Miss Frances J. Dyer. The entrance 
 into the firm in 1887 of Mr. William F. Whittemore was a great 
 assistance to your grandpapa, enabling him to throw off much 
 of the care of the business department upon younger shoulders; 
 nor should I fail to mention the great comfort which Mr. E. H. 
 
124 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 24. 
 
 Hames, the faithful chief of the subscription department, was to 
 him for more than a quarter of a century. 
 
 These numerous changes meant anxiety and solicitude for 
 him, beside more or less extra labor in different lines of work. He 
 was the one to designate and assign the duties of each new assist- 
 ant and to establish him in his place. He must be sure that the 
 workers and their sentiment concurred with the spirit and senti- 
 ment of the paper. As every one knows, it is no enviable task to 
 direct mature minds into new channels or to turn them aside into 
 new ways of putting thought, though the responsibility is not to be 
 theirs. If they have been accustomed to any form or method of 
 their own it naturally seems to them the better. 
 
 Yet, so far as I am informed, there was always a pleasant 
 state of feeling among those with whom he had to deal and who 
 must receive instruction of any kind from him. I have no doubt 
 they often felt that he was too exact and almost unnecessarily 
 careful, if that were possible, in newspaper work. I cannot believe, 
 however, that he was fault-finding. That he was extremely partic- 
 ular and very decided in his demands, I have no doubt. That he 
 was also methodical to a degree, and that system was perfected in 
 him, no one can deny; for this was just as marked in his life at 
 home as it was in his ofhce. If a book were taken from the bookcase 
 for use, it was never left lying on the table for some one else to 
 put away. After a newspaper was read it was folded and put in 
 its place and not thrown loosely about for another to dispose of; 
 if a few stitches were broken away on coat or vest it was never 
 carelessly or neglectfully laid aside, but was given to some one to 
 be repaired before it became a rent that should permanently deface 
 the garment or be a great task to put it in order. Everything was 
 thus seen to and carefully kept, so that all things were as they 
 should be — decent and in order. He tried to impress upon his 
 children that a great part of the suffering occasioned by poverty 
 was the result of want of care and attention on the part of those 
 who suffered. " For it is just as true as that the sun shines in the 
 heavens," he would say, that " a stitch in time saves nine." 
 
 Having these characteristics so strongly developed it was very 
 trying when a stranger, or friend even, asked the use of his desk 
 and the favor was cheerfully granted, to have that stranger or 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 24. 1 25 
 
 friend so unmindful of true courtesy, which demands that other 
 people's things should be left as they are found, as to leave every- 
 thing out of place — papers scattered all over the desk, special 
 selections meddled with or lost among the refuse they have left 
 upon the floor; or, perhaps, to cap the climax of untidiness, leave a 
 huge unsightly blot of ink on the clean cloth of the desk so care- 
 fully kept before. To most editors these annoyances will come, 
 and to a stranger not knowing the inconvenience of such a loan it 
 might seem almost unkind to be refused the few moments' conven- 
 ience of ready material at a briefly vacated desk. Yet it might 
 and often has proved to be not only disturbing but quite disastrous 
 at times to the kind owner for just this want of care of other 
 people's things. 
 
 It was along in the early eighties that your grandpapa became 
 convinced that he must make some effort to lighten considerably 
 his own labors ; yet, with the ever increasing rivalry in all journal- 
 ism, there appeared to be no way of release, though more assist- 
 ance was secured with this end in view. Even this proved to be like 
 the help which came to tired women when the new sewing machine 
 was introduced. It was hoped that it would reduce her work 
 almost to a pastime; but instead it was very materially increased, 
 because then it became so easy to sew that everything had to be 
 embellished with ruffles and row upon row of stitching until her 
 work was doubled and trebled. So it was in journalistic work — 
 the more the help the more the necessity to push out into improve- 
 ments and new methods. 
 
 During the later years of his life, when discussions were rife 
 upon the Andover question, the great temperance issues, the 
 Home Missionary problem, and later still on the controversies of 
 the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, he 
 became so weary of them that he felt life was all too short for 
 such feelings of bitterness as were often engendered. He longed 
 to give up the strife and yield his position to those who were more 
 in the spirit of it than he was. Of course he was aware that so 
 long as he was at the head of a religious paper, and that paper 
 a denominational one, it was absolutely necessary that the organ 
 so standing before its church should speak its convictions to the 
 public whether it gained enemies or friends. This was a source 
 
126 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 24. 
 
 of constant grief to him, and 1 think the unpleasantness of a some- 
 times necessary opposition wore upon him very decidedly. His 
 was a spirit of Christian reconciliation rather than controversy. 
 On the other hand, he had strong convictions of duty, and would 
 never shirk, though it brought pain and unjust criticism ; and he 
 was not quite sure whether it would be the attitude of real Christian 
 manliness to forsake his life work simply because it had come to 
 a place of moral and spiritual struggle. 
 
 He talked seriously of retiring from his onerous labors in the 
 year 1889, and was desirous for some one to come into the office 
 who would enter into its interests and learn its duties while he 
 was there able to give instruction and advice. It was with this 
 object in view that he urged the present managing editor, Rev. 
 Howard A. Bridgman, to reconsider his purpose of taking a pas- 
 torate, and come into the Cojigregationalist to prepare for that work 
 with the hope eventually of taking his place. He wished to close 
 his labors on the paper and live in a more quiet way after he 
 should reach the age of sixty, should liis life be spared so long. 
 He had worked much beyond his strength for several of the pre- 
 ceding years, but circumstances created the necessity. 
 
 In the fall of 1889 it seemed for many reasons best that we 
 should close our home in Chelsea during the winter, and your 
 great-grandmother being desirous to make a visit to the old home- 
 stead we planned as comfortable arrangements as possible for her 
 there with a grandson, while we went to board at Hotel Bellevue 
 in Boston. The next spring having an opportunity to sell our 
 place in Chelsea your grandpapa decided to do so. It was hard 
 to leave a home where we had spent so many pleasant hours, 
 having lived there twenty years. Death had not entered our doors 
 during all that time to remove any immediate relative (though Miss 
 Higgins, who died in Tokio, was almost as dear), and our home 
 had been the scene of many gatherings that were full of blessing ; 
 sometimes we had felt that we had even "entertained angels" 
 though not unawares. 
 
 This necessary arrangement so troubled your grandpapa on 
 account of his aged mother, then in her ninety-fourth year, that he 
 was glad to accept the chance to be in Franklin with your mamma 
 for two months that summer. What a joy it was to him in very 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 24. 1 27 
 
 many ways ! You will never forget that summer, will you ? Grand- 
 papa could be near his beloved mother and see her every week. 
 He could have all his little family together — wife, children, and 
 grandchildren. He could have an opportunity to go over all the 
 old haunts of his boyhood, and he could renew some of the old 
 friendships. All these things gave him a most pleasurable and 
 satisfactory summer both in anticipation and reality. 
 
 How much you contributed to that happiness you will never 
 know, though you can be sure it was a great deal. How he en- 
 joyed those days of seeing all his own together, of sitting morn- 
 ing and evening with you around your papa's table ! I can even 
 now see the glad smile that always beamed approval and the toss 
 of the editor's bag to prove it as he drew near the house in com- 
 ing from the station and beheld our faces at the door or our- 
 selves on the walk to greet him. 
 
 How he loved you, his dear grandchildren ! How many were 
 the projects he had planned for your future, with the expectation 
 that you were all to be true and worthy men and women ! And 
 those drives about his old home, how full of interest they were ! 
 watching every load of hay and every farmer's wagon that we met 
 lest some old and almost forgotten face should escape his recogni- 
 tion. And those Sabbaths, how blissful they were ! for he enjoyed 
 his early church home, and as his custom was, wherever he might 
 be stopping, he made himself as one with the church. Its in- 
 terests were his as a member of the one great household of Christ. 
 No matter where he might be, if there was a prayer meeting or any 
 service of God's people there he was to be found in the Master's 
 name and with the Master's spirit. I shall never forget an evening 
 prayer meeting that we attended once while on a journey with our 
 carriage. We had stopped for the night, and he had inquired about 
 the churches and had learned that a meeting was to be held that 
 evening. We went, and near the close of the service when there 
 was a pause your grandpapa arose and in tender words expressed 
 his joy in finding his brethren and friends wherever he was ; he 
 spoke of his sense of being at home and the precious fellowship 
 he enjoyed, etc., and then he offered a brief prayer for the spirit- 
 ual welfare of that particular church. His words were tender, and 
 expressed real, heartfelt sympathy. After the meeting it seemed 
 
128 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 24. 
 
 as if we were among old friends, so cordial was the greeting from 
 the little band of worshipers. It was an inspiration to me and 
 a convincing proof that God's children have a peculiar relationship 
 to each other all over the world, and that they may make their 
 influence felt wherever they will. 
 
 As his years had increased a beautiful, tender spirit of love to 
 all manifested itself in his daily life ; his prayers were full of 
 kindliness for those who knew not God, full of pathetic expres- 
 sions for Christ's kingdom, of earnest words for those who were 
 dear to him, and especially was his soul full of desire for the pros- 
 perity of the church. One could trace a general solicitude for any 
 who were in trouble or who were having what the world calls a 
 hard time. 
 
 Do you remember how he used to go every Sunday after- 
 noon to the old home to read to your great-grandmother, anxious 
 to make up to her as far as possible the conveniences she had 
 been caused to forego by leaving a city home ? Your dear great- 
 grandmother never knew that your grandpapa had gone to heaven 
 before her and would be waiting to receive her there, for when 
 grandpapa's spirit was released from earth and took its upward 
 flight, by some kind touch of God's hand at that same hour, she 
 was stricken with a partial paralysis of the brain, and though she 
 lingered here five weeks longer she was never told that her son 
 had gone. It was pathetic to hear her say in her weakness, a 
 short time before she went to meet him, in one lucid moment : 
 '' O, I wish my only son Charles was here that I might lay my 
 head on his shoulder and rest." 
 
 At the close of that summer he thought as she had not been 
 able to attend church for a long time it would be pleasant for her 
 to sit at the communion table once more, and you will be in- 
 terested to hear of the blessed season which he planned for her. 
 I was not able to be there on account of illness, but grandpapa 
 told me all about it, and a dear friend who was present wrote me 
 of its impression on himself. I will send you his letter to read, 
 only the joy of the experience cannot be expressed in words : 
 
 A SPECIAL COMMUNION SEASON. 
 
 The second Sabbath in September was a day which will long be re- 
 membered by many in the First Church in Frankhn. Mr. Richardson had 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 24. 1 29 
 
 often wished that his beloved mother might enjoy another season of com- 
 munion with a few Christian friends at the old homestead. On the seats 
 nearest the table sat our venerable friend, Mrs. Harriet B. Richardson, 
 ninety-five and a half years old. At her left was her lifelong friend, 
 Mrs. Chloe Metcalf, only two years her junior. On her right hand was 
 her only son, C. A. Richardson, who had made the arrangements for this 
 soul feast. The service began by singing "Jesus, lover of my soul." 
 Mrs. W. F. Ray, a granddaughter of Mrs. Richardson, led in the service 
 of song. Our pastor, Rev. G. E. Lovejoy, read from the seventeenth 
 chapter of John and other appropriate selections of Scripture, and in a 
 very solemn and impressive manner asked God's blessing. Again we 
 sang " Rock of Ages cleft for me." When the bread was passed to our 
 aged friend I noticed that her son took a piece and put it in her hand as 
 she was too blind to see, and also how tenderly he put the cup to her 
 lips. I feel that language is impotent to express the look of peace and 
 holy joy that sat upon the faces of mother and son as they participated 
 in this sacred service, and we all felt that it was good to be there. No 
 nearer has the Saviour been on a like occasion than he was to this little 
 company of Christians present in that room on that Sabbath day. The 
 closing hymn was " Blest be the tie that binds," the audience singing the 
 whole hymn. No one in that company thought that this was the last 
 time we should enjoy such a season, but in less than six months both 
 son and mother were transferred from the earthly to the heavenly com- 
 munion. I think no one present will ever forget the impression made 
 upon the mind by the interesting scene. May the sacred and blessed 
 influence of that holy hour abide with us to life's latest day ! 
 
 There were present on that occasion the following persons, 
 some of whom you know : 
 
 Mrs. Chloe Metcalf. Miss Sarah A. Blake. 
 
 Mrs. Clarissa Adams. Mr. and Mrs. E. E. Baker. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. James F. Adams. Mr. David Fisher. 
 
 Charles Adams. Mr. S. C. Bourne. 
 
 Dea. Charles Gowen. Miss Jemima Daniels. 
 
 Rev. and Mrs. G. E, Lovejoy. Mrs. W. F. Ray. 
 
 Mrs. Abbie Sinclair. Dea. and Mrs. Geo. W. Bacon. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. O. A. Stanley, Mr. and Mrs. E. N. Bullard. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Wm. Rockwood. Mr. E. F. Richardson. 
 
 Miss Jennie Baker. 
 
130 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO, 25. 
 
 LETTER No. 25. 
 
 After the happy weeks at your home in Franklin we went 
 to Boston, returning to Hotel Bellevue. Our rooms there were 
 almost a home to us in their arrangement, and grandpapa took 
 comfort in being so n^r his office — a convenience for which he 
 had often wished. He was a happy man whenever I was able 
 to go with him to a lecture or a concert or the weekly prayer 
 meeting, and we were anticipating a great deal of pleasure in 
 being able to go out together that last winter of his life. We 
 were centrally located where we could easily reach the various 
 places of interest, to which he had already purchased tickets. 
 I had been to a number of lectures and to the weekly meeting 
 quite regularly with him. I had been realizing as never be- 
 fore his spiritual growth, and had watched closely the sweetly 
 developing Christian character and felt afraid lest heaven was 
 nearer to him than I knew. 1 somehow realized that he was 
 looking into unseen things almost as if they were realities. 
 
 How can I ever describe to you what that last prayer meet- 
 ing we attended together was and is to me in its influence ! The 
 leader had read the Scriptures and then called upon your grand- 
 papa to offer the opening prayer. The subject before the meet- 
 ing was " What can we do, each one of us, to bring the Holy 
 Spirit down into our midst ? " and this was the burden of grand- 
 papa's prayer — so earnest, so appealing, so evident that he stood 
 at the open gate of heaven pleading with the very Christ, that 
 1 almost held my breath. There was a hush in the audience as if 
 God was there. I felt afraid, and I wanted to take hold of your 
 grandpapa's hand lest he leave me. When he sat down the 
 momentary silence burdened me, and I turned involuntarily to 
 assure myself of his presence. I could feel the shining of his 
 countenance as if he were on the mount with God in the very 
 presence of the overshadowing cloud. He never came down 
 again from that mount. The fragrance and the blessing of that 
 last meeting and that last public prayer with me at his side, with 
 its holy impression, will never leave me. 
 
 On the morning of November 13 he went as usual to the 
 
MEMORIAL LETTEE, NO. 25. 131 
 
 office with no anticipation of anything serious. Soon after, he 
 returned with a face so white and sunken in its expression, mani- 
 festing such distress of feeling that he was trembling greatly. He 
 could scarcely speak for emotion. "What is it?" I asked. "O," 
 said he, " I have such sad news ; Dr. Dexter is gone ! " Then he 
 told me the story of his sudden demise — how he was found in his 
 bed like one asleep, having been awakened on the heavenly shore 
 without the pain of dying. The blow was a severe one to your 
 grandpapa, for they two had been associated in the closest and 
 most harmonious relations for nearly thirty-five years. He had 
 had great hope to leave the office in the coming January, if 
 everything should be favorable, though he was not yet fully de- 
 cided. Circumstances had come up to make the question a 
 difficult one to determine without considerable deliberation. 
 This affliction decided his remaining where he was for another 
 year ; and with a heavy heart he went about his daily tasks. 
 Dr. Dexter's death necessarily involved radical changes in the 
 office, though he had chosen his successor in Dr. Dunning, who 
 had been with him at work for a year or more already. As 
 Rev. Morton Dexter was heir to his father's share in the pro- 
 prietorship of the Congregatiotialist and Dr. Dunning was to take 
 the chair of editor in chief, it was now their first business to 
 form a new partnership, the other being dissolved by Dr. Dex- 
 ter's death. Your grandpapa was rather perplexed about his 
 course in the matter, being greatly embarrassed in his decision 
 on account of the shortness of his proposed stay. On Christ- 
 mas night I was taken very ill, and this added a new solici- 
 tude to his already overburdened mind. The suddenness of the 
 doctor's death made him more anxious for me than he other- 
 wise would have been. 
 
 On Sunday, January 4, we had all hoped to go to Chelsea to 
 sit at communion as a family once more in our old church home ; 
 as it was he was obliged to go alone, and he was sad enough. 
 God saw his need that day, and visited his soul with an unusual 
 blessing from the storehouse of his love. Many tender and im- 
 pressive experiences met him during those Sabbath hours. One 
 of them was attending the funeral of the wife of one of his asso- 
 ciate deacons ; this also added to his weight of anxiety on my 
 
132 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 25. 
 
 account. He went in to speak with the family and tell them of 
 his sympathy. After coming home he told me of the service 
 with much tenderness, and spoke of the whole day with strong 
 feeling. Especially did he dwell on the richness of his enjoy- 
 ment at the Lord's table, and how he had longed for me to be at 
 his side that we might share the feast of love together. Then 
 he asked after my own spiritual welfare, and if I should be will- 
 ing to leave my home and all so dear to me here if God should 
 see it to be best. When I answered him in the affirmative he 
 asked if I should be willing to stay and suffer, also. He then 
 spoke of the New Jerusalem with all its glories, and taking the 
 Bible in his hand he sat down and slowly and quietly read the 
 account in Revelation. After this he talked of those whom we 
 should meet there, and tried to recall as many as he could of 
 the great number of friends whom we should know whenever we 
 should go hence. How he dwelt upon that union of friends, as 
 if the longing to see them was soon to be satisfied! O, how 
 little I realized that he was thinking that we were soon to be 
 separated, not by his going hither, but by my going ! I think 
 he could not trust himself to tell me his fears, and I was too 
 ill to know my own danger. God's thoughts are not like our 
 thoughts, neither are his ways like our ways. 
 
 The following Sunday I was much worse. He was restless 
 and uneasy, constantly coming to my bedside. When asked why 
 he went to it so often, fearing it might disturb me, he replied, 
 "Why, I can't keep away." Taking my hand in his he would 
 gently stroke it, then smooth my cheek, the tears dropping mean- 
 while silent and still on my hand and wrist. I knew that he had 
 something that he wanted to say to me. I tried to ask what it 
 was, but felt too weak for the exertion ; so that tender word was 
 never spoken. How I long to know it now ! but he will tell me 
 what it was when I meet him in the New Jerusalem, and maybe 
 we shall talk it all over there. 
 
 Your grandpapa had not been feeling quite like himself for 
 several days, but did not say much about it until that same night, 
 when he complained a little and took something which he hoped 
 would relieve him in a short time. Monday he still complained 
 of considerable discomfort, but kept at work nearly all day. Tues- 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 25, I33 
 
 day he was no better, and Tuesday night the pain had increased 
 so much that he had a restless night. Wednesday morning he 
 seemed to be decidedly worse, and was in so great pain that I 
 tried to persuade him not to go to his work ; as some of the 
 editors were absent, however, he thought it quite necessary for 
 him to be in the office for a time at least, but assured me that 
 he would not stay if he felt no better. About eleven o'clock 
 he came home with a most sunken and distressed look on his 
 face, and was suffering intensely. The nurse who was caring 
 for me went to his help at once, and prepared what we hoped 
 might bring him relief until the physician should come. He 
 suffered a great deal through the remainder of the day until 
 near night, when he thought the medicine the doctor had left 
 was affording him some relief. He sat up a few minutes, but 
 found that the bed was the better place and lay down again. 
 An hour or so later the pain returned with great severity, and 
 he passed a very sick night. He continued to grow worse, peri- 
 tonitis having developed, which was soon followed by pneumonia, 
 both making rapid strides toward the consummation of their work. 
 On Saturday morning the physician called for a consultation ; 
 then I knew there was danger, but had no idea how great it was. 
 No one told me that there was no hope, but the rather that if his 
 strength could hold out and if he could be kept quiet he might 
 rally. I was far too weak fully to understand and take in the 
 situation, because I had not been with him at all and could not 
 mark the changes that had come over him. I asked if I might 
 be taken in to see him, and they said it was not best. I supposed 
 the fear was for me rather than for him, and when it was too late 
 and he could not know me I had no strength to go. O, that 
 night ! only God and I know its agony. I waited and watched 
 for any signal that should tell me that his spirit had been ushered 
 into the Everlasting Presence, to enter upon a higher and holier 
 service for his Lord than he had ever known here. When it came 
 I knew your grandpapa's work was finished ; the hand that had 
 penned so many helpful words for others was powerless ; the 
 heart that had beat so lovingly for me, and so kindly for hundreds 
 whom he had known and whom he knew his influence would 
 touch, had ceased to beat. The soul so full of devotion to the 
 
134 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 25. 
 
