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REMAINS 
 
 OF 
 
 MELVILLE B COX, 
 
 LATE 
 MISSIONARY TO LIBERIA. 
 
 WITH A 
 
 MEMOIR, 
 
 BY THE REV. GERSHOM F. COX. 
 
 " Let a thousand fall before Africa be given up." 
 
 Page 87. 
 
 ■ 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY T. MASON AND G. LANE, 
 
 For the Methodist Episcopal Church at the Conference Office, 
 200 Mulberry-street. 
 
 J. Collord, Printer. 
 1839. 
 
2r~3 
 
 
 
 
 Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1839, by 
 T. Mason & G. Lane, in the clerk's office of the Southern 
 District of New- York. 
 
 3 t»^J %' 
 
PREFACE 
 
 TO 
 
 LIFE OF MELVILLE B. COX. 
 
 The editor of the present volume was solicited, im- 
 mediately after the death of Rev. M. B. Cox, to furnish 
 a memoir of this his estimable brother, as well for his 
 very exemplary piety, as his intimate connection 
 with the earliest efforts of the Methodist Episcopal 
 Church, in establishing a mission in Western Africa. 
 At that time his health was too much impaired to 
 think of it. Besides, he felt himself uninclined to 
 the task, as he judged himself, from circumstances 
 which he need not name, not the one to speak of a 
 brother so dear to him as was Melville. The work 
 was in consequence assigned to another. And al- 
 though the gentleman to whom it was assigned was 
 well prepared for obituary and other writings, and a 
 well-known author, yet as he was not particularly 
 acquainted with our general economy, as a church, 
 the memoir failed, in some instances, of what it 
 should have been. From these and other circum- 
 stances, another work has been deemed necessary, 
 and the original papers, mostly at least, were com- 
 mitted to the present editor for that purpose. He 
 has pursued, in the execution of the work, in some 
 degree, the path struck out in the first instance ; al- 
 though such changes have been made, by additions 
 and retrenchments, both in matter and phraseology, 
 as to leave, probably, but little of the original, ex- 
 cepting what came from the papers of the subject 
 
4 PREFACE TO LIFE OF COX. 
 
 of the memoir. The memoir has been furnished 
 from a mass of diary, and other writings, sufficient 
 to have formed several volumes of the same size. 
 But it was judged necessary to give merely an out- 
 line of his general character, and the history of his 
 connection with the Liberia mission. 
 
 Happy, indeed, would the present editor be, had 
 he accomplished, perfectly, even this. But this 
 cannot well be done. Mind cannot be put upon 
 paper as it appears in life. Passions, dispositions, 
 affections, while in life, are seen, now like a gentle 
 breeze fanning into life kindred feelings, or giving 
 growth and vigour to moral or intellectual existence ; 
 now rising in their strength and sweeping away what 
 opposes their progress ; or, again, they are reflect- 
 ing back, like a clear river, some faint images, at 
 least, of the heavenly world, and what has been 
 done by the sanctifying influences of God's grace 
 upon the heart. But as, in the one case, descrip- 
 tion cannot transfer the objects of nature, much less 
 can we give in the other, fac-similes of that which 
 lies in the more hidden recesses of the heart. 
 
 Something, however, he hopes has been done ; 
 and he feels not a little satisfaction that he has been 
 permitted by Providence to record in any thing that 
 promised a degree of permanency, even from its 
 connection with other circumstances, a simple tes- 
 timony in favour of one he so dearly loved, and of 
 one so worthy of being loved. 
 
 The work is commended to God and the friends 
 of religion. 
 
 G. F. Cox. 
 
 Portland, Maine, January, 1839. 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
 Biography of one who is no more is the 
 taking that individual from the dust that he may- 
 live over again his past history, and impress 
 afresh upon his friends his various traits of 
 character, and the handing down-those traits — 
 lovely or otherwise — to a posterity who knew 
 him not. This is the object of the present 
 memoir. Another reason for it, is, the subject 
 of it was connected with an enterprise, the 
 most distant outlines of which will ever be 
 held dear into whatever section of country that 
 enterprise may be carried. As long as the 
 civilization of Africa, and its religious redemp- 
 tion, shall be dear to the philanthropist, so long 
 every memoir will be valued that may give 
 the history of an individual that has connected 
 with him a single important incident in the com- 
 mencement of so great a work. 
 
 Melville Beveridge Cox, the first Me- 
 thodist missionary from America to Africa, was 
 born at Hallowell, in the state (then district) of 
 Maine, on the 9th of November, 1799. He 
 was twin-brother to the editor of the present 
 work, and who is the only survivor of a family 
 of seven children. One of them died at sea — 
 another, in that grave of northern men — New 
 
6 MEMOIR OF 
 
 Orleans ; both having had command of mer- 
 chant vessels, although they had scarcely at- 
 tained the age of mature manhood. The father 
 died in the West Indies. The grandfather, 
 James Cox, was, by birth, a Bostonian, passed 
 the earlier years of his life in that city, and was 
 subsequently distinguished considerably as a 
 military man. Tradition makes him a member 
 of the celebrated " Tea Party." This is doubt- 
 ful. It is known, however, that he commanded 
 a company at the taking of Louisburg, where 
 he distinguished himself alike for his courage 
 and fidelity in the cause in which he was en- 
 gaged. He emigrated to the state (then district) 
 of Maine, about the year 1757, and took up his 
 abode in Hallowell, while yet a wilderness, 
 where he passed the remainder of his days as 
 a useful citizen, and died in 1808, aged seventy- 
 four. 
 
 The parents of the subject of this memoir — 
 Charles and Martha G. Cox — were never 
 wealthy, and, in some periods of their history, 
 were poor. Both, however, had been well 
 educated — no matter how — for the times. Life 
 was commenced by them under auspicious cir- 
 cumstances ; but a blight came over their pros- 
 pects, from which they never recovered. In 
 consequence of this, Melville, with the rest of 
 the sons, left the paternal roof at the age of ten. 
 But, prior even to this early period, he had received 
 from an invaluable mother a religious and even 
 mental training that never left him. However 
 far he might be from home and loved ones, the 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 7 
 
 glance of his mother's eye, and the wave of her 
 hand, still exercised over him, under the bless- 
 ing of Heaven, a controlling influence. Up to 
 the age of ten Melville had been kept, as oc- 
 casion would allow, to one of those gold mines 
 of the north, — and which is the basis of New- 
 England intelligence, — a public free school ; a 
 privilege that he enjoyed in a few instances 
 afterward — and but few — but he was never 
 favoured with any other. Even this privilege, 
 however, humble and cheap as it may seem to 
 some, has been found, nevertheless, in the his- 
 tory of the New-England states especially, of 
 such value, that it may be considered the basis, 
 under God, of her present enviable standing, 
 both in literature and religion. 
 
 The framers of the republic were, many 
 of them — not to say most of them — educated, 
 as far as they were educated, in a literary 
 sense, at all, in common schools ; and the ge 
 neral officers of the Revolution, as well as a 
 large proportion of those of inferior standing — 
 the men upon whose conduct the fate of liberty 
 throughout the world was hung — were indebted 
 to the same source, in almost every instance, for 
 the knowledge even of reading, and writing, and 
 casting accounts — and few of them were mas- 
 ters of any scholastic accomplishments, beyond 
 these — which proved indispensable to the dis- 
 charge of the duties committed by their coun- 
 try to their charge. Even our renowned cha- 
 racters in the literary and scientific depart- 
 ments, themselves — those whose fame, if not 
 
8 MEMOIR OF 
 
 their lives, has extended down to our own day, 
 and especially the men who, by their mechanical 
 inventions, have done most for the wealth and 
 prosperity of the great mass of the people, and 
 of their race at large, have derived the earliest 
 resources of stirring reflection from books which 
 they neither could nor would have read, but for 
 the simple elements communicated in these 
 primary intellectual nurseries. 
 
 Even some of the presidents of our colleges 
 have passed their whole boyhood and youth 
 upon farms, with privileges of education hardly 
 so good as these ; and it is stated of one who 
 was afterward at the head of Harvard Univer- 
 sity, that his first journey to Cambridge, from 
 his father's cabin in the woods of New-Hamp- 
 shire, (where he studied his first Latin by the 
 light of a pitch-pine knot inflamed,) was per- 
 formed on foot, for the want of a better convey- 
 ance, and with his shoes and stockings carried 
 all the way, for economy and habit's sake, in 
 his hand. James Logan, the friend of Penn, 
 and for some time governor and chief justice 
 of Pennsylvania, though apprenticed to a linen- 
 draper early in life, had studied the Latin, 
 Greek, and Hebrew languages, previous to his 
 thirteenth year. He acquired the French, 
 Spanish, and Italian afterward, in the same 
 manner, without instruction ; and meeting, in 
 his sixteenth year, with a small book on mathe- 
 matics, he made himself an adept also in that 
 difficult science. But, not to be tedious in our 
 illustrations, and not to go out of our own coun- 
 
MELVILLE B. COX, § 
 
 try for examples, of which no other on earth is 
 or ever was so full as our own — and to say 
 nothing of the Perkinses, and Bowditches, 
 and Websters of our own times — let any body, 
 and particularly, any boy, who is disposed to 
 disparage the advantages of the means of edu- 
 cation which are within the reach of the poor, 
 study the history of George Washington, the 
 surveyor, or Roger Sherman, the shoemaker, 
 or Robert Fulton, the farmer, or Benjamin West, 
 the Quaker's son, or David Rittenhouse, the 
 ploughboy, or Benjamin Franklin, the poor 
 printer ; of the boys, in a word, who became in 
 their manhood the explorers of science with the 
 scholars of the old world, the ornament and 
 glory of the arts, the counsellors and defenders 
 of their country, in the forum and in the field, 
 the inventors of the great practical improve- 
 ments now in the daily use of the people — the 
 improvements in building, in living, in working, 
 in travelling, in the saving of labour every way, 
 in every thing but life itself — which, withiruthe 
 last fifty years, have utterly changed the face of 
 society all over the civilized world. Let him 
 study the history of these men, we say, and 
 complain of his poverty and his privileges if he 
 can. And we make these remarks, not so 
 much for their application to the subject of this 
 memoir, — although they apply to him in no 
 ordinary way, — as to show the value even of 
 such a privilege, if well improved ; and that no 
 one need be discouraged who has privileges no 
 higher. Such a privilege is well calculated 
 
10 MEMOIR OF 
 
 of itself to draw forth from the hidden resources 
 of the mind habits of economy rarely attained 
 by those more highly favoured. Indeed, there 
 can be no situation, in a country like ours, in 
 which a determined spirit may not distinguish 
 itself, — by that best of all its kinds — the distinc- 
 tion of an honourable and useful life. 
 
 It is too common for boys to imagine that unless 
 they can get what is called a liberal education, 
 or, at all events, go to schools and academies 
 as much as they please, and work as little as 
 they like, they can never be able to accomplish 
 any thing beyond the precincts of the shop or 
 the farm. This is a great mistake ; and the 
 example of the subject of this memoir is a new 
 proof of it ; — if not so distinguished an instance 
 as many others, in the same proportion more 
 likely, perhaps, to be imitated by the humble 
 class from whose ranks it was so recently taken. 
 
 It will be seen, therefore, that the literary 
 privileges of Melville, while he remained at 
 home with his parents, were of the humblest 
 order. It is allowed, however, that he im- 
 proved them to the utmost ; and this is the trait 
 in his character, and the point in his history, to 
 which we have intended to call the especial 
 attention of the younger portion of our readers. 
 At the age of ten, he was placed upon a farm 
 with one of the friends of the family. Here 
 his privileges for a school were scarcely as 
 good as before ; but the same thirst to improve 
 them was every where discovered. 
 
 Melville was early impressed with that im- 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 11 
 
 portant lesson — which the young so often lose 
 sight of — the value of time. He seemed to 
 understand almost instinctively, also, what 
 many in the acquisition of knowledge seem 
 scarcely to believe, that, however rich the soil, 
 a healthy and vigorous growth can only be gain- 
 ed, even with God's constant blessing, by great 
 care and untiring industry ; and if the soil were 
 poor, it could require nothing less. And to 
 whatever he laid his hand, whether of an errand 
 -—the study of his lesson— or the management of 
 a sport, these principles were exemplified. He 
 had an early ambition of the best kind. He was 
 ambitious — anxious — laborious, to qualify him- 
 self to " act well his part," — perhaps we had 
 better say — for this is true — to excel, whether 
 it were in reading, writing, spelling, or at sport. 
 And this natural trait, undoubtedly, followed him 
 in a greater or less degree through life ; and, 
 when sanctified by grace, as it early was in 
 him, it became, under God, the auxiliary of suc- 
 cess while he lived. 
 
 Melville went to his farm — at the early age 
 noticed — with no other knowledge of circum- 
 stances, than that " it was a good place ;" but, 
 as the reader may perhaps judge, with a sad 
 heart, as he was leaving all whom he loved ; 
 and he loved them devotedly. With a tender em- 
 brace of himself and a twin-brother, who was to 
 leave also in a few days — an affectionate kiss 
 from and to his two little sisters — the prayer 
 and blessing of his mother, he parted. He 
 lived with his friend till he was sixteen or 
 
12 MEMOIR OF 
 
 seventeen. Of this period we need only to say 
 now, that, while he enjoyed but few advan- 
 tages for education, those few were well im- 
 proved. General studies were pursued — such 
 as arithmetic, for instance, by twilight, or fire 
 light, with zeal and energy, after a hard day's 
 toil. But Melville's desire for knowledge — 
 with some other circumstances — induced him 
 to seek, by the sanction of his mother, and ac- 
 quiescence of his friend, a " new place." And 
 it was regarded, by his friends, as quite a pro- 
 vidential circumstance that such a place was 
 soon offered him in a " book-store." , To him 
 it was no less gratifying. By him it was re- 
 garded as a great advance. It was so in re- 
 gard to the scope it gave him for literary culti- 
 vation. It was still humble enough — but it was 
 better than it had been ; and so well did he 
 improve it, that scarcely a book upon the shelf 
 could be found, of which he could not give its 
 general history. But, in addition to this, during 
 the three years he enjoyed this boon, he ap- 
 plied himself with great diligence to prepare 
 for the work to which he, in a short time, 
 felt himself called to turn " both his eye and 
 heart." 
 
 Melville, in the village of Hallowell — where 
 he now lived — could enjoy also the occasional 
 benefit of popular lectures, and other privileges, 
 not many years since wholly unknown even to 
 the higher classes, in the cities themselves. 
 He watched them all narrowly, from his little 
 confinement, and seldom, if ever, it is stated. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 13 
 
 when he could be at liberty, suffered them to 
 pass unimproved. Thus, " little by little," (as 
 the fable says of the bees and the birds,) he 
 filled his hive with the honey of knowledge. 
 Some distance he had to fly for it sometimes, 
 to be sure ; and he found part of it in rough 
 and wild places ; but neither himself nor the 
 honey was any the worse for that. There is 
 a homely adage about " the nearer the bone, 
 the sweeter the meat f and the spirit of the 
 saying is as true of him as it is of the bee. 
 As it has been stated that more people in this 
 country, now-a-days, suffer, and suffer more, 
 physically, from eating and drinking than from 
 having too little to eat and drink — so, in the 
 literary life, is there more harm done by a re- 
 pletion of resources than by the necessity of 
 making the most of a few. There is both a 
 sharper appetite^ and a better digestion, in 
 both cases ; not to mention that a man, or a 
 boy, who has to earn his fare with his own 
 hands, be it his books or his bread, will be 
 tolerably sure to economize his leisure and 
 his labour^ in either case, and to husband the 
 results of either, to the utmost possible ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 But enough of discussion. The boyhood and 
 youth of Melville passed swiftly away, — no 
 more eventful than may be inferred from the 
 humble quietness of his situation. It was an 
 important period to him, for he was laying the 
 foundations of his usefulness, in the hardihood, 
 industry, energy, and intelligence of his cha- 
 
14 MEMOIR OF 
 
 racter ; but to the world, it presents otherwise 
 no aspect of interest. We shall leave it, with 
 a brief account of his religious career, such as 
 we find supplied to our hands by his own pen ; 
 for we prefer, upon this subject, quoting his 
 own language. In a letter, (which we find a 
 copy of among his manuscripts,) addressed to 
 the Reverend Bishop McKendree, under date 
 of May, 1832 — about the time of his appoint- 
 ment as missionary to Liberia — and profess- 
 edly in reply to queries proposed to him by 
 that venerable prelate, and " dear father," as 
 he calls him, he says — 
 
 "In July, 1818, God, for Christ's sake, for- 
 gave my sins, and imparted to my soul ' peace 
 and joy in the Holy Ghost,' while, almost from 
 the depths of despair, I was pleading for mer- 
 cy alone in the woods. In a few weeks after 
 I joined myself to a small class in the neigh- 
 bourhood ; and from that time to this my name 
 has been among the members of the Methodist 
 Episcopal Church. I preached my first ser- 
 mon, December 17, 1820. In March, 1821, I 
 was licensed as a local preacher, by the Ken- 
 nebec district conference, and immediately 
 commenced travelling, under the direction of 
 the presiding elder. At the Bath Conference 
 of 1822, I was received on trial, and put in 
 charge of Exeter circuit. I travelled as an 
 effective preacher till May, 1825, when I was 
 taken sick, and left, that year, a supernumerary, 
 with but little horie of recovery. In '26 and 
 '27, I was superannuated ; and in } 28 located^ 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 15 
 
 and took charge of the * Itinerant.' In the 
 winter of 1830, finding myself about 1000 dol- 
 lars poorer than when I commenced my edito- 
 rial labours, under deep family affliction, and 
 with lungs too sensitive to endure the cold, I 
 left Baltimore for Virginia and the Carolinas. 
 The kind manner in which I was received by 
 my Virginian brethren induced me to join that 
 conference, and, live or die, once more * try'" 
 to preach to sinners. I was stationed at Ra- 
 leigh, and preached and prayed as long as I 
 could keep from my bed. My time of effective 
 service was short. I preached but little after 
 the first of May. But some souls were con- 
 verted ; enough to satisfy me that I had followed 
 the leadings of Providence, though it had cost 
 me my life." 
 
 We have introduced the whole of this state- 
 ment in this connection, — though it goes some- 
 what in advance of our narrative, and will be 
 the subject of explanation hereafter, — rather 
 than divide a document into parts, which was 
 intended to be read together. In regard to the 
 earlier period to which it refers, we find some 
 additional notes, in the shape of a journal. In 
 this he acknowledges, with a gratefulness that 
 he seems incapable of expressing, that in child- 
 hood he was taught the principles of the Chris- 
 tian religion " with unremitting attention," — 
 the greatest of the many services which he 
 owed to his excellent mother, and sufficient, 
 alone, to account for the devoted affection with 
 which he uniformly mentioned her name. O ! 
 