 Master, of longings to do and be for Christ, was satisfied in 
 his likeness. He had sent me word by Aunt Alice that which- 
 ever way the sickness should turn it would be all right, and so it 
 was. It was right with God and right with him, and I shall know 
 the right by and by. And, my dear children, he has left a legacy 
 to you which neither wealth nor honor nor fame could give, and 
 which nothing can take away — the legacy of a righteous life and 
 an unsullied name. If you imitate his virtues you will never be 
 drawn into temptations that shall hurt you, nor into vices that 
 destroy. If you follow right because it is right always, con- 
 scientiously performing every duty as he did, your lives will be a 
 blessing to the world in every line of your activity, and you will 
 be trusted and helpful citizens. If you love and revere his God 
 as he loved and revered him you will at last have an abundant 
 entrance into the mansions where he is. 
 
Mr. Richardson at Sixty. 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 26. 135 
 
 LETTER No. 26. 
 
 My Dear Grandchildren : 
 
 As I have come to the closing letter of the long series pre- 
 pared for you I am conscious of many pleasant experiences omit- 
 ted on which I would like to dwell. I realize, also, the imperfect 
 arrangement of my material, and I am sensible of the interest 
 I may have failed to incite in you as I would. I have tried, how- 
 ever, to write what I thought would be of greatest help to you 
 through the journey which you have but just begun — the life 
 awaiting you! It is rather difficult, I find, to select and arrange 
 from the memory of forty-three years or more the things that 
 might be best suited to all your minds and for. every purpose. 
 My object for you, as I told you in the beginning, has been more 
 to show you in the most effectual way what and who your grand- 
 papa was, what he did, and what he tried to do and be. Of 
 course I cannot bring before you the hundreds of interesting rem- 
 iniscences of so long a life nor the many scenes in which his 
 piety shone forth as the sun. I have given you some of the tes- 
 timonies from the " cloud of witnesses " who have spoken of him, 
 and I shall seal with my love the account of the funeral services 
 which I had reported for you. These, with extracts from various 
 letters of condolence received from those who esteemed him 
 and other precious testimonies that have been added, I will send 
 to you in a separate package, with these letters which I have 
 written, to keep and read as words from living witnesses to 
 your dear grandpapa's life. 
 
 I am not at liberty to relate to you in detail, nor could I if 
 I were, the tender and loving scenes scattered all the way along 
 through the years of our happy union. Indeed, if I would I could 
 not describe the gentleness manifested to me in my oft-recurring 
 and severe illnesses, his patient and loving solicitude, his precious 
 prayers for me while kneeling at my bedside as well as at the 
 family altar, and his anxiety lest any of the troublesome annoyances 
 of the kitchen should find their way to my sick room. I may tell 
 you, though, of his words of encouragement to endurance and for- 
 titude, sometimes saying with a smile : " It is very easy to tell 
 
136 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 26. 
 
 you to be courageous and to have fortitude, because words are 
 easy to speak ; but I sadly fear that I should not be able to bear 
 what you do with your patience and fortitude. But I will help 
 you all I can." 
 
 Neither can I tell you of all the sorrowing places where we 
 passed through the cloud hand in hand, yielding four sweet 
 babes to the arms of death. I cannot explain to you how God 
 whispered peace to our aching hearts at these times, for it is not 
 for any to know what is in the heart of another. But I can speak 
 to you of how quickly he recognized the hand of the Father in 
 heaven, even above the sorrow of laying away from our arms our 
 only son, a babe of not quite two days. How your grandpapa 
 longed for that little son's life ! Yet when he saw that though 
 he was a beautiful child the heart's action was so imperfect that 
 he could not live, he had a desire to give back to God the infant 
 soul, and the dear child was baptized at my bedside. The next 
 Congregatioiialist bore the announcement of the baby's death with 
 the Scripture, "One day is with the Lord as a thousand years." 
 How full of praise ! He could never talk about this little son, 
 and only once he said to me, when I was grieving over the 
 event: "God surely knows best! Let us trust in him now as 
 at all times." 
 
 I could never tire telling you of your grandpapa's faithful- 
 ness to me, it is so sweet a lesson for you to learn — how, in all 
 my illnesses, which were many and often long, he was at my side 
 the first thing in the morning and the last minute he had to spare 
 before leaving home for the day. I was his first thought on com- 
 ing home at night, and the last previous to his retiring. He 
 never seemed to weary or forget, though for five and six months 
 at a time I might be confined to my bed. His was an untiring 
 devotion. 
 
 It may be a pleasure to you to know some of the rules by 
 which your grandpapa's life was governed as the outgrowth of the 
 Christian foundation on which he builded. I have often heard 
 him say to your mamma and aunt when they were small and 
 needed reproof : " I do not wish you to do as I request simply for 
 the reason that I request it, but I want you to see that it is best 
 that you should do so for the sake of right. Always do right 
 because it is ri^ht." 
 
MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 26. I37 
 
 " Never be an eyeservant ! anything that is deceitful is 
 wrong, and does more harm to yourself than to any one else ; be 
 sure to do as you would if you knew some one was looking on." 
 
 " Never associate with foul-mouthed companions ; you cannot 
 afford to keep such company for a moment when you know it." 
 
 " Never break willfully or carelessly a promise nor an abso- 
 lute engagement." 
 
 " Never make a promise unless you feel sure that you can 
 keep it." 
 
 " If ever you find yourself caught accidentally in a company 
 where there is profanity or evil-speaking turn your back upon them 
 and flee as for your life ; shun everything evil that it may not mar 
 the purity of your own thoughts." 
 
 " If you have a duty to perform, do it without grumbling or 
 fuss ; its disagreeableness will quite likely disappear." 
 
 I cannot close these letters without assuring you that if the 
 above rules are faithfully adhered to in the spirit of love to Christ 
 your lives will be a blessing to the world as well as to yourselves 
 even as your grandpapa's has been. He did not wait until he 
 became a man before adopting this manner of living. It grew 
 with his growth and became a part of his being. When he used 
 to visit me in my home and at the village where I taught school 
 he never left me without prayer. How precious those memories 
 are to me now ! Perhaps you will smile and say, " That was too 
 solemn a courtship for me." You mistake ; there was nothing 
 solemn about it. That it was serious I admit, but life is serious ; 
 and this added a richness and brightness to our hopes and to our 
 hearts which knit our lives the closer in Christ. Thus they have 
 flowed on ever since they were made one ; and the river of our 
 love has been constantly growing deeper and deeper until it 
 broadened into a full, clear stream onflowing with its steady cur- 
 rent to the end of this life only to be merged into the great eter- 
 nity of God's love. 
 
 This united interest in Christ's work and kingdom caused 
 us to have the greater interest in each other's duties. His long 
 and diligent work on the Congregationalist was for many years my 
 work too, for he shared its interests, its perplexities, its delights 
 
138 MEMORIAL LETTER, NO. 26. 
 
 with me from the beginning. Never was a step taken or a plan 
 considered or a change proposed that he did not confer with me, 
 laying it with the reasons therefor carefully before me. If try- 
 ing discussions came up or grave questions were to be settled we 
 talked them over together, not because I could be of any special 
 help to him in settling these things, which I probably was not, 
 but he liked to have my unbiased opinions expressed, and often 
 said that by freeing his own mind and hearing my views it 
 helped him to ' see matters in a new light, and that my unprej- 
 udiced thought cleared his own vision. 
 
 In the same way we discussed all household affairs, and no 
 matter what topic of anxiety, of care, or pleasure came up it was 
 conferred upon with mutual interest. This was our promise to 
 each other before our marriage — that we would seek to know 
 and understand one another always that we might be the better 
 fitted to comfort and share everything together. Can you not see 
 how our lives would most naturally glide into the same channel 
 until we felt ourselves necessary to each other's happiness ? 
 
 Your grandpapa's earthly part in these mutual interests has 
 been completed before mine, and who can say that the remaining 
 work left for me to do alone was not this very effort I am making 
 to extend to you, my grandchildren, the impress which I hope 
 these memorial letters may make upon your lives and character ? 
 
 Your grandpapa has left me in the care of my children and 
 grandchildren, and in my lonely hours I shall look to you for com- 
 fort till my journey is ended and I, too, shall awake satisfied in 
 Christ's likeness. God will prosper and bless the result of these 
 precious memories committed to your hearts according to your 
 own sincere desire. 
 
 From your bereaved yet not desolate grandmamma, 
 
 Mary J. Richardson. 
 
THE 
 
 FUNERAL SERVICE 
 
CHARLES ADDISON RICHARDSON. 
 
 Funeral services over the remains of Charles Addison Rich- 
 ardson, the late managing editor of the Co?igregatwnalist, who died 
 at Hotel Bellevue, Boston, on Sunday, January i8, were held at 
 the First Congregational Church, Chelsea, in which he was a dea- 
 con, at 2 P.M. on Wednesday, January 21. The first three pews 
 on the right in the body of the church were reserved for members 
 of the corps of the Congregatiotialist. Next came the pew lately 
 occupied by the deceased, which was trimmed with callas and 
 smilax and " sealed " with a broad band of black and white rib- 
 bons. The next two pews were reserved for members of the Con- 
 gregational Association, while still others were held for employees 
 and occupants of the Congregational House, which was closed for 
 the day at 12 M. The corps from the office of the Congregation- 
 alist included Rev. Morton Dexter ; Rev. A. E. Dunning, D.D. ; 
 Rev. H. A. Bridgman ; Miss F. J. Dyer ; Miss H. H. Stanwood ; and 
 Miss Ida E. Kittredge. There were also present Rev. Henry A. 
 Hazen, D.D. ; J. F. C. Hyde, Esq. ; Rev. C. C. Carpenter; Rev. C. 
 L. Woodworth, D.D. ; Rev. J. H. Twombly, D.D. ; Hon. C. C. Coffin ; 
 S. E. Bridgman, Esq., of Northampton ; Hon. Rufus S. Frost ; and 
 many other Congregational clergy and laity. Nearly all the Chelsea 
 pastors were also present. 
 
 The remains were inclosed in a plain black broadcloth cov- 
 ered casket with oxidized silver handles. The plate bore simply 
 the name, date of birth, and date of death of the deceased. Upon 
 the casket were two crossed palms. The pulpit and altar of the 
 church were appropriately decorated with calla lilies and potted 
 plants. 
 
 The services included : Organ prelude ; invocation and Scrip- 
 ture reading by Rev. George E. Lovejoy, of Franklin (the birthplace 
 of the deceased) ; addresses by Rev. A. E. Dunning (editor of 
 the Congregationalisf), Rev. A. H. Plumb, D.D. (formerly pastor 
 of the church where the services where held and now pastor of 
 the Walnut Avenue Church of Roxbury), and Rev. Alonzo H. 
 Quint, D.D. ; and prayer and benediction by Rev. Lawrence Phelps, 
 
142 THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 
 
 of Gardner, pastor elect of the church. Music was furnished by the 
 church quartette, with Dr. Charles D. Underhill organist. The 
 selections were, " Art thou weary, art thou languid," " The Lord's 
 Prayer," and " Come unto me all ye that are weary." The con- 
 gregation also sang " Servant of God, well done." 
 
 The pallbearers were Rev. H. A. Bridgman, of the Congre- 
 gationalist ; Mr. John J. Underhill and Mr. Joseph W. Stickney, of 
 the First Congregational Society ; Mr. C. L. Whittlesey and Mr. 
 Charles A. Phelps, of the American Congregational Association ; 
 and Mr. Thomas Todd, representing the other societies in the Con- 
 gregational House. 
 
 The interment was at Woodlawn, 
 
 €J)C J^erbice^* 
 
 I. Organ Prelude Dr. Underbill. 
 
 II. Invocation .... Rev. George E. Lovejov. 
 
 We bless thee, O God, for all thy benefits to us. We thank 
 thee that in our hour of darkness thou art our light ; that in our 
 hours of trouble thou art our refuge, ever near and very precious. 
 Therefore at this hour we draw near to thee ; we throw open our 
 hearts that thou mayest come into them and fill us with the light 
 and with the joy and with that deep, unspeakable peace which 
 thou dost give to thine own. 
 
 We thank thee that while this hour is turned today into the 
 hour of mourning, we have the abundant consolation of thy spirit 
 and thy grace and the higher hope which thou dost give unto us 
 from the gospel of thy love. So we would be still and know that 
 thou art God, and in the hush of our own hearts would hear thy 
 voice speaking to us from thy providence and from the Word of 
 Truth. Give unto us that word which our hearts need. Bless us 
 in this hour. May every thought of our minds be drawn out and 
 centered in thee. Go with us today as we go through our hour 
 of trial, for we know that thou art ever our refuge in the time of 
 storm, and we will delight to give thee thanks through our Lord. 
 Amen. 
 
THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 143 
 
 III. Chant: "The Lord's Prayer" . . Quartette. 
 
 IV. Scripture Reading .... Rev. Mr. Lovejov. 
 
 I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed 
 are the dead who die in the Lord from henceforth. Yea, saith the 
 Spirit, that they may rest from their labors ; and their works do 
 follow them. 
 
 Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrec- 
 tion ; on such the second death hath no power, but they shall be 
 priests of God and of Christ, and shall reign with him a thousand 
 years. 
 
 Blessed are they that are called unto the marriage supper of 
 the Lamb. 
 
 Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. 
 
 Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the 
 ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat 
 of the scornful, but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and in 
 his law doth he meditate day and night. And he shall be like 
 a tree planted by the rivers of waters, that bringeth forth his fruit 
 in his season ; his leaf also shall not wither, and whatsoever he 
 doeth shall prosper. 
 
 Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. 
 
 Blessed be the Lord and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the 
 Father of mercies and the God of all comfort, who comforteth us 
 in all our tribulations that we may be able to comfort them which 
 are in any trouble by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are 
 comforted of God. 
 
 For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not 
 worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed in us. 
 Wherefore, seeing that we also are compassed about with so great 
 a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight and the sin 
 which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the 
 race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and fin- 
 isher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured 
 the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand 
 of the throne of God. 
 
 For consider him that endured such contradiction of sinners 
 against himself, lest ye be wearied and faint in your minds. 
 
144 THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 
 
 And ye have forgotten the exhortation which speaketh unto 
 you as unto children, My son, despise not thou the chastening of 
 the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him. 
 
 For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every 
 son whom he receiveth. 
 
 If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons, 
 for what son is he whom the father chasteneth not ? 
 
 Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them 
 that fear him, for he knoweth our frame, he remembereth that 
 we are dust. 
 
 And I saw a new heaven and a new earth : for the first 
 heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no 
 more sea. . . . And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying. 
 Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with 
 them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be 
 with them and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears 
 from their eyes ; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow 
 nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain : for the former 
 things are passed away. 
 
 And the Spirit and the Bride say. Come. And let him that 
 heareth say. Come. And let him that is athirst come. And who- 
 soever will, let him take the water of life freely. 
 
 Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may 
 have right to the tree of life and may enter in through the gate 
 into the city. 
 
 Wherefore comfort ye one another with these words. 
 
 V. Address ..... Rev. Dr. Dunning. 
 
 In behalf of Mr. Richardson's associates I am to speak in 
 a few words of the life work of one whose thought has entered 
 silently as a moral force into the lives of thousands of people, 
 often actively remaining with them until they have passed from 
 the hours of promise and resolve and hope to the time when they 
 have laid their work down finished or undone. On the one 
 hand he introduced during the thirty-five years of his connection 
 with the Congregationalist a great number of authors, who had 
 something to say to instruct, inspire, and guide the people, to vast 
 
THE FUNERAL SERVICE. I45 
 
 and varied audiences scattered all over the world. And on the 
 other hand he presented to a whole generation, numbered by 
 scores of thousands, counsel, warning, hope, encouragement, en- 
 tertainment, and instruction ; presented it to them in their private 
 meditations in home and school and business and religious and 
 social and civic life; presented to them these things so skillfully, 
 adding his own word so wisely, that he never served the public 
 so well as in the last years of his life ; until, one week ago today, 
 he laid aside the manuscript and the pen, and shortly after took 
 his brief and silent journey to the rest that remaineth for the 
 people of God. 
 
 He took this work as a sacred trust, took it reverently, and 
 rejoiced in it as some young people rejoice in their play. He 
 took it as a servant of God. On the one hand his correspond- 
 ence with authors, preachers, and legislators often developed into 
 valued friendship ; on the other hand he knew he was helping 
 people in their Christian lives, helping them better to understand 
 their duties in their homes and in their business and everywhere, 
 and he rejoiced in it. In early life he had to contend with pov- 
 erty and, to an extent, with ill health in securing the education 
 he had. How often he sent messages of encouragement to young 
 men and women who were contending with difficulties such as he 
 had had ! In his maturer experience he was sometimes misjudged, 
 and endured in silence. How often he furnished counsel to other 
 men who had to bear misinterpretation in silence ! 
 
 He had in early life a desire to prepare for the gospel min- 
 istry. That privilege was denied him ; but he profoundly be- 
 lieved in the gospel proclaimed by prophets, by Jesus Christ, and 
 by the apostles. And to what an audience for thirty years he 
 presented it, and from what a storehouse did he draw his argu- 
 ments and appeals ! 
 
 He had a warm and tender sympathy with men. How often 
 has he sent messages of consolation to hearts sore with bereave- 
 ment, as ours are today ! Truly this was a successful life of fit- 
 ting preparation to that longer service into which he has entered, 
 and which has no end. We are not here to mourn ; we are here 
 to praise. We miss him more, we that have been closely asso- 
 ciated with him, than the public can know; but we congratulate 
 him and thank God in his behalf. 
 
146 THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 
 
 It is a splendid thing when a man has lived the life he would 
 choose to live, has lived it well, and, so far as those who knew him 
 can see, has won the Master's verdict, " Well done, good and 
 faithful servant." We who lived with him day by day found his 
 companionship delightful, and those who have been with him long- 
 est have noted of late how his spirit mellowed and how his kind- 
 ness manifested itself more than in other years. We have marked 
 often his positive sense of justice, his determination that every one 
 who felt that he had been aggrieved or misrepresented in any way 
 should have an opportunity to set himself right, while Mr. Richard- 
 son was always watchful that the one who had a grievance which 
 must be to him so much more than to the general public should 
 not weary the readers of a great paper. 
 
 He had a keen sense of humor, and experience never dulled 
 the surprise with which he greeted unexpected developments of 
 human nature, which have no such field of display as in the cor- 
 respondence with a religious newspaper. 
 
 He had great faith in men. He had strong confidence in the 
 polity of Congregationalism as adapted to the conditions of this 
 country. And how widely he has been able to extend its in- 
 fluence ! There is not one of us — and here are many in these 
 pews who have every day associated with him — who would not 
 lay upon this casket the tribute of affection and respect, which is 
 not awakened anew now that we bid him farewell, but which 
 would have found as warm an expression on any of the busy week 
 days of our lives. We mourn, but there is no bitterness in our 
 mourning. We miss him. The remembrance of his presence is 
 a shadow, but there is no bitterness in it. It stays with us. It 
 will abide with our office a benediction in com.ing years ; and we 
 rejoice in our sorrow that his presence is in the Lord's presence 
 now, and that he has entered into the Master's joy. 
 
 VI. Selection ...... Quartette. 
 
 Art thou weary, art thou languid ? 
 
 Art thou sore distressed ? 
 Come to me, said One, and coming. 
 
 Be at rest. 
 
THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 1 47 
 
 VII. Address Rev. Dr. Plumb. 
 
 The public career of every strong and true man is largely the 
 biography of his inner life. While there are double-minded, false- 
 hearted men who live two lives — one at home and in the church 
 in their relations, and one before the public — and while there are 
 weak men who live inconsistent lives in the two spheres from 
 lack of a vigorous controlling purpose, all men of truth, all men 
 of power whose virtues are robust and prevailing and consistent, 
 are what they are in public, not only consistently with what they 
 are at home and in the church, but largely in consequence of what 
 they are at home and in the church ; that is, the public career of 
 a man, his outgoings before the world in his career, is largely 
 the outgrowth of his inner life. And having been led in our reflec- 
 tions to consider the public relations of our departed friend, it 
 seems proper that we turn to these inner qualities out of which 
 the other aspect of his character grew. Is it not the part of a 
 devout spirit that at such an hour as this we seek, so far as we 
 may, to turn our thoughts away from the especially aggravating 
 features of the great bereavement and strive to find consolation 
 and instruction in seeing how rich God had made the character 
 of this servant whom he has now recalled to himself? We are 
 able to say, " The Lord gave, blessed be the name of the Lord." 
 Perhaps, also, we shall be able, as we dwell upon what God has 
 done by the riches of his bounty and native endowments and by 
 the power of divine grace, to say, " The Lord hath taken away, 
 blessed be the name of the Lord," rejoicing in the preciousness 
 of the days we have had hitherto. 
 
 Now the Lord made our friend to love righteousness. Very 
 early in life he manifested as his strong, controlling purpose his 
 love of righteousness. His early conversion at the age of fifteen 
 years was a strong conversion, bright and clear, one that brought 
 him out thoroughly into the happiness of a Christian life. He 
 never lived a life of doubt, because he had such an assured con- 
 viction that he was accepted of God ; and he so loved righteous- 
 ness that it was apparent to himself and the world that he was 
 one with God in his purpose. 
 