16 MEMOIR OF 
 
 what is the influence of such a woman ! The 
 example which she sets, the lessons which she 
 teaches, the silent glance of her eye, — her 
 words, actions, thoughts themselves, — how 
 silently, as snow-flakes on the face of the calm 
 waters, do they melt, one by one, as they fall 
 into the soft heart of childhood ! It may seem 
 almost to see nothing, and hear nothing ; but 
 nothing, in fact, escapes its notice, and scarcely 
 any thing fails of its legitimate effect ; for though 
 the seed be buried for a time, it is but buried 
 to be fostered in the bosom of a warm soil, and 
 to spring forth, under the sunshine of future 
 occasions, into greenness and beauty. These 
 are the nameless benefactors of their race. The 
 praises of the great, and even of the greatly 
 wicked, — of the conquerors and oppressors of 
 their race, — the praises of mere wealth, and 
 power, and of so frail a thing as even beauty — 
 have been always rung, in all changes, till the 
 ear is weary of the sound ; — 
 
 " And green along the ocean side, 
 The mounds arise where heroes died ;" 
 
 and men — good men — multitudes of them— 
 who have devoted themselves to the cause of 
 humanity in countless ways — have gained, in 
 their death and their fame, at least, the ac- 
 knowledgments which their lives deserved. 
 But where is the fame of 
 
 " The thousands that, ttwcheer'd by praise, 
 Have made one offering of their days 1" 
 
 v 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 17 
 
 u Where sleep they, Earth 1 — by no proud stone 
 Their narrow couch of rest is known ; 
 The still sad glory of their name, 
 Hallows no mountain unto fame ; 
 No — not a tree the record bears 
 Of their deep thoughts, and lonely prayers!" 
 
 Yet though no record tells them, they are not 
 lost. The mother's monument is in the virtue 
 and usefulness of those whom she rears for 
 God's glory and man's good ; and mountains 
 of marble cannot raise a fame like that. 
 
 Witness the working of this leaven thus early 
 cast into the young and tender mind of Melville, 
 " I do not recollect," he says, " to have felt any 
 obligation to my Maker, sufficient to amount to a 
 religious conviction, until I was ten years old. 
 / had, however, such confidence in the instruction 
 of my parents ; that any deviation from rules laid 
 down by them produced the most painful recollec- 
 tions and fearful apprehensions ." And, at the 
 age of twelve, "so deep and lasting were the 
 sentiments impressed with the first dawnings 
 of reason, that time nor distance could efface 
 them. Prayer I had always been taught to be- 
 lieve a duty that I owed to God ; I now felt 
 that it was the result of my obligations to him, 
 flowing from the relation I stood in to my Cre- 
 ator and Preserver." 
 
 What he calls the first serious impression 
 which he recollected as the consequence of a 
 public ordinance, was derived, at the age of 
 eleven, from the preaching of an old and ec- 
 centric Methodist, whose singularity of man- 
 2 
 
18 MEMOIR OF 
 
 ners, and especially his simplicity of language, 
 so strongly attracted his attention, that for some 
 time after he could repeat the greater part of 
 the discourse. The immediate effect of it was 
 to induce him to study the Holy Scriptures, as 
 he says, " in search of the way of life." He 
 read them through by reading two chapters 
 every day he labored, and ten on the Sabbath. 
 The services of the church now wrought pow- 
 erfully upon him at times; his " head seemed 
 like waters ; he was filled with anxieties." 
 Occasionally, on the Sabbath, ai this period, he 
 would take his Testament, and enter the woods, 
 and spend hours in some act of devotion. 
 
 These little incidents may seem trivial to 
 some of our readers, but not to those who are 
 willing to ponder the philosophy of the human 
 mind, in all its states and stages, and get "good 
 from every thing ;" and especially it cannot to 
 those who are sharers with him of like precious 
 faith, and who like him have passed days of 
 bitterness, as a means of obtaining it. One of 
 these juvenile illustrations of the tenderness 
 of his feelings, occurred at the age of twelve, 
 on the occasion of a visit from his mother and 
 twin brother, which at this time was a rare plea- 
 sure. The lads engaged in boyish sports, and 
 enjoyed themselves as boys commonly do — 
 roughly — when, in wrestling, one had a fall on 
 his knee. A discussion arose as to its being a 
 fair fall or not, and it gradually grew warmer 
 till some harsh words were dropt by either 
 party. The sport was abandoned at the same 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 19 
 
 moment, for both perceived they had gone too 
 far. The sequel we shall leave the journalist 
 to tell in his. own language : — 
 
 " About ten o'clock they left me for home. I 
 watched them till out of sight. But to describe 
 my feelings would be impossible. The most 
 painful regret seized my mind, that I then had 
 ever experienced. Had I been like Cain, the 
 murderer of my brother, I could hardly have 
 felt worse. Could 1 have seen him, I thought 
 I would have fallen on my knees, and with 
 tears asked his forgiveness. But he was gone 
 — and, thought I, ere I see him again, my soul 
 will be in eternity. I went to a place of soli- 
 tude, and poured out my desires to Cod for 
 pardon. I wept as if my head had been 
 "waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears. 
 Thought I, he was my brother ; yea, my twin 
 brother ; that I had not seen him for a year, and 
 now, when favoured with the privilege, I had 
 indulged in anger. I wept, and prayed to be 
 forgiven for that one sin — I laboured, perhaps 
 one, and perhaps two hours — till, in a moment, 
 in the twinkling of an eye, I felt that God had 
 forgiven me, and rose feeling as much justified 
 from that sin, as if I had never been guilty of 
 it, and with a peacB and calmness I can never 
 forget. Thus passed days and months sinning 
 and repenting." 
 
 We shall now transcribe his account of the 
 change, already referred to in his statement to 
 the bishop, which took place in 1818 :■ — 
 "It was" when religion was at an unusually 
 
20 MEMOIR OF 
 
 low ebb, that I professed the religion of Jesus. 
 There were indeed some who had the form of 
 godliness in the village, but there were few that 
 had the power. Some Methodists in the out- 
 skirts of the town were contending strongly 
 against the wiles of Satan, but were looked on as 
 enthusiasts or bigots. Whoever had sufficient 
 firmness to confess himself such, was sure to 
 incur the one or the other. 
 
 " The spring had passed away with me in a 
 careless indifferent manner. Never, perhaps, 
 had six months witnessed against me so much 
 vanity and folly — so much thoughtlessness upon 
 religion, and stifling of convictions.* I felt 
 hurried into the company of the careless, and 
 became almost the last that would leave it. 
 
 "The summer came, and with it brought the 
 intelligence of the death of an uncle, who had 
 once been a Methodist preacher. I attended 
 his funeral in company with other relations, and 
 heard a discourse from Rev. Mr. T., though 
 with but little effect on me. After the obsequies 
 were over, I was invited to a walk with several 
 cousins, among whom was a daughter of my 
 uncle, who had lately professed religion, in a 
 revival, about twenty miles back in the country. 
 She was warm in her first love, and, while her 
 father was cold in death, felt what nature alone 
 is a stranger to. She knew well how dear the 
 soul of the sinner was, and felt the importance 
 
 * And yet to our own knowledge such was the correct- 
 ness of his moral character, that the world could not per- 
 ceive a blot upon its phase. — Ed. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 21 
 
 of the cause of Christ. We walked in com- 
 pany with perhaps eight or ten. At about half 
 a mile, and just as I was about to take leave of 
 them, Mary stepped forth in view and presence 
 of all, and with an unaffected interest, invited 
 me to seek for religion. Said she, ' You need 
 not believe what I say of it, but come and see 
 for yourself; taste and see how good the Lord 
 is.' Her words sunk deeply in my heart. I 
 however kept myself as composed as possible, 
 and after thanking her kindly for her advice, 
 and telling her that I hoped I should or would 
 ' try to,' bade them good evening, and left them. 
 
 " But my feelings were unutterable. My 
 sins appeared in terror before me. One, above 
 all the rest, seemed to haunt me — that of griev- 
 ing and resisting the Holy Spirit. I thought it 
 had left me for ever. While passing through a 
 small grove, on my way home, I fell on my 
 knees, and poured out my soul to God, and 
 begged him that I might resolve in his strength 
 to seek him. 
 
 "For three weeks I know not that I smiled 
 once. My greatest fear was, that God had so 
 often called, and I had so often resisted, that 
 now he would laugh at my calamity, and mock 
 when my fears had come upon me. I however 
 strove to conceal my feelings from every one, 
 but sought every means of grace where I 
 thought I should not be suspected of seriousness. 
 In June, I attended the conference on Sunday. 
 Bishop George preached from, ' And this gos- 
 pel shall be preached in all the world, &c, — 
 
22 MEMOIR OF 
 
 and then shall the end come.' His description 
 of the gospel was lovely, but that of the f end' 
 was awfully alarming. I felt deeply affected 
 under it, and the constant language of my heart 
 was, ' God be merciful to me a sinner.' In the 
 evening, I attended in the grove, to hear Rev. 
 
 Mr. R . I recollect nothing, but that my 
 
 feelings were indescribable. I thought I would 
 give worlds, if I had them, if a Christian would 
 speak to me, and take me by the hand and lead 
 me to the altar ; but none came to me, and I 
 returned 'groaning, being burdened.' This, 
 however, seemed to direct me more and more 
 to Christ : it was vain to seek help elsewhere. 
 My case seemed hopeless. I thought myself 
 forgotten of God and his children. I resolved, 
 however, that I would go mourning all my days 
 — that I would always pray, ' God be merciful 
 to me a sinner' — that in the agonies of death I 
 would continue to call, and that while I was de- 
 scending to the burning lake, I would repeat the 
 cry, ' God be merciful to me a sinner !' Thus 
 I continued for days, with a weight and distress 
 of mind that no one knew but He who drank 
 the ' wormwood and the gall.' One Sunday 
 evening, after having attended church, an old 
 promise which I had heard from a preacher, 
 revived with some comfort to my mind. He 
 had said, while trying to encourage mourners, 
 that however great our sins, if we were fully 
 determined to seek God with all our hearts, the 
 Lord would not suffer us to die without forgive- 
 ness. This for a moment seemed to break the 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 23 
 
 gloom of despair, and I resolved to ask once 
 more in hope, and if disappointed still to adhere 
 to my former resolution, though given up to de- 
 spair. I went to a little grove full in my view, 
 and continued to pray for some time, without 
 any change of feeling. Finally, I concluded I 
 must give up ; and, between despair and hope, I 
 was about to do so. But that moment, in 
 the twinkling of an eye, my heart was filled 
 with joy. I praised God : I felt light. I looked 
 round to see the 'new sun and new earth,' that 
 I had been taught to expect. 'Twas the same, 
 only now they wore a smile instead of gloom. 
 The change was in me." 
 
 Of the interval which elapsed between this 
 event and the time already mentioned, when 
 Mr. Cox commenced preaching, little informa- 
 tion in detail is left us. And little need be said, 
 other than from this moment, especially, he be- 
 came a devoted Christian, and took an active 
 part in all the religious meetings connected with 
 the church of which he soon became a mem- 
 ber. His exhortations and pious conversations 
 with Christians, and with those who " knew 
 not God," will long be remembered, even by 
 hundreds ; and not a few will rejoice in the 
 day of eternity, that he was in this early stage 
 of his Christian career, the means of bringing 
 them from "darkness to light," or "from the 
 power of Satan unto God." 
 
 It was about this period that he lost one of his 
 brothers — James. His journal alludes to it in 
 the following passage :— 
 
24 MEMOIR OF 
 
 "August 3, 1820. — While in prayer meet- 
 ing, just as I had finished opening the meeting, 
 my brother came, and beckoned for me to go to 
 the door. I went, immediately apprehending 
 the burden of his thoughts ; ' James is dead !' 
 Our dear mother followed us immediately out, 
 and called from some distance, with the hurried 
 anxiety of a mother, i Is James dead V all too 
 painfully true." 
 
 There would seem to be something more meant 
 here than meets the ear, and which he some- 
 where alludes to again, so far as to state the facts 
 in the case. But the elucidation has been fyr- 
 nished by another hand, and is contained in a 
 letter directed to the writer of the first memoir 
 of Mr. Cox. We insert it in the language of 
 the writer. But we ought to say, and we have 
 no disposition to conceal it, that the letter in 
 question was written by the present editor, who 
 vouches for the facts in the case. The letter 
 follows : — 
 
 " New-York, July 25, 1835. 
 
 " My Dear Sir : — There is one circum- 
 stance in the life of the late Mr. Cox, which, 
 at least to some of his Christian friends, may 
 claim a degree more of attention than he has 
 given to it, and which it is probably out of your 
 own power to give, without some additional facts 
 in the case. If I recollect rightly, he has merely 
 recorded the fact, and that rather incidentally. 
 A relation of the circumstances is the more im- 
 portant, as without the detail, the fact may be- 
 come a subject of ridicule by the semi-infidel, 
 
.MELVILLE B. COX. 25 
 
 but with this detail may afford him a sugges- 
 tion, the truth of which he cannot so easily 
 gainsay. I am aware, too, that the occurrence 
 may be passed over, as have been thousands of 
 others of a similar, and even of a more striking 
 character, without acknowledging any superna- 
 tural agency ; bat it must be on the ground of 
 admitting greater mysteries in the explanation 
 than would be found in frankly confessing even 
 the agency of the Deity. 
 
 " The following are the facts : they occurred 
 when Mr. Cox was about twenty years of age. 
 At the time of this singular incident, his bro- 
 ther James, who, it will be seen, was concerned 
 in the affair, was at sea, being master of the 
 brig ' Charles Faucet,' which was then on her 
 passage to New-Orleans. This young gentle- 
 man, although well fitted for his business in 
 every other respect, and irreproachable in his 
 conduct among men, was destitute of religion. 
 
 " From the hour that James sailed for New- 
 Orleans, Melville, with another brother of his, 
 and who was alike partner in his - precious 
 faith,' made the absent brother a constant sub- 
 ject of prayer. Such, indeed, were their feel- 
 ings for James, and so absorbing to them was 
 the great question of his soul's salvation, that it 
 became, for a few weeks, with them, their first 
 and last thoughts for the day. 
 
 " One evening, just as the sun had fallen, the 
 two brothers, as they were sometimes wont to 
 do, visited the edge of the woods, back of the 
 village, where they then resided, and there 
 
26 MEMOIR OF 
 
 knelt down to pray. The first object of interest 
 before them was their absent brother, whose 
 image came up to their view with more than 
 ordinary distinctness, and who, it seemed to 
 them, was not only far away on the sea, tossed 
 upon its waves as the spirit of the storm might 
 drive him, but ' without hope, without God in 
 the world,' and liable to fall into the gulf of wo. 
 As they prayed, their own spirits seemed in 
 agony for James, and they poured out their 
 feelings in alternate offerings, with a depth of 
 sympathy, of religious fervor, of faith in God, 
 never before experienced by them for him. It 
 was given to them to wrestle with God in 
 prayer, and to importune as for their own souls. 
 And thus they did, unconscious of the nightly 
 dews that were falling upon them, until the con- 
 flict seemed past, and the blessing they sought 
 gained. They both rose from prayer, and with- 
 out exchanging a word upon the subject of their 
 feelings, went to their different homes for the 
 night. 
 
 " The next morning, the brothers met ; but 
 the feelings of the past night were yet too vivid 
 to be dissipated. Said Melville to the younger, 
 4 What did you think of our feelings last night V 
 ' I think,' said the younger brother, ' James has 
 experienced religion.' ' Well, I think,' said 
 Melville, ' that he is dead ; and I have put it 
 down in my diary, and you will see if it is not 
 true.' A few weeks passed away, and tidings 
 came that James was dead ! He died within a 
 few days' sail of the Balize, in the evening, and, 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 27 
 
 as the brothers supposed, by a comparison of 
 the letter they received with Melville's diary, 
 on the same hour in which they were engaged in 
 prayer for his soul. 
 
 " The above letter contained no reference to 
 his religious feelings, so that the correctness of 
 the younger brother's impressions was yet to be 
 determined. On the return of the brig, how- 
 ever, it was ascertained by conversation with 
 the mate, that the feelings of both were equally 
 true. It appeared from the mate's testimony, 
 and other circumstances, that immediately after 
 his sailing, James became serious, abandoned 
 profaneness, to which he had been accustomed 
 for years, and forbade the indulgence of this 
 profitless and degrading crime on board his ves- 
 sel ; and this seriousness continued to the hour 
 of his death. He communicated his thoughts, 
 however, to no one, excepting to his friends, 
 upon paper, which they received after his death. 
 Yet it does not appear from any of these cir- 
 cumstances, that he found peace to his mind, 
 unless it were in his last hour. 
 
 " On the morning of the day on which he 
 died, he said to his mate ' he thought he should 
 die that day ;' and accordingly, made what 
 arrangements he could for such an event. He 
 gave some directions about the vessel, and re- 
 quested a lock of hair to be cut from his head, 
 which, with a ring that he took from his finger, 
 was handed to his friends. He then gave him- 
 self up to his fate. In the evening, the mate 
 went below; and seeing quite a change had 
 
28 r MEMOIR 0¥ 
 
 taken place in his appearance, and that death 
 was rapidly approaching, he took his hand, and 
 thus addressed him : — ' Captain Cox, you are a 
 very sick man.' ' Yes, I know it,' was calmly, 
 though feebly articulated. ' You are dying,' 
 continued the mate. ' Yes, I know it,' he again 
 whispered. ' And you are willing V ' Yes, 
 
 blessed' and burst into a flood of tears, and 
 
 expired. 
 
 " To the Christian I have nothing to say on 
 the above circumstance. To him all is clear 
 as the light of day. But to the infidel I may 
 propose one question. How was it possible 
 that the event of James's death, and the change 
 which he evidently experienced in his feelings 
 — call it by what name you please, and the con- 
 solation of which no one would take from the 
 dying — how is it possible that the event should 
 be so strongly impressed upon the minds of 
 these two brothers, when he to whom they re- 
 lated was thousands of miles distant ; and how 
 could it occur, too, on the very hour when the 
 events were taking place ? 
 
 " Affectionately yours, F." 
 
 We return to the course of the memoir of 
 Melville. The condition of his mind at this 
 period — we presume, in anticipation of his min- 
 istry — may be inferred from the following pas- 
 sage of his journal : — 
 
 " July 10, 1820. — I think I can say with the 
 Psalmist, ' The Lord is my shepherd ;' and it 
 is my desire to follow him whithersoever he 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 29 
 
 goeth. All I want is the mind that was in 
 Christ Jesus. Many times he maketh me to 
 lie down in green pastures ; he leadeth me by 
 the side of still waters. O, that my peace may 
 be like a river, and my righteousness like the 
 waves of the sea. Though I pass through the 
 valley and shadow of death, I will not fear ; 
 though the thunders roll, and from pole to pole 
 rend this earth, if God be my refuge, what can 
 I want beside ? 
 
 " Now, Lord, hear my prayer ! Restore my 
 soul to full health. Lead me in the path of 
 true holiness. For the sake of my Redeemer 
 may thy rod and thy staff comfort me. Anoint 
 me with the oil of thy kingdom ; may my cup 
 run over with gladness. May thy mercy follow 
 me all the days of my life. May I dwell in 
 thy house for ever. Lord, help me to be thank- 
 ful for thy past goodness. This I ask for 
 Christ's sake." 
 
 The interesting occasion of the delivery of 
 his first sermon is thus recorded : — 
 
 " Dec. 17, 1820, is a memorable day to me. 
 I rode out to Readfield, and, by the advice of 
 Rev. James Williams, attempted for the first 
 time to preach. The meeting was held in 
 Carleton's school house. I trembled so that I 
 could scarcely see a letter in the hymn book, 
 till I rested my han,d upon the pulpit. Text : 
 * Trust ye in the Lord for ever, for the Lord 
 Jehovah is everlasting strength.' The text I 
 thought quite as applicable to myself as to any 
 that heard me. 
 
30 MEMOIR OF 
 
 " The calmness, the sweet, unruffled peace, 
 and the inward satisfaction which I felt after 
 the services were over, I can never forget," 
 
 He mentions that his second sermon was 
 preached in what was formerly called Malta, 
 near his friend James Wingate's. On this oc- 
 casion an unusual effect was produced by his 
 discourse, and he speaks of it with evident 
 satisfaction. 
 
 The life to which Mr. Cox had now devoted 
 himself, and to which he believed God had 
 called him by his Spirit and providence, 
 was one of the gravest consideration. Humble 
 though it might seem in the eyes of the world, 
 to him the aspect assumed was one of untold 
 interest. No other, with him, could compare 
 with it. While he looked upon himself as an 
 "earthen vessel" — and a frail one too — he felt 
 that he was a messenger of Christ, and that 
 with the faithful discharge of that sacred trust, 
 was identified the future, the everlasting destiny 
 of some, at least, of his fellow-beings. He 
 knew, by engaging in it — such was the state 
 of Methodism, even apart from other considera- 
 tions — that he entered upon a state of severe 
 trial. It was a life of hardship, a life of ex- 
 posure, and one that connected with it not a 
 little suffering. He went forth trembling, 
 weeping we may say, " bearing precious seed" 
 — but a seed whose fruit was to blossom, and 
 shed its fragrance, not only on this, but another 
 world. And we think we are safe in saying — 
 and we speak with an acquaintance that none 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 31 
 
 else had — that it was the bearing that his call- 
 ing had upon eternity alone, that moved him to 
 engage in the work ; nay it was this that kept 
 him in it, and that kept him from fainting by the 
 way. The reader is not to suppose that Mr. 
 Cox had before him some sequestered or even 
 opulent parish, which could tempt him with that 
 which pleased the eye and charmed the heart, 
 where want, neglect, or the pain of absence 
 was not to be felt. He was now a Methodist 
 preacher, who, at best, could have merely a 
 support, but who rarely received that. We 
 could name some of his " trials," as they were 
 occasionally called, did we deem it important. 
 We could recount the instances in which he 
 slept in rooms, through which, while upon 
 something like a bed he " lay, he counted the 
 stars," till overcome with weariness he fell 
 asleep, and in the morning awaked, finding his 
 bed half covered " with snow :" or the instances 
 when travelling in the " new settlements," 
 he would call at one house in hope that they 
 would offer him a dinner, or supper, or night's 
 lodging, but where they did not, or could not ; 
 and of his travelling in this way till midnight, 
 before finding one ; and where, in one instance 
 at least, he received but ten dollars for a year's 
 service ; — but we deem it unnecessary to the ob- 
 object we have in view in presenting this memoir. 
 Perhaps we may refer to an instance or two as 
 we pass along, but now we only remark that he 
 fared as few men probably would have fared, 
 had Mr. Cox been what he might have been, 
 
32 MEMOIR OF 
 
 and would have been, had he consulted this 
 world alone, — a merchant or a " settled preacher." 
 But to his history. 
 
 His first efforts in his new and important 
 work were in the character of a licentiate, un- 
 der the direction of a presiding elder. In this 
 capacity he preached at Wiscasset, where quite 
 an interest was manifested, and several souls 
 converted who remain steadfast to this day ; at 
 Bath, where meantime he instructed a school ; at 
 Hampden, where also he instructed a " couple" 
 of grammar schools, without, perhaps, infringing 
 either upon his other duties ; but which in 
 truth was done to furnish himself with money 
 with which to purchase the travelling equipage 
 of a Methodist preacher, a suit of clothes, a 
 horse, " saddle bags," and a few books. 
 
 While at Bath a little incident occurred, 
 which, as it shows the estimation in which 
 Methodism was held by some at so recent a date, 
 we may mention. He went to an adjacent vil- 
 lage, where probably a Methodist preacher had 
 never before proclaimed the tidings of free sal- 
 vation, and preached a few times with great suc- 
 cess. Quite a congregation was drawn out, 
 and fears were probably entertained that inroads 
 might be made upon ground preoccupied. 
 
 One Sunday, after having gone a considera- 
 ble distance to preach, and having preached 
 twice, and being greatly fatigued, as well as in 
 want of food, he w T ent to the door of the dwell- 
 ing house of an acquaintance who had very 
 kindly entertained him on a formei occasion, 
 

 MELVILLE B. COX. 33 
 
 and probably invited him to make a home of his 
 house when he came in town. He knocked 
 repeatedly, but no one came or spoke. He 
 ventured to walk in, threw off his cloak, and 
 was making his way to the sitting room, in the 
 hope, doubtless, of a cordial Christian welcome, 
 that should do both body and soul good, when 
 his ancient host abruptly encountered him. His 
 looks were less of deep displeasure, than of em- 
 barrassment. A word of courtesy was passed, 
 and he addressed his weary friend : — " I was 
 independent once," said he ; "I entertained 
 whomsoever I pleased ; I did as I pleased. But 
 now I am dependent on friends ; and my friends 
 say that unless I turn you out of doors, they will 
 meT Mr. Cox was shocked, of course, with 
 such a reception ; but besides that he was quick 
 to discern and appreciate the circumstances 
 alluded to by his " dependent patron," he was 
 on all occasions as active to avoid, not only a 
 controversy, but an unpleasant word, as too 
 many men are to seek one. He instantly thanked 
 the poor man kindly for what he had done, ex- 
 pressed his regret at the necessity, such as it 
 was, imposed upon him, bade him a good eve- 
 ning, and left him. But he could not forget the 
 incident. As he withdrew, he thought, he says, 
 of these words : — "He that loveth houses or 
 lands more than me, is not worthy of me." He 
 adds — 
 
 "I. went directly to the woods, and passed, 
 the time in prayer. At the hour of worship, I 
 went and preached. A few moments before 
 3 
 
34 MEMOIR OF 
 
 the services commenced, the house took fire, 
 but it was soon extinguished. If ever I preached, 
 I did that evening. It was deeply solemn, and 
 so silent that you might have heard the falling 
 of a pin. I warned the people to flee the wrath 
 to come, bade them farewell, and left them, for 
 the want of either a place to preach in, or ac- 
 commodations for myself. I rode six miles 
 after sermon, to a friend's, much comforted 
 that I had once been counted worthy of suffer- 
 ing for Christ's sake." 
 
 But it was not all thus, as a single passage 
 will show : — ■ 
 
 " From Hampden I went to the district con- 
 ference, held in Fairfield ; from thence to the 
 Bath conference, as near as I can recollect. 
 From this conference I received my first ap- 
 pointment from the bishop. As was usual in 
 such cases, with novitiates, I was sent to ' Ex- 
 eter' circuit, then called the ' Methodist College.' 
 I wept like a child, when I heard it ' read out.' 
 Alone, but hoping in God, I left home, friends, 
 and almost every comfort, and started for my 
 new charge. Exeter was a new part of the 
 country, and the inhabitants generally poor, 
 though it had many precious brethren in its 
 humble log huts. Many of them, too, were men 
 of sterling sense, and well educated ; but with 
 an enterprise peculiar to New-England, they 
 preferred a forest, with good prospects in future, 
 to the homes of their fathers. We had many 
 good seasons together. Religion, though not 
 much extended, was revived among the brethren, 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 35 
 
 many prejudices were removed, and Method- 
 ism, I believe, assumed a higher standing than 
 it had before." 
 
 On this circuit, however, his labours were se- 
 vere ; more so than they would have been, but 
 for his wish to extend religion beyond the 
 bounds of his appointed field of labour. " If," 
 he says, "I had confined myself to the limits of 
 the Plan, I might have had ralher an easy time 
 of it. But there were too many calls for help to 
 permit this ; and wherever I had an invitation, if 
 possible, I would go, and at least preach once. 
 Sometimes I had to wade swamps, sometimes 
 follow a foot-path through the woods. Once I 
 went to Ripley, to Frazervilie, and to Sebec, 
 and to several other towns, which I do not now 
 recollect, &c." 
 
 In 1824, Mr. Cox was appointed to Ken- 
 nebunk. After labouring here very successfully, 
 and endearing himself greatly to all who had 
 the privilege of attending upon his ministry, 
 and having the truth of that ministry attested by 
 the conversion of many souls, he was prostrated 
 by sickness, which nearly terminated his exist- 
 ence. But for this he was not wholly unpre- 
 pared. His letters at this period to his friends 
 are filled with allusions to the shortness of time, 
 andthe fact that his own dissolution might be near. 
 
 A few extracts from a letter to his mother, 
 may best exhibit his state of mind. 
 
 " Kennebunk, September 13, 1824. 
 
 " Think not, dear mother, that you are for- 
 gotten by him who has so often avowed his 
 
36 MEMOIR OF 
 
 affection for the best and tenderest of mothers ; 
 neither imagine that the sensibility of his soul 
 has become hardened by the voice of strangers, 
 or an absence from his fondest friends. His 
 soul, I hope, is still alive to all the vicissi- 
 tudes through which you pass. Often, while 
 others sleep, does my mind carry me to the one 
 from whom "I drew life's nourishment," and 
 then do I listen with attention to the tale of wo 
 of one who has drunk deeply of the ills of life, 
 — one who has waded through i sorrow's 
 stream,' while the hand of affliction has fallen 
 heavily upon her. But, mother* it shall give 
 lustre to your crown in eternity, if but duly im- 
 proved. Methinks you are almost through, 
 and your son is close in the same path, if not 
 before you. ' Well, be it so,' for there's my home. 
 The worm is my kinsman, the grave my couch, 
 and a world of spirits my dwelling-place. Yes, 
 I must die, and why should I care how soon ? 
 'Tis but a calm sleep for pilgrims, necessary 
 for their refreshment, to be prepared to ascend 
 the heights of eternity. Then why not say 
 c welcome death V — friendly messenger, come, 
 — take me, but lead me to the gates of that ' city 
 whose builder and maker is God.' 
 
 11 And must your Melville go ? and must he die 1 
 With his brothers sleep, with the worms to lie 1 
 Yes, fate decrees, and he must soon submit, 
 And yield himself a victim at his feet. 
 
 " Then roll on, ye days, months, or years, in 
 humble obedience to the laws of your Maker, 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 37 
 
 until my days are numbered and finished — my 
 soul 's prepared for bliss. Then toll yon bell, 
 and tell that another of the afflicted family is 
 gone— ^yes— for ever. 
 
 ** But O, Saviour, hide a fond mother, brother, 
 and sister, if they still live, in thy pavilion until 
 the storm be overpast. Let not their hearts 
 be grieved — suppress the falling tear, and heal 
 the wounded heart, and bid them still live. 
 
 " This little involuntary (I need not say un- 
 studied) soliloquy, will show on what my mind 
 dwells — that death, amid all the scenes of a vain 
 and noisy world, is not forgotten by one who ex- 
 pects soon to be his victim. Think not from 
 this that my health is poor, for it is usually good, 
 and indeed much improved, for I preach almost 
 constantly three times on the Sabbath, and 
 twice or thrice a week besides ; and, more than 
 this, attend prayer and class-meetings. 
 
 " I am with much esteem your obedient son, 
 ; " Melville." 
 
 In another he writes — " As if in anticipation 
 of what awaited me, I hastened to do my work, 
 under many apprehensions of soon being called 
 to account for my stewardship. For three 
 weeks, nearly, before my illness, these words 
 were again and again impressed upon my 
 mind, as if spoken to me — ' Your work is done.' ' 
 
 It will be seen in the sequel, how nearly these 
 apprehensions were realized. His career as a 
 preacher in Maine was already closed. He fell 
 sick early in 1825, at Captain Lord's, of the 
 
38 MEMOIR OF 
 
 place above named. For this gentleman and 
 his, family he entertained, as well as for the 
 physician, who was unremitting in his attentions 
 to him, very strong regards, and never spoke 
 of them but with gratitude to God for casting 
 his lot among them at such an hour. Indeed 
 few persons were more keenly alive to such 
 tenderness than he w r as. Those who read this 
 memoir, and remember, as they read, even the 
 slightest service rendered him, may be almost 
 certain it was never forgotten while he lived. 
 For him, injuries were written in the sand, but 
 kindness in letters of stone. 
 
 He slowly recovered from his illness, so that 
 in June he was able to ride, and he travelled 
 by slow stages to Belfast, where his brother re- 
 sided, and there he remained till the last of Au- 
 gust. Here he received a proposition from the 
 bookseller at Hallowell, who had once employed 
 him, offering him his stock in trade, with his 
 " stand," on terms of a very favourable charac- 
 ter, as he considered them. Finding himself 
 disabled from preaching, and yet most anxious 
 to be doing something, he accepted the proposal, 
 and went into trade again. He continued in it 
 over a year, during which time he was gene- 
 rally unable to speak aloud. We need not go 
 into details. Although he demeaned himself 
 in his employment with great prudence, the bu- 
 siness turned out unfortunate. As soon as pos- 
 sible, therefore, he disposed of his stock for the 
 most he could obtain, " gave up the last nine- 
 pence he had in his pocket, and without a de- 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 39 
 
 cent suit of clothes, and with money received 
 from his friends to pay his passage with, and 
 by their advice left Hallowell" on the 19th of 
 November, 1826, for the south — having, how- 
 ever, been able to preach once or twice not long 
 previous to leaving. 
 
 From this time he was destined to rapid and 
 trying vicissitudes, which the condition of his 
 health poorly qualified him to encounter. This, 
 indeed, was now completely broken down, 
 never to be restored, though his energy and his 
 ambition for active usefulness still continued as 
 fresh -as before. He travelled for some months 
 in various directions, searching perchance for 
 some means of usefulness, and hoping at the 
 same time to meet with a congenial climate. 
 He concluded to stop at Baltimore, and here 
 were experienced, within the brief space of a 
 year or two, both his happiest and most keenly 
 afflictive days. It would almost have seemed 
 the intention of the overruling Providence which 
 ordered his steps, to try him with all that he could 
 bear of both extremes, in the shortest possible al- 
 lowance of the little time w T hich remained to him. 
 
 After spending some time here, he married, 
 on the 7th of February, 1828, Ellen Cromwell, 
 the daughter of Mrs. Eleanor Lee, wife of the 
 late Thomas Lee, Esq., a distinguished family 
 residing in the suburbs of the city ; and never, 
 probably, on earth, was a union which promised 
 more satisfaction to the parties, or one that, for 
 the brief space it lasted, produced more. Her 
 character appears to have united every lovely 
 
40 MEMOIR OF 
 
 trait which even a fond husband could desire, 
 and the affection between them was most fer- 
 vent, and interrupted only by death. He lived 
 with her some months in the family of her 
 mother, (a lady whom he mentions always in 
 terms similar to those applied to his own,) about 
 ten miles out of Baltimore, where, at her soli- 
 citation, he occasionally assumed the direction 
 of her estate, and became gradually a good deal 
 engrossed in the pleasing cares of the charge. 
 Some of his letters written at this period, from 
 " Clover Hill," are filled with agricultural 
 sketches, and convey a lively idea of the interest 
 he took in his new labours. They were proba- 
 bly found favourable to his health, especially as 
 they not only afforded him little temptation to 
 exhaust his remaining strength in professional 
 services, but with his other domestic duties, so 
 entirely occupied him as to prevent much of 
 the corroding uneasiness which he generally 
 felt when deprived of such opportunities. " Once 
 in two weeks," he says, " we are visited by our 
 circuit preacher, who finds a congregation of 
 from 50 to 100 to preach to, in a little church 
 about the size of a large school-house. Our 
 house is a home for him when he pleases to 
 call, and I assure you we look with pleasure 
 when he is expected. * * I preach but sel- 
 dom. My lungs are still too weak to speak 
 with ease." This is the picture of a quiet life — 
 very unlike what he had been accustomed to — 
 still more strangely contrasted with the sequel, 
 which remained as vet undisclosed. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 41 
 
 He removed to the city in process of time, 
 and by strong solicitations of the friends of the 
 church of which he was a member, became the 
 editor of a weekly religious paper, called the 
 Itinerant, which was established principally in 
 defence of the interests of the Church, which 
 at that time were heavily attacked by seceders. 
 His task he acquitted with honor to himself 
 and to the cause in which he engaged. But 
 meanwhile serious trials were impending. The 
 blue sky of his life was overcast, never to be 
 bright again. The story is soon told, and is 
 too painful to dwell upon. " Surely," he says 
 himself, months afterward, as he looked back, 
 " surely I have passed (if it were right to call 
 afflictions such) a moonless night, the year that 
 is gone (1830.) Three brothers-in-law, a dear 
 wife, and a sweet little child, (besides two bilious 
 attacks upon myself, and one on a sister-in- 
 law at my house,) have followed each other 
 to the grave in rapid and melancholy succes- 
 sion." These were indeed severe trials, to fol- 
 low so closely a period of such enjoyment, 
 and especially for a man of his temperament. 
 Now was the time to test the strength of his 
 character, and the value of his religion : no- 
 thing else could support him, — and this was suf- 
 ficient for the crisis. Even as he tells over the 
 list of his losses, with a heart still bleeding, he 
 adds — 
 
 " It is well. If I only have righteousness by 
 things which I have suffered, I am content. It 
 is all nothing, when put in competition with tho 
 
42 MEMOIR OF 
 
 smallest degree of moral improvement. Whom 
 God loveth he chasteneth. If it all end in the 
 fruition of a holy and joyous hope, I may hail 
 it as a means, in the hands of God, of the sal- 
 vation of my soul." 
 