 The idea of duty, of moral obligation, the force of the moral 
 law, the obligation to obey God, the righteousness and justice of 
 God's moral government, were all prevailing ideas with him ; and 
 
148 THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 
 
 there were no motives of fear or favor, the desire for esteem or 
 the fear of opposition, that would cause him to hesitate a moment 
 in regard to any question where the right was made clear to him. 
 His great desire was to know the right and then to do it. Now, 
 this made him independent of his moods and feelings. He had 
 to contend against the depressed moods that sometimes came over 
 him ; but he had only to know what God wanted him to do, and 
 he went forward to do it whatever his moods were. For instance, 
 as the question of church attendance, the question of Sabbath- 
 school labor, the question of attendance on and participation in 
 the prayer meeting and the practice of family prayer arose, he 
 never left these things to the feelings of the moment ; but he had 
 a conviction that when God had been so good as to establish 
 Christian people in a family they ought never to be numbered 
 among the families that call not on his name. And so always 
 family prayer held a high place in his household life, and no en- 
 gagement or anything would allow him to turn it aside. If the 
 hour of leaving home was to be unusually early the family 
 worship must be had before breakfast ; and this became a joy to 
 him. And so with attendance upon the prayer meeting ; though 
 he was modest and sensitive, and never took part in a meeting 
 without a sense of responsibility and incompetence, yet he was 
 ready to take part from a sense of obligation, and in the end it 
 became his delight. 
 
 Thus always duty was his great idea. He had a very great 
 contempt for the modern thought that says we must do nothing 
 from a sense of duty. He would go forward and do his duty at 
 whatever cost ; and joy came to him in that performance. Over 
 and over again lately he has enjoyed the prayer meetings espe- 
 cially. He would say, " I am very, very weary, but I cannot keep 
 away from the prayer meeting, it is so refreshing to me ; it is such 
 a rest." And it was a great blessing to him there to perform his 
 obligations from a sense of his loyalty to God and his love of 
 righteousness — doing right — and then it became a habit with him 
 and a great joy. 
 
 Then he was a man of very marked sincerity. When you 
 looked him in the eye you felt that there was a man behind there 
 of the utmost sincerity and simplicity, and that what he said you 
 
THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 149 
 
 could depend upon as being the expression of his heart. Now, 
 naturally this grows out of the other. When a man is one with 
 God, loves God, loves righteousness, he has no interest in hiding 
 anything, he wants to know everything, he wants to know the 
 exact situation of the case, he confronts the situation openly, 
 looks at the facts in the case, and he wants to know everything 
 as it is. And so he comes to have a very clear comprehension of 
 the situation from this sincere desire to know it. And this trait 
 marked very many of our friend's experiences. He was not only 
 wholesome in his instincts, so that as a boy he never would re- 
 main where conversation was unwholesome in any degree ; he not 
 only had this love of righteousness that made him pure as a young 
 man, but he had so much of sincerity and such a simple desire to 
 know his duty that he did know it in a very great degree. Now, 
 this came out very strongly in the sincerity, in the comprehensive- 
 ness, and in the propriety of his prayers. As his pastor for many 
 years, it was always a wonderful comfort for me to hear him pray, 
 to join with him in prayer. I think this grew upon him of late 
 years. He seemed to see the situation and know the claims that 
 were upon him. When he had finished a prayer it seemed to be 
 a relief to us. We said, " There, now, we have opened our hearts 
 to the Lord, told him everything, unburdened our souls, and left 
 it all with him." He seemed to have such a capacity to see what 
 was needed and to lay it before God. He made a great deal of 
 prayer. Prayer was a very serious, thoughtful exercise with him. 
 In his family prayers he mentioned every individual in the family 
 and the guests of the family that might be present, and he laid 
 everything before God. It Wcls a wonderful privilege to hear him. 
 Many have said, "I remember that Sabbath spent in that family 
 and the prayer that I heard as he poured out his heart to God." 
 And in view of the contemplated separation which the severe ill- 
 ness of his companion had led him to expect — and no one thought 
 he was to be called first — he had lately conversed very familiarly 
 with her in regard to that separation. Indeed, they had often and 
 always talked about these things as they would talk about taking 
 a journey. He was willing to look at everything; he never wanted 
 to hide anything, but to be in the fear of God, open, sincere, and 
 true. And then one other thing let me allude to very briefly. 
 
150 THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 
 
 and that is, his fidelity to every trust — faithful as a Christian, faith- 
 ful in the church, faithful as an office bearer, faithful as a friend, 
 and in his household relations. Thirty years or more ago when 
 I came to Chelsea his was the first hand that was extended to me 
 when I came into this church. He met me in Boston, brought 
 me here, and took me up to Deacon Taylor's house, where I was 
 to spend the Sabbath ; and from that time to this he has never 
 been other than the most faithful of friends. As a deacon in the 
 church, as superintendent of the Sunday school, and as a laborer 
 for Christ he was always faithful. Our brother who has led us 
 in the invocation and the reading of the Scriptures, Rev. Mr. 
 Lovejoy, will bear witness to the fidelity with which in his occa- 
 sional residence in his summer home he has been faithful as a 
 Christian worker. Then, how faithful he was in his own circle ! 
 Do you not remember how he stood like a man in that hour of 
 terrible affliction when his brother, the great war correspondent, 
 met with a tragic end ? How we honor the man who never turns 
 his back on his country or friend, but who is faithful and true 
 whatever may come ! 
 
 And he has had an exceeding tenderness of late. It has 
 seemed as if he had been ripening, and there are no words that 
 can express the feelings with which his dear ones have looked 
 upon him as, in these last days, his tenderness and his truth and 
 his affection have poured themselves out. 
 
 Well, dear friends, I read on the door of the Congregationalist, 
 " Closed from twelve o'clock today in respect to the memory of the 
 editor who has gone." But closed forever will that place be to how 
 many of us who have gone in there always to be greeted with his 
 calm, mild welcome, his serious and earnest and sincere counsel. 
 But the qualities we recall with so much joy today have not died 
 at the touch of death. They are imperishable. And as we look 
 at the palms upon his casket we know that the hour of victory 
 has come, and that if we follow the example of our brother we 
 shall meet again. 
 
 I want the congregation to join in singing the 962d hymn. 
 When the congregation joined heartily in singing a hymn our 
 brother would go home and read it over again, and say how much 
 he enjoyed it. Let us sing to the tune of " Olmutz." 
 
THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 151 
 
 VIII. Hymn Congregation. 
 
 Servant of God, well done, 
 
 Rest from thy loved employ ; 
 The battle fought, the victory won, 
 
 Enter thy Master's joy. 
 
 IX. Address Rev. Dr. Quint. 
 
 Since I came here, or rather to the city across the water, 
 today, it was suggested to me that, in the order of thought, while 
 the first would speak of the official connection in public life and 
 work, and our brother who has just spoken would speak of the 
 qualities he saw during his pastorate here, it might be proper for 
 me to say something about our friend in the light of friendship. 
 
 That I am here today, beloved, at this hour, is a testimony 
 to that. I have come hundreds of miles simply to be here at this 
 hour, not summoned by any formal invitation ; but they who in 
 official relations understood me, I think, while not asking that 
 I would come traveling by night these hundreds of miles, knew 
 that the flash over the wire which said that he was dead and that 
 the service would be at this time today was a summons. And in 
 the sleepless hours of the night which I have passed I have 
 thought of this hour and of the long years in which I have been 
 privileged to enjoy his steady and firm friendship. While I re- 
 spected the man and saw his faithfulness, his conscientiousness, 
 his patience, his persistence, his thorough integrity, yet, under- 
 neath what was often an impassive exterior, I had glimpses now 
 and then of the heart that beat within. 
 
 I remember nigh thirty years ago when his importunity suc- 
 ceeded in making me begin a series of letters from the smoke and 
 canopy of battle which was the beginning of a continuance of 
 more or less service in writing. But I recall a little more clearly 
 a smaller incident — that a few years ago, in the intervals be- 
 tween two pastorates of this church, it was our brother, with others 
 to whom he had suggested it, who asked me that I would come 
 here for the Friday evening service and the Sunday service 
 through some five months while you were procuring a pastor. 
 I have thanked God for that service, which has given me so many 
 
152 THE FUNERAL SERVICE, 
 
 warm friendships liere, so many loving attachments, until some of 
 you younger people seem to me almost like children whom cer- 
 tainly I love spiritually ; and I was thrown into some understand- 
 ing of this man's real heart more than once, and I had that high 
 respect which causes me to say today to young men that this life 
 was one of the best illustrations of patient continuance in well 
 doing year after year — industrious, honest, faithful, upright, con- 
 siderate, cautious, sometimes conservative, perhaps more so than 
 necessary; but in his position it was necessary to be cautious and 
 conservative. But it was one of the best examples of the great 
 work accomplished in life by that patient industry which charac- 
 terized him, in which there was embodied continually a sense of 
 the most perfect obedience possible in human nature to the divine 
 law and the most perfect consecration possible in human nature 
 to Jesus, the Saviour, by whom he felt he was redeemed. I can 
 hardly realize, brothers, sisters, beloved, that he has gone. It is 
 getting lonesome. How few weeks ago it was that one in the 
 same connection in work passed away in the night ! Now there 
 is another one. One afternoon not long ago it was that we were 
 here in this house when the first pastor of this church was to be 
 buried. One after another passes away ; and to some of us it is 
 getting lonesome. We now look to the younger people to come 
 forward and take their place. 
 
 I can hardly realize that a little more than two weeks ago 
 I was here, standing below there, and the Lord's Supper was ad- 
 ministered, and our brother was in his seat, calm and steady of 
 purpose, quiet in his manner, just the same as ever. I can hardly 
 realize that it was the last time we ever saw each other on the 
 face of this earth. I can hardly realize that it was just a little 
 while ago up in that house — it was a house of God though not 
 consecrated like these walls — that this man and myself exchanged 
 words for the last time. He came to me at the close of that 
 funeral service and grasped my hand, and his first words were, 
 " There is another saint gone home to heaven." Then he spoke 
 to me about growing old, and spoke of some particular reminis- 
 cences about writing, grasping my hand warmly. He was feeling 
 more impulsive than I had ever seen him before. I didn't think 
 then that it was the shadow of the coming departure. 
 
 Well, brothers and sisters, this man had a heart. When I was 
 
THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 153 
 
 going away — it isn't a matter for any public report, and therefore 
 it isn't for the newspapers — when I was leaving yesterday after- 
 noon my son said to me, " Father, that was the man who was 
 supporting my classmate So-and-so in college, everything except 
 what his scholarship got for him." Yes, that was so — quiet, 
 silent, generous, watchful, thoughtful. I have had some oppor- 
 tunities of being in his family, especially over Sunday, and those 
 who have been there know what his tenderness there was. They 
 know that perfect, Scriptural kind of respect which he bore to 
 that aged woman, now ninety-five years old, who is just trembling 
 on the verge of eternity this week, perhaps with a premonition 
 that she knows not that her son has gone before her. They 
 could not tell her, but perhaps she has a sensitiveness which 
 knows it, and she is just trembling on the verge waiting to pass 
 over. He told me recently of having had the Lord's Supper ad- 
 ministered in her room. His regard and his reverence for her 
 were just beautiful and perfect. 
 
 Today we are here not to mourn too much. No, it is not 
 especially a mourning day. Recently when a festival was to be 
 celebrated here, he wrote me in a benevolent, playful vein asking 
 me to attend. I said I could not be at the festival. Well, I could 
 not ; it was too far away and I had too many preachings. But 
 when that telegram announcing his death came it wasn't too 
 far off, and I could exchange duties. What the festive occa- 
 sion could not do friendship could do. I am losing too many 
 friends now not to honor those who pass away. 
 
 Looking forward, why is this life ended ? Well, we say, 
 he had finished and rounded out his work. No ; he had fin- 
 ished and rounded out a work, and in that work was prepar- 
 ing for something beyond. What.'' To sit down and enjoy 
 forever? No; to work and enjoy forever. God fits people for 
 something, and he is fitting and training them in this life for 
 the work which is to go on in the life to come. We do not 
 mourn, therefore, too much. We thank God for the example 
 of this tender, true life, faithful and devoted in the home, faith- 
 ful in the church of the living God, conscientious, strong, mas- 
 sive, good — all through Jesus Christ, all through love of the 
 Master and the work of the Master whom he reverenced and 
 whom he followed. 
 
154 THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 
 
 The first Sunday of the month he was here at the com- 
 munion, and now he has gone on to the communion of the 
 saints, " one family, above, below." His children, his little ones, 
 went on before, some of them years ago. When one of them 
 died he put in the Congregationalist one line — " One day with 
 the Lord is as a thousand years." That was the epitaph. And 
 now he has gone on to an eternity with God. Brother, we love 
 you, we esteem you, we shall miss you. Brother, may God make 
 our lives as true, as faithful, as devoted, and as Christian, and 
 then give us as peaceful a departure and give us as beautiful 
 a rest in the splendor of the glorious faith when we are called 
 upon to go hence. 
 
 X. Prayer Rev. Dr. Plumb. 
 
 Almighty God, our Heavenly Father, we bow before the 
 providence that has called us together. We acknowledge that 
 thou determinest the times before appointed and the hours of 
 our habitation. We recognize thy right to all thy creatures. 
 We mourn not as those who have no hope. We rejoice in the 
 consummations of thy word, in the assurance of the divine 
 promise that blessed are the dead who die in the Lord. We 
 commend unto thee those who are especially bereaved in this 
 hour of sorrow. Remember, we entreat thee, thine handmaid, 
 the companion of our departed friend. Graciously sustain her. 
 Wilt thou very tenderly deal with her and sanctify to her, as 
 thou only canst, the great loss which she sustains in the re- 
 moval of her beloved, honored, and faithful companion from 
 her side. 
 
 Bless the daughters. Strengthen thou them, O Lord, and 
 may they be much to their mother, and wilt thou command 
 thy blessing especially upon them in the work thou hast given 
 them to do. We pray that children and grandchildren, these 
 families that are here before thee, these dear ones that look 
 up to thee for consolation now, may have thy presence and 
 thy grace. We entreat thee that thou wilt show them the power 
 of the divine grace and presence. 
 
 We commend to thee thine aged handmaid, the mother of 
 our departed friend. Wilt thou very tenderly lead her into her 
 
THE FUNERAL SERVICE. 1 55 
 
 eternal rest and graciously sanctify to her and to all this circle 
 of mourners this unexpected and overwhelming sorrow. We en- 
 treat thee in behalf of the church with which our brother was 
 long associated that thou wilt sanctify to it thy repeated visi- 
 tations ; and grant, O God, that as thou dost take away the 
 one on whom they had been accustomed largely to lean for 
 counsel and for support thou wilt greatly increase them. 
 
 Bless thou him who comes to assume the charge of this 
 people, and wilt thou graciously sustain him and them as they 
 shall be united with a sense of bereavement, and help them 
 in their common work here. 
 
 We pray for all who have been the especial companions 
 in daily intercourse with our departed friend, that thou wilt gra- 
 ciously endue them with all needed wisdom. Thou hast brought 
 sorrow upon sorrow upon them. We pray that thou wilt min- 
 ister to them all needed grace. 
 
 We entreat thee, Heavenly Father, that thou wilt bless all 
 who have been associated with him in special relations of one 
 kind or another, meeting constantly or frequently. Pour out thy 
 spirit upon them today, and may the recollections that come 
 to them of their intercourse with this honorable friend, this 
 Christian man, be sanctified of God to the building up of 
 the Christian life in their hearts. 
 
 We entreat, our Heavenly Father, that thou wilt command 
 thy blessing upon all who have been in any way associated 
 with our brother, upon all who have come within the sphere 
 of his influence, as they have been under his guidance in the 
 Sabbath school, as they have heard his voice in prayer or 
 counsel in the church, as they have unconsciously come under 
 his influence through the paper which has been so largely his 
 instrument of endeavor through life. Great God, we pray thee 
 that, as thou dost take away sublime, wholesome, and excel- 
 lent influences that we honor and that go largely into the up- 
 building of our character, thou wilt supply the need. We re- 
 joice for those whose work is done, we glorify thee for the 
 hopes that sustain us as we think of them with thee, and 
 we pray that thou wilt care for thy kingdom here. 
 
 O come unto us, blessed Lord, and be thou unto us more 
 
156 THE FUNERAL SERVICE, 
 
 than ever, and help us in the testimony of this hour, in the 
 impulses given us by the remembrances which throng our hearts 
 and bring to us recollections of many sweet seasons of com- 
 munion and blessed interchange of fellowship with dear ones 
 gone before. O Lord, wilt thou in thy great mercy sanctify 
 this hour unto us, come unto us and minister to us the comfort, 
 the support, the wisdom that we need. Accept us as we de- 
 vote ourselves anew, and help us to look forward to him who 
 has said, " I am the resurrection and the life," to the home 
 where he shall welcome his children into the mansions pre- 
 pared for them from the foundations of the world. And unto 
 thee, the Father, the Son, and the Spirit, be everlasting praise. 
 Amen. 
 
 XI. Selection, " Come unto me " . . . Quartette. 
 
 Closing Prayer and Benediction . . Rev. Mr. Phelps. 
 
 Holy Spirit, look down in infinite tenderness and mercy 
 upon U3. Bless us in our bereavement, and sanctify this grief 
 by thine own divine gentleness unto those to whom it is so 
 grievous. Aid us, O dear Lord, to become more faithful fol- 
 lowers of the Lord Jesus Christ because we have been per- 
 mitted to see and to know of such faithfulness among thy 
 followers. 
 
 And now may the grace and the mercy and the peace of 
 Jesus Christ be and abide with each and all of you forever. 
 Amen. 
 
Tablet at the Head of the Grave. 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
5Fn 0^cmotiam» 
 
 C. A. R. January i8, 1891. 
 
 BY MRS. MARGARET E. SANGSTER. 
 
 We knew not when the maples last 
 Hung out their banners in the sun, 
 
 That while the golden autumn passed 
 
 The servant neared the Lord's " Well done," 
 
 That soon for him the bells should ring 
 
 In the great city of the King. 
 
 The snowdrifts came, the strong winds blew. 
 White winter ruled the frozen land ; 
 
 No winter time that warm heart knew, 
 No frost chill in that good right hand, 
 
 And day by day, in work and rest. 
 
 He did with might his honest best. 
 
 But now the desk, the vacant chair, 
 The room which seems without him dead, 
 
 The step no longer on the stair. 
 
 The cheery presence missed and fled. 
 
 Echo, as throbbing notes of pain, 
 
 Our hearts' sharp grief in sad refrain. 
 
 Yet, hushing every discontent, 
 
 We thank today the tender love 
 That heaven's gentlest angel sent 
 
 To lead him to the home above. 
 And peal on peal the sweet bells ring 
 From that near city of the King. 
 
TESTIMONY OF ASSOCIATES. 
 
 Pasadena, January 26, 189 1. 
 The news of the death of Mr. Richardson, coming so soon 
 after that of Dr. Dexter, has filled me with deep sorrow. I mourn 
 him as a tried and valued friend who has always been kind and 
 considerate to me. In our relations as partners for so many years 
 we never had any differences nor alienations. I have a feeling of 
 loneliness when I reflect that I shall never see his face again in 
 this world. Often I have thought of his kind thoughtfulness in 
 coming to see us start on our journey hither, when he was so busy 
 and the news of Dr. Dexter's death had just come to us. . . . 
 As in the case of Dr. Dexter, it was almost translation from the 
 burdens and cares of earth to the felicities of heaven. He had 
 rounded out a full and useful life, and died in the midst of his 
 activities. He was spared a long and painful illness, and we feel 
 sure that he is gone to be with Him whom he loved and served so 
 faithfully and sincerely. We must believe that for him departure 
 was " far better." . . . 
 
 W. L. Greene. 
 
 Cambridge, November 11, 1892. 
 ... It is now more than fifteen years since I was in 
 intimate relationship with your husband ; but during the eight 
 years in which I was on the editorial staff I was in very intimate 
 relations with him, and came to know him well, and to honor and 
 esteem him in a very high degree. I have been searching my 
 mind for those circumstances, incidents, and details which add 
 interest and life to personal recollections, but I do not find them 
 — too many years crowded with manifold labors and experiences 
 have intervened. I find instead one sharp, full, vivid memory of 
 Mr. Richardson as a man and an editor — a memory graven with 
 the distinctness of a picture, I may say, upon my heart, and one 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. l6l 
 
 which I shall carry to my last day. Then, in the life beyond, I 
 hope to renew my fellowship with him, and who knows but labor 
 also, if there be happy occupation in the hereafter. 
 
 During all the time of my connection with the Congregationalist 
 (except when in Dr. Dexter's absences I sat in his chair) I occupied 
 a room immediately adjoining Mr. Richardson's and connected 
 therewith by a window that rose and fell; so that when the window 
 was lifted, as it often was, he and I sat literally face to face and 
 were in constant communication. The division of labor and re- 
 sponsibility between us was such that we had much in common. 
 These conditions naturally brought us closely together. He must 
 have come to know me thoroughly, and I certainly came to know 
 him thoroughly. I do not know what he thought of me, but I 
 know what I thought of him, and I have never changed that 
 thought of him. To know him as he was once was to know him 
 as he was always — even-fibered, even-balanced, even-tempered; 
 self-centered and self-controlled ; a man of convictions, of the 
 courage of his convictions, with an open mind and a large heart, 
 but with absolute and unswerving fidelity to his duty as he found 
 it to be. 
 
 If I were asked to sum up in one expression the character of 
 Mr. Richardson I should say, " He was a just man." And yet more 
 than that : he did justly, loved mercy, and walked humbly with his 
 God. I never doubted that he brought to his daily work at the 
 editorial desk the spirit of prayer, and that he conducted his cor- 
 respondence and "made up" his pages with as much conscien- 
 tiousness and as truly in the fear of God as a minister makes 
 pastoral visits or composes a sermon. 
 
 I never knew a man who seemed to me to see as many 
 sidts of a subject, or to see them as clearly and fairly, as Mr. 
 Richardson. He was the incarnation of candor. No man could 
 be more generous to an opponent than he. No man ever wielded 
 the tremendous power of the editorial pen more cautiously and 
 carefully than he. No man ever wrote the editorial " we " with 
 a profounder sense of the responsibility of the post he occupied 
 as a leader of public opinion. He would have made an excellent 
 judge, and the judicial faculty was prominent and active in all 
 his journalistic work. Two things a great journalist must be — 
 
l62 LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 he must be all-informed, and he must be all-wise ; and Mr. 
 Richardson in both of these respects was great in a large degree. 
 Like most of us, his knowledge often failed ; and when it was 
 at fault he was always prompt to acknowledge it and firm to 
 wait until what was lacking was supplied ; but I never remember 
 his fairness and candor failing. He was a man of strong feelings ; 
 he thought deliberately, he reasoned accurately, he felt deeply; 
 but mere feeling never carried him away ; he was governed by his 
 reason and his judgment, and where reason led him and judg- 
 'ment planted him there he stood, kindly, considerately, but firmly. 
 And I think it almost always proved that he was right. 
 
 In all that I remember of Mr. Richardson I remember nothing 
 — no incident, no trait, no word, no look, no act — not one — that 
 I should like to forget. His personality as it rises before me is a 
 composite portrait of many virtues, and no shadow lies across the 
 picture. 
 
 As I looked into his face on the day of his burial the character 
 of the man was in the lifeless clay — strength, peace, kindliness, 
 good will toward all, conscience and conscientiousness, clearness 
 of vision, integrity, uprightness, the consecration of a high service. 
 He was a man to whom the greeting, " Well done, good and faith- 
 ful servant," fitly came. 
 
 I am glad to have had the opportunity to lay this simple tribute 
 against his name. It is hardly a tribute ; it is rather an acknowl- 
 edgment — the payment of a debt. I owed him much. And the 
 world which read his paper owed him more in return for its profit 
 and pleasure than it ever knew. It was a privilege to have known 
 him and worked with him, and his memory is a real blessing. 
 
 I am, my dear madam, very sincerely and respectfully. 
 Your friend and servant, 
 
 (Rev.) Edward Abbott. 
 
 I could scarcely yet believe that Dr. Dexter is no longer in 
 his accustomed place upon the paper, and had barely time to re- 
 ceive and answer your husband's tender letter of sympathy, when 
 a second word came, and now he too is gone ! I have for many 
 years had a very high conception of Mr. Richardson's character 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. 163 
 
 and work, but this conception becomes more exalted as I look 
 upon it as finished and as I hear the testimony of those who have 
 continued to be associated with him in his latest years. God's 
 seal was upon him as his own child. Many, many times have 
 I recollected with great delight our meeting in Prague, in the sum- 
 mer of 1880, and the many incidents connected with that oppor- 
 tunity which we had to review the past and look forward into 
 the future. My life must always be better and fuller and richer 
 because of having numbered him as one of my best friends. 
 
 Ellen M. Stone. 
 
 . . . There are two facts in regard to Mr. Richardson which 
 impressed me most strongly, and which come most often to my 
 mind. One is his unusual conscientiousness. I never knew any- 
 one else, so far as I can recall, who endeavored so evidently yet 
 unassumingly to be guided by the sense of duty. In small and 
 great things alike he had himself under firm control, and he ruled 
 himself by his sense of that which he ought to do. But he was 
 not austere. He simply made the impression of being loyal to 
 a high ideal. 
 
 The other is the fact of the steady ripening, mellowing process 
 which went on within him year by year. His interest in his fellow 
 men and his appreciation of them enlarged constantly from the 
 first. His spirit grew more genial, his sympathies broadened and 
 deepened, he grew mentally and spiritually larger, fuller, and richer 
 during each year that I knew him. I have heard others allude to 
 this fact. Some men seem to attain to a certain level of excel- 
 lence and halt there. He kept on rising higher to the last. 
 
 To me there was something truly pathetic in his regret at 
 having been unable to acquire a college education. His modesty 
 made him slow to realize that in most respects his life was as fruit- 
 ful and honorable as it probably could have been if he had gone 
 through college. Dartmouth never bestowed her honorary M.A. 
 degree more worthily than when she gave it to him, for sound 
 Christian learning never had a more loyal advocate and supporter 
 than he. 
 
 For more than twelve years we worked within an arm's length 
 
164 LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 of each other, and I know, as no one not associated with him thus 
 can know, what a diligent, intelligent, consecrated work he did. 
 When, after so many years of their fellowship and cooperation, he 
 followed my father into the unseen world there seemed to be a 
 certain fitness in rfieir going so nearly together, although the sense 
 of my personal loss was rendered doubly keen. 
 
 (Rev.) Morton Dexter. 
 
 Before I knew Mr. Richardson personally, or had ever entered 
 the office of the Cofigregatio?ialist, I had heard my father speak in 
 high -praise of the neatness and order of his desk and the room 
 in which he worked. I was urged to make him my model in this 
 particular, and when I came on to the paper I saw for myself what 
 scrupulous efTort he made to keep things in a presentable condi- 
 tion. The fact that the managing editor's desk is the catch-all for 
 everything floating into the office made it all the more difficult to 
 avoid a cluttered and untidy appearance, and his success in obvi- 
 ating this was all the more conspicuous. He never went home at 
 night and left anything loose upon his desk. I sometimes thought 
 he possessed something of a woman's instinct in this matter. He 
 was just as careful about his dress. His clothes were good, and 
 he dressed in perfect taste. I particularly liked to see him in one 
 of those gray suits which he wore not infrequently in summer. 
 With a white stovepipe hat it was especially effective. 
 
 Quickness of movement was another characteristic. When 
 we went out to luncheon together, as we did now and then, he 
 always took a pace more rapid than that to which I am accus- 
 tomed, and I really had to hurry to keep up. He was very alert 
 on the street, and knew how to slip in and out between teams and 
 pedestrians. He was equally agile in the office in the handling of 
 his tools and his manuscripts. His promptness and punctuality 
 were noticeable. He met his engagements on the dot. If he were 
 going to leave a little earlier than usual he managed so to expe- 
 dite things early in the day that he never seemed to be in a hurry 
 at the last, but had time enough left to get to the train comfortably. 
 
 Mr. Richardson, better than a great many men, had learned 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. 165 
 
 how to live in human relationships. In his lifetime he had to deal 
 with a vast variety of temperaments. He was thrown into close 
 relation with men of different make-up from himself. It always 
 fell to him to initiate and carry forward difficult and delicate un- 
 dertakings ; to harmonize, to unify, and focalize on definite ends 
 the forces concerned in the making of the paper ; but in all his 
 intercourse with others, both those in the official circle and the 
 larger circle outside, with whom he communicated face to face or 
 by correspondence, he was the same courteous Christian gentle- 
 man. The passing stranger who dropped in just to get a look at 
 the editor of the paper, the unconscious bore who was filching 
 away precious moments of a busy day, the correspondents in dif- 
 ferent centers with whom Mr. Richardson was in frequent commu- 
 nication, the unknown contributor to whom he gave a word of 
 commendation or suggestion, or the well-known and usually suc- 
 cessful writers to whom he occasionally had to return manuscripts 
 with an explanation which required to be carefully phrased — all 
 these felt in him this quality of consideration, and indeed of defer- 
 ence. It sprang, I think, from a thorough self-control on the one 
 hand, and on the other from a genuine humility of spirit. He had 
 himself thoroughly in hand, and because he knew his own life, his 
 weaknesses, his limitations, the incompleteness of his early train- 
 ing, he was all the more anxious to learn from others. Every book 
 he read, every man he met, was approached from the point of 
 view of what it or he might yield for his personal life and for the 
 paper. He and the paper were thus the gainers for every trip he 
 took, for every new acquaintance formed. Indeed, I am not sure 
 but that the paper took precedence over the claims of his own life. 
 His first question was, " What can this experience yield to me for 
 the paper.'"' 
 
 Mr. Richardson's mind was of no ordinary mold and caliber. 
 His thought may not have ranged far and wide, but every subject 
 to which he did apply himself he seized with a bulldog grip. He 
 plowed his way often toilsomely into the very vitals of a subject. 
 The further I get away from him in time, the more I realize how 
 broad and fair a man he was. He looked at a subject from every 
 side. This critical and candid attitude made his decisions weighty 
 and his judgment influential and much prized by the many who 
 
I 66 LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 sought it in countless practical matters. He was a growing man, 
 too. He kept up with the times. He discerned, even if he did not 
 always approve, the drift of public thought. 
 
 As I sit in his chair day after day, and try to do his work in 
 substantially the same ways which he taught me, I find myself 
 often asking what he would do in such and such a case, and shap- 
 ing my decision by that norm as I am able to discern it. For 
 many months it was my ambition simply to carry on the paper 
 as he did, to keep it up if possible to the high standards to which 
 his years of patient effort had lifted it. Now I am coming to feel 
 that I should be false to him and belie the expectations he was 
 good enough to repose in me if I did not strive to push out into 
 a wider field and carry the paper forward beyond the point where 
 it was when he left it. But I am deeply conscious that any suc- 
 cess which in the providence of God we may attain will be due 
 largely to the fact that we are building on his foundations. And 
 conscious as I am that I come far short of his fidelity, his genius, 
 and his consecration to the things of Christ, I am sure that my 
 work on the paper, be it of long or brief duration, will ever be 
 better because of the inspiration of his example, as my life is 
 richer for all time because for three years and a half I was 
 privileged to have his daily companionship. 
 
 (Rev.) Howard A. Bridgman. 
 
 I wish I knew how suitably to express my appreciation of the 
 character and ability of Mr. Richardson, and more particularly my 
 sense of obligation to him for the large degree of kindly consider- 
 ation which I received at his hands. My acquaintance with him 
 previous to becoming his partner was of a general character. 
 Brought suddenly into the most intimate business relations, I can 
 truthfully say that my admiration and love for his character and 
 my confidence in his ability steadily increased day by day to the 
 very end. 
 
 Others can speak better than I of his unusual business sagac- 
 ity, his remarkable judgment, and his great journalistic ability ; 
 but not all know how patient and calm and equable he was, how 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. 167 
 
 the record of one day was the record of all days whatever the 
 pressure and perplexities of business, or how kindly he listened to 
 the crude plans of a younger man and a novice, carefully consid- 
 ering them and cordially indorsing whatever in them commended 
 itself to his judgment. This open-nundedness was a principle with 
 him. More than most men he heeded the old adage, " Put your- 
 self in his place." His conscientiousness in this direction bore its 
 natural fruit; he was progressive and fresh in all his business 
 methods, ever ready to accept a new way if in any respect it 
 seemed better than the old. Many a time I have been touched 
 by the cordial manner with which he would adopt some sug- 
 gested modification of old methods ; indeed, it not infrequently 
 happened that he was the first to press forward into new paths, 
 leading therein the younger men who were associated with him. 
 It was always a delight to me to discuss business matters with 
 Mr, Richardson, for I knew that his long experience in no way 
 committed him to the methods of the past ; rather was it a step- 
 ping-stone to something better, and what that better thing might 
 be I learned to trust implicitly to his judgment to determine. 
 Wisely conservative and equally wisely progressive, an unusual 
 combination in any man, but particularly so in one who like Mr. 
 Richardson had so long and so successful a professional and 
 business record. 
 
 The opportunity of daily contact with such a man is of ines- 
 timable value, I count it among my choicest privileges that for 
 several years I was admitted to his confidence and came within 
 the influence of one of the most consistent Christian lives I have 
 ever known. 
 
 Wm, F. Whittemore. 
 
 Mr, Richardson's life and example are a priceless legacy to 
 all who knew and honored him. Even as I write his calm, decided 
 face comes before me as I saw it many years bending over the 
 desk where his best work was done. His written words, tempered 
 by wise judgment and weighed in the balance of justice, were 
 given to the public as the conscientious convictions of his un- 
 prejudiced mind. While I want to recognize the Christian integ- 
 
1 68 LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 rity which made him a power in the church and a trustworthy citi- 
 zen, and the kind hospitality which was felt by all who entered 
 his home, I think my lasting remembrance of Mr. Richardson will 
 be of his unflinching faithfulness to what he believed was right. 
 A just man; and the memory of such an one is blessed I recall' 
 an incident which impressed me greatly at the time. Quite an 
 animated discussion was being held in the office of the Congrega- 
 tionallst in regard to a petition for pardon of a prominent defaulter. 
 To the remark, " The man is not getting half his deserts by serv- 
 ing his whole sentence," Mr. Richardson said in a firm, almost 
 stern voice, facing the speaker, " You have no right, no right, to say 
 
 such a thing. Mr. has expressed his repentance, is trying to 
 
 live it under prison walls, and his honor is a matter between him- 
 self and his God. No human being has a right to question his 
 sincerity or the wisdom of giving him another chance in the 
 world." Well may his grandchildren revere the memory of him 
 who has left the records of such a life for them to emulate. Their 
 pictured faces which hung near his desk were a constant delight to 
 him. Upon the lad who bears the name of his grandfather may 
 the mantle of his eminent virtues descend. I am glad I knew him, 
 glad I was so long associated with him in his work the last years 
 of his life. The influence of those years will abide forever. It 
 seems as if he must know just how sincerely we all mourn for and 
 miss him. The office can never seem as it used to, but I think his 
 influence is felt every day as we go on with the work. We were 
 privileged to be associated with him. God grant we may strive to 
 be as true and noble in our aims as he was, and so realize some- 
 thing of what he accomplished. 
 
 H. H. Stanwood. 
 
 I have seldom been more surprised than I was day before 
 yesterday by the receipt from Mr. Ray, your associate executor, of 
 a check in payment of the legacy to this society of our dear friend 
 who lately left us so suddenly for his eternal rest. Not that there 
 was anything strange or unexpected in the legacy. All his active 
 life he has been most deeply and warmly interested in the work of 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. 169 
 
 this society, and has been showing that interest in every jDractical 
 way. The use of his time, his personal influence, his offerings, 
 his facile pen, have always been ready at the society's slightest 
 demand, and that the cause has had a very large place in his 
 prayer no one who knew him could for a moment doubt. It was 
 just like him to prepare before his departure for the cause that 
 had all his life lain upon his heart. My surprise was at receiving 
 so soon afterward this token of his unfailing love. I remember 
 certainly only one other instance since my connection with the 
 society in which such immediate payment of the legacy was made. 
 I cannot help feeling that a special blessing will go with it to those 
 who receive this last gift of our friend's love, I trust that you are 
 enabled to look away from all this present suffering, and to think 
 of him as released from everything that hinders the best progress of 
 the soul and entered upon that world where everything is helpful, 
 where every heart is full of joyful love, and where, best of all, all 
 that is purest and holiest and most satisfying is in possession, 
 not for a few brief years, but for eternity. . . . 
 
 (Rev.) a. H. Clapp, 
 
 Treasurer A. H. M. Society. 
 
 I cannot tell you how shocked and saddened I was this morn- 
 ing at the telegram announcing your husband's death. There has 
 been a great load of sorrow on my heart all day. The thought of 
 seeing Mr. Richardson was always one of the attractions to me 
 of a visit East, and it certainly had not occurred to me more than 
 it had to those associated with him at Boston that he could be so 
 suddenly taken from us. Personally I feel as if I had met with 
 a great loss, as if another tie to this world had been severed, an- 
 other honored and beloved friend translated to heaven. I do not 
 think any man on the paper could be missed more, or that any 
 man has had so great a part as he in making it what it has now 
 become, the leading religious journal of the United States. He 
 has done a noble work, has served his generation most efficiently, 
 and has gone to a blessed reward. Our ministers, in their meeting 
 this morning, by vote requested me to express to you and the family 
 of Mr. Richardson their heartfelt sympathy in this bereavement. 
 
 (Rev.) E. F. Williams. 
 
lyo LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 Mr. Richardson was a good friend to nie I felt, and I have 
 always a warm place in my thoughts for you both, I think of him 
 as he used to look in his office at the rooms of the Congregation- 
 nlist, and as I occasionally saw him in his home. He has left a 
 monument to his memory in the Congregationalist. The large part 
 he had in making it what it has become is well known to many, 
 and to none more than to those who have been associated in work 
 with him upon it from time to time. 
 
 Frank T. Lee. 
 
 Lansingburg, N.Y., February 12, 1891. 
 I had a strong impulse to tell you how deeply I sympathize 
 with you in your great loss, and how keenly for my own part I 
 shall always miss this true friend. More than thirty years ago 
 I had the happiness to become acquainted with Mr. Richard- 
 son, who through the columns of his widely known paper intro- 
 duced me — a struggling young author — to the public. I well 
 remember the kindliness with which he received my first crude 
 efforts, and the words of appreciation and encouragement which 
 in his busy and unselfish life he always found time to say. All my 
 relations with him were delightful. From the first I had the most 
 instinctive confidence in him, and he never disappointed me. His 
 letters, extending over many years, are among my most cherished 
 possessions. His words of kindly advice and generous recognition 
 were always an inspiration to me, while I look back with growing 
 wonder upon his wise patience with the callow flights that must so 
 sorely have tried him. Only as late as January 10 the last one 
 came, which I shall always treasure for its especial warmth of ex- 
 pression and friendly interest. With his death and that of Dr. 
 Dexter ends all my personal acquaintance with editors of the Con- 
 gregationalist, and I feel that a very pleasant chapter in my life is 
 closed. I never but once had the pleasure of meeting him face to 
 face. It was some years ago, as I was passing through Boston, that 
 he welcomed me to his charming home, and I shall never forget his 
 fine courtesy and hospitality on that occasion. As I remember 
 him, an atmosphere of sincerity, honor, kindliness, spirituality 
 seemed to fairly radiate from his person. One could not help 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. 17I 
 
 feeling that he was so thoroughly filled with the spirit of his 
 Master that, like the saint of old, he must have received that 
 higher baptism so beautifully described as being " immersed in 
 Deity." 
 
 With grateful recognition of the privilege of having called 
 such a man my friend, I count it an honor to lay this little flower 
 of memory at his feet. 
 
 Lynde Palmer. 
 
 Norwich, Conn., January 20, 1891. 
 
 Mr. Richardson was always so kind to me and interested in 
 me in such a friendly way that I must tell you what an abiding 
 place he possesses in my respect and in my affection. He was 
 always so just, and at the same time charitable, that I always 
 felt peculiarly attracted toward him, I like just men ; and I mean 
 by this not merely men who do right themselves but who estimate 
 truly the acts of others. It makes me sad to think that next sum- 
 mer when I spend a few weeks in the office Mr. Richardson will 
 not be there, as he was when I was in the office before, to help 
 me do my best. But his presence can never be really lacking 
 there, because the Congt-egatumalist itself is a continual reminder, 
 and always will be, of him and of the noble, self-forgetting, untir- 
 ing work of his life. 
 
 I did not know him as long as some others, but I was with 
 him long enough clearly to recognize in him a man of strong char- 
 acter and rare lovableness. As you know, I commenced my work 
 at the Congregationalist office under a certain disadvantage, because 
 I was simply a substitute. But he did not allow me to feel that 
 my position was less important than a more permanent one, and 
 liis thoughtful encouragement helped me to do my work acceptably. 
 It is one of my pleasantest reflect ons that I was able to win his 
 friendship and esteen), since I feel that his esteem was well worth 
 taking pride in. 
 
 Some of his qualities as the manager of a great paper made 
 a deep impression on my mind. Even on busy days and in the 
 midst of annoying interruptions he always preserved a calm self- 
 control. He was patient with the large variety of what I may 
 well call cranks who made their way into the office on all sorts of 
 
172 LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 errands. In preparing opinions for publication in the paper he 
 seemed anxious that they should be just to all. Then I am sure 
 he had a broad charity for those who differed with him in politics, 
 and on theological questions as well. I remember he much pre- 
 ferred the Tribune to the New York Evening Post ; but he did not 
 object to me because my preference was not the same. Then, 
 too, he was open-minded, ready to learn new facts and so to 
 modify previously formed and long-cherished opinions. It is for 
 such reasons as these that I shall always revere his memory and 
 be glad that I knew him and received his help and his guidance 
 for even a few months. . . . 
 
 (Prof.) Henry E. Bourne. 
 
 Boston, February 12, 1891. 
 For thirty-five years we have been together, day by day, and 
 none now here can testify from so long knowledge as I of the 
 great worth of your husband. And when I remember that it was 
 his words that turned my thoughts toward my responsibility to 
 God and my need of salvation, I am filled with more gratitude 
 than ever that I was permitted to know him. 
 
 Thomas Todd. 
 
 Boston, January ig, i8gi. 
 I was greatly shocked to hear of Mr. Richardson's death this 
 morning. I remember so pleasantly my only chat with him in the 
 office of the Congregationalist, and what an impression of real and 
 genuine kindliness and helpfulness it made upon me. It is hard 
 to understand that his work can have been so soon finished. 
 
 Lucy Wheelock, 
 
 Editor '■^Primary S. S. Notes." 
 
 IN remembrance of C. a. RICHARDSON. 
 