 This spirit we find even in those letters to 
 intimate friends, written in the deepest gloom 
 of his bereavements, which dwell most feelingly 
 on the then absorbing subject of his thoughts. 
 The following is without a date : — 
 
 " My Dear and only Brother : — Your last 
 gave me a momentary consolation ; I read in it 
 the deep feeling of a brother for a brother's 
 weal, both in this and in another world. But 
 an almost broken heart who can comfort, but 
 God 1 The fearful cloud has broken — the 
 dreaded moment has come — and I am alone. 
 My dear, dear wife is no more. She died on 
 Thursday morning, at twenty minutes past one, 
 and was buried on New Year's day. Bitter 
 indeed, my brother, would seem my cup, if God 
 had not prepared it. But I know, I feel, that 
 he is too wise to err, and too good to be unkind. 
 Yet I have feelings that none can tell — hours 
 of loneliness that seem almost like a void in 
 duration. But God hath been better than my 
 fears — ' he hath helped me,' and the pangs, the 
 recollections, the touching scenes through which 
 I have passed, might have even pained a heart 
 far less sensitive than mine, had he not, in my 
 great weakness, vouchsafed the support of his 
 grace in an unusual manner. What seems to 
 have given point to the arrow of death is, that 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 43 
 
 she died a few moments after giving premature 
 birth to another pledge of our constant and mu- 
 tual love. The cause, however, was a chronic 
 diarrhoea, which kindness of friends nor skill of 
 physicians could relieve. 
 
 "But my loss, I believe, is her gain. For 
 most of the time during her protracted illness, 
 there seemed a want of confidence in every 
 answer ; but blessed be God for ever and ever } 
 three days before her death, she partook of the 
 broken body and spilled blood of a dear Re- 
 deemer. This awakened all her feelings for a 
 brighter evidence. She cried to God, and he 
 heard her, tranquillized her mind, and gave her 
 that assurance, I trust, which sustains in nature's 
 dying struggle. The following are some of her 
 expressions : — To a minister who had called to 
 pray with her, she said — ' I want a bright, un- 
 erring evidence of my acceptance with God, 
 before I can be reconciled to leave this (taking 
 hold of my hand) dearest, tenderest, and best 
 of husbands. I cannot rest void of it. I want 
 the faith that wrestles constantly with God — - 
 that says, I will not let thee go, unless thou bless 
 me. -■ Lord, thou hast blessed me, and wilt thou 
 not again 1 Is mercy clean gone for ever ? O 
 Sun of righteousness, arise, with healing in. 
 thy wings. Jesus can make a dying bed feel 
 soft as downy pillars are. Then, come life or 
 death, all is well.' Her mother mentioned to her 
 that she had often comforted many a weary soul. 
 ' Don't tell me, my dear mother,' said she, ' any 
 thing that I have done ; I am a poor sinner? 
 
44 MEMOIR OF 
 
 " At another season of prayer, after the above, 
 she said, with great fervency — ' O pray ! every 
 breath should be a breath of prayer. I never 
 can praise God enough. I will exhaust myself 
 in his praise :' and immediately, with a feeble 
 voice, commenced singing — 
 
 'And let this feeble body fail, 
 
 And let it faint and die ; 
 My soul shall quit this mournful vale, 
 
 And soar to worlds on high. ? 
 
 Her friends then commenced singing — ' How 
 happy every child of grace ;' and she joined 
 through the whole. When she came to the 
 clause-— 4 1 feel the resurrection near,' she 
 stopped, and seemed in an ecstacy, and cried 
 out — ' Blessed be God !' 
 
 " I cannot say any more in this." 
 
 The following bears date the 27th of Jan- 
 uary, 1830: — 
 
 " I am indeed deeply afflicted, my dear brother ; 
 too deeply to write — too deeply to utter it. My 
 heart feels ready to break forth like waters. I 
 mourn in silence by day and by night, the 
 absence of one who would console when dis- 
 tressed, and support when weary. I feel a 
 loneliness which mocks the power of language. 
 ' Lover and friend has been put far from me, and 
 mine acquaintance into darkness.' Hitherto it 
 has semed but a dream, in which thought had 
 scarcely a consciousness of existence , but now 
 all is a reality. ' I go back — she is not there ;' 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 45 
 
 and if I go forward, ' I find her not.' My 
 room — ah, my brother, can you feel as I feel 
 when I revisit it 1 Fain would I call her 
 back, or hear the whispers of her friendly 
 spirit. But the grave covers her emaciated 
 form, and the worm perhaps already riots on 
 what was so dear and so lovely in life. I sin- 
 cerely believe the world has not her equal, in 
 some at least of the most essential virtues. She 
 sought no pleasure, no company, but mine. Her 
 house was her home, and if it numbered me 
 and our little one, it was enough. Her image 
 is constantly before nie, awaking each kind, 
 endearing look, bestowed in sickness and health 
 — but only to tell me I shall enjoy them no 
 more. 
 
 " I see, too, her dear form struggling in sick- 
 ness, and hear in each moaning wind the tale 
 of her excruciating sufferings. In her sickness, 
 I was too sick to afford those attentions health 
 would have enabled me to show. I could only 
 kneel by her side, and weep that I could not 
 relieve her ; and at her death, I could not real- 
 ize that she was gone, nor feel how great was 
 my loss. But now there is no dreaming — all 
 is real ; no mingled fear and hope — all is stern 
 truth. Ellen is no more. Well, be it so, my 
 dear brother. Sometimes my path seems a 
 thorny one ; but God is infinitely better — yes, I 
 feel that he is infinitely better to me than I de- 
 serve. Wise purposes may be accomplished 
 by this. Sure I am that I was unworthy of so 
 great a blessing. She was taken from evil to 
 
46 MEMOIR OF 
 
 come ; and the future may show to me the ill 
 she was unable to bear." 
 
 To his sister he expresses himself, if possi- 
 ble, in still more touching terms. But enough 
 has been cited to illustrate the points of his 
 character which it was to be expected the cir- 
 cumstances of these afflictions would draw 
 forth ; and the subject is too melancholy to be 
 dwelt upon beyond what is necessary to such a 
 development. 
 
 His health, at this time, was nearly as frail 
 as it could be. His fever had left him without 
 strength, and his lungs were so irritable that 
 almost the slightest exertion of his voice, even 
 in the way of conversation, was a source of 
 severe pain. It is a striking indication of the 
 force of his character, that, under these circum- 
 stances, he not only did not entirely yield td 
 them, but his mind was filled with schemes of 
 activity, which scarcely suffered him to rest 
 for a moment. He had concluded that he must 
 go farther south ; but the question was, what he 
 should do, — for he could not endure the thought 
 of being useless. Movements were made for a 
 newspaper, but failed. He then pondered the 
 notion of travelling with a view to collect facts 
 for the composition of a History of American 
 Methodism, which he believed to be much 
 needed. Other projects were discussed. Fi- 
 nally, he received a commission from his friend, 
 the Rev^ Dr. Fisk, to act as an agent to collect 
 subscriptions in behalf of the Wesleyan Univer- 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 47 
 
 sity ; and his journal shows that he was dili- 
 gent in this vocation before leaving Balti- 
 more. But it did not suit him, nor his situation ; 
 neither would any thing have induced him to 
 engage in any species of mere secular business. 
 Thus he remained — anxiously seeking for some- 
 thing to do, while, in fact, he was unfit for 
 doing any thing — till ^ in February, 1831, we 
 find him resolved — " to go and offer myself, all 
 broken down as I am, to the Virginia Confer- 
 ence" " If they will receive me," he adds, "I 
 will ask for an effective relation [charge.] Then, 
 live or die, if the Lord will, I shall be in the 
 travelling connection. Out of it I am unhappy; 
 and if not watchful, I may wander from the 
 simplicity of the gospel." This resolution was 
 formed at Annapolis, whither he had travelled, 
 in the midst of the severities of the coldest sea- 
 son and roughest travelling of the .year — slen- 
 der and sick as he was — with the view of 
 directing his steps as far as Georgia. The idea 
 of preaching again, wild as it may seem, was 
 perhaps not without justification on the princi- 
 ples of common sense, even for a man who had 
 already sacrificed himself, as Mr. Cox was 
 aware he had done, to his cause. That em- 
 ployment was congenial to him. He longed to 
 be engaged in it again; and disabled as he was 
 from doing almost every thing else, it is not im- 
 probable that the misery of lying idle, or of 
 being undetermined, to a mind like his, might 
 have affected his health itself more unfavourably 
 than even an ardent renewal of his favourite 
 
43 MEMOIR OF 
 
 labours. But the ruling motive in Mr. Cox seems 
 to have been, after he engaged in the ministry, 
 the salvation of souls. Few ever felt their 
 worth more than he did. In this respect, there- 
 fore, it met his desires precisely. " I can only 
 die," he says, ; ' and perhaps that were better 
 than along and useless life." It was, no doubt, 
 a difficult case to decide, and he felt its perplex- 
 ities, and laboured and, prayed fervently to be 
 rightly guided ; but, on the whole, his heart was 
 fixed ; and, as he somewhere says, it beat with 
 joy at the thought. He only regretted ever 
 leaving the ministry : — - 
 
 " Had I not, I might to be sure have been in 
 my grave, but I believe it would have been a 
 triumphant end. Life is of no consequence, — 
 nay, it is worse than useless, unless it be pro- 
 fitable to others and ourselves. I do not say a 
 man may not accomplish even as much good by 
 suffering as by doing the will of God ; but my 
 impression is, that I was not only called to the 
 ministry, but there to spend my life — there to die ! 
 and I most devoutly pray to God, if it be his 
 will, that there I may fall, crowned, not with 
 gold, nor with a diadem of worldly honour, but 
 with the honours of the i cross of Christ.' I 
 see much that I think might have been saved ; 
 I lament, too, a want of gospel simplicity and 
 heavenly-mindedness. I pray that God would 
 protect me from it in future. A minister, it is 
 said, should be, like the wife of Cesar, ' above 
 suspicion.' His countenance, his manners, his 
 dress, should all speak to every man, of the 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. * 49 
 
 dignity and divinity of his high and holy mis- 
 sion. O that the love of the world, its habits, 
 maxims, and every thing of it not in accordance 
 with the pattern set by the Saviour of the 
 world, might be crucified to death within me. 
 
 4 The dearest idol I have known, 
 Whate'er that idol be, 
 Help me to tear it from thy throne, 
 And worship only thee.' " 
 
 Full of these views, he left Annapolis for 
 Norfolk, and thence, after a short visit, travelled 
 by slow stages, as he was able to bear the 
 movement, to the conference at Newbern.* 
 Here he received an appointment to Raleigh. 
 We quote from the journal — the best evidence 
 of his feelings : — 
 
 " I am now a member of the Virginia Con- 
 ference. I have asked, too, for an effective rela- 
 tion. What a fearful duty, with my state of 
 health ! But, live or die, I have passed the 
 resolution to work in the cause. The Lord 
 grant me strength to fulfil it. O ! that in his 
 infinite mercy, he would restore and sustain my 
 health. 
 
 " Saturday, 19. — To-day, for the first time 
 for months, have I attempted to preach the 
 gospel of Christ. I went to the pulpit with 
 some sense, I trust, of the divine presence, and 
 
 * " I dined in North-Carolina," says the journal of the 9th 
 of the month, " and my companion in Virginia, though 
 both of us sat at the same table." This was at the half- 
 way house between Norfolk and Elisabeth City. 
 4 
 
50 MEMOIR OF 
 
 preached from — 'Is the Lord among us or 
 not?' 
 
 " I made but little exertion — but little effort ; 
 still I trust it was not altogether in vain. There 
 seemed to be much feeling in the congregation, 
 and much in myself. Every thing appeared 
 pleasant, and left me less exhausted than I had 
 feared. I have now nothing before me, but to 
 preach and die. O that God would help, sus- 
 tain, and direct me. I have no evidence, how- 
 ever, feeble as I am, that I shall die the sooner 
 by moderately exerting my lungs : I may ; and I 
 may live the longer for it. This is not within 
 my province. My calling I have thought to be 
 that of preaching the gospel. I know of nothing 
 in Scripture which requires me to forsake it, 
 though fallen. I may yet rise ; but if not, I feel 
 safer in the travelling ministry than out of it. 
 Others can do as they think right ; this, at pre- 
 sent, seems my task. And I only pray that 
 1 God may be ivith me .' " 
 
 Mr. Cox proceeded from Newbern as fast 
 as he was able, to his station at Raleigh, and 
 there entered at once on the discharge of his 
 duties. The result was such as most of our 
 readers must have made up their minds to ex- 
 pect. It was an earnest, constant, laborious 
 struggle between disease and determination, 
 with various degrees of superiority sometimes 
 apparent in either, but even its victory going, on 
 the whole, against the body. It is wonderful to 
 what exertions the " willingness" of the spirit 
 — and especially of such a spirit — will occa- 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 51 
 
 sionally arouse the feeblest frame ; and there 
 are few instances of this all-powerful religious 
 energy more striking than the one before us. 
 But these advantages, in many cases, are too 
 frequently gained at great expense. They 
 were so in this. They wore him out in despite 
 of his strongest efforts. He rallied, and re- 
 turned to the contest again, but again he was 
 beaten back, and again and again, till finally 
 nothing remained for him but to quit for awhile 
 his charge ; to be renewed, however, in a contest 
 of the still more important character of a mission- 
 ary to " the grave of white m en"-— Liberia. It 
 would be curious, though melancholy, to trace 
 the contest with more minuteness, as shadowed 
 forth in the journal ; and the more so as the 
 truth has been told with such evident simpli- 
 city, and, withal, so little with the idea in the 
 writer's mind of making out what would even 
 appear as a continuous and single sketch. 
 
 On the morning after his first sermon, the 
 journal assumes rather an encouraging tone. 
 He felt exhaustion, and pain too, — he had 
 scarcely even conversed moderately for five 
 years without feeling it, — but less than he had 
 anticipated. The thought of what he may yet 
 do kindles in him like a flame : — 
 
 " I never felt more hope of yet being able to 
 preach than now. Who knows but that I yet 
 may be able to preach twice on the Sabbath ? 
 [and one can hardly help saying what a con- 
 summation did he look upon such an event to 
 be !] Who knows but God has work for 
 
52 MEMOIR OF 
 
 me to do here, which another could not have 
 accomplished 1 O ! I do pray, that He who 
 directed a Jacob, will directed my course, and 
 that he will be with me, and bless my labours 
 for this people. 
 
 " I pity the people — have no doubt they are 
 disappointed. But this God can overrule for 
 their good. He can bring light out of obscurity. 
 If here I fall, I have but one prayer : — May 
 I go in the faith and triumph of the humble 
 Christian. Life certainly is of no consequence 
 except so far as it prepares us and others for a 
 future world. It is the good we accomplish, 
 not the number of days we live. And with this 
 view, a short life, if it answer life's great end, 
 is the better one. Ah, me — why am I so slow 
 to believe ? Does not God number the hairs 
 of my head ? Will he forget even me ? Ah, 
 no ! he has pledged his promise. I will venture 
 upon it. I will lean upon his almighty arm. 
 And then, if I fall or rise, I am alike safe in the 
 protection of him who holds the keys of life and 
 death in his own hands. O God, increase 
 my faith. Commission me anew. Anoint me 
 afresh for the work committed to my charge. 
 O let my word be as the thunder's voice, though 
 uttered in tones scarcely audible. Give energy 
 to thy truth. Let thy word, though spoken by 
 a worm of earth, be as a hammer to break in 
 pieces, and as a fire to burn." 
 
 Immediately after this animated passage, we 
 find him lamenting that his eyes failed him as 
 well as his lungs, and that reading had become 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 53 
 
 painful. The next day he acted as a preacher 
 in charge, for the first time in five years, and 
 accomplished the work, too, of a preacher; al- 
 though evidently at a sacrifice ; as a restless 
 night and intense pain in the breast followed. On 
 the Sunday following, the journal runs thus : — 
 
 " I preached again, till I was nearly ex- 
 hausted. I cannot but hope, from the appear- 
 ance of solemnity, and evidence of divine influ- 
 ence, that some special good will result from 
 the labours of the evening. O my God! 
 shake terribly this place. O, breathe over its 
 inhabitants. Speak with that voice to sinners 
 which will awake the dead. O, come, come, 
 my dear Redeemer ; come in mercy to this peo- 
 ple, and save the purchase of thy blood. 
 
 " I preached one hour and ten minutes. I 
 will try to do better next time. How much and 
 how painfully we have to learn wisdom. God 
 of goodness, save my feeble lungs from any 
 evil effects from this evening's labour. 
 
 " I feel much more sensibly my evening's 
 labour, than at this night week. My pulse 
 assumes its old fretfulness and frequency." 
 
 The next extract succeeds at the interval of 
 a fortnight, and shows him still undiscouraged. 
 A good deal of aid which was promised him 
 at this time, had failed. He was also without 
 " local help," which he greatly regretted. 
 
 " For four weeks now in succession, I have 
 preached once a week, — a labour I have not 
 performed in the same time for nearly six years. 
 And yet, though I had thought it might kill me, 
 
54 MEMOIR OF 
 
 I am not certain that I am really and truly the 
 worse for it. At this moment, to be sure, I feel 
 a great weakness of the lungs. I feel exhausted ; 
 but I hope by six days more, to be as able to 
 talk as when at Baltimore." 
 
 Again :— 
 
 " Thought it better to stay at home this eve- 
 ning, than to trust myself at a prayer meeting. 
 It is difficult for a minister to sit and say 
 nothing, through a whole prayer meeting ; and 
 my lungs are too feeble for exercise." * **■ 
 
 " Saturday, March 19. — I begin to feel 
 more and more that my having joined the con- 
 ference is all for the best. If / die, I think it 
 will be so. I feel happier, more given up to 
 God, more communion with him, more confi- 
 dence in his protection. I feel a sweetness in 
 its contemplation, that I have not for a long 
 time. I do not think that I am sanctified, but 
 I am ' groaning for it.' I want a holy heart. 
 And He who has begotten the struggle for it, I 
 trust, will grant it unto me. / want to know all 
 that a man can know of God and live" * * 
 
 " Sunday, 20. — I hope my brethren will 
 bear with my weakness for a little while. I 
 may yet be able to supply the place of an 
 effective man. My soul at this moment feels a 
 little dull. But O, I pray that God may speak 
 to-day to some one. I long to hear of one who 
 has been pricked to the heart, through my 
 instrumentality, in Raleigh. 
 
 " I know the soul is precious. I feel sensibly 
 that it outweighs worlds ! But I cannot make 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 55 
 
 others feel it. Did sinners see what 1 see, and 
 feel what I feel, there would be no rest for 
 them, till they had an assurance of salvation. 
 
 "I am sure that the soul which is eternally 
 saved, at the expense of human life costs nothing, 
 compared with its real value. But God requires 
 not murder for sacrifice. 
 
 " I have preached once more. I think I did 
 a little better than on the last Sabbath ; still I 
 preached too long. When shall I overcome it?" 
 
 This effort reduced him probably more than 
 usual, but it will be seen that the effect seemed, 
 after all, to be chiefly to suggest to his ardent 
 mind, more vividly than ever, the thought of 
 what must be done ! 
 
 " I am much exhausted. I am fearful that 
 general debility will soon unite with local. 
 Should it, why I must die. I only pray — 
 * Lord, prepare me for it,' and it is of the least 
 consequence when I meet it. I should be glad 
 to live ; to preach the gospel ; enjoy its consola- 
 tions ; to see sinners converted, and Chris- 
 tians built up in virtue and holiness ; to see my 
 dear family and friends, my mother, brother, 
 and dear sister ; and last, though not least, to 
 leave in the form of a book, a legacy to careless 
 sinners. I have the outlines in my mind, and 
 sketched on paper. I doubt, however, if it ever 
 be accomplished. Should I live all this year, I 
 think it will. O that, if done, it may speak as 
 with a thunder's voice, when the hand that 
 shall have penned it is mouldering in the tomb. 
 
56 MEMOIR OF 
 
 " But though these be my desires, they may 
 not be for my good. God, for aught that I 
 know, may say to this poor, fainting, suffering, 
 worn out, and dying body, 'It is enough.' I 
 can do but little here at best. Should I be per- 
 mitted to jenter the ' holy place,' disease and 
 painful suffering shall no longer cut short my 
 energies." 
 
 About the first of April, his health became 
 such that his physician forbade his farther la- 
 bouring, " for the present ;" but in a fortnight 
 we find him preaching again— that is, once on 
 the Sabbath ; and it should be understood that 
 his congregation were often disappointed of 
 a service he had engaged for them, by the 
 failure of the persons relied on to appear in 
 season. This fact, and the circumstance that 
 an unusual interest began to be manifested 
 by some of his people, and sometimes other 
 peculiar trials, operated forcibly to increase 
 the difficulty of a self-denial less rigid than he 
 practised. He says in one place : — " I attended 
 
 church. Brother B disappointed us. In 
 
 attempting to do something myself, I was almost 
 entirely prostrated." His great anxiety was 
 not, as might be inferred from some of these 
 detached remarks, about himself, for his own 
 sake. It was for his people, and the love of 
 souls; but the consideration of their necessities 
 compelled him, ere long, most reluctantly to re- 
 sign the charge of the station into other hands. 
 He gave up, at this time, his long cherished yearn- 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 57 
 
 ings for " effective service," though he continued 
 anxiously labouring, as he found opportunity. 
 
 Immediately on giving up his charge, his 
 mind seems very properly turned from others 
 upon his own state, and particularly personal 
 holiness. It will be recollected by the reader, 
 that his views on this point would not per- 
 mit him to rest short of the highest state of 
 purity of heart of which we are in this life 
 capable. Although the struggle seems to have 
 been severe, yet like all his other trials, it ended 
 in " sweet peace with God." The following 
 letter to his brother will best explain his feel- 
 ings :— 
 
 "Raleigh, April 23, 1831. 
 
 " Since my last I have been both miserable 
 and happy. The tempest beat angrily. I felt 
 afraid of God — thought he did not love me, 
 though now and anon I thought I could hear 
 the voice of Christ echoing in the storm, * Be 
 not afraid, it is IP This would give a mo- 
 mentary comfort. But such feelings I never 
 had ; such views of myself, of the purity of the 
 divine Being, and of an unfaithful ministerial 
 life, I had never learned before. I felt, too, a 
 sense of guilt that seemed insupportable. * I 
 groaned being burdened.' I loathed myself as 
 a person does an unclean fetid mass of corrup- 
 tion ; and I felt as if tied to it, — nay, I knew not 
 how to escape it. 
 
 *' But nearly all has passed away. I am now 
 comfortable — have been happy. Such sweet- 
 ness as I felt a few days since, I do not re col- 
 
58 MEMOIR OF 
 
 lect ever to have felt before. I could do nothing 
 but weep, not for joy, but for peace. But, brother, 
 / am /tot sanctified. Of this I am certain. But 
 I am still seeking for it, and by the grace of 
 God, I will till I die. I have, however, some 
 power over even the ' motions of sin.' When 
 tempted I pray, and am generally immediately 
 delivered. 
 
 " I do not regret the course I have taken, and 
 with my present feelings cannot, if I die. I 
 have no doubt that souls have been given me 
 for my hire, and to sustain my resolutions in 
 this hour of trial. We had nine a few evenings 
 since^ at the altar after a brother had been 
 preaching for me. Five have professed reli- 
 gion, and another hopes for it ; two coloured 
 and four whites. A dozen more, I should think, 
 are quite serious. 
 
 " But i" must quit or die, for a while at least. 
 I have an assistant sent me, but if I can go 
 about, he desires that I should still hold the 
 charge. As yet I have tried to know nothing 
 among the people but Christ and him crucified. 
 I pray God that I never may. The people all 
 are exceedingly kind, and say they would be 
 contented with but one sermon a week. But 
 with this the work would suffer. 
 
 " Dr. M'Pheters, the Presbyterian minister, 
 is particularly kind, as also Mr. Freeman, the 
 Episcopalian. Both have called on me very 
 kindly. The latter has invited me to go with 
 him to the Springs. 
 
MELVILLE B. C6X. 59 
 
 " I am not as well by far as when I left Bal- 
 timore, aside from my voice. I am exceed- 
 ingly weak. Do not, however, be anxious. I 
 believe it is all of God. I never felt less of 
 painful anxiety about myself than now. I think, 
 however, that I shall yet live, but I know I may 
 die. But I believe that the Lord loves me, and 
 if so nothing can harm me. Tell me your — 
 not another's — thoughts about the direct witness 
 of the Spirit ; not your ideal notions — not in the 
 common drift of phraseology, but the plain and 
 positive import of the sentence. 
 
 " I still have to whisper if I talk much, but I 
 wish I could whisper a week with you. I want 
 to know more of your head and heart. Do you 
 live free from doubt of your present acceptance 
 with God ; of the enjoyment of heaven here- 
 after ? I am not now so solicitous for holiness 
 as I was a few weeks since. I feel like a man 
 who, after climbing a steep and rugged hill, 
 finds a temporary resting place. Here I am 
 stopping to gather a little strength, adjust my 
 sandals, gird up my loins, that I may { go up' 
 with more vigour. Pray that my faith fail not. 
 "Affectionately, M. B. Cox." 
 
 His journal follows :- 
 
 " Saturday, June 4. — I am better to-day. 
 My pulse has fallen from a hundred and over, 
 to seventy-five. A vegetable diet, I believe, is 
 good for me. It may be that I may yet get 
 well. 
 
 * I feel very sensibly the loss of preaching. 
 
60 MEMOIR OF 
 
 1 know not how it is with others ; but it seems 
 harder for me to live as I should as a sufferer, 
 than as an active labourer. When I can preach, 
 the worth of souls, the sense of responsibility 
 which rests upon the minister of God, make too 
 deep an impression upon my feelings to give 
 them time to cleave to earth. The labour and 
 the prize, time and eternity, seem but as one 
 and the same thing ; but a moment, and the 
 whole will be realized." * * * ■ * 
 
 "June 21. — This day, one year, I lost my lit- 
 tle rose-bud. Dear little one, thy father loved 
 thee, but God loved thee more. Thou art now 
 safe. Storms cannot blow upon thee, nor can 
 danger either injure or alarm thee. Thou art in 
 heaven. This moment sweet praise falls from 
 thy infant tongue, to him who loved thee, and 
 gave himself for thee. Happy little spirit, and 
 happy he who, under God, gave birth to thy 
 immortal existence, in the thought that his child 
 is with God. O, that it may stimulate the father 
 to holiness — to a watchful vigilance, thought, 
 and action. God of goodness, help me to live 
 for thee, and for thee to die. O ! fix my heart 
 more constantly upon thee. Dry up the foun- 
 tain of sin, O God ! let me meet the child of my 
 hopes and its mother with thee in heaven." 
 
 Under the depressing circumstances to which 
 these various extracts allude, and some others 
 to which they do not, it must have been a 
 source of great comfort to a heart like Mr. 
 Cox's, to meet everywhere, as he did, with 
 the kindest personal treatment, from those who 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 61 
 
 proved themselves his true friends. This fact 
 is illustrative of his character; for it was 
 not an interest felt in him for his profession, 
 or for his religion's sake, alone. It was not 
 merely a respect, but a tender affection. He 
 somewhere says himself — for he felt it most 
 keenly — in reference to attentions he received 
 in the course of an excursion of a month or 
 two, made during the summer he passed at 
 Raleigh, as far as Hillsborough, and in portions 
 of the neighbouring counties, — " In the midst of 
 afflictions I am surrounded with many bless- 
 ings. The Lord gives me friends wherever I 
 go. Strangers become as fathers, mothers, sis- 
 ters, and brothers. O ! that God would bless 
 my benefactors!" Here is a beautiful in- 
 stance : — 
 
 " Tuesday, July 12.- — Left Hillsborough at 
 half past five in the morning, for the Sulphur 
 Springs in Virginia. Mrs. Blount has been 
 more than kind to me. She sent for me to Ra- 
 leigh : has kept me for three weeks with all the 
 kindness of a sister ; put her carriage and horse 
 at my command ; tendered me her horse, gig, 
 and servant, to go to the Springs ; and, to over- 
 shadow the whole, when I left her this morn- 
 ing, she slipped into my hand a note enclosing 
 eighty dollars /" 
 
 Again : — 
 
 " Saturday, Oct. 1. — I have just left Major 
 
 and Mrs. H . I have spent with them about 
 
 five weeks very pleasantly, though most of the 
 . time confined to my bed. They have treated 
 
62 MEMOIR OF 
 
 me with great kindness; gave up their own 
 sleeping room, and went up stairs for my con- 
 venience. I pray that God may reward them. 
 I want to leave a blessing behind me, not that 
 of silver and gold, but the blessing of a merci- 
 ful and compassionate God. He can sanctify 
 the weakest means for their spiritual good. 
 
 "lam now at Brother L 's, a young gen- 
 tleman who was once a travelling preacher, but 
 located for the want of health. He has been 
 exceedingly kind to me, and offers me a" home 
 while I am sick, whether it be a short or a long 
 time. Mrs. L has given me up her draw- 
 ing room. Surely this is the kindness of friends 
 -—friends whose hearts know well the mellow- 
 ing influences of the gospel of Jesus Christ." 
 
 Of his female friends he says : — 
 
 " Some sisters are among them, and now and 
 then one who approaches near the character of a 
 
 mother. One, Mrs. R C , I have cause 
 
 to hold in the most grateful remembrance. Her 
 taste, her feelings, her situation and standing 
 in society, just fit her to do for me what others 
 usually forget. She has not loaded me with 
 silver or gold, nor clothed me in scarlet ; but 
 she is always adding to my comfort. If a cra- 
 vat become old, a pocket handkerchief torn, or 
 a bosom worn out, I am supplied with new 
 ones. A day or two since, she sent me a beau- 
 tifully fine flannel vest, and soon I am to have 
 its fellow. Not long since, she sent me a fine 
 silk velvet vest, with other articles ; and almost 
 every day, the footstep of her servant is heard, 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 63 
 
 bringing a cup of jelly, a bowl of custard, a 
 chicken liver, sponge-cake, preserves, or some 
 little delicacy, which ' she hopes I may eat. ? 
 And this is not half. A. most excellent servant 
 of hers has always been at my command, to 
 dress my blisters, or do any thing that required 
 particular attention ; and she herself, when ne- 
 cessary, has watched at my bedside and made 
 my pillow in sickness. To God I am indebted 
 for it. Lord, help me — O help me, that I may 
 appreciate it." 
 
 Speaking of this class of his benefactors 
 elsewhere in the same terms — and the excel- 
 lent lady in whose household he was settled 
 many months, comes in for a large share of his 
 gratitude — he corrects himself, by stating that 
 they approached as near to the character of 
 such as strangers could. For him, however, 
 it was impossible they should ever satisfy those 
 yearnings of affection which went back to the 
 haunts of his early home. This is evident 
 from the language in which he alludes to the 
 letters he occasionally received from his mother 
 and sister. All that his nature was capable 
 of, he says, he had felt for them, — and yet 
 they asked him if he had not forgotten them. 
 The reflections excited by such a question may 
 be inferred, perhaps, from an eloquent passage 
 (apparently taken from a newspaper) which we 
 find among the leaves of his journal : — 
 
 "It is a sad thing to feel that we must die 
 away from our home. Tell not the invalid who 
 is yearning after his distant country, that the 
 
64 MEMOIR OF 
 
 atmosphere around him is soft, that the gales 
 are filled with balm, and the flowers are spark- 
 ling from the green earth ; he knows that the 
 softest air to his breast would be the air which 
 hangs over his native land ; that more grateful 
 than all the gales of the south would breathe the 
 low whispers of anxious affection ; that the 
 very icicles clinging to his own eaves, and 
 the snow beating against his own windows, 
 would be far more pleasant to his eyes, than the 
 bloom and verdure which only more forcibly 
 remind him how far he is from that one spot 
 which is dearer to him than the world besides. 
 He may, indeed, find estimable friends, who 
 will do all in their power to promote his com- 
 fort and assuage his pains ; but they cannot 
 supply the place of the long known and long 
 loved — they cannot read, as in a book, the mute 
 language of his face — they have not learned to 
 wait upon his habits, and anticipate his wants, 
 and he has not learned to communicate, without 
 hesitation, all his wishes, impressions, and 
 thoughts, to them. He feels that he is a stran- 
 ger ; and a more desolate feeling than that could 
 not visit his soul. How much is expressed by 
 that form of oriental benediction — May you die 
 among your kindred /" — Greenwood. 
 
 Such, probably, were the thoughts revolving 
 in his mind, in spite of every more cheerful 
 effort, when, in one of his excursions in the 
 neighbourhood of Raleigh, disabled by exhaus- 
 tion on the road-side, and suffering extreme 
 pain, he " felt a little sad," as he expresses 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 65 
 
 it at one time ; and at another, " walked into 
 the woods alone, and was so affected that I sat 
 down and wept at the thought of my situation : 
 but He who comforted Hagar comforted me." 
 He was reduced at this period to such a degree 
 that it was with the greatest difficulty he 
 succeeded in getting to Hillsborough, a few 
 miles, with the aid of a mattrass in a car- 
 riage. " Once, indeed, I feared," he says, after 
 he arrived there, " the road would be my death- 
 bed."—" But I yet live," he adds, "and for 
 three days past have improved beyond all ex- 
 pectations." Mark now the use which he 
 makes of his first ability ! " I have written to 
 Raleigh, that, the Lord willing, I shall be with 
 them next week, and shall preach to them on 
 Sunday morning /" This was after his resign- 
 ing his charge. 
 
 Indeed, it seemed as if Death himself could 
 scarcely keep him from the pulpit. He felt 
 invariably a great deal of pain after preaching, 
 and sometimes was exhausted for days ; but 
 this, he says, somehow or other he forgot; 
 and when the inducements seemed pressing, 
 could not but persuade himself that duty re- 
 quired him to try once more. And then he 
 could never be "moderate." He never was 
 boisterous in his manner, indeed ; no man's 
 taste, sense, or religion could be farther than 
 his from what is termed rant ; but he could 
 not keep his feelings from being roused to the 
 bottom of their depths, and his feeble frame 
 was shaken with contending emotions till it 
 5 
 
66 MEMOIR OF 
 
 seemed utterly disabled. This, of course, by- 
 some may be regretted. And yet we have some 
 doubts, after all, whether, in other respects, his 
 experience itself discredited the soundness of 
 the reasoning which had induced him to join 
 the conference, and assume a station. His own 
 opinion, certainly, continued the same. As 
 late as September of. this trying season, and 
 during a three months' confinement to his 
 room, he says — " I cannot mourn that I have 
 joined the travelling connection again, though 
 I die fifteen years sooner for it. I believe this 
 is my^place, sick or well. * * If God called 
 me to it, he will temper the circumstances in 
 the best manner for my good. If I am sick, 
 that sickness may accomplish more than my 
 health." Occasionally, his thoughts on the 
 subject were less cheerful, but the conclusion 
 was always much the same. The Raleigh 
 church, he believed, (notwithstanding his affec- 
 tion for them,) had not improved as they should 
 have done their spiritual privileges ; and it might 
 be God's intention to remind them of it through 
 him : — 
 
 " But even with this view, I seemed to look 
 upon myself as the cause of the affliction. Had 
 I not been sent here, perhaps they had been 
 better supplied, and — perhaps worse. Their 
 preacher might have died, or have been such as 
 they would not have thought profitable for this 
 place. At least, I will yet hope for the best. Still 
 I do feel unhappy at times, for the moment, at 
 its recollection. Some good, however, has been 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 67 
 
 done. A few were plucked as 'brands from 
 the burning,' who still hold on their way. These 
 I hope to meet in heaven, as fruits of my mi- 
 nistry here, and as evidence that the hand of 
 God was in my coming to Raleigh." 
 
 In perusing such extracts as the above, the 
 reader should recollect that Mr. Cox was alive 
 to every thing. Like the watchman upon the 
 watch-tower, neither a shade of darkness nor a 
 pencil of light could appear but he saw it — felt 
 it. Hence it is, that, no occurrence, great or 
 small, passes without his notice — even in many 
 instances without his feeling it deeply ; per- 
 haps too much so. Yet the wisdom of God is 
 seen in so constructing the frame ; and if he 
 himself notices the " sparrow " why should it 
 be thought weakness in man to do the same. 
 