 At a special meeting of the directors of the American Con- 
 gregational Association, held May 18, 1891, the committee upon 
 action as to the death of the late C. A. Richardson reported the 
 following minute : 
 
 The directors are again called upon to record the decease of one 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. 173 
 
 of the members of this board, Mr. Charles A. Richardson — an event of 
 heightened sadness from its following so soon the loss of his and our 
 associate, Rev. Dr. Dexter. It is a noticeable fact that two of the board 
 should die while in the same year of office. It is still more remarkable 
 that Mr. Richardson should have followed into the heavenly life, but two 
 months later, his associate of many years' standing in their own great 
 life work here. The directors, while called again to mourning, are again 
 able to bear unfeigned testimony to the ability and worth of a departed 
 associate. Mr. Richardson had been for the past twenty years a mem- 
 ber of the Association, and for the past five years one of the directors. 
 In this office he had exhibited his characteristics of conscientious faith- 
 fulness to his trust, singularly patient consideration, far-sighted business 
 knowledge, and steady calmness in decision. He was tlius a most val- 
 uable member of the board, and his loss will be deeply felt. There will 
 remain also the memory of his Christian uprightness and the generous 
 qualities of his heart. 
 
 (Rev.) a. H. Quint, 
 
 E. D. Studley, 
 
 Coinniittee. 
 
 Resolutions from the Ministers of the Missionary Committee of the ConsJ^res^a- 
 tional Sunday-School and Publishing Society. 
 
 The committee desire to record the sense of their personal 
 and official loss in the sudden death of Mr. Charles A. Richardson, 
 their associate of years in this work. 
 
 They remember his presence with them up to the last meeting 
 of the committee, recalling his faithfulness in attendance and his 
 earnest attention to the matters in consideration, his careful pru- 
 dence and his wise judgment. 
 
 They recognize gratefully his years of valuable service in this 
 Society, as in many other connections, and they enter into sym- 
 pathy with the mingled griefs and hopes of those who miss him 
 
 from the home. 
 
 (Rev.) G. M, Boynton, 
 
 February g, i8gi. Secretary. 
 
 Chelsea, January 31, 1891. 
 Your letter of January 29 was received and read to the church 
 when gathered at the social meeting for prayer last evening, and 
 
174 
 
 LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 all hearts were stirred with a quick response to your words of 
 Christian love for this church of which Mr. Richardson was long 
 a loved and honored member. No tribute of love and respect that 
 we could offer can fully express the gratitude we feel for what he 
 has been to this church nor the sorrow for the loss we have met. 
 The necessity for a change of residence which removed him from 
 regular attendance upon our church services was profoundly re- 
 gretted by this people, who had so often seen his cheerful accept- 
 ance of positions of trust, the duties of which were discharged 
 with the strictest fidelity, showing his first thought to be, " Where 
 am I most needed } " " Where can I do the most good ? " While 
 we missed his wise counsels, his kind and generous sympathy, we 
 felt by his frequent returns to his accustomed place in the house 
 of God that his interest lingered with us and that his prayers con- 
 tinued in our behalf. Now that God has removed him from our 
 earthly sight we can gather up the lessons he daily taught us by 
 his Christian life. None know better than we that he honored the 
 gospel and cherished the Christian doctrines with a devout and 
 steadfast purpose ; none knew better than his fellow workers in 
 this church, in times of prosperity or discouragement, his ability as 
 a leader, his clearness of thought, promptness of decision, and 
 patience in trial, as well as the sympathy which made him genial 
 in social intercourse. We praise God for the influence which he 
 had in shaping the life of this church and Sabbath school, for his 
 unhesitating faith which still honors the Master and gives strength 
 to the disciples. Our prayer is that you may find comfort in these 
 words : " Thine eye shall see the King in his beauty and shall 
 behold the land that is afar off. The inhabitants shall not say, 
 I am sick. The people that dwell therein shall be forgiven their 
 iniquities." 
 
 Resolved, that the foregoing be tendered by the church to 
 Mrs. Richardson as a feeble expression of the love we cherished 
 for him and the sincere sympathy we feel for her and the entire 
 family. 
 
 In behalf of the church, 
 
 J. W. Stickney, 
 H. H. Henry, 
 
 Cof/imiUee. 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. I75 
 
 Hartford, Conn., January 19, 1891. 
 
 I am surprised and pained at the intelligence which comes in 
 the morning papers of the sudden departure from your circle of my 
 friend, Mr. Richardson. He seemed an inseparable part of your 
 establishment. As long as I have known anything personally of 
 your office, he has been there — always busy, but always courteous, 
 affable, ready to hear, cautious to speak — a thoroughly good man 
 in a place demanding tact, wisdom, and skill. 
 
 This second unexpected break in your companionship within 
 a few weieks must bring the sense of uncertainty with which we can 
 any of us plan far ahead in this changing world very distinctly home 
 to you. It is interesting to note, however, that there grows up a 
 kind of corporate character in connection with every considerable 
 institution — like a church, or a college, or a newspaper — which is 
 slow in suffering change. So that though Dr. Dexter and Mr. 
 Richardson have so soon followed each other, I look to see their 
 work abide and perpetuate itself, though their skillful hands lay 
 the burden off on younger ones. 
 
 (Rev.) George Leon Walker, 
 
 Pastor First Church. 
 
 ^ Portland, Me., September 7, 1892. 
 
 I can hardly write a word about your husband without making 
 all 1 say personal. Mr. Richardson was the teacher who inspired 
 me in my boyhood school life. His enthusiasm aroused me, his 
 thoroughness kept me at work, and his appreciation of my work 
 made it a delight. 
 
 As one of his pupils Mr. Richardson never lost sight of me. 
 When he entered upon his life work as an editor he held fast the 
 friends that he made in the Montague schools. Any matters of 
 interest concerning them which were of importance enough to find 
 a place in the Congregationalist were always sure to be found there. 
 Distance seemed only to make him more careful to maintain the 
 old friendship, and for that reason, among others, did Mr. Richard- 
 son and his paper do me many a good turn as a missionary and 
 missionary superintendent in Kansas. 
 
 Difference in views did not estrange him from those whom he 
 
176 LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 had come to call friends. He knew that as the years went by we 
 did not look alike upon the questions which were agitating our 
 Congregational churches, but none the less was his hospitable home 
 always wide open with a hearty welcome, and he had a ready, helping 
 hand in the many ways that a man in his position can use when he 
 is disposed to be of help to his friends. 
 
 I always knew that he believed with all his heart and with a 
 firmness that would have taken him to the stake those things which 
 after mature deliberation he had come to accept, and yet so large a 
 man was he that none the less he could cling to friends who could 
 not agree with him. 
 
 Mr. Richardson was one of my very few lifelong friends, I 
 might say my only one among the men I have loved and known for 
 forty years, outside my own kin. 
 
 His abiding interest in my welfare, and patient helpfulness in 
 making my life successful I can never forget. I have always ad- 
 mired him for his mental and spiritual strength. I miss him more 
 and more in those places where I always expected to find him and 
 at the times when he was always glad to serve me. It is a pleasure, 
 however, to feel that although he has gone one who sympathized 
 with him fully still remains to be, as she has always been, a true 
 friend to her husband's friends, and like him always ready to make 
 her friendship known by word and deed. 
 
 (Rev.) J. G. Merrill, 
 
 Pastor Second Parish Church. 
 
 Waterville, Maine, January 23, i8gi. 
 Alas ! To whom shall I speak my sorrow ! For ten years past 
 the Congregationalist has been to me embodied in the person of 
 Charles A. Richardson and Dr. Dexter. But with the former, 
 whose sudden departure is a personal grief indeed, I have had fre- 
 quent correspondence, until I have learned to love him most 
 cordially. Of one thing I never had a doubt, viz., that I should 
 receive the utmost courtesy, and that whether he thought as I did 
 or not his reasons would be frankly and kindly stated, so that 
 I should only respect him the more for differing from me. 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. 177 
 
 How swiftly fall the blows ! And how deep the wounds they 
 leave ! And four days seem so short for one to put his house in 
 order ; unless, as I am readily willing to believe was the case with 
 our dear brother Richardson, his house was always ready for his 
 Master's inspection, and his kindly spirit well prepared for the great 
 reception to which he has been so quickly summoned. His memory 
 is tender, and many a man who seldom saw his face in ihe flesh 
 loved him as a true friend and a brother. I am sad tonight ; but 
 he, our brother, what congratulations are his due ! for he has entered 
 into the company of those who " rest from their labors and their 
 works do follow them." Who next ? God comfort his family, 
 whom I do not know, but for whom I would esteem it a stranger's 
 privilege to express sympathy. 
 
 (Rev.) L. H. Hallock. 
 
 RoxBURY, September 13, 189 1. 
 
 Your reference to Mr. Richardson's views, such matters recall 
 the fact that he has done very much, both by his personal acts and 
 by his influence in the paper, to make a public sentiment favorable 
 to generous, honorable dealing with ministers. We never shall 
 know how much and what various good he has done. 
 
 Professor Park told me when I first knew your husband that 
 Mr. Richardson had a position of very great influence and respon- 
 sibility, and it has been pleasant to think that he seemed himself 
 fully to realize it and to make conscientious endeavor to meet its 
 high requirements. I cannot tell you how many expressions have 
 come to me from various quarters earnestly eulogizing his char- 
 acter and work. 
 
 (Rev.) a. H. Plumb, 
 
 Pastor Walnut Avenue CJuirch. 
 
 East Orange, N. J., January 14, 1893. 
 
 Mr. Richardson was conscience incarnate. I have never 
 
 known a man with a more sensitive Christian conscience than 
 
 he had ; and I do not know of anything that it is more desirable 
 
 for young people to have than that. He carried his conscience 
 
178 LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 into everything that he did. I saw him in his business, in his 
 church, and in his home. He was strong and true in them all. 
 I knew him as a Christian. He had a beautiful faith — tender, 
 deep, and satisfying. He was my trusted adviser on the church 
 committee, and his counsel was of great value to me. Mr. 
 Richardson made a great success with his paper. I used to tell 
 him that I could see him even in the advertisements. He left the 
 impress of his character everywhere. If God had called him to 
 even greater responsibility in public life he would have been a 
 distinguished success. 
 
 One of the most beautiful things about him was his devotion 
 to his aged mother. Such love and care, I hope, are not uncom- 
 mon ; but I have seen very few men in my lifetime who seemed to 
 me at once so tender and so true. His character is a rich legacy 
 to his kindred and to the world. He was one of the best exam- 
 ples of the modern Puritan — the ideal New Englander — I have 
 ever known, pure in his thoughts, pure in his habits, pure in his 
 heart, and with this a strength of mind, a soundness of judgment, 
 that gave him great influence with all who knew him. Mr. Richard- 
 son was not known as a leader. He was not often heard in public. 
 He did not write much over his own name. But he was the natural 
 counselor of many whose success was due, in no small degree, to 
 his caution and his advice. 
 
 I am glad it was my lot to know him as a man, as a Chris- 
 tian. I am happy to give my tribute of love and honor to his 
 memory. 
 
 (Rev.) Fritz W. Baldwin, 
 
 Pastor Trinity Church. 
 
 Chicago, January 19, 189 1. 
 I cannot write about Charles today. I cannot bring myself to 
 think that I am not to see him again. He was associated with all 
 my Boston experience ; he was almost the first one I thought of 
 when I went to Boston. I looked to him for advice and help on 
 many points, and never looked in vain. What he was to me I can 
 never tell. How can he be spared from the Congregationalist 1 
 Dr. Gilbert and Dr. Williams both said this morning that the 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. 179 
 
 power of the paper was clue to him fully as much as to any one 
 else, and I am sure this is true. 
 
 How strange that he who seemed so well when I last saw him 
 should have gone before Aunt Harriet who has been so long wait- 
 ing for her summons. But God makes no mistakes. I have had 
 to say this many times of late ; it is a real comfort to be able to 
 say it and feel it too. I wrote Charles a few words after Dr. 
 Dexter's death, and I had wondered why I did not hear from 
 him, as he scarcely ever failed to reply to such letters from me. 
 I cannot write connectedly today, but such as it is I send it, with 
 my sincere prayers. May God help you, once more I pray. 
 
 (Rev.) E. a, Adams, 
 
 Superintendent Bohetnian Mission. 
 
 Danvers, January 22, 1891. 
 I have been very greatly pained by the news of your hus- 
 band's death. I have known him well for many years. There 
 was a period during which I did a considerable amount of editorial 
 writing for the Congregationalist, and I saw him then very often — 
 in some cases for months together nearly every day. I have been 
 associated with him also upon committees and managing boards 
 of benevolent societies. And I have been in the habit of calling 
 upon frequent occasions at his office. It seems not possible to 
 think that he is no more to be there ! I have had for him through 
 all these years a high and increasing regard and a strengthening 
 friendship. To a remarkable degree he was a man of a steady and 
 well-balanced mind and of a safe, practical judgment. It would 
 be difficult to speak too strongly upon this point. I have seldom 
 known any man whose forecast concerning crises of action was 
 more sure to be justified by the event itself. He was a man also 
 comfortable to counsel with and to have any dealings with. With 
 clear views of his own, he was always willing to weigh the opinions 
 of others and to make concessions to others within the bounds of 
 reason. He was greatly disposed to fair dealing with every one ; 
 and of his carefulness in this matter I have many recollections. 
 He was in all respects, also, a thoughtful and safe friend, even to 
 
ISO LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 one outside the circle of his own relationships, as I have been. 
 His removal brings a most deep and painful sense of bereavement 
 and loss. I am only too well aware this does not deserve to be 
 spoken of in comparison with the sorrow that comes upon you and 
 upon the other members of his household. And yet you will 
 allow me, I am sure, to speak of the sense I have of personal loss, 
 which is indeed great, and which enables me at least to form some 
 measure of the heavier grief which has befallen you. I hope you 
 will feel assured of the most heartfelt sympathy that is felt for you 
 by the wide circle of friends to whom Mr. Richardson was true 
 and by whom he was honored and loved. A few days after Dr. 
 Dexter's death I was speaking with Mr. Richardson respecting 
 him, and he said, " I rather think you knew more of Dr. Dexter 
 and knew him better than any one about here, outside the office, 
 except Dr. Quint." I think this may have been true, and I think 
 it very likely that something not very different might be true as to 
 my acquaintance with Mr. Richardson himself, so far as concerns 
 neighboring ministers. All my recollections of Mr. Richardson in 
 all my relations with him are altogether and exceedingly pleasant, 
 and I shall miss the seeing him more than I can express. 
 
 (Rev.) C. B. Rice. 
 
 Birmingham, Ala., January 27, 1892. 
 
 My first Boston mail, which has reached me today, has brought 
 me the painful account of Mr. Richardson's death. It seems im- 
 possible. Why, the last face I saw and the last voice I heard as I 
 left Boston were his as he kindly bade me a hearty and pleasant 
 farewell and expressed cordial washes for my safe return. I can- 
 not tell you what a sincere and helpful friend Mr. Richardson has 
 been to me since I came to Boston. I knew him only a little be- 
 fore that. He has been such a very, very helpful and cordial 
 friend in so many ways. His advice has always been of great 
 value, and I have come to run in more and more to his office for 
 a word of counsel when in doubt how to act. 
 
 I do not need to tell of these kindnesses, many and gener- 
 ous ; they are known to those who knew him. I only add my 
 tribute to the many others — only words spoken when the friend 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. l8l 
 
 has gone and cannot hear them. But his life of earnest Christian 
 service remains, and we cannot but rejoice in its large and grand 
 result. 
 
 (Rev.) C. J. Ryder, 
 
 Secretary A. M. A. 
 
 Winter Park, Fla., January 30, 1892. 
 He has been so stanch and firm and even that I am sur- 
 prised at his going so early. But he has had a life of constant 
 pressure and strain. The load has been heavy, though he has 
 carried it evenly and steadily. I was drawn to Mr. Richardson 
 very much last winter. His being here was a Christian comfort 
 to me. He was a kind of friendly blessing, which one from the 
 outside, if he knows how, can bring into one's church and pastor- 
 ate and personal life. The going away from Boston and from 
 earth seems to make Boston and the earth so much poorer. He 
 will be a great loss to the Congregationalist and to the denomina- 
 tion and to the church of Christ in this world. He was a steady, 
 firm hand and a genuine soul at a great influential center. 
 
 E. P. Hooker, 
 
 Syracuse, January 19, 189 1. 
 I had the pleasantest friendship with Mr, Richardson, dating 
 back beyond the year when I visited with you and preached at the 
 First Church. In my work for the paper he was always extremely 
 considerate and appreciative. It was within three weeks that he 
 sent me a very kind message encouraging me to write more. 
 
 (Rev.) E. N. Packard, 
 
 Pastor Plymouth Church. 
 
 Reading, January 22, 1891. 
 
 I ought to let you know that I am not unconscious of personal 
 
 loss nor indifferent to the blessings which have come to me through 
 
 the life of one who was so much to his own family, and was able 
 
 also to overflow so generously in thoughtful and kindly acts for the 
 
l82 LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 good of Others. The memories of twenty five years and more, 
 since his name and work and the initials which I used to look for 
 in the paper came to be household words with us, are fragrant 
 with them. And then, in addition to all the good and true words 
 spoken yesterday, let me add my testimony to the helpfulness of 
 his life to mine in that it grew so symmetrically and beautifully, 
 culminating in such a rounded life, and then, ripening just a little, 
 passed on. His promptness, steadiness of purpose, calmness, and 
 natural patience as it seemed, will help me to live more truly and 
 helpfully to others. 
 
 (Rev.) Frank S. Adams. 
 
 Auburn, N. Y., February 24, 1891. 
 I cannot realize that he has so soon followed Dr. Dexter. 
 Faith sees them both on the other side. What the loss is to you in 
 Mr, Richardson's departure only you can know. But the rest of us 
 know what our share is. I realize that I have lost one of the most 
 faithful friends I ever had. Some of his plans will be forever un- 
 finished. I do not recall a more thoroughly upright, conscientious, 
 true-hearted man. His memory is everything you could wish, and 
 his great public work was well done. " Enter thou into the joy 
 of thy Lord," Believe me to remember the hospitable home which 
 is broken upon earth, but which is to be re-formed across the river. 
 
 (Rev.) a. H. Quint. 
 
 Germantown, February, 1891. 
 
 We can hardly tell you of the bewildering surprise that came 
 to both Mrs. Nason and myself when, away, we caught the news of 
 the great change that had come to you and your household circle 
 in the translation of that good man, your husband, and our and 
 everybody's friend. 
 
 Mr. Richardson was to me one of that sterling cast who, first 
 known to command our respect, drew forth, as the inner gold was 
 revealed, our admiration and love. Not only was he the " righteous 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. 183 
 
 man" of whom the apostle speaks, but the "good man" as well. 
 You could have no richer memory as towards the past, no more 
 radiant hope as towards the future, than has been given you of God 
 in him, your heart's treasure. Indeed the cloud has come, but 
 I always recall the words of one placed as you are now, " Yes, 
 but there is comfort even in a cloud that receives our blessed Lord 
 from sight." 
 
 How many will miss his warm and unabating ministry of 
 labor. Entered now into the rest that abides. And for yourself — 
 some waiting — what the Lord has still for you to do — patient con- 
 tinuance — and then the golden summer of that other, reunited, 
 unending life. 
 
 (Rev.) C. p. H. Nason. 
 
 Franklin, January i8, 1891. 
 I knew the dear, noble man only to love him and to regard 
 him with what was equivalent to a filial affection. For during my 
 ministry here over this church of his childhood he has expressed 
 such a tender, affectionate interest in me and my work that my soul 
 has been strongly drawn to him. I have prized his counsels, and 
 was always benefited by being in his society. His life was a con- 
 stant exemplification of the highest type of Christian manliness ; 
 and his influence was satisfactory for good in every sphere of life 
 in which he moved. Even amid the bewildering mazes of the 
 providence that has taken him away, there comes the thought that 
 the city of our God needs such true servants of Christ, or the trans- 
 fer from this world, where to us he seemed so much needed, would 
 not have been made. 
 
 He taketh, that we may forever keep ! 
 
 All that makes life most beautiful and deep. 
 
 Our dearest hopes by sorrows glorified 
 
 Beneath his everlasting wings abide; 
 
 For O ! it is our one true need to find 
 
 Earth's vanished bliss in heavenly glory shrined. 
 
 (Rev.) George E. Lovejoy. 
 
184 LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 Westfield, January 25, 1891. 
 The wide circle of those who have known your companion are 
 indeed mourners. He was one of the truest of the true ; he was one 
 of the purest of the pure ; and in that form of strife whicli is most 
 honorable, striviiig for the right, he was the bravest of the brave. 
 While none can suffer as you suffer, while none can feel the 
 loss that you feel, yet the loss to others is great. His death 
 must be felt by that wide circle of readers who have witnessed the 
 growth and enjoyed the reading of that paper which so steadily 
 grew inside his hand. He must be sadly missed by the many 
 coworkers who knew and admired his singleness of purpose and 
 the untiring devotion that marked his Christian life. His loss to 
 the Westfield Normal School is very great. By public service and 
 by private effort, as opportunity occurred, he ministered to its wel- 
 fare. His unreserved loyalty to the school deeply impressed me 
 in all his painstaking but glad endeavor at the semi-centennial of 
 1889. It is now pleasant to recall his expressions of satisfaction 
 at the result. Of his character it is needless that I speak to you. 
 That character unmistakably allied him to the good men of this 
 world, and has surely enrolled him in the number of those who 
 stand near the throne. May He with whom he walked in close com- 
 panionship minister to you in all the fullness of his love. 
 