 And the attentive reader of the private jour- 
 nal, on the whole, will not find any thing in the 
 impression it conveys of the spiritual condition 
 of the mind of the writer, to alter the opinion 
 which this reasoning is intended to express and 
 confirm. True, it contains evidence of many 
 anxious hours ; — it would be wonderful, indeed, 
 were it otherwise. The trials which beset 
 him were many, and difficult to be borne — the 
 trials as well of body as of soul. To be so ut- 
 terly incapacitated from active service, with 
 such responsibilities over him, and such calls 
 upon him, and such an insatiable and burning 
 eagerness in his bosom to be doing the work 
 whereunto he believed himself to be sent — this 
 was no ordinary affliction, alone. To be with- 
 
68 MEMOIR OF 
 
 out help at all in the first instance, and so fre- 
 quently disappointed in the second — to be de- 
 pendent upon every body, and able to depend 
 upon no one — to be personally a burden to all 
 around him, and yet in a land of strangers, who 
 knew him not — to be suffering for privations 
 which he could not allude to, or indebted for 
 kindness which he never could expect to repay 
 — to be filled with all the thousand wearing 
 cares of an official situation, which, in imagina- 
 tion, in effort, in feeling, in anticipation of the 
 future, if not in actual superintendence of the 
 present, he still continued to fill ; — these also 
 were among his trials. To all this may be 
 added his spiritual foes. That, under these, — 
 and with excruciating agonies of bodily suffer- 
 ing, frequently added to a constant inability to 
 converse even, without feeling the pain of a 
 whisper in his lungs, — he could still maintain 
 the spirit which the record of his days sets 
 fonh, — -what volumes does it speak for the 
 mighty power of a spiritual and fervent faith, 
 — nay, of God in the soul of man, through 
 prayer and holy striving, to conquer, under 
 God, every enemy that may beset the soul. 
 Nothing, it seems to us, can give a finer pic- 
 ture of the Christian soldier of true courage, or 
 of Christian wisdom — of a spirit intent on 
 making every thing, under God, contribute to 
 the saving of his soul, and the good of others. 
 He here alludes to a course of severe medical 
 treatment to which he submitted : — 
 
 " About two or three hours after the opera- 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 69 
 
 tion, I was taken with the most excruciating 
 agony in the spine, about the small of the back. 
 I had just been down in the dining-room, when 
 I was taken, and there I lay till Saturday 
 evening. 
 
 " My pains were indescribable. It seemed 
 as if the spinal marrow were separating — -as if, 
 without relief, I must die or go crazy. I called 
 on the Lord to save me from another such par- 
 oxysm, after I had suffered two or three, and 
 he heard my cry. 
 
 " I had many fears that the lower extremi- 
 ties would be paralyzed. But, thanks be to 
 God, I am better ; — can walk a little. 
 
 "O! that this affliction may be for my good! 
 May I see the hand of God in it. May I be 
 purified in it as by fire. ! that he would fit 
 me for his kingdom. Sure I am that it is a 
 loud voice. If pain can profit the soul, I ought 
 to learn. Such agonized feelings I think I 
 never experienced before. I felt as if the soul 
 of sensation were suffering, if not dying. 
 
 " What this will end in, is yet uncertain. 
 But be it what it may, I think a few months, 
 say six, at most, will make a change for the 
 better or the worse. It is now six years since 
 I was taken ill. Since then, I have not known 
 a well hour. I do not think the tide will stand 
 much longer where it is. I think the Lord will 
 either take me hence or send to me more health. 
 His will be done, only may he prepare me for 
 the consequences. May he give me a holy 
 heart. Then, neither a burning world nor dis- 
 
70 MEMOIR OF 
 
 solving nature can alarm me. Then, nothing 
 but God shall make me afraid. In his arms, 
 the fire must cease to burn, and the waters to 
 flow. If I AM be with me — if God in truth 
 show himself mine — it is enough. O ! that 
 this moment my soul were wholly consecrated 
 to him." ####*# 
 
 " September 19. — Once more I can stand 
 on my feet, as an evidence of God's mercy to- 
 ward me. But I am not thankful as I should 
 be. My heart is cold. I still love earth and 
 earthly enjoyments. O ! that I were weaned 
 from every object. O ! that I did love and honour 
 God as I should. O! that all my words, my 
 actions, my looks, and my thoughts, might tell 
 that I am constantly seeking for the fulness of 
 God. I do pray that my afflictions may not be 
 in vain to those around me, more than to myself. 
 May my sick room become a chapel, where - 
 preaching shall be heard, though no voice 
 speak. Let patient submission tell, O God, 
 how good thou art." 
 
 The same spirit pervades the following : — 
 " That providence which has permitted my 
 present, apparently unnecessary affliction, no 
 doubt, to many, seems dark. I was before 
 deeply afflicted, and the doctor's new practice 
 has, instead of relieving me, as was expected, 
 given me a lameness in my back, which has 
 made me more helpless than all my other afflic- 
 tions put together, and has relieved me of no- 
 thing whatever. Still I believe this to be well 
 also. Had I not been detained here, I might 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 71 
 
 now have been food for the inhabitants of the 
 mighty deep. This very circumstance, though 
 dark in its appearance, may have been neces- 
 sary to prevent a greater evil, or — which would 
 be still more grateful to my feelings — to ac- 
 complish some greater good in Raleigh than I 
 could elsewhere. Short as is my sight, I can 
 see many possible circumstances which, had 
 they been permitted, would have made my pre- 
 sent situation an object of the most grateful 
 feelings. Be it as it may, I have not a mur- 
 muring thought. I believe God " has done all 
 things well." " It is not in man to direct his 
 steps." In permitting this last treatment, I was 
 governed by the best light I had. If in doing 
 it I erred, I will still believe that God will over- 
 rule it for my good, and make even this dark 
 cloud yet as the sunshine of heaven." * * 
 " October 17. — My feelings this morning 
 were a little sad. I begin to doubt for the 
 future about the poor, perishing engagements of 
 earth. And yet I have no cause to. God is 
 still merciful. His arm is not shortened, nor 
 has his eye forgotten to pity. In the midst of 
 afflictions he has sent me many mercies. Nay, 
 / doubt if any man in health, in the city, has had 
 more enjoyment for the last two months than I. 
 My mind has generally been unusually tranquil, 
 and in my severe sufferings I have felt an al- 
 mighty arm near to support. Lord, save me 
 from unbelief — from distrusting thee — from those 
 fears about being burdensome to others which, 
 sometimes in my life, have been as a gnawing 
 
72 MEMOIR OF 
 
 worm to all my joys. O turn the tempter 
 away. Lift a standard when he cometh in 
 like a flood, and give me that confidence in 
 thee that will not doubt." * * * * 
 
 " Sunday, Oct. 30. — I have once more at- 
 tempted to preach. I spoke over an hour, from 
 Rev. xx, 11-15, an awfully terrific subject. I 
 did not have the liberty I wished for, nor that 
 which has been usual. I need to be humbled ; 
 — I pray that I may soon learn more sensibly 
 what a poor, weak creature man is — I, in par- 
 ticular. I am sure, however, that my feelings 
 for the week past have been very sincere. I 
 think I desire the glory of God above every 
 thing. But the heart is deceitful, and probably 
 it often deceives its possessor under his most 
 watchful vigilance. The Lord help me to do 
 better next time. Preach I must, ivhen able to 
 speak, or suffer spiritual loss." 
 
 But in all the above trials, who does not 
 see that God was fitting him, by sufferings, 
 for a great — but suffering enterprise ? And for 
 that enterprise he must be fitted " through 
 suffering." 
 
 And, accordingly, we see the next permanent 
 suggestion seems to be a missionary enterprise, 
 in some foreign land ; and, in November, we 
 find him discussing the project of going to 
 South America with those views : there he 
 thought the state of his health, even if the voy- 
 age gave him no benefit, would still permit him 
 to be essentially useful to some of his fellow- 
 men. He trusted, however, that it would re- 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 73 
 
 store him to his native strength once more ; and 
 " I long," he says, " to preach the gospel to 
 those who have, never heard it. My soul burns 
 with impatient desire 4o hold up the cross of 
 Christ on missionary ground." In December, 
 as the following passage shows, he was, how- 
 ever, undecided : yet it should be remembered, 
 that, whatever suggestion occurred, nothing 
 gained admission to his mind unless it had for 
 its object the salvation of souls. 
 
 " I have now four anchors out, and I hope 
 that some of them will hold on. In view of my 
 inability to preach, my mind has been con- 
 stantly inventing something by which I might 
 support myself without being burdensome to 
 others. I have an eye to the editorship of a 
 paper in Georgia, and to another to be pub- 
 lished in Richmond, provided it should be under 
 the direction of the Virginia Conference ; and 
 I have made some inquiries about an agency 
 for the Colonization Society ; also a mission to 
 South America." 
 
 This, as he humorously expresses it, " was 
 having all his irons in the fire at once, including 
 his poker and tongs with the rest." Yet there 
 was another plan, not here alluded to — that of a 
 religious paper at Raleigh, for which we notice 
 a copy of the printed " proposals," among the 
 leaves of his journal, marked by himself in a 
 manner which indicates an expectation of being 
 concerned in it ; and the style apparently his 
 own. This must have been a mere passing 
 thought. 
 
74 MEMOIR OF 
 
 His reasons for thinking of a mission to 
 South America — and the fact that he was the 
 first to suggest that mission to the Methodist 
 Church—the first to suggest it to the Episco- 
 pacy, and the first to address the General Con- 
 ference on the subject — and the fact, that the 
 suggestion has resulted in the establishment of 
 two missionary stations in that promising field — 
 are too important to be omitted. They are 
 found in a letter to his brother, bearing date 
 five or six months subsequent to tins'. They 
 follow : — 
 
 " Dear Brother,— Some six or eight months 
 since, my mind became deeply impressed with 
 the importance of a mission to South America. 
 An influence, which I thought divine in its 
 character, took hold of my heart, and I heard a 
 long and loud cry from these ' far off' lands, 
 ' Come over and help us.' I yielded to the im- 
 pression, and resolved, if Providence should 
 open the way, to go, even if I w r ent without 
 ' scrip or purse.' And so confident was I in 
 God of protection, support, and success in the 
 conversion of souls, that my mind could not find 
 a single opposing barrier on which it could rest 
 itself for a moment. Mountains were removed, 
 valleys filled up, an ocean bridged, and the 
 path, from beginning to end, made light in the 
 Lord. 
 
 "Now. as I hinted in my last, my eye is 
 turned elsewhere. I am expecting another 
 field of labour to be assigned me. But still 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 75 
 
 South America holds a place in my heart, and 
 so much so, that, whether I go to Africa or stay 
 at home, whether I live or die, I cannot feel 
 complacency of conscience, until I have ex- 
 pressed my convictions relative to the import- 
 ance of such a mission. They may be told in 
 a few words : — / believe the time has come when 
 missionaries should be sent to South America. 
 
 " In support of this opinion I will make the 
 following suggestions : — 
 
 " 1 . / think the providence of God, in the most 
 marked manner, for these ten years past, has 
 been l preparing the way of the Lord'' among this 
 people. In 1818 the British Foreign School 
 and Bible Society sent out an agent with in- 
 structions to travel throughout the country, 
 ' spy out the land,' and to send back a report 
 of its moral desolations. He landed, I think, 
 at Buenos Ayres, laden with the Scriptures of 
 truth, and commenced his tour. On his way, 
 some hundreds, nay, thousands, of French and 
 Spanish Bibles and Testaments were distributed 
 and sold ; priests became members of the Bible 
 Society ; convents were converted into schools, 
 in Which the New Testament was recognised 
 as a principal reading book ; friars became pur- 
 chasers and distributors of the word of God, 
 and thousands of children were taught to read 
 it. This is good seed. It is the word of God ; 
 that word which is ' <!naick and powerful,' which 
 is ' spirit and life.' It cannot return void. It 
 has in it the fire of heaven and the power of 
 Omnipotence. Though for a while it may seem 
 
76 MEMOIR OF 
 
 to have been inert and inefficient, the future 
 will prove that, amid all the rubbish with which 
 it has been surrounded, it has been a hammer 
 to break and a flame to burn. I doubt not that 
 souls are even now in heaven from South Ame- 
 rica, singing God's praise that they ever heard 
 the name of a British Foreign Bible and Edu- 
 cation Society. For aught I know, the agent 
 is still there, selling his invaluable treasure. In 
 1827 he was there, and had had the New Tes- 
 tament printed in the Quinchua language ; a 
 tongue spoken by the ancient Incas, — so distin- 
 guished in history for their wealth, that, it is- 
 said, even their kitchen furniture was made 
 of gold. 
 
 "2. There is now among the South Americans 
 the mightiest struggle of intellectual and moral 
 principle that they have ever experienced. Men 
 have been moved as the trees of the forest are 
 moved by the wind. Mind has been waked up, 
 and that torpidity of soul which brooded over 
 them like an incubus for centuries, has given 
 place to an energy of feeling which is irre- 
 sistible. The spirit of inquiry which has gone 
 forth among them has left in its pathway an 
 influence which moral beings must and do feel. 
 Principles hallowed by age, by names, and by 
 the sanctity of their religious superstitions, have 
 been agitated ; and, in some instances, revolu- 
 tions have taken place. There is now, with 
 some of them at least, a painful solicitude to 
 know ' what is truth.' But human nature needs 
 direction. And l now is the time' to give this 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 77 
 
 aid to the South Americans ; now the light of 
 the gospel would be to them as the light of 
 heaven. Sickened, as they are, with the past, 
 and doubtful, as they are, of the future, it would 
 break in upon them like the polar star to the 
 benighted mariner. It would be a guide to 
 that elasticity of human thought, which, when 
 emerging from the superstitions of paganism, 
 or the mummeries of Romanism, plunges into 
 the skepticism of deism, or a more fool-hardy 
 atheism. But unless some propitious influ- 
 ence interpose, unless the gospel be sent to 
 them, and sent immediately, we may expect 
 them soon to have their Volneys and Vol- 
 taires. 
 
 " 3. The standing which the Catholic religion 
 now has among them, calls loudly, I think, for 
 our immediate exertions. True, it is established 
 by law, in general, but this said and you have 
 said all. It is not enthroned in the hearts and 
 affections of the people, of even those who pro- 
 fess it ; and their understandings have little or 
 nothing to do with it. They have never yet 
 been inducted into that species of Jesuitism 
 which with us is so entirely invulnerable to 
 truth. People are Catholics because their 
 fathers were so, and because it is the pre- 
 vailing religion of the country, not from convic- 
 tion, nor, properly speaking, from a Catholic 
 catechetical education. Truth now would be 
 heard, looked at, and — embraced. And here I 
 ought to add, perhaps, that many of the first 
 men in Colombia contended strongly for univer- 
 
78 MEMOIR OF 
 
 sal toleration, and some of its brightest orna- 
 ments became members of the Bible and 
 Education Society alluded to. But it will not 
 be always thus. The Jesuits of Europe and 
 North America are turning their eyes to the 
 South ; and once let these gain access and an 
 ascendency over their feelings, and every avenue 
 of the soul will be closed by something more 
 cementing than that which closed the seams of 
 the incas' ancient temple. 
 
 "4. The unusually friendly relations which 
 now subsist between most of the South Ameri- 
 cans and the United States. A citizen of our 
 Union has there a protection which no other 
 foreigner in the world can have. Our flag or 
 name of itself is an introduction to the better 
 part of society. Our institutions are loved and 
 imitated, and amicable feelings and intercourse 
 between them and us is made a subject of 
 policy as well as pleasure. 
 
 " 5. There is another suggestion which I 
 think should not be passed over by us. It is 
 the fact that there seems to have been a simul- 
 taneous impulse felt upon this subject by our 
 brethren, from the North, the South, the East, 
 and the West. Our spirits have been * stirred' 
 by an influence unseen. Our hearts have 
 * burned within us' when we have thought of 
 South America. The cry of twenty millions 
 of human beings, ' perishing for lack of know- 
 ledge,' has been too loud not to be heard, and 
 too affecting not to be felt. And as Methodists, 
 we believe the Holy Ghost moveth us to this 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 79 
 
 work, and if so, as Methodists, these hallowing 
 emotions should be cherished, nay, listened to 
 as to the voice of God. 
 
 "6. One word more. / believe there is a 
 responsibility resting on American Christians, 
 to project and sustain this mission, that rests on 
 no other Christians in Christendom. Nay, I 
 will go farther still. I believe there rests a 
 responsibility on American Methodists, in this 
 work, that rests on no other denomination in 
 the world. Never was a system so admirably 
 adapted to the spread of the gospel under the 
 varied circumstances of human society, since 
 the days of the apostles, as is ours. None 
 can accomplish so much good with such limited 
 means. Our whole economy is decidedly mis- 
 sionary in its character, from beginning to end. 
 The spirit of the ever-moving and active Wes- 
 ley is breathed through every part of it. And 
 as it is given, so will it be required at our hands. 
 Heaven I believe calls on us to lead in this 
 work ; as in other places, so here, to be pioneers 
 in the enterprise. Even now I think I hear the 
 Master speaking to us — Up, get you to the 
 ' highways and hedges ;' to the wildernesses of 
 America ; to the icy mountains of Greenland ; 
 to the burning sands of Africa ; to the semi- 
 civilized idolaters of South America ; — up and 
 take a world ! 
 
 " Affectionately yours, M. B. Cox." 
 
 But as yet he was undecided whether a mis- 
 sion to South America would be thought advi- 
 
80 MEMOIR OF 
 
 sable by the church, or whether or not he would 
 be the man to fill the station, if they did. Hence 
 other thoughts crowded upon his mind. Hence 
 we find — although he was bent upon a con- 
 nection with the conference, somehow, — that 
 he was inclined to Georgia, from which quarter 
 he had received pressing requests. When he 
 left Raleigh, indeed, on the 28th of the month, 
 for Halifax, it seems to have been with almost 
 an intention to make that journey a test of his 
 ability to go farther, and, if he found himself 
 able, to keep on ; — but still hoping that some 
 new light might be given him. The first stage, 
 it must be allowed, was not particularly calcu- 
 lated to encourage him. He says — 
 
 " I have been in many scenes of wickedness, 
 but never heard so much profanity, in the same 
 space of time, as I did in riding three miles. 
 There were five beings who called themselves 
 1 gentlemen,' in the stage, and four out of the 
 rive were just drunk enough to fear neither God 
 nor man. They all swore vengeance against 
 the stage-driver, and some went so far as to 
 swear they would shoot him. One attempted 
 to stab him with a sword-cane, and another to 
 knock him down with a loaded one, but both 
 were prevented by the interference of their so- 
 ber companion. The fears for my back, and 
 not a few for my life, made me think it most 
 prudent to stop at the first place where I could 
 find accommodations. When we arrived at my 
 
 friend J 's, I begged the driver to let me 
 
 get out. My baggage was put down in the 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 81 
 
 road, and I left them to pursue their way in 
 drunken madness, glad, and thankful indeed, 
 that I had escaped with no other inconvenience 
 than a few wrenches of my poor back, and 
 some horrid shocks to my feelings." 
 