 J. C. Greenough, 
 
 Principal A^ormal School. 
 
 RoxBURY, January 24, 1891. 
 On opening a newspaper of last Tuesday I am greatly shocked 
 to find in it the death of Mr. Richardson, your husband, one of 
 Boston's most esteemed and honored citizens — a gentleman whose 
 kind hospitality I shall never forget. 
 
 (Prof.) Henri Morand. 
 
 Mv recollections of that dear friend, 
 
 CHARLES A. RICHARDSON. 
 
 I first saw Mr. Richardson at a teachers' institute in Medway 
 Village, in March, 1850. At this gathering he listened to the lec- 
 tures by Dana P. Colburn and Richard Edwards, who at that time 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. 185 
 
 were teachers in the Bridgewater Normal School. Mr. Richardson 
 was so impressed with the superior method of their teaching that 
 he at once conceived a strong desire to profit by the instruction 
 given at that famous institution. I was then a young teacher, 
 about to take charge of a graded grammar school with some high 
 school studies, as the successor of a Westfield normal graduate. 
 I felt keenly my want of a normal training, and this acquaintance, 
 then first begun with a young man who, though a graduate of one 
 normal school, was desirous to take an advanced course in another, 
 was stimulating to me and gave me at once a profound respect for 
 him. I saw that he had a laudable ambition and decided strength 
 of purpose. 
 
 After that I met Mr. Richardson from time to time, and the 
 acquaintance ripened into strong friendship. He soon showed 
 how much wiser he was than I by leaving the role of schoolmaster 
 and turning into the channels of business, while I kept on in the 
 schoolroom. But he was a teacher, and a skillful teacher, all his 
 life. . . . 
 
 His connection with the Congregationalist was a divine prov- 
 idence. He possessed traits of mind and heart, inclinations, and 
 predilections which brought to him unusual success in the great 
 variety of duties which came to him in editing such a paper. 
 These qualities, on the other hand, were such as to make those 
 duties particularly agreeable to him. 
 
 1. First and foremost he was a Christian, and his life's de- 
 sire was to serve the Lord and do good in the world. As editor 
 of a great denominational paper he found an ample field. 
 
 2. He was a Congregational Puritan, 
 
 3. He was an intelligent, scholarly man. 
 
 4. He had great industry. He was an indefatigable worker. 
 
 5. He was patient and persevering. His evenness and 
 steadiness of character, his persistent purpose and constant good 
 judgment, both of men and subjects, knew no bounds. 
 
 It is of these latter qualities that I wish specially to speak : 
 
 He was ah excellent judge of persons. Kindly and confiding, 
 
 he won friends, yet he was a keen critic. He could see through 
 
 gauze and tinsel ; he detected putty and varnish ; but with apparent 
 
 intuition he recognized worth and talent. All his life he was 
 
l86 LIVING VVriNESSES. 
 
 constantly discovering and bringing to notice young authors of 
 character and ability. His judgment of articles for his paper was 
 excellent, and he knew how to reject an article without needlessly 
 giving offense. 
 
 He was methodical, and had great power as an organizer. I 
 think it was as managing editor of the paper that he most dis- 
 tinguished himself. A great paper like the Cotigregationalist re- 
 quires skill, care, and steady purpose in planning its various de- 
 partments and keeping them all properly filled with the right 
 material. This necessitates a wide acquaintance, good judgment 
 of character and ability, and constant care in soliciting the best 
 material from proper sources. No one who has not had expe- 
 rience in this line can know how difficult it is to win success in 
 the face of the obstacles and discouraging circumstances which 
 constantly beset one. 
 
 He was a good observer of the signs of the times, and a good 
 judge of events before they transpired. He could shape public 
 opinion and prepare the public mind for results when they came. 
 
 But after all, it was the religious side of his character that was 
 the most noticeable and the most conspicuous. He was not only 
 a conscientious Christian, but he was a conspicuous Christian. 
 His light was always shining, and it was always lighting some- 
 body. He was a man who not only felt it his duty to do good, 
 but who enjoyed doing good. If there is a doctrine of total de- 
 pravity, there is also a doctrine of the triumph of grace over 
 human nature. It was to him a delight to aid in upbuilding and 
 strengthening the local church of which he was a member, in 
 broadening and enlarging the boundaries of our denomination, 
 or in encouraging some general movement for the amelioration 
 of the evils to which our common humanity is subject. He de- 
 lighted in furnishing an accurate and readable report — difficult 
 and wearisome as such a task always was — of a meeting of the 
 American Board, the American Missionary Association, or the 
 American Home Missionary Society. 
 
 Moreover, whatever he did was done well. He had the some- 
 what rare quality of succeeding in whatever he undertook, in spite 
 of obstacles. 
 
 Multitudes mourned his death, and his loss was severely felt, 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. 187 
 
 not only by his family and immediate friends, but by the church 
 he had served so long, the general moral and religious move- 
 ments in Boston and vicinity, the great benevolent societies of 
 our denomination, to all of which he was specially devoted, and 
 by the great multitude of Congregationalists who had so intimately 
 made and cultivated his acquaintance through the weekly visits of 
 the paper with which he was for so many years so closely identified. 
 
 (Prof.) William A. Mowry. 
 
 Salet/i, Mass., December 10, i8g2. 
 
 Brooklyn, July 20, 1S92. 
 
 It was impossible to be associated with Mr. Richardson with- 
 out being impressed with his generous unselfishness. It is seldom 
 that such keenness of perception and of judgment are found in 
 conjunction with so kind a heart. Although a comparative stranger 
 to Mr. Richardson, I, in common with scores of others, was sur- 
 prised to find that he was sincerely interested in my work and had 
 taken pains to remember it. "As you remarked in that article 
 about So-and-so," he would say, with that delicate flattery which 
 is the most gratifying to a writer, because most sincere and most 
 unusual. Among all the graduates of the Westfield Normal School 
 there was none who stood higher; and although the position of 
 president of its body of alumni was an irksome one, Mr. Richard- 
 son accepted it in his own unselfish way, and discharged the duties 
 of his office in the faithful and thorough manner in which he did 
 everything. His courtesy under every annoyance was a revelation 
 to all those who saw it. It was this which so endeared him to all 
 those with whom he was thrown. And he was not merely cour- 
 teous. Many a cold-hearted and calculating man is punctiliously 
 courteous. Mr. Richardson was courteous with a certain affec- 
 tionate and personal interest which no amount of intention can 
 compass without the accompaniment of a truly loving spirit. He 
 cared what the rest of us were doing. If we did well he was as 
 pleased as though he himself had accomplished something. If 
 we did ill he was truly sorry. There was no drop of malice or 
 of guile in his disposition. 
 
 It seems to me that this was his predominating characteristic 
 — his interest in the work of others, his joy in their prosperity. 
 
I05 LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 his sorrow when they failed. Every on§ recognizes the nobility 
 of such a nature. It appeals to the most cynical. We are all of 
 us fond of him who shows that he regards us and appreciates our 
 good qualities. Thus our adm. ration and our affection are alike 
 enlisted for such a man as Mr. Richardson, and it is no wonder 
 that when he died all those who had been associated with him, 
 while feeling deeply in an intellectual sense their loss of his 
 shrewd discrimination and accurate judgment, grieved most amid 
 their falling tears for the kind and loving friend, who received the 
 slightest tale of another's experience as something in which he 
 was personally concerned, and whose disinterested advice and 
 counsel were at the command of his whole circle of companions. 
 
 Kate Upson Clark. 
 
 Cambridge, February ii, 1893. 
 
 It gives me pleasure to bear my tribute to Mr. Richardson's 
 worth. I knew him as a neighbor, as a fellow attendant at the 
 same church, as a member of the school board of Chelsea under 
 which I served, and as the managing editor of the Congrega- 
 tionalist seeking occasional contributions from my pen. This 
 acquaintance extended over a period of twenty years. 
 
 Mr. Richardson always impressed me as a clear-headed, cool, 
 dispassionate man, who could see both sides of a question and act 
 judicially upon it. He was not a man to be carried by storm 
 either for or against a measure, but would always act in accord- 
 ance with his judgment rather than in response to his feelings. 
 
 In the numerous questions that kept coming up about the 
 public schools his decisions were occasionally adverse to my 
 wishes and to what I conceived to be the best policy ; but I al- 
 ways felt that in such cases there was a sincere desire and an 
 earnest purpose to be just to all interests ; and the sequel not un- 
 frequently showed that his decisions were the result of a broader 
 survey of the conditions than my obligations to a single school 
 would permit me to make. Never, by any stretch of interpreta- 
 tion, could his votes in the school board be regarded as indica- 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. 1S9 
 
 ting any lack of sympathy or appreciation with the teachers. Fie 
 was himself once a teacher, and so was specially fitted to view 
 school problems from the teacher's standpoint, as he was also 
 specially fitted by his successful business life to view the same 
 problems from the standpoint of the great public that was strug- 
 gling to solve them, and scores of other problems at the same 
 time. 
 
 Though not given, as I knew him, to obtrusive or over- zeal- 
 ous expressions of friendship, Mr. Richardson was a friend of 
 the quiet, strong, and enduring kind — just the one to remind us 
 of the familiar thought that " Still waters run deep." I feel espe- 
 cially indebted to him for his services in " drawing me out " and 
 starting me along other lines than those of school routine. I 
 think it was he more than any other that worked me into the 
 lecture courses of the Chestnut Street Church in Chelsea, to see, I 
 suppose, whether I was destined to sink or to swim. Subsequently 
 he tolled me into one of the Boston lecture bureaus as one who 
 showed something of promise for a wider field — an experience 
 that proved of great value to myself, whatever it may have proved 
 to my audiences. Then he gave me, from time to time, topics to 
 prepare for the Congregationalist, short, readable articles in a pop- 
 ular vein, on scientific themes not so abstruse as to repel — this 
 was one of his ideals. What was judiciously written for young 
 people would appeal, he believed, to mature people and old peo- 
 ple, and so he was pleased to have me address myself, with others 
 whom he asked, to " young people of all ages." 
 
 His words of appreciation were always encouraging and stim- 
 ulating — "Just the thing," "We are always glad to hear from 
 you," " Send us another of the same kind " — words that in writ- 
 ing were all aglow with heartiness and warmth. He was not so 
 prone to give commendation orally, but when he did so it was 
 given in that calm, unemphatic way that made one who did not 
 know him question seriously whether any special commendation 
 was intended at all. To get at the genuine meaning of much that 
 is said to us by way of approval we have to subtract something. 
 Those who knew Mr. Richardson and who received an approving 
 word from him learned in time to add something. In other words, 
 his opinions were at a premium among those that knew him thor- 
 oughly, and not at a discount. 
 
igo LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 I recall an interesting fact that showed one phase of his spirit 
 to deal justly, if not generously, with people who served him. On 
 one occasion I sent him a popular article on some theme in astron- 
 omy. He sent me in payment the usual check, which was wholly 
 satisfactory, and a word of appreciation, which was more than sat- 
 isfactory. The article had the place of honor as the opening one 
 on the first page. A little later he sent me another check for the 
 same article, substantially doubling the payment, with the pleas- 
 ant remark that, on re-reading it, he felt it was worth more, and 
 that it gratified him to send more. I presume I was but one of 
 many to whom the same kindly thought was given. 
 
 And so, without forming anything like a close and desperate 
 friendship with him — for his was not the temperament to draw out 
 affection of the effusive and demonstrative kind from those who 
 saw only his outer life — I felt when he was finally summoned 
 home that 1 had lost a friend of the true and enduring type — a 
 friend whose worth, like that of a strong and genuine poem, 
 gathers force as the years roll on and relegates to forgetfulness 
 all that is weak and false and transient. 
 
 What a pity it is that some share of the eulogies that are given 
 the worthy dead does not fall to them while living! Perhaps, 
 though, the truer thought is that the honorable positions and 
 duties the world assigns a capable and upright man are in them- 
 selves a long-continued eulogy. Whatever our views on this 
 theme, there is room for our faith that in the realms beyond 
 our knowledge the final awards of praise kindle and warm the 
 departed friend as they do those that mourn his going. 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Frank A. Hill, 
 
 Principal High School. 
 
 Milwaukee, January, 1891. 
 Among the many who desire to lay their tributes of gratitude 
 and regard upon the so lately vacated desk in the office of the 
 Congregationalist is there space for the word which my heart 
 prompts me to bring? The message of Mr. Richardson's depar- 
 ture has come so suddenly, without warning, that we cannot yet 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. I9I 
 
 make him dead ; but, as is often our experience, his going has 
 emphasized the regard in which we held him — the hold which 
 his type of Christian character had upon us. We realize anew 
 that in "the last analysis" simple, unpretentious uprightness, 
 every-day adherence to the principles of righteous living, and 
 loyalty to the believed will of God will crown a man right royally 
 and leave all who knew him mourners that the world must be the 
 poorer for his going. I wish to bear witness to the consideration 
 and kindness which he has always shown me since the far-away 
 day, nearly thirty-five years ago, when with fear and trembling in 
 my girl heart I sent my first verses to the Congregationalist, to this 
 present year of grace when, the halfway hilltop passed, my face 
 is set toward the sunset. 
 
 ' It is delightful to remember the unvarying courtesy, real 
 
 kindly interest, the candor, the sincere friendship of the true 
 Christian gentleman, which I have always received at his hands. 
 Of his even balance of character, his life, the loss to church and 
 editorial staff, irreparable bereavement which his heaven-going 
 has left in his earthly home, other pens than mine will write, 
 other tongues speak. I come only to bring my single pansy of 
 grateful thought and remembrance concerning the friend of so 
 many years, whose absence to our mortal vision means not real 
 loss but, instead, divine enlargement of capacity to his wider serv- 
 ice, even an heavenly ! 
 
 Rebecca Perley Reed. 
 
 Andover, January 19, 1891. 
 We were shocked and deeply grieved to see in our paper this 
 morning the death of your husband. It seems now as if he had 
 been my lifelong friend, for one of the first things I ever wrote 
 he accepted and told me he liked. I did not see much of him, 
 but always felt as if the day was brighter, better worth living, if 
 we accidentally met. I had, a short time ago, a pleasant note in 
 regard to a sketch whose environment is the neighborhood of the 
 Mammoth Cave. In the brief note he alluded to your being 
 there with him two years since and to your mutual churchgoing. 
 I thought it such a cordial, pleasant word that I told Mr. Downs 
 
ig2 LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 it was as welcome as a Christmas gift. He leaves behind mem- 
 ories delightful, honorable, and never-failing. By and by you may 
 feel it was better, too, that he went thus suddenly and knew no 
 decay of mind, no feebleness of body. 
 
 Annie Sawyer Downs. 
 
 GoRHAM, Maine, July 19, 1891. 
 " Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." 
 How often have I thought of this in connection with Mr. Richard- 
 son. He had no special preparation to make ; he was all ready. 
 His work was so faithfully done, so perfectly done, so superbly 
 done ! The Congregatiofialist has been for years a paper of phe- 
 nomenal influence, and Mr. Richardson was the power. There was 
 able assistance, of course, but he had the backbone and soul of it ; 
 he more than any other made it what it was, and I miss him in 
 it all through. Of course he will live in it a long time, but his 
 molding hand I miss painfully. Very sad it was, too, to call 
 at the office and not see him there. I am grateful, however, for 
 such a life and for such a friend, and I rejoice in his achieve- 
 ment. Such lives are a revelation direct from heaven, and they 
 reveal heaven. Bible characters interest us intensely, but there 
 is a special vividness and reality in the lives of those whom we 
 know who have a grand, divine mission. 
 
 E. B. Emery. 
 
 Boston, January 19, 189 1. 
 I was very much shocked this morning on reading the an- 
 nouncement of Mr. Richardson's death in the Journal. I per- 
 sonally, with my family, feel a loss in this event. We felt very 
 much as though Mr. Richardson had been a personal friend. I 
 shall never forget one act of friendship of his that was done 
 without ostentation and yet was so great a help to me that it set 
 me upon my feet. I have never forgotten to be reminded of it 
 or to tell others, when occasion arose for me to do so, of the kind- 
 ness which impressed itself upon my life. I know his life was full 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 193 
 
 of just such good deeds as that, and it is not always the case that 
 we find a man fitted to live and fitted to die also. I think he will 
 have a royal welcome over on the other side. 
 
 Nearly two years later came the following from the same : 
 
 This morning as we were talking of the Christmastide I re- 
 membered the great kindness of Mr. Richardson in assisting me 
 at a crisis of my business life many years ago, and I thought it 
 might be appreciated by you if you knew we had not forgotten it. 
 
 I remember at one time at your house in Chelsea speaking of 
 the service rendered, and you made the remark that if I would do 
 the same to others it would be reward enough for yourselves. 
 
 I have found that the inspiration of my life, and many is the 
 young man I've helped financially. Some have been unworthy, 
 and others have been worthy. This year I have so assisted two 
 young men, who give promise of success. And just this Christmas 
 week I have been the salvation of a business man who, with his 
 family, has suffered poverty and would have been financially ship- 
 wrecked in two days more but for the timely aid of a few hun- 
 dred dollars. This may be lost, or it may make a difference of a 
 quarter of a million dollars to him. It has been a case of perse- 
 cution, but with the blessing of God he will now get his just dues. 
 
 This may cause your heart to bleed again for the loved one, 
 but let me say he needs no monument. May the Lord make me 
 as good as he was. f. 
 
 Chelsea, January 18, iSgi. 
 I was surprised, amazed, bewildered, when I heard today of 
 the death of your loved and honored husband. It does seem 
 strange to our poor mortal reason that one so active in the 
 Master's service, so essential to the happiness, the comfort, the 
 very existence of others, so useful to society, so, it seems to us, 
 necessary to the development, the improvement, the best good 
 of mankind, that he should be taken away from serving God 
 here to rule and reign with him there. No one knew the value 
 of the Bible and the God of the Bible better than Mr, Richardson. 
 No one appreciated the power and worth of the gospel more than 
 he did. 
 
 S. W. Mason. 
 
194 LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 Chelsea, April 15, 1891. 
 Your sorrow is shared by us, to whom a great affliction has 
 also come. I feel at times almost like stepping out of the activ- 
 ities of our church life, the feeling of loneliness is so depressing ; 
 yet I know the work must go on though the workers fall while in 
 the midst of usefulness. 
 
 W. J. W. Stickney. 
 
 Franklin, February 3, 1891. 
 Charles has always showed such a kind interest in all our in- 
 terests that he has seemed like a brother beloved. From the days 
 of earliest childhood we have known and loved him, and he was 
 my husband's confidential friend ever after his own dear mother 
 was taken from him. No one ever seemed to me fuller of the 
 spirit and temper of Christ and showed it so plainly to every one 
 he met as he did. His very face expressed it in every line, and 
 I have several times during the last summer remarked to my 
 family at home how these words would come to my mind when 
 we sat near him in the Bible class or church, " Mark the perfect 
 man and behold the upright," as though God were saying to us, 
 " 'Tis safe to trust him, to love him, to follow his example ; he has 
 my work, my spirit." Especially I remember his look of peace 
 while sitting by the side of his mother at that communion service 
 in the old home. It is a tender love that withholds from her the 
 knowledge that he is already with the Saviour, waiting to welcome 
 her there. 
 
 A. M. Baker. 
 
 Brooklyn, January 20, 1891. 
 My father and mother have welcomed their friend of many 
 years. There has been no severing of an earthly tie that has 
 seemed to mean so much to me since my father's going as the 
 one of this, the friend so closely united to my dearest memories. 
 Mr. Richardson's life has been, and will always be, a benediction 
 to me. . . . 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 195 
 
 I wish so much that I had ever said to him what I can so 
 truly say of my deepest appreciation of him as the friend of my 
 father and mother and as my friend. Our very occasional meet- 
 ings gave chance for little more than surface subjects ; but I wish 
 I had had the satisfaction of telling him how I valued his cordial 
 handshake last summer when I saw him at Bridgewater, where I 
 chanced to be with friends at the normal reunion. As he shook 
 my hand his "Why, Ella, Mr. Bryant and I were just talking of 
 you," made me feel a glow of pride that he was my friend. What 
 he was to my father no one living knows now as I do. His 
 genial, cordial, brotherly love was one of my father's chief satis- 
 factions, and his firm belief in his integrity made father accept 
 from him suggestions and criticism in the kind spirit in which it 
 was meant on any point where their views were not alike. The 
 strength and comfort of sympathy from you both has meant much 
 to us in our frequent times of sickness and parting. So often the 
 last three weeks has come to me the picture of heaven, the picture 
 I have formed of real people and real interests, and the thought 
 of how truly he, as one of the kings among men, has carried his 
 glory and honor there and is walking in the perfect light of per- 
 fect love. Surely we are blessed in the assurance that for those 
 we have so loved, for those we love just as dearly now, there has 
 been an abundant entrance. 
 
 Ella C. Hutchins. 
 
 January 21, 1891. 
 How was my heart saddened some two hours ago at dinner 
 time when my daughter put into my hand a marked copy of the 
 Traveller containing the surprising intelligence of the death of 
 my very dear, dear friend Richardson. Having a few leisure 
 moments just at this time I embrace them to write you a few lines, 
 that I may be in sympathy with you at this hour while you are 
 paying the last tributes of respect to that noble dead. For who 
 nobler ? I need not remind you what you have lost. Friend 
 Richardson was no common man, of whom no one knew better 
 his true qualities and worth than yourself ; that Christian charac- 
 ter standing out more prominent than anything else. Forty-one 
 
196 LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 years ago, within a few months, since I first made his acquaint- 
 ance • as then, so has he ever displayed that same marked Chris- 
 tian character and upright manliness at all our greetings in this 
 long interval of time. I have always felt that I have never had 
 a truer friend than in him. And I have often heard of kind words 
 said to my friends of the true regard he had for me, and I have 
 had still further proofs by his many acts of kindness bestowed and 
 generous deeds done. Though not possessing his deep religious 
 character, I feel that I owe much to him for the religious convic- 
 tions I have inspired by his example and religious correspondence 
 and personal interviews. And O, how I shall miss him ! Not- 
 withstanding circumstances have placed us in different spheres of 
 life for years past, and our correspondence and meetings have been 
 less frequent than in former years, yet when we met or exchanged 
 letters the same spirit prevailed, and I always felt the better for 
 these meetings or letters, yea, more of a man. How my memory 
 goes back to our exchange of visits in the earlier years of our ac- 
 quaintance ! How many pleasant gatherings and meetings crowd 
 upon my memory — the pleasantest of my life — and I shall ever 
 call them to mind with the greatest pleasure, though with a heart 
 full of sorrow that I shall meet with him no more. My last inter- 
 view with him was at Westfiekl at the gathering of the alumni; 
 but for his generosity I should not have been there. It followed 
 so soon after my dear boy's death, after the long sickness and 
 heavy expenses incurred, I wrote to him that circumstances were 
 such I should have to deny myself the pleasure. He replied by 
 asking if I was so situated that I could get away, and if so he would 
 take care of the circumstances. It seems to me I was never more 
 impressed with his goodness than at that time. He reviewed old 
 times and associations, and cheered me wonderfully. Imagine my 
 surprise on the day you left when he put into my hands a dol- 
 lar bill, and though I informed him it was much more than my 
 expenses he insisted upon my taking it. What a friend! When 
 I think of this kind act, together with others he has rendered me, 
 I have said he was a friend indeed and in need. But I forbear 
 saying more of his kindness toward me, for in the fullness of my 
 heart there is a welling up that causes the eye to moisten and 
 prevents the pen from doing its bidding. I must not forget to 
 
LIVING WITNESSES. I97 
 
 mention his last crowning act. For years he has sent me the 
 CongregaiionaHst, which I have so much prized, and only week 
 before last, I think it was, on looking upon the wrapper I found 
 he had put me on the list for another year. 
 
 A. 
 
 Woodford's, Maine, January, 1893. 
 
 In recalling happy visits in your home there are memories 
 upon which some of Mr. Richardson's characteristics are indel- 
 ibly marked — his unfailing hospitality, his uniform kindness to 
 every one beneath his roof, his interest in all that interested 
 others, even while burdened with his own heavy cares. I recall 
 vividly his " Good morning " to us all when leaving for the office, 
 his tender parting with his aged mother, his last word with you at 
 the door, and, as he stepped into the car, the bright, backward 
 glance toward the home he loved so well ; the "Good evening" 
 when he returned weary and worn with the day's perplexities, the 
 half hour he would give us in the evening, leaving the library to 
 share with us all bits of important news or pleasant gossip, pres- 
 ently slipping back to his work in the quiet way so peculiar to him. 
 I recall the Sunday evening prayers between the daylight and the 
 dark ; the petitions had a more personal and more tender tone 
 than on week days ; from the aged and feeble mother by his side to 
 the "child" then over the sea no needy or loved one was forgotten. 
 
 I shall never forget his friendly cordiality when my nephew 
 and I tarried for a night at your pleasant " Bellevue " home on 
 our way to the little parish on the coast of Maine where the young 
 student was going with trembling heart to do his first gospel work, 
 his words of encouragement given out of the experience of years 
 of Christian living, and especially his prayer for our journey and 
 our work. He seemed to realize every need and hope of the 
 young worker and the grace of God, which alone could carry 
 him through with acceptance. " That perfect prayer " the young 
 man called it afterward, and I know the memory of it was com- 
 fort and inspiration. Indeed, in the later years with you I some- 
 times thought Mr. Richardson more himself, more truly at home, 
 in his prayer than anywhere else. In the weekly church meeting 
 
198 LIVING WITNESSES. 
 
 his face seemed to shine, and such a soft look came into it at times 
 that had he been called suddenly away the only change must have 
 been from prayer here to praise there ! 
 
 A. B. c. K. 
 
 Chelsea, February 18, 1892. 
 When I think, as I so often do, how beautiful and strong was 
 the affection that you and your husband had for each other, I feel 
 that I can realize a little how great your loneliness and your long- 
 ing, and my heart aches for you. I love to think of the life that 
 you two lived together. How sweet the memory of it must be to 
 you ! 
 
 H. M. G. 
 
TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 
 
TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 
 
 It gives me much satisfaction to be able to write you that the 
 newspapers of Boston and vicinity were unanimous in their verdict 
 that your grandpapa was a rarely influential force in religious jour- 
 nalism. The few excerpts I send will show you their estimate of 
 him and his work. 
 
 Grandmamma. 
 
 [Editorial in the Co7igregatio7ialist.'\ 
 
 The announcement of the death of Mr. Richardson, the man- 
 aging editor of this paper, will be tidings of sincere sorrow to many 
 who from personal relations have known and loved him. But 
 multitudes who have never seen his face owe him a debt of grat- 
 itude greater than they know. We strive to write dispassionately, 
 and to restrain the expression of emotion in the sudden and great 
 grief which has fallen on us. Yet we cannot repress the thought 
 that this good man's life and labor have ministered with quiet con- 
 scientious purpose, and without desire for fame, to many thousands 
 of readers for many years ; to men and women and children whose 
 lives he has made happier and better by the messages that have 
 come to them through his hands; to the churches whose interests 
 were ever dear to his heart ; and to the kingdom of God in which, 
 though not set apart by formal ordination, he was a faithful min- 
 ister of Christ. O brothers, sisters, let his work grow and extend 
 through lives quickened and hallowed by his noble, though often 
 unthought of, service. 
 
 [Editorial in the Congregationalist.'\ 
 CHARLES ADDISON RICHARDSON. 
 
 Within hardly more than two months from the time of Dr. 
 Dexter's death, and with the sorrow connected therewith still 
 fresh and poignant, the Congregationalist is called upon to part 
 
202 TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 
 
 with one who has been equally identified with its past and no less 
 instrumental in making this journal what it is today. Charles A. 
 Richardson, the managing editor for thirty-five years, died last 
 Sunday, after an illness of less than four days, at the Hotel Belle- 
 vue in this city, where he had boarded with his family the past 
 two winters. For the previous fortnight his health had hardly 
 been up to its usual level, but he had fulfilled his customary 
 duties, and as late as Wednesday forenoon was at his desk. That 
 afternoon he was seized with a sharp illness, which developed 
 rapidly into peritonitis accompanied with pneumonia. Toward 
 the last heart failure supervened, and at half-past two on Sunday 
 morning he passed into the other life. 
 
 Mr. Richardson came of sturdy New England stock. His 
 native place was Franklin, in this State, where his mother is now 
 living at the advanced age of nearly ninety-six. He also leaves 
 a wife; one married daughter, Mrs. W. F. Ray, of Franklin; and 
 a younger daughter, Miss Alice ; besides five grandchildren. He 
 was born October 9, 1829, and his early years were spent on a 
 farm, where he was a hard-working lad, anxious for an education, 
 and picking up what little learning he could obtain in the local 
 schools and academies. His meager resources and ill health 
 induced by too severe study together forbade the realization of 
 the longings which he ardently cherished for a collegiate educa- 
 tion and for a ministerial career; but by dint of his economy and 
 his persistency he managed to attend the State Normal Schools 
 in Westfield and Bridgewater. He then taught school for several 
 years, and earned high praise for his success in this vocation in 
 Medway, Franklin, Montague, Everett, and Dedham. The years 
 1854-55 found him clerk in the then famous bookstore of John 
 P. Jewett & Co. in this city. 
 
 In January of the year 1856 Mr. Richardson acquired an 
 interest in the Congregationalist, and his personal history in the 
 thirty-five years since that date is intertwined with the history of 
 this journal. Its growth in circulation, its enlargement, and its 
 improvement in every direction, the grafting on of new depart- 
 ments, its steady progress toward the ideals of excellence — these 
 things are due in great measure to his far-sightedness and invent- 
 ive genius. Starting in as a proprietor and managing editor, Mr. 
 
TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 203 
 
 Richardson threw the whole strength of his vigorous young man- 
 hood into its advancement, cooperating with Mr. W, L. Greene 
 — now in California — in the business department, while at the 
 same time performing the duties of office editor, Dr. Dexter un- 
 dertaking the general editorship in connection with his pastorale. 
 As the force of workers was increased Mr. Richardson concen- 
 trated his efforts more exclusively upon his particular department, 
 yet it may be truly said that the influence of his personality con- 
 tinued to be felt in every fiber of the paper's life. His special 
 work was to make up the paper week by week, deciding when 
 and where every article should find its place ; to pass judgment 
 upon communications; to project new features; and, in short, to 
 attend to all the multiform details connected with the editorial 
 management of a great journal. With it all he wrote a great 
 deal, and through the Civil War prepared a weekly summary of 
 its progress, which was so ably and discriminatingly done that it 
 reflected great credit upon the paper. Perhaps the fact that his 
 brother, A. D. Richardson, the well-known war correspondent of 
 the New York Tribune, was at the front all through the strife led 
 him to follow the windings of the conflict with peculiar interest. 
 
 Mr. Richardson's general journalistic ability was of the first 
 order. He possessed in a remarkable degree both that instinct 
 for news and that sense of proportion in setting it forth which 
 characterize the born editor. Grasping easily matters in their 
 detail, he never became so immersed in relatively trivial and sub- 
 ordinate affairs as to lose sight of the great movements of our 
 time. The qualities which he strove to cultivate in others, and 
 which he exemplified in his own style, were accuracy, clearness, 
 and condensation. His eye was quick to detect mistakes, and he 
 was facile in applying remedies. The careful oversight which he 
 gave to every column of the paper before it went to the printer 
 accrued to the interest of the reader as respects both the external 
 appearance of the sheet and the arrangement of its contents. 
 The average reader, who thinks that papers put themselves to- 
 gether, may hardly appreciate the need of such painstaking care, 
 but its absence would be speedily perceptible. He had the rare 
 gift of discerning what the religious public want to know, and 
 of distinguishing between temporary excitements and permanent 
 undercurrents of religious movements. 
 
204 TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 
 
 Mr. Richardson pursued religious journalism as his one voca- 
 tion, and intermitted his editorial labors only when his health 
 required a change. He made two trips to Europe and two to 
 California, and these, as well as less extended journeys, were not 
 for the sake of recreation purely, but to broaden his range of 
 observation and to store his mind with knowledge wherewith he 
 might better serve the paper. 
 
 This single-minded devotion to his work necessarily circum- 
 scribed the field of his activities. Had he allowed himself to be 
 pressed into service in various directions he would have held 
 many responsible positions, since his judgment and business sa- 
 gacity were greatly prized. He always had a keen sense of the 
 sacredness of his church duties. The scene of the greater part 
 of his labors of this sort has been the First Church in Chelsea, 
 of which he remained a member till his death, though he sold his 
 residence in that city last April. In previous years he has held 
 there the offices of superintendent of the Sunday school and 
 deacon. He has been for many years one of the directors of the 
 American Congregational Association, which controls the Congre- 
 gational House property, and he was a director of the Congrega- 
 tional Sunday-School and Publishing Society. The presidency of 
 the Westfield Normal School Alumni and a vice-presidency of the 
 Boston Congregational Club were other public offices he has held. 
 He was moderator of the State Association at New Bedford in 
 1885. He received from Dartmouth the honorary degree of 
 Master of Arts. 
 
 Mr. Richardson's sterling character, his keen sense of honor, 
 his remarkable conscientiousness, his scrupulous endeavor to be 
 perfectly just and fair, his deep spirituality, left their impression 
 upon all who touched him closely. No Puritan ever cherished 
 higher ideals of conduct. He, like Mary Lyon, could truthfully 
 say, "There is nothing in the universe that I fear but that I shall 
 not know my whole duty, or shall fail to do it," Strong and posi- 
 tive in his beliefs, he was not inhospitable to new ideas and he 
 did not walk with his face toward the past. Marvelously patient 
 and considerate amid the countless interruptions and irritations 
 incident to a busy newspaper office, and serene and trustful amid 
 the greater complications which thirty-five years' experience in 
 
TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 205 
 
 journalism could not fail to bring, Mr. Richardson succeeded 
 better than many men in putting the spirit of his Master into the 
 warp and woof of his daily life. He found his place in the world ; 
 he filled it well. He has finished the work which the Father 
 gave him to do. 
 
 The personal relations between the group of workers in the 
 Congregatiotialist office are too intimate and sacred to be touched 
 upon here. Two such men as Dr. Dexter and Mr. Richardson 
 cannot go out of the circle without being missed and mourned. 
 Yet it is well known that, in anticipation of the chances and 
 changes of this mortal life, they had some time ago called to 
 their assistance men whom they deemed worthy and competent 
 to carry on their work — men in whose loyalty to Christ and to 
 the things for which this paper has stood they had implicit confi- 
 dence — men whom they themselves have trained into perfect 
 familiarity with their own methods and purposes. This sacred 
 trust, devolved in the providence of God upon their successors, 
 is accepted humbly yet hopefully. They to whom it is given cher- 
 ish no stronger desire than that they may do their work, in their 
 day, with the fidelity and consecration which shone out in the 
 lives of Henry M. Dexter and Charles A. Richardson. 
 
 [Editorial in the Congregationalist.\ 
 
 Every mail brings to this office letters of condolence and 
 kindly remembrance of the late managing editor, Mr. C. A. Rich- 
 ardson. A large number of those who have corresponded with 
 him in furnishing articles or news of the churches refer to the 
 warm friendship which has grown up with him in this interchange 
 of thoughts, and to their high estimate of the value of his coun- 
 sels and of his Christian faith. He enjoyed the confidence and 
 lived in the affections of a noble company of those who have 
 done much to make the world happier and better, though many 
 of them have never seen his face. No worthier tribute could be 
 desired to the memory of a good and useful life. We make this 
 public acknowledgment because it is not possible for us to reply 
 by letter to each one of those who have written us, whose sympa- 
 thy and encouragement are most welcome and highly prized. 
 
2o6 TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 
 
 [From the Coiigregationalist."^ 
 FUNERAL OF MR. RICHARDSON. 
 
 Very tender and impressive was the simple family service 
 held in Boston, Tuesday afternoon, January 20, at Hotel Bellevue, 
 by the bedside of Mrs. Richardson, who has been prostrated by 
 illness since last Christmas. Dr, Dunning read the Scriptures, 
 and Dr. Plumb, the faithful pastor who had ministered to them 
 in their early married life when four little ones were removed by 
 death, offered prayer. 
 
 The public exercises were at the First Church in Chelsea, 
 with which Mr. Richardson had been connected nearly thirty-five 
 years. Its membership was very largely represented in the au- 
 dience, which filled the body of the house. The delegation from 
 the Congregational House included all his associates on the 
 Congregationalist, officers of the American Board, of the Home 
 Missionary and Publishing Societies, and representatives of the 
 American Congregational Association. There were also present 
 scores of individuals occupying high positions in religious, liter- 
 ary, and business circles. A striking group was the row of office 
 boys, conducted by " Mr. Martin," occupying seats directly behind 
 the family pew. This was closed and beautifully decorated by 
 friends in the church and Sabbath school with smilax and exqui- 
 site lilies. Flowers of the same kinds were tastefully arranged 
 about the pulpit, but near the casket was placed nothing except 
 graceful, towering palms ; on its outside lay two crossed branches 
 of that symbolic tree. Those who stood in closest relation to Mr. 
 Richardson appreciated the significance of this emblem, knowing 
 full well that his quiet life was a constant victory over self and 
 over circumstances. The pallbearers were his lifelong friends, 
 Thomas Todd, J. J. Underbill, C. M. Whittlesey, J. W. Stickney, 
 C. A. Phelps, and one of the editors of the paper, Rev. H. A. 
 Bridgman. 
 
 After an invocation and reading of the Scriptures by Rev. 
 G. E. Lovejoy, of Franklin, whose parishioner he was during his 
 summer residence in that his native place and his frequent visits 
 there, brief addresses were made by Drs. Dunning, Plumb, and 
 Quint. They spoke respectively of Mr. Richardson in his public 
 
TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 207 
 
 work as a journalist, of his church and family life, and of his 
 characteristics as a personal friend. In each of these spheres it 
 was shown how a love of righteousness was his dominant trait. 
 Everywhere and under all circumstances, no matter how difficult, 
 the absolutely right course of action was the only one for him to 
 pursue. This firmness gave a touch of severity to his character, 
 but it made him invaluable as an office bearer in the church and 
 Sunday school, as a personal adviser, and especially as the man- 
 ager of a great religious newspaper. It was inevitable that this 
 unswerving fidelity to principle should sometimes make enemies, 
 but their misunderstanding of his motives was borne in heroic 
 silence and with almost superhuman patience. The closing prayer 
 was by Rev. Lawrence Phelps, pastor elect of the church. The 
 musical selections were in excellent taste. Mr. Richardson greatly 
 enjoyed congregational singing, and one impressive part of the 
 service was when the audience stood and joined the choir in 
 singing the grand old hymn. 
 
 Servant of God, well done. 
 
 [From tJu Co7igregationaUst.'\ 
 
 It was a sad beginning of the week's secular duties, that 
 Monday morning telegram, " Mr. Richardson died yesterday after 
 three days' illness." More sudden, if possible, and more start- 
 ling it seemed than did the similar dispatch from Mr. Richard- 
 son's own hand scarcely two months before, " Dr. Dexter died 
 this morning." Three or four business notes had come from him 
 within a week — in which, as was his wont, business matters were 
 blessed with the pleasant expression of friendly personal interest 
 — so that it was hardly possible to realize that that busy hand 
 was still, and never another word would it pen either of business 
 or of friendship. 
 
 In all these years of our steady correspondence and confer- 
 ence never has a word fallen from him save in kindness, never 
 an act has shown anything but unselfish considerateness of his 
 friend's welfare. All the week it has seemed as if each morning's 
 mail must bring; one of his ever welcome missives. And with 
 
2o8 TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 
 
 every recurring thought of the paper to which he had given his 
 life so long he has been seen as plainly as ever at his desk, with 
 his hand upon the tube connecting with the composing room, and 
 his face wreathed in his expressive smile of welcome turning 
 toward the comer. 
 
 Well, he has done a great work for the best of causes, and he 
 has done it nobly. He has been faithful to his divine Lord, who 
 put him in trust with the gospel that he should preach it, not 
 from one pulpit to a single audience, but from his high vantage 
 ground to thousands of hearers. He could well afford to die. 
 He had well earned his rest. It is comforting to think of him as 
 at home in the Father's house, joyfully greeted by him he had 
 loved so well, and whose dying hand he had so lately dropped. 
 What a host of choice spirits with whom he had been familiar 
 here will gather around him there ! And what bliss to see the 
 smile and hear the voice of his Beloved : " Well done ; enter into 
 my joy, and sit down on my throne ! " " Precious in the sight of 
 the Lord is the death of his saints." His time is the best time. 
 Farewell, faithful friend, until we meet again ! 
 
 Huntington. 
 
 Jaiuiary 2J. 
 
 YFroiit the Congregaiionalist.] 
 
 To those who knew the man no sadder tidings have come 
 for many a day than those which announced the death of Mr. 
 C. A. Richardson, managing editor of this paper. So soon, too, 
 after the departure of the honored and lamented Dexter ! How 
 admirably they wrought together ! as brothers supplementing each 
 other and making a paper whose influence is felt wherever Con- 
 gregationalists are found. Associated for a generation in the 
 work of their lives, will it not add to their joy to enter so nearly 
 at the same time upon the service which the Master has prepared 
 for them above ? Who that ever met Mr. Richardson, or enjoyed 
 his hospitality, or was connected with him in any way in the 
 work of his life, can help feeling that the world has lost one of its 
 attractions for him in the death of this gifted journalist? What 
 a genius he had for work ! How untiring his industry ! How 
 painstaking he was ! What multitudes of letters he wrote, and 
 
TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 
 
 209 
 
 in them all kind, appreciative words, of which the memory is like 
 sweet perfume, and yet introduced so naturally that they seemed 
 to be the words one expected to read ! Now that his life is over 
 for this world we can see how noble it was, how rich in good 
 deeds, how magnificent in the aggregate of its accomplishments. 
 To have known such a man, to have been associated with him 
 however slightly, is to have had a privilege which no words of a 
 sorrowing heart can adequately express. 
 
 Chicago, January 2^. 
 
 Franklin. 
 
 {From the Coiigregatio7ialist.'\ 
 A BUSINESS man's TRIBUTE. 
 