 From Halifax he travelled by land to Peter- 
 borough, with much difficulty, arriving there on 
 the last day of January, and having been about 
 a month in performing a journey which formerly, 
 he says, he could have accomplished on horse- 
 back in three days. At one place on this route, 
 he mentions the sight of the skull and hat of a 
 negro recently executed, during the general ex- 
 citement occasioned by the Southampton affair. 
 A number more had shared the same fate at the 
 same place. 
 
 At Norfolk, Mr. Cox attended the meeting 
 of the conference, and was invited to act as 
 chairman of the committee for drafting a pas- 
 toral letter ; a labour which, with others, he 
 was compelled to decline, though he felt the 
 gratification of the compliment it implied, espe- 
 cially considering his age. Here also he re- 
 ceived a pressing invitation from his brethren in 
 Maine, to undertake the management of the 
 Maine Wesleyan Journal. At another time, 
 attached as he was to the land of his birth and 
 .the friends of his youth, it is not improbable 
 that this proposal might have determined the 
 sequel of his career. As it was, it came too 
 late. A new subject had dawned on his mind. 
 A mission to Liberia had been named to him. 
 This, from the moment of its suggestion, seems 
 6 
 
82 MEMOIR OF 
 
 to have grown upon his affections, till it became, 
 as will be seen, decidedly a favourite project, 
 even his heart's desire. He speaks of meeting 
 Bishop Hedding, and of proposing the South 
 American mission to him, in a private inter- 
 view ; " and he, in return," he says, " proposed 
 one for me to Liberia? And he promptly adds, 
 " if the Lord will, I think I shall go ; much, 
 however, yet remains to be considered," &c. 
 Of this conference he asked and obtained leave 
 to travel, for the benefit of his health, — the 
 destination, of course, remaining undecided. 
 He then went to Baltimore with the bishop, 
 and spent a few weeks there, " very solicitous" 
 about his appointment to Liberia, and " wanting 
 much to go," but compelled to wait patiently 
 for the development of events. Thence he 
 directed his course for Wilmington, in company 
 with Bishops Hedding and M'Kendree. Here 
 he attempted to preach once more, but seems 
 to have been mortified with what he considered 
 his failure. Toward the last of April, the 
 warm weather reviving him in some degree, 
 he passed on to Philadelphia, where the sixth 
 General Conference was in session, and there 
 he took his seat as a member. His mind was 
 still full of the engrossing subject. On the 5th 
 of May he says, " I called on Bishop M'Ken- 
 dree. He does not hesitate to say that he is 
 prepared to send me to Liberia." He adds 
 that his feelings had become deeply interested 
 in that scheme ; so much so, that if the ap- 
 pointment should not be made, he could not but 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 83 
 
 feel it deeply. " The Lord direct, and help 
 me to be submissive, to believe in his goodness, 
 and to trust my all in his hands. O ! that I 
 may be holy. Surely I shall need it, to dare 
 the climate of Africa." Again : — 
 
 " Sunday, May 6. — A pleasant, morning. My 
 breast feels acutely the effort of yesterday, to 
 converse agreeably with a few friends. Liberia 
 swallows up all my thoughts. I thirst for the 
 commission to go. The path looks pleasant, 
 though filled with dangers. Death may be 
 there, but I trust this would be well also." * * 
 
 " Monday, May 7. — The Episcopacy has 
 concluded to send me to Liberia. I hail it as 
 the most joyful appointment from them that I 
 ever received. The prospect now is, that, 
 feeble as I am, there I may be useful, while the 
 energy of life remains ; that there I may ' cease 
 at once to work and live P I thirst to be on my 
 way. I pray that God may fit my soul and body 
 for the duties before me ; that God may go with 
 me ; then I have no lingering fear. A grave in 
 Africa shall be sweet to me, if he sustain me." 
 
 Weeks afterward, he continues to use the 
 same expressions of eagerness and joy. Death, 
 life, labour, suffering, but above all, Liberia 
 looked pleasant to him. " He saw, or thought 
 he saw, resting upon Africa, the dew of Zion, 
 and the light of God. He thirsted to know that 
 the winds of heaven were wafting him to its 
 shores" This beautiful expression is repeated 
 elsewhere. 
 
 It should not be concealed, however, that 
 
84 MEMOIR OF 
 
 sometimes his hopes were depressed, even in 
 regard to his African mission. His health 
 troubled him. It not only reduced his animal 
 spirits for a time — an influence which he was 
 sensible of, and guarded against— but really 
 presented, by the thousand and one suggestions 
 of those with whom he met, or appeared to pre- 
 sent, occasionally, a real, rational, and almost 
 insurmountable obstacle to his usefulness. He 
 counted much, doubtless, on the genial effect of 
 resting from labour at home awhile, the warm 
 weather, travelling, visiting his friends, the 
 African voyage, and also upon the hope of labour- 
 ing effectively in Liberia. But still appearances 
 were sometimes against him, and he could not 
 overlook that fact, though, on the whole, he was 
 encouraged — especially with the idea that God 
 could bring blessed results out of even his sick- 
 ness and death, and so he went on his way 
 northward in hope. At New-York, he attended 
 the anniversary of the Young Men's Missionary 
 Society of that city, (the same with which he was 
 afterward more closely connected,) and spoke 
 a few moments, as he did also, on one occasion, 
 at the Bromfleld-street church, in Boston. On 
 the 2 1st of June he met his brother in Portland, 
 and the 27th found him at his sister's (Mrs. 
 Lombard's) in Hallowell. The feelings aroused 
 by his brief interview with these friends, and 
 with the venerable and beloved parent who 
 now embraced him for the last time, hardly 
 suffering herself, as he parted with her, to be 
 left behind — the interest excited in such a mind, 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 85 
 
 at such a moment, by the sight of every familiar 
 object which had greeted his eyes in the dis- 
 tant but unforgotten days of boyhood, now 
 never to greet them again — and the tender 
 though simple circumstance of being called on, 
 in the farewell hour, as he stood at the thresh- 
 old of the door which his tears had hallowed 
 to his heart, to administer the baptismal cere- 
 mony for his sister's two little children — a 
 scene to which he often afterward alludes — 
 how must these things have moved afresh the 
 deep fountains of feeling and of thought, in a 
 nature so capable of emotion and of reflection 
 as his ! He writes their names for a tender 
 memorial of the solemn ordinance. " Dear little 
 Anne and Charles," he calls them. " They 
 are all the children my sister has, and it will be 
 sweet to me to remember that they were dedi- 
 cated to God by my office and ministry." And 
 who doubts that it was sweet ? Who can doubt 
 that, in weariness and sickness, in a far land, 
 by night and by day, his affections were soothed 
 by the memory of this delightful sendee ; and 
 that even in the last dreams of the dying martyr, 
 on heathen shores, the faces of the angels that 
 beckoned him gently up to his rest in heaven 
 were blended with the loving and grateful eyes 
 of the " dear" immortal spirits, whose consecra- 
 tion to the divine life they were born for was 
 committed to his hands ! 
 
 Remembrances of another character were 
 revived, too, by his visit : — 
 
 " It is now about five years since I left home. 
 
86 MEMOIR OF 
 
 In this long absence from friends, the sun hath 
 shed but few beams on me. One bright one 
 rested on me for a while, till infinite wisdom 
 saw it necessary to interpose a cloud. But 
 though earthly prospects have been clouded, all, 
 I believe, has eventuated in my spiritual good. 
 To-day, I find myself at home, with friends, 
 with those that I love and those that love me. 
 Through all, God has been my guide and my 
 deliverer. His hand hath blessed me, — his, 
 afflicted ; and I both see and feel that unchang- 
 ing goodness prompted the one as well as the 
 other. 
 
 "Thursday, June 28. — I can scarcely 
 realize that, after an absence of five years, I 
 have again met my dear mother and sister. 
 Hallowell and home never looked more lovely 
 than now ; but the absence of her that I had so 
 often hoped would one day meet them with me, 
 has chastened our joy to melancholy. The 
 past has all been called up afresh. My dear 
 Ellen and little Martha mingle in all our recol- 
 lections ; and the thought that they are no more, 
 has spoken to us so impressively, that we are 
 happy only as we hope for immortality." 
 
 Surely this weakness, if it be one, will be 
 forgiven him at such a time. It is not required 
 of man that he should cease to be human. 
 There is a time to weep, as well as a time to 
 pray, and to prevail, in the might of faith, over 
 all things. There could not be the triumph 
 without the trial. Mr. Cox had the experience 
 of both. He felt — felt in the most hidden foun- 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 87 
 
 tains of the heart — felt till the tears were wrung 
 from his manhood like drops of blood ; — but he 
 faltered not in the high purpose to which the 
 days of his life, and the capacities of his cha- 
 racter, were devoted. It was because he felt 
 that he faltered not : — 
 
 " The strength whereby 
 The patriot girds himself to die, — 
 The unconquerable power that fills 
 The freeman battling for his hills, — 
 These have one fountain, deep and clear, 
 The same whence gush'd that child-like tear." 
 
 And this is not the less true of the Christian 
 warrior. 
 
 He speaks frequently of what might be the 
 issue of his enterprise ; and one little circum- 
 stance may show that, while he anticipated 
 what might be the issue, he regarded even the 
 sacrifice of his own life — dear as it might be 
 to him — as a means of furthering the great cause 
 in which he had engaged. On his way south, 
 he visited the Wesleyan University, at Middle- 
 town, Conn., and on taking his leave of a young 
 friend there, he said to him, — " If I die in Africa, 
 you must come and write my epitaph." " I 
 will," said the youth; " but what shall I write V 
 " Write," replied Mr. Cox, "Let a thousand fall 
 before Africa he given up /" But it should not 
 be understood that he thought it, on the whole, 
 a desperate enterprise in that respect; or that he 
 rushed recklessly, like a Roman stoic, as it 
 were, on the point of his. fate. He perceived 
 
88 MEMOIR OF 
 
 the hazard, and prepared himself for the result, 
 and especially trusted in God's wisdom, (after 
 making up his mind that it was God's will,) to 
 bring good out of it, whatever it should be ; but 
 that he appreciated the motives which he had 
 for living, instead of dying, as other men would, 
 is evident throughout. For example : — 
 
 " I have left my friends, perhaps for ever. 
 Still I trust that the God who has so often 
 blessed, and so long watched over me, will re- 
 turn me once more in safety. O, that he would ! 
 But his will be done. His ways are above ours, 
 and every day's experience teaches me that, if 
 I ruled my own destiny, I should have but a 
 dark path of it here, and perhaps darker here- 
 after." 
 
 "I do not wish to be presumptuous? he says 
 in another connection, and this we believe to 
 have been a principle with him. He was 
 exposed, on his return southward, to great 
 danger from the cholera, and would gladly have 
 made arrangements, as he endeavoured to do, 
 for embarking without the necessity of lingering 
 in the cities, where it then raged at its height. 
 There were sixty cases on the day he reached 
 Philadelphia, and one hundred and seventy-six 
 on the next, with over eighty deaths. Here he 
 received intelligence from the Colonization So- 
 ciety, at Washington, of a vessel to sail from 
 Norfolk, and he went on. At Baltimore, he 
 received a few hundred dollars, (the residuum 
 of an estate of his wife,) and it is characteristic 
 of his spirit, that the first appropriation from this 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 89 
 
 little sum was for the manumission of a slave 
 boy, whom it will be seen he took with him on 
 his mission, intending to keep him under his 
 personal charge. He enjoyed greatly a short 
 visit to Mrs. Lee's. The air of the country, too, 
 much revived him ; and it is remarkable how 
 his enthusiasm for his mission regularly swells 
 up in proportion to his apparent ability to do it 
 justice. He speaks of feeling better ; " but duty 
 calls, and I must go. Africa is my home. 
 Thither must all my energies be directed. I 
 pray God to fit me for the work." Here the 
 cholera again beset him closely in the city. 
 There were thirty or forty deaths daily, and 
 among the rest, two in the family with whom he 
 lodged. Word came to the master of the house 
 that one of them was ill, and his decease fol- 
 lowed before he could get to him. In Rich- 
 mond, also, he found the disease raging ; and at 
 Hampton, where he hoped to get, among other 
 things, some books for his mission library, four 
 persons died out of the family he visited, inclu- 
 ding a particular friend, his host. He felt him- 
 self now in some danger, though gradually too 
 much accustomed to it, if nothing more, to be 
 alarmed — in which, probably, much of the 
 hazard, physically speaking, consisted — having 
 been now a month in a close cholera atmos- 
 phere ; not to mention the fact that at Wilming- 
 ton the small pox was raging at the time of his 
 visit, in a house directly over the way. The 
 following letter, from Norfolk, dated the 13th 
 of October, will continue the narrative ; and it 
 
90 MEMOIR OF 
 
 will forcibly show how resolutely he, in respect 
 to his mission, (and in other things it was the 
 same,) was in the habit of relying, next to God, 
 upon himself- — 
 
 " My Dear Brother : — These are perilous 
 times. For nearly three months I have been 
 in the atmosphere of the cholera. Hundreds 
 have been dying around me, and in almost 
 every place I have visited, men have literally 
 been buried ' in heaps.' But God hath spared 
 me. Though frailer than the flower of the field, 
 and frequently under a poisonous influence from 
 the atmosphere, or some to me unknown cause, 
 in the most sensible manner, a gracious God, 
 with a tender care that it seems as if I had ne- 
 ver realized before, has sustained me ; and to- 
 day I am as well, and perhaps better, than when 
 we .parted. But, my brother, in what accents 
 should this desolating scourge speak to the 
 living! Why, why live we, while others are 
 dying ! 
 
 " My mission has ' neither form nor comeli- 
 ness' to many, nay, most of my friends. One 
 advises that I should take my coffin with 
 me ; another thinks it is offering murder for 
 sacrifice ; and a third, that it is flying directly in 
 the face of a providence which hath more than 
 thrice said, ' The white missionary shall not live 
 there.' But these see as I see not, think as I 
 think not, and feel as I feel not. One circum- 
 stance, however, has given me some pain — 
 that, of the ministry there was none to help me. 
 Still, I have frequently thought that God hath 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 91 
 
 guided this also. Every effort made by myself 
 or others to obtain help has been thwarted in 
 a manner apparently providential, and entirely 
 beyond our control. All has seemed to say, 
 if I go to Africa, / must go alone. But, brother, 
 it is well. I shall have none to lean upon bui 
 the missionary's God ; I trust I shall cleave the 
 more closely to him. His smiles, and the as- 
 surance of his protection, will be better than the 
 society and aid of thousands. He can bring 
 strength out of weakness, and give efficien- 
 cy to things that are naught. True, it some- 
 times looks dark to me, and seems impossible 
 that I should accomplish any good ; but faith 
 bids me hope that there is light ahead, and that, 
 though dark, the storm is not only directed by 
 the same hand which has marked the course of 
 a noon-day sun, but that it frequently accom- 
 plishes quite as much good. Abraham once 
 went — he knew not where ; — I will trust in 
 Abraham's God. 
 
 " I am now nearly ready, and the time of my 
 departure is at hand. We are looking for the 
 Jupiter every moment, in which, God willing, I 
 am expecting to take passage. She will touch 
 here only long enough to take in a few emi- 
 grants, and some articles for the Colonization 
 Society ; and — we shall be on our way. 
 
 " In haste, affectionately, M." 
 
 It should be understood, in explanation of 
 part of this letter, that when he accepted, as 
 he had done, (though the date is not given,) the 
 
92 MEMOIR OF 
 
 appointment to the superintendency of the mis- 
 sion of the New- York Young Men's Society, 
 auxiliary to the Missionary Society of the 
 Methodist Episcopal Church, it was with the 
 confident expectation that a companion would 
 accompany him. That hope he abandoned 
 with reluctance. In some measure, he was 
 relieved by the arrival of two young men from 
 Princeton, appointed as missionaries to Africa 
 by a western society. These were Presbyte- 
 rians, but their denomination was no hinder- 
 ance to the love and joy with which he re- 
 ceived them. No consideration of that cha- 
 racter ever moved him to restrain either his 
 respect for principles, or his affection for men. 
 Some of his expressions suggest, indeed, that 
 he suspected this movement might have been 
 quickened a good deal' by the efforts of the 
 Methodists. So far, it was a delightful confirma- 
 tion of the reasoning which he had loved to 
 cherish in regard to the usefulness of his own 
 mission, whatever otherwise its result. " If my 
 move," he says, " has done but this good, it is 
 worth something. The Lord help us to help 
 each other, as brethren of the same family !" — 
 a beautiful exemplification of his prevailing 
 spirit. The prospect was darkened again by the 
 death of Mr. Barr, only a week subsequent to 
 his having spoken at a public meeting of the 
 free blacks of Norfolk, at which Mr. Cox him- 
 self presided ; and then once more came a re- 
 viving light from the north, in the intelligence 
 of Bishop Hedding's appointment of Messrs. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 93 
 
 Spaulding and Wright, " to labour under my 
 direction, in connection with me, at and near 
 Liberia." This was an inexpressible consola- 
 tion to him. He had dreaded at any time to go 
 alone, only on the score of his want of strength 
 to be sufficient, alone, for his work. He felt 
 now secure on that point. And he felt also as 
 if God had chosen this way of showing himself 
 in the mission. He thought he saw why his 
 own efforts to get company had been suffered 
 to fail. 
 
 For the opposition, too, which he met with 
 in his views of the propriety of the mission — a 
 sincere opposition without doubt — he received 
 something of an offset, in the sympathy ex- 
 pressed by here and there a friend, of a spirit 
 congenial with his own. The following lines, 
 taken from the Richmond Christian Sentinel, 
 are an example : — 
 
 TO THE REV. MELVILLE B. COX, 
 
 METHODIST MISSIONARY TO AFRICA. 
 
 Go ! child of the cross, to that distant land 
 Where the burning sun tints the golden sand 
 With its glowing beams ; where the Niger rolls 
 Its beautiful streams :— Go ! friend of the souls 
 Of Afric's children ; and teach them the way 
 To approach thy God ; and how they should pray 
 To the Spirit of light, that he may impart 
 Immortal joy to the heathen heart. 
 Go ! and in sickness shall angels be near, 
 To wipe from thy cheek each burning tear. 
 Go \ and in danger thy God shall be nigh, 
 And shall open the way to faith's bright eye. 
 Go \ and in death ; — that glorious hour 
 For bursting the bonds of the tempter's power, — 
 
94 MEMOIR OF 
 
 The seraphs' harmonious numbers shall wake, 
 
 On heavenly harps soft music to make, 
 
 Around thy couch ; — and Afric's sons 
 
 Shall bury thy corpse where some bright stream runs ; 
 
 And the native children repeat their prayers 
 
 Around thy grave, and when evening stars 
 
 Ride bright through the sky, thy converts shall bow 
 
 To the God of him of the sunny brow, 
 
 Who led their children along in the way, 
 
 From the ills of life to eternal day. 
 
 Go ! and when Gabriel's trump shall resound 
 
 Through ocean's caves — when the solid ground 
 
 Shall yield its dead, and the dread display 
 
 Of the hosts of heaven proclaim the Day, — 
 
 Then rise with thy ransom'd from that dim shore 
 
 To dwell with thy Saviour for evermore. 
 
 About the same time, he was deeply touched 
 by the reception of a very kind communication 
 from Mrs. Sigoumey, which, especially as it 
 explains the whole matter in the best w r ay for 
 itself, we will not deny ourselves the pleasure 
 of inserting at length : — 
 
 "Hartford, Sept. 21, 1832. 
 
 " Rev. and Dear Sir :— Seldom have I pe- 
 rused a letter that so strongly awakened my 
 sympathies as yours, delineating the character 
 of your beloved and departed wife. It reached 
 me only last evening, and I hasten to reply, lest 
 my compliance with your request should prove 
 too late for your purpose. The interval of 
 almost three weeks, which has transpired be- 
 tween its date and my answer, has been princi- 
 pally devoted to an absence from home, in a 
 pursuit of health upon the sea-shore. I have 
 seen your name in the public prints, announced 
 as missionary elect to that suffering clime, 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 95 
 
 where my heart has so many years lingered in 
 painful pity, and in trembling hope. God be 
 with you, while you bear the message of his 
 mercy to mourning Africa, bereft of her children, 
 and too long sorrowing like those who hare 
 no hope. The Redeemer of souls grant you 
 strength to reap a full harvest in Liberia ; and 
 from thence may his gospel go forth in bright- 
 ness, until the whole of Ethiopia shall stretch 
 forth her hands to God. 
 
 " That all your adversities and toils may be 
 sanctified to your spiritual gain here, and made 
 to enhance your ' durable reward' hereafter, is 
 the prayer of yours, 
 
 " In the faith and hope of the gospel, 
 
 " L, H. SiaOURNEY." 
 
 « THE MISSIONARY'S FAREWELL AT THE GRAVE OF 
 HIS WIFE. 
 
 Once more 'mid autumn T s moaning blast 
 
 I seek thy narrow bed ;< — 
 And is this gush of tears the last 
 
 I o'er its turf may shed 1 — 
 Though seasons change, and years depart, 
 
 Yet none shall here recline 
 To twine thy memory round his heart 
 
 With such a love as mine. 
 
 Bound to a suffering, heathen clime, 
 
 For our Redeemer's sake, 
 "What tides of sympathy sublime * 
 
 At thy blest image wake ; ' 
 
 Thy tender care — thy fearless trust — 
 
 Thy fond, confiding tone, — 
 But what avails — since thou art dust, 
 
 And I am all alone ! 
 
96 MEMOIR OF 
 
 Thou too, dear infant, slumbering nigh, 
 
 How beautiful wert thou ! 
 Thy mother's spirit in thine eye, 
 
 Her smile upon thy brow ; — 
 A little while thy rose-bud light 
 
 O'er my lone path was shed ; — 
 A little while, — there came a blight, 
 
 And thou art of the dead. 
 
 I go ; — my best beloved, farewell ! 
 
 Borne o'er the trackless sea, 
 When its wild waves like mountains swell, 
 
 Still shall I think of thee ; 
 Thy meekness mid affliction's strife, 
 
 Thy lifted glance of prayer, 
 Thy firmness 'neath the storms of life, 
 
 Shall be my pattern there. 
 
 And when, o'er Afric's bleeding breast, 
 
 The scorn'd of every shore, 
 The chain'd, the trampled, the oppress'd, 
 
 Salvation's balm I pour — 
 Thy zeal to spread a Saviour's name, 
 
 Thy love with cloudless ray, 
 Like ancient Israel's pillar'd flame, 
 
 Shall cheer my pilgrim way. 
 
 If toiling mid that sultry glade, 
 
 The spoiler's call I hear, 
 Or 'neath the palm trees' murmuring shade, 
 
 It hoarsely warns my ear, — 
 O ! may. the faith that fired thine eye, 
 
 'Mid pangs untold and strong, 
 My dying pillow hover nigh, 
 
 And wake the triumph song. 
 
 The first of November was the day appointed 
 for the sailing of the Jupiter, in which Mr. Cox 
 had taken passage ; and public prayers on board, 
 with all other suitable preparations, were made 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 97 
 
 accordingly. It was not, however, till the 6th, 
 that they weighed anchor for the sea. There 
 was time enough, meanwhile, for calm reflec- 
 tion. The journal acknowledges a " little sad- 
 ness" at the thought of leaving country and 
 home, but blesses God for the consolations 
 excited by the thought of the future, and. for a 
 cheerful hope in his protection. Again, he 
 says : — 
 
 " Many dangers have presented themselves 
 for reflection this morning, and thought has 
 suggested, as it frequently has, that the hope of 
 life in Africa must be but as a dream. Perhaps 
 so. In making up my mind, and in search of a 
 passage to go out, I have followed the best 
 light I could obtain. Inow leave it all with 
 God. My life, my soul, my all, I renewedly 
 resign to him. I believe he careth for me. 
 Why should I doubt but that he will do all 
 things well?" * * * * 
 
 " When I think of the responsibility I have 
 taken upon me, where I am, and where I am 
 going to, I am surprised. Something beyond 
 nature, it does seem to me, must have moved 
 my heart to the work, and sustained me in 
 the undertaking, or I should not be where I am. 
 The Lord knoweth. I pray that he may sup- 
 port me. Never before did I stand in so re- 
 sponsible a connection to the Church. God 
 help me to do honour to him, and justice to the 
 cause in which I am engaged." 
 
 At the hour of sailing he drops the following 
 note to his sister : — 
 
 7 
 
98 MEMOIR OF 
 
 "November 5, 1832. 
 
 "My Dear Sister : — I am now on my way 
 to Africa. Probably we shall put to sea this 
 evening. We have fifty-four souls on board, — 
 only seven of whom, besides myself, profess to 
 have been born again. We have a good ship, 
 and I am as comfortably provided for as I could 
 expect. We have only one cabin passenger 
 besides myself, and he, I believe, is one of the 
 owners of the ship. 
 
 " I wish I could see you this morning, and 
 mother, and your little ones. But then 1 know 
 not that I should be more willing to leave. 1 
 have much more tranquillity in view of my de- 
 parture than I had expected. God has been 
 gracious to me — has comforted and now sus- 
 tains me. But, good-by : follow me as far as I 
 follow Christ. Be faithful, sister — be humble. 
 I believe my aim is heaven. Whenever I fall, 
 I trust I shall go there. But I have no time to 
 write. With love to all, 
 
 " Your affectionate brother, M. B. Cox." 
 
 On the 10th, several hundred miles out, and 
 after severe sickness, he writes — 
 
 " Liberia has seemed sweeter, in my con- 
 templations of yesterday and to-day, than ever. 
 I hope — O, I do hope, that I may yet live there 
 to do them much good." 
 
 On the 19th, " dreadfully sick," and so weak 
 as scarcely to be able to walk, he says — 
 
 " I pray God to sustain me. I want at least 
 to tread on the soil of Africa — to inhale its air ; 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 99 
 
 and I would that I could be spared at least long 
 enough to see the mission fairly established. 
 
 " O God, look on me in love and in mercy. 
 Remember how frail I am, and lift up both my 
 body and soul to praise thee." 
 
 The following striking passage occurs on 
 the 24th : — 
 
 " Appearances of the weather a little more 
 favourable. Sweet peace within me this morn- 
 ing. God is good. In the midst of this watery 
 world — these mighty winds and this trembling- 
 sea — my mind has been greatly comforted.' 
 Heavenly suggestions have occurred to me, 
 and, in view of the work, I have been enabled 
 to commit every thing to God, without perturba- 
 tion. I praise God for his mercy. My heart 
 cries out for more of his love, and more of his 
 abiding presence. I want to breathe in him — 
 to feel that my very breath is prayer and com- 
 munion with God. 
 
 " My mind is planning for the good of my 
 mission. A mission-house, a school, and a 
 farm connected with it, and finally an academy, 
 rise up in perspective before me. Hope stops 
 not here. Young converts, churches, circuits, 
 stations, and conferences, I trust, will yet be 
 seen in Liberia."* 
 
 What a situation for the encouragement of 
 thoughts like these ! 
 
 * All which — though he was permitted to see but part 
 of them in life — have been accomplished since his death. 
 — Ed. 
 
100 MEMOIR OF 
 
 On the 27th the storm raged high, and he 
 was compelled to take refuge in his berth. He 
 writes — 
 
 " When has my heart been so much com- 
 forted as this morning ? God has been very 
 gracious to me. He hath not dealt with me 
 according to my sins v He hath been very gra- 
 cious and kind, condescended to my weakness, 
 made to my poor heart such heavenly and con- 
 soling suggestions, as none but a being of infi- 
 nite goodness could make. O that I may ap- 
 preciate his mercy. Lord, help me. I want 
 to do right. I want to be holy. Fit me in soul 
 and body for the great work to which I trust 
 thou hast called me." 
 
 This spirit generally pervades his reflec- 
 tions, — quickened, perhaps, in some degree, by 
 the salutary influence which he believed him- 
 self to be feeling in his frame, from the voyage. 
 On the 15th of December, having now been out 
 the unusual time of six weeks, without making 
 the land they had reason to look for long be- 
 fore, and having suffered exceedingly from sea- 
 sickness and rough weather, (not to dwell upon 
 some inconveniences of which we have con- 
 cluded that a sketch may as well be spared,) his 
 expressions are thus strong: — 
 
 " I thank God for the consolations of his 
 grace which I this morning feel in my heart. 
 It is sweet — ! it is sweet, to my lonely heart. 
 Afar from all that nature holds dear, in the 
 midst of a boundless ocean, and among sinners 
 who care but little for God or their own souls, 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 101 
 
 it is sweet — ! it is sweet, to feel that God is 
 with you, and that his Holy Spirit is within 
 you. Such, I trust, are my feelings this morn- 
 ing. O God, take care of me. Let me not sin 
 against thee, nor do any thing that will grieve 
 thy Spirit, or cause it for one moment to leave 
 me to myself." 
 
 And the next day, after a religious service on 
 deck — 
 
 " I know not when I have engaged my mind 
 better, for the same length of time, than since I 
 left land. This evening, in particular, I feel 
 sweet peace, and even joy. I am greatly com- 
 forted. The Lord be praised. He has conde- 
 scended to all my weaknesses, granted me hea- 
 venly suggestions in hours of trials, and borne 
 up my mind in its loneliness, and the weakness 
 and sickness of my body, in a manner almost 
 beyond hope . O ! I do pray for a grateful 
 heart, and an unreserved dedication of all I have 
 to Christ and his cause." 
 
 Occasionally the scene around him was de- 
 lightfully in unison with these feelings. On the 
 19th, he says — > 
 
 " It is a lovely morning. Spring was never 
 more bland. The sea is lulled to a calm ; a 
 light breeze is bearing us along about three 
 knots an hour ; a few clouds are floating in the 
 atmosphere, tinged with all the softness and mel- 
 lowness of a May or June morning ; and every 
 thing, on which the eye can rest, seems in per- 
 fect harmony with the scene." 
 
 But land was still hidden behind the deep 
 
102 MEMOIR OF 
 
 blue swell of the eastern sea, though it re- 
 mained for days so calm that the slightest boat 
 might ride it with safety ; and the listless crew 
 could find no employment but to scatter them- 
 selves about the sunny deck, mending the sails, 
 while the captain painted the long-boat, and 
 the mate, for his amusement below, idled his 
 " watch" away in adorning the cover of his 
 "log" with the draught of an American eagle. 
 The number of the ship's company, as noticed 
 in his note to his sister, was fifty-four, includ- 
 ing thirty-nine emigrants, and one passenger, 
 (Mr. Willis,) with Mr. Cox, in the cabin. His 
 communication with these people helped to 
 pass the time ; and it is curious, how, under 
 such circumstances, the mind busies itself with 
 even the trifling incidents of the voyage, and 
 works out of them tissues of thought that 
 invest more or less the reflections of days. 
 These, however, are of little interest to those 
 who read. They are scarcely concerned to 
 discuss the luminous phenomena of the waves, 
 or to moralize on the spouting of a troop of 
 whales, the dropping of a weary sea-bird on 
 the deck, the evolutions of a flock of flying-fish, 
 or the passage of a squadron of the beautiful 
 nautiluses, (Portuguese men-of-war, the sailors 
 call them,) with their delicately-coloured little 
 sails run up, and spread out to the breeze of the 
 morning. 
 
 At length, early on the 24th, all hands were 
 roused by the cry of land, dimly discerned, or 
 thought to be, at a great distance, but not fairly 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 103 
 
 ascertained till the 27th, when they put into 
 Port Praya, or St. Jago, one of the Cape de 
 Verds. Here wa% the melancholy sight of the 
 poor natives, still perishing daily with famine, 
 although two vessels, laden with stores, had 
 arrived from America. Mr. Cox was refreshed 
 with the feeling of the soil once more, after 
 being deprived of it for over fifty days, and 
 with the society of the American consul, (with 
 whom he dined,) and some other countrymen. 
 They sailed again on the first day of the new 
 year, passing for hours along under the banks 
 of the beautiful Island of Mayo. From this 
 place he dropped the following note to his bro- 
 ther, giving cheering account of his happy 
 reliance on God : — 
 
 " Off the Isle of Mayo, January 1, 1833. 
 
 " My Dear Brother, — I have but one mo- 
 ment to write. We are just passing the Isle of 
 Mayo, as it is usually called, and the captain, 
 offers to take a letter for me in the boat w 7 hich 
 he intends sending ashore, if perhaps he may 
 find a ship bound directly to America. 
 
 " Thus far we have had a tedious and stormy 
 voyage of it.. For the first twenty days we had 
 little else than gale after gale, until even seamen 
 seemed tired of the seas. The remainder of 
 the passage was much more pleasant ; but, in- 
 stead of being eighteen or twenty days making 
 the Cape de Verd Islands, as you will perceive, 
 we have been about fifty. But, amid it all, God 
 has been very merciful to us. No lives have 
 been lost. We have had some sickness, but in 
 
104 MEMOIR OF 
 
 general we have had as much health as could 
 have been expected under similar circumstances. 
 We have now one of the crew sick with a fever, 
 and yesterday four or five of the passengers 
 were complaining; but God, I trust, will not 
 let 'one be lost.' 
 
 " I was sea sick to the full myself. For fif- 
 teen days nothing would lie upon my stomach; 
 and I was reduced so low, that, but for faith, I 
 should not have hoped for a sight of Liberia. 
 But God was merciful to me also. Amid storms 
 and tempests, sickness and trials, I was happy. 
 My soul was comforted with joys that I know 
 were divine. Such heavenly suggestions, such 
 sweet consolation, I never before experienced ; 
 for this plain reason, I never before so much 
 needed them. 'As thy day is, thy strength 
 shall be.' 
 
 " We touched at St. Jago. The people on 
 these islands are still perishing with hunger. 
 Famine is sweeping over these little spots on 
 the world with more fearfulness than has ever 
 been experienced from the cholera in America. 
 To see some of the poor little motherless chil- 
 dren,* lying or sitting upon the ground, so far 
 gone as to be entirely insensible of what is 
 passing around them, as if patiently waiting for 
 death to relieve them of their sufferings — O, it 
 is enough to move a stone ! 
 
 "A vessel, we hear, has arrived from Port- 
 land, and another from Philadelphia. They 
 will be as life to the dead. What we had was 
 but little among thousands ; but it will save, no 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 105 
 
 doubt, the lives of some. But I can write no> 
 more. 
 
 " Still commend the interests of the Liberian 
 mission to God in your prayers. Preach the 
 word. Be instant in season and out of season, 
 and with all pray much for 
 
 " Your only brother, M. B. Cox." 
 
 On the 8th the African coast was made, at 
 Cape Verd. The next day they put into Go- 
 ree, but, without remaining long, ran down the 
 coast to the Gambia, with a fine breeze, in 
 sight all the way of the green and gentle undu- 
 lations of the shore, everywhere spotted with 
 splendid palm-trees, and presenting to the eye 
 of the missionary, who now hailed it as his 
 home, the most interesting and lovely aspect. 
 On the 12th they made their way up the noble 
 stream of the Gambia, and anchored off the 
 English town of Bathurst, on the Isle of St. 
 Mary's. Here they remained a week, and 
 ample opportunities were enjoyed for exploring 
 the country, which, it will be seen, were im- 
 proved diligently by Mr. Cox. His acquaintance 
 here with the governor's chaplain, and espe- 
 cially with Mr. Moister, the Wesleyan mission- 
 ary, proved a source of equal benefit and plea- 
 sure. Here he preached to heathen, strictly, 
 for the first time in his life, with an interpreter's 
 aid, and having a house nearly filled with an 
 audience as attentive as civilized congregations 
 generally are, and some of them deeply serious. 
 This service, as well as his conversations with 
 
106 MEMOIR OF 
 
 the Mohammedan priests who came to see him, 
 moved him in the liveliest manner. He left 
 Bathurst on the whole greatly encouraged, and 
 with a deqidedly improved opinion even of the 
 African climate. He commenced studying the 
 Mandingo language as soon as they put to sea 
 again, though still suffering from the motion of 
 the ship. They were driven off to a great dis- 
 tance from the land, by terrible gales, continuing 
 for days ; but his heart " was fixed." 
 
 " I know not," he says, " when I have felt 
 such strong desires to be wholly given up to the 
 work of the ministry — to be entirely freed from 
 selfish views and selfish feelings in my labour — 
 as now. I believe I never have been stronger, 
 since the commencement of my ministry. My 
 cry to God is, that my whole soul may be ab- 
 sorbed in the work committed to my charge, 
 and that I may do justice to my mission. Many 
 of my brethren, though they did not directly say 
 so to me, thought, I am sure, that my appoint- 
 ment was a very injudicious one. I am not 
 surprised at it. In human view it did look like 
 * the day of small things.' But, I bless God, faith 
 taught me that He, through the weakest instru- 
 ments, could accomplish his greatest purposes. 
 Be the consequences what they may, I never 
 was surer of any thing of the kind, than I am 
 that the providence of God has led me here. I 
 have seen his hand in it, or I do not know it 
 when seen. O, I trust the result will prove 
 to the world, and to my brethren, that