 It does not seem to be possible that Mr. Richardson has 
 gone home so soon ! On Monday we sat together in our Sunday- 
 School Missionary Committee, he appearing in full health and 
 vigor and taking an important part in the discussion of a matter 
 in which he was especially interested, and on Sunday he is in 
 heaven ! As dear friends pass over so suddenly and so repeatedly, 
 how near heaven seems to be to earth ! Mr. Richardson was one 
 of the most useful laymen in our Congregational body. He had 
 very rare gifts in some directions: 
 
 1. He had a very dear head. He comprehended a new ques- 
 tion and its relations to other things very quickly, but was care- 
 ful in giving his opinions. It was a habit of his to ask questions 
 and get out all the light possible first. He did not err, as many 
 do, in giving an opinion first and getting the facts afterwards. 
 He heard all there was to be said, and then gave a mature judg- 
 ment which rarely had to be reconsidered. 
 
 2. He had 2. good heart. I have seen much of him in many 
 ways. I have discussed with him questions and men, and yet 
 through all the troublous times through which we have passed I 
 never heard him speak an unkind or an ungenerous word of those 
 with whom he differed. 
 
 3. He was a broad man. He had the happy faculty of looking 
 at things from the standpoint of others. He could put himself 
 in another's place. Many men have no patience with those who 
 
2IO TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 
 
 differ with them, and show their irritation. Not so with Mr. Rich- 
 ardson. He accorded to all the same honest intentions that he 
 claimed for himself. 
 
 4. These qualifications made him eminently a wise adviser^ 
 and caused his opinion to be sought by many. He had a great 
 knowledge of men all over the land, and could measure their 
 value and gauge their ability with great fairness. He never made 
 the mistake, which is so very common, of indorsing men whom he 
 would gladly help unless he could do it with a clear conscience. 
 He had courage with his convictions, and put always the interests 
 of the church above that of the individual. 
 
 Sadly will he be missed in many a little circle and upon 
 many a committee, where he always spoke so kindly, but so ear- 
 nestly and thoughtfully, with regard to the interests of Christ's 
 kingdom here on the earth. The Master surely has large service 
 yet for him in another world, where to rest is to work and where 
 work is always rest. 
 
 Samuel B. Capen. 
 
 \^From the Congregatioiialist.^ 
 ANOTHER. 
 
 I remember a large clump of tall pine trees standing close 
 together in the Southern land. They were stretching upward 
 toward the sunlight. They seemed to be a protection to each 
 other. But when men began to cut some of the outside trees, not 
 a great many, a strange result followed. Every now and then we 
 were startled by the crash of some tree falling by its own weight. 
 Each seemed to have lost the sheltering help of the other, and 
 when the breakage began it was clear that they had been trying to 
 reach the heavenly air and had little root in the earthly soil. 
 
 I wonder if it is so with men. Is it necessary to put every- 
 thing upon the level of statistical averages in insurance tables? 
 No. If my thought is a fancy, it is a kindly fancy. I see to- 
 gether various men who, a few years ago, were variously united. 
 They had similar, and often common, interests — interests which 
 rose above selfish considerations and made them grow up toward 
 heaven. They were not firmly rooted in earthly soil. 
 
TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 211 
 
 The departure of Charles A. Richardson, in this line of de- 
 partures, should have its passing notice. The current of affairs 
 will flow on, the special interests which were in his charge will 
 not fail, but some of us are getting to feel lonesome. We miss 
 familiar faces. The silence of the unheard voices is painful. We 
 are turning toward our children, and living our lives largely 
 over again in them. If the sons can make as true men as 
 some of these who have gone, we shall be happy. If the daugh- 
 ters be as true women as those departing, we shall be satisfied. 
 We believe that, in God's ordering, it will be so. Worthy lives 
 all help toward this end. If I were to point out to a young 
 man an example of what can be effected by singleness of pur- 
 pose, patient continuance in welldoing, and methodical industry, 
 through the course of a life beginning in somewhat adverse cir- 
 cumstances, and closing in high success, both as to conditions 
 and character, I would tell him without a moment's hesitation 
 of our brother who has so suddenly fallen. One of the most 
 helpful, early conditions, however, was beginning in his boyhood 
 that Christian life from which he never swerved, and which, as 
 he realized it, made him honorable and upright. Young men 
 can see in him what a life of honest and well-directed industry, 
 under the government of principle, can secure. He not only 
 succeeded for himself, but, what was more to him, his steady 
 service was an essential constituent in making a great religious 
 newspaper. 
 
 I well remember how, in 1861, he kindly pressed me into 
 a half promise to write letters from army life for the Congrega- 
 tionalist. I regretted at once even the half promise, and delayed 
 for a long time. To tell the truth, I did not believe that I could 
 write a decent letter of that kind. At last, on his importunity, 
 I wrote him that I would try to have one ready about a certain 
 date. How terrified I was when next week I read in print that 
 the readers might expect a letter from " Chaplain Quint " at 
 the given time ! Then there was no help for it. I have been 
 in cordial relations with him ever since. This article is, alas ! 
 written in fulfilling a recent engagement made with him. He 
 was providing, unknowingly, for these recollections of himself. 
 
 Others know, perhaps, as fully as myself what he was in 
 
212 TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 
 
 his editorial life. No; I have at least the advantage of years, 
 and look farther back upon his calm judgment, his cautious 
 survey of any question on its every side, and his sagacity as 
 to what was needed to promote the great Christian object of 
 the paper. But he is now in my mind far more as the man 
 than as the editor, in his inner life than in his official chair. 
 He was a man who did not wear his emotional nature outside. 
 There were glimpses of it every now and then. What did that 
 row of past and present office boys at his funeral mean ? They 
 knew that the calm, sedate man had a heart. Others knew it 
 also, and I knew (for he consulted me as to method) where some 
 of his benefactions went to personal help. Perhaps, also, it was 
 a glimpse of his tender faith when, after the death of one of 
 his several children who died — a babe only of days — he printed 
 in the paper the simple words, " One day is with the Lord as a 
 thousand years." 
 
 No one may think that he knows a man because he knows an 
 editor. At least it would require a subtle instinct which few pos- 
 sess. Even then the fitting occasions to draw out certain features 
 of character are wanting. One needs to be in a person's church 
 and somewhat in social surroundings, and especially as a welcome 
 guest in his house. I was for quite a number of months, by his 
 arrangement, in charge of the prayer meeting and Sunday services 
 of the church in which our friend was an officer. No one will be 
 surprised at my saying that no more exact and punctual man ever 
 lived. He was superintendent of the Sunday school, and the 
 opening of the school was exact to a minute. He was always 
 ready, but solely because he planned his work beforehand. If 
 others were not as punctual, he did not fret but he hinted. But I 
 soon came to understand the immovable character of his faith and 
 the riches of his Christian experience, and this in spite of his reti- 
 cence. His sense of justice was instinctive and his conscientious- 
 ness seemed perfect. Repeatedly an inmate in his house, and pass- 
 ing Sundays there, together with the Saturday nights, of course, as 
 I did, one could see, or rather feel, the tenderness and gentleness 
 of his home life. There the real man was thoroughly understood. 
 Those days were always Christian, but not gloomy. He was very 
 kind to a guest, but he never did things in a way or with an air 
 
TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 213 
 
 that said, "You see how kind I am." I do not thinl-: it beyond 
 propriety for me to allude to the sweet deference and tender re- 
 spect which he showed to his aged mother, then cared for and 
 nurtured in his home with the most beautiful affection — a saint 
 who, at the age of nearly ninety-six, is at the time of this writing 
 trembling on the verge of eternal life. Nothing pleased our friend 
 better than to have one inquire for his mother, and he was happy 
 when the Christian guest, whom he thought it wise to invite to 
 that service, would read a bit of Scripture and offer a few words 
 of prayer in the aged mother's sunny room. He was telling me 
 a few weeks ago, with great pleasure, of the Lord's Supper just 
 then celebrated with his mother at her home. 
 
 My last words with him were on the first Sunday of this 
 month. It was at the close of the funeral service of a Christian 
 woman of advancing years, a member of the same church with 
 himself, at which I was called to serve. He came to me, and 
 showed far more emotion than usual, and it was with a happy 
 smile that he took my hand in a warm grasp, and said, " Another 
 saint gone home to heaven ! " Then he spoke very pleasantly 
 of some writing of mine about " growing old " which he had read 
 that day, and spoke a few minutes about our years to come, and 
 what we might make them. In the following hour I saw him at 
 the communion service, but we did not speak with each other. It 
 was his last communion service on earth, and now he will never 
 grow old. God has some work for him and these other men in 
 the unseen land. 
 
 (Rev.) a. H. Quint. 
 
 [From the Congregationalist.\ 
 FROM A FORMER PASTOR. 
 
 I not only loved Mr. Richardson for those personal qualities 
 which won my affection, but I admired him for those abilities 
 which made him so efficient in the duty places of his life What 
 a genius he had for details ! I never knew a man who could be 
 trusted more than he not to forget what a man under responsibili- 
 ties ought to remember. As an officer in the church he was in- 
 valuable for this faculty. As deacon and superintendent of the 
 
214 TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 
 
 Sabbath school he was never remiss. And how wise he was ! how 
 faithful and gentle in disagreeable duties ! and what a loyal heart 
 he had to friends and to causes ! 
 
 But my thoughts veer round to his personal qualities — those 
 indefinable, persistent, powerful sources of influence upon those 
 who knew him intimately, more conspicuously operative in home 
 and church and friendships than in business, perhaps, but in 
 business too, as shown from business relations with him of various 
 sorts. 
 
 JUDSON TiTSVVORTH. 
 
 Milwaukee, January 24. 
 
 \From the Congregationalist.'\ 
 
 The announcement of the death of Mr. Richardson was a pain- 
 ful shock to all the Washington readers of the Congregationalist. 
 It was not known here that he had been ill, and, indeed, the news 
 of his death was first announced to most of his Washington friends 
 through the columns of this week's paper. As it was truly said in 
 the editorial obituary, this sad event causes sincere grief and a 
 sense of personal bereavement in the hearts of many who never 
 knew Mr. Richardson personally. He made himself widely known 
 and respected and beloved through his work as few men ever 
 
 succeed in doing. 
 
 c. s. E. 
 
 Washingion., January 24. 
 
 [Fro7n the Advance.'^ 
 
 And now, and how soon. Dr. Dexter of the Congregationalist 
 is followed into the heavens by Mr. Richardson, his dear friend and 
 associate, who had been joint proprietor and managing editor of 
 the paper for over thirty years. He died at his home Sunday 
 morning. The tidings will bring deep sadness not only to Congre- 
 gationalists everywhere but to a large circle of intelligent readers 
 in other communions. 
 
 The debt which the churches owe to such a man — to such a 
 
TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 215 
 
 life — can never be expressed. Mr. Richardson and Dr. Dexter 
 were in certain respects widely different; but seldom were two 
 men better matched each for his own part in a common work. 
 They both equally needed each other. And with what perfect 
 accord and complete devotion they wrought together and in con- 
 nection with Mr. VV. L. Greene in the service of all the churches, 
 and in building up the great journal which is today their best mon- 
 ument, would, if suitably told, constitute the story of a partnership 
 in a noble enterprise of extraordinary interest. The instinct, the 
 impulse, the inspiration which prompted them to make the ven- 
 ture when and as they did, the special lines of personal discipline 
 which had been preparing them for it, the peculiar providences that 
 favored, the noble friends that were so quick to respond, so ready 
 to cheer and aid — all this makes a history that cannot be fully 
 told, but one which has gone to give impulse, direction, color, and 
 tone to a contemporary religious history so wide that no one can 
 measure it. 
 
 Mr. Richardson began life as an educator. As a school 
 teacher when hardly out of his teens he manifested the same 
 traits which have characterized him ever since. His first school 
 was an event in the history of the town. Throughout his after 
 career he has been an educator still. With no special gift of 
 imagination, he had a great and exacting conscience, judg- 
 ment, sense, the instinct for method, pragmatical enthusiasm, un- 
 quenchable determination, and uncommon capacity for hard work. 
 Those who have been associated with him loved him deeply. 
 Nothing could be more genuine and true-hearted than his per- 
 sonal friendships, the sweet memory of which, as the writer can- 
 not refrain from testifying, will be a joy and an inspiration for- 
 ever. On behalf of not only ourselves, but of the great company 
 of our Advance readers, we extend to his bereaved wife and 
 daughters and to those associated with him in the office assur- 
 ance of warmest sympathy. When our turn shall come to go 
 would that we may be as ready to depart, ns sure of the divine 
 welcome, with some reasons for grateful memory still on the part 
 of those that remain. 
 
2l6 TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 
 
 In reviewing the twenty-five years' history of the Advance 
 Dr. Gilbert also wrote : 
 
 I remained with the Advance from that time to this, with the 
 exception of the four years from 1882 to 1886, during which time 
 I was connected with the Congregationalist as its Western editor. 
 And, if this were the place, I would like to testify to the exceed- 
 ing delightfulness of the relationship to that paper and to its 
 readers, especially to the managing editor, Mr. C. A. Richard- 
 son, of the value of whose services to the churches no adequate 
 human record will ever be made. 
 
 [From the Pilgrim Teacher.^ 
 
 In the death of Mr. C. A. Richardson, managing editor of the 
 Congregationalist, this society and all its officers suffer a severe loss. 
 For nine years he has been on our board of directors, and has been 
 intimately associated with its management. Mr. Richardson was 
 most faithful to any responsibility accepted by him. He did not 
 consider his relation to this society a mere honorary one, but, ex- 
 cept when away from the city, was prompt in his attendance on 
 the board and upon the committees to which he belonged. He 
 was on two of its most important committees — the Missionary 
 Committee and the Committee on Sunday-School Publications. 
 He therefore had to do with the two prominent functions of the 
 society — its missionary and its publishing work. His interest in 
 the society and his faith in the work to which it is called were 
 great. It has had the advantage of his sagacious counsels and 
 of his timely and powerful help in the columns of the paper with 
 which he was connected. Without the aid he rendered the society 
 would not have secured the confidence and cooperation of the 
 churches as soon as it has. And the officers of the society have 
 each felt that they had in him not merely a wise counselor but a 
 personal friend. Genial, sympathizing, earnest, courteous, thor- 
 oughly Christian, he was a man who gripped his friends tightly. 
 Those who knew him best esteemed him the most. A friend 
 drops out and the ranks close up and move on again, but when 
 such a friend falls there is always a vacancy to those who knew 
 him, though the line may seem to be as before without a break. 
 
TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 217 
 
 [Fro7n the Boston Aifveriiser.] 
 
 He took charge of the Congregatioiialist when it was of little 
 circulation and influence, and is largely responsible for its high 
 standing. He had a remarkable "news sense," and was a very 
 rapid and diligent worker. His whole life was put into the paper, 
 and he was alive to every improvement in the line of religious 
 newspapers, and led the way in originating them. He was a 
 brother of the well-known war correspondent, A. D. Richardson. 
 Following the war more closely on account of his interest in his 
 brother's work, he began a weekly summary of war news for the 
 Congregationalist which attracted wide attention. . . . He was 
 highly esteemed among Congregational business men for his prac- 
 tical ability. 
 
 \_Froni the Boston Journal.'\ 
 
 He entered the Congregationalist in 1856 as editor and part 
 owner, and it is as much to him as any one else that the pros- 
 perity and success of that paper is due. He developed remark- 
 able newspaper ability, and developed religious journalism along 
 many new lines. He was a man of deep piety and strength of 
 conviction. 
 
 [Fro/n the Boston Herald.] 
 
 In the death of Charles A. Richardson of the Congregationalist 
 religious journalism loses one of its most devoted and talented 
 members. By hard work, journalistic courage, literary instinct, 
 denominational loyalty, he made the Congregationalist in variety, 
 quality, and quantity a weekly feast for every one in a Christian 
 home. 
 
 [From the Boston Post.] 
 
 At the beginning of his labors on the Congregationalist the 
 paper had but a small circulation, but Mr. Richardson labored 
 hard and intelligently, and put into the work all the resources 
 of a quick and inventive mind ; and it is to him more than to 
 any other one man that is due the high place it has reached 
 
2l8 TRIBUTES FROM THE PRESS. 
 
 among religious periodicals. He was part proprietor as well as 
 editor, and thus he was able to be instrumental in its. success in 
 other ways than by the direct use of his pen. His application to 
 work was very close ; his only periods of rest, except the briefest, 
 were two trips to Europe and two to California, 
 
 [From the Chelsea Gazette. \ 
 
 While residing in this city he was much esteemed in church 
 and the higher social circles ; but he had little taste for politics, 
 though at times many of his admirers and friends desired him 
 for mayor and other ofifices. 
 
 \_Froin the Chelsea Record.} 
 
 People who know tell me that Managing Editor Richardson 
 was, like the strong, active, persistent news seeker he was, the 
 head and front of the progress of the Coiigregationalist in recent 
 years. No one was quicker to note a good thing or a new thing 
 and to make use of it. He it was who really did most to build 
 up the circulation and value of the Congregationalist as a paying 
 property. 
 
 [From the Chelsea Telegraph atid Pioneer. \ 
 
 He was known and respected as a man of deep piety, always 
 holding firmly to his strength of convictions. ... Of his life 
 among us, he was honored, beloved, and esteemed for his many 
 noble traits of character, and it was with deep regret the news 
 was received that he was to be no longer a citizen of Chelsea 
 and his place of residence was for sale. Though not a public 
 man in the common sense of the word, he was a good citizen, 
 and always had a warm interest in the success and welfare of 
 our city. He did good and faithful work as a member of the 
 school board during the years 1865 and 1866, and again in 1874, 
 1875, ^"<^ 1876; for educational work was one he loved and was 
 best conversant with. 
 
CONCLUSION. 219 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 It seems superfluous for me to add anything to the foregoing 
 tributes. It has been my great privilege to assist in arranging 
 them for publication, and in the service I have realized anew the 
 singular strength and beauty of Mr. Richardson's character. Being 
 closely associated with him in work on the Congregationalist for 
 more than ten years, a frequent guest in his happy home, and a 
 member of the little party which accompanied him on his second 
 European tour, I had exceptional opportunities for observing the 
 ripening of those noble qualities which made such a deep impres- 
 sion upon all who came in contact with him either in business or 
 as a friend. 
 
 He had one characteristic, however, which no one seems to 
 have mentioned, and that is his power of compelling people to do 
 their best. His own standard of achievement, both mental and 
 moral, was of the highest, and he quietly assumed that you, too, 
 could reach it. He could not tolerate slovenly work from any one 
 in his employ, whether office boy or editorial writer, and this led, 
 I think, to a misapprehension that he was austere and a difficult 
 person to deal with. So far from this being the case, it was, to all 
 who responded to his expectation that they would do their " level 
 best," a token that he was genuinely kind and deeply sympathetic, 
 
 I recall an instance in my early experience on the paper which 
 will serve as an illustration. It was at vacation time when several 
 of the staff were absent and Mr. Richardson told me to prepare an 
 editorial upon a subject concerning which I knew comparatively 
 nothing. He wasted no words in the matter, but simply took it 
 for granted that I had enough intelligence to post myself upon the 
 assigned topic before attempting to write. The calm assumption 
 on his part that I had the ability to do what then seemed to me 
 impossible was rather terrifying at first, but it proved a positive 
 incentive to both pride and ambition. I felt that I must reach the 
 estimate he had set upon my mentality, whatever sacrifice of time 
 and strength might be involved in the effort. When the article 
 was finished he read it critically and remarked, " You can do 
 
220 CONCLUSION. 
 
 better than that," at the same time pointing out, with the utmost 
 kindness, its weak points and rhetorical defects. 
 
 Later the manuscript was submitted to him with a secret as- 
 surance that it would meet his approval, but again he said, in the 
 same composed manner, "This is improved, and I think one more 
 effort will make it just right." The third trial, however, did not 
 satisfy him, and not until I had written the article four times was 
 he willing to accept it for publication. The discipline was any- 
 thing but agreeable at the time, and that firm insistence might 
 easily have been mistaken for fussiness. But I did not so inter- 
 pret his spirit. It seemed to me a fine expression of determina- 
 tion to print nothing in the paper which did not come up to a cer- 
 tain standard of excellence, and also a unique manifestation of 
 patience with an inexperienced writer. From that time onward 
 I desired rather than dreaded his criticisms, which were invariably 
 wise and reasonable, and many a novice beside myself learned to 
 appreciate his painstaking oversight of our work. His persistent 
 faith in our powers actually strengthened and developed them. 
 All who knew him intimately realized that beneath this apparent 
 purpose to get only the most thorough service from an employee 
 lay an unselfish desire to benefit the individual by enlarging his or 
 her capacity. Whatever success I have attained in my present 
 calling is due largely to his admirable training. 
 
 This facility for drawing forth the best in people appeared, 
 too, in his relations as a friend. Being himself the soul of sincer- 
 ity, incapable of meanness or duplicity, he unconsciously chal- 
 lenged the exercise of the noblest qualities in others. And this, 
 we all admit, is the highest prerogative of friendship, so to domi- 
 nate another soul as to hold in check that which is base and lead 
 it up by the inherent force of goodness to higher levels. With 
 multitudes of others I count it one of the richest blessings of my 
 life to have come within the circle of his friendship. He exem- 
 plified in his daily life better than any man whom I ever knew a 
 beautiful obedience to the apostolic code of morals summed up in 
 the words: "In diligence not slothful; fervent in spirit; serving 
 the Lord; rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing 
 
 stedfastly in prayer." 
 
 Frances J. Dyer. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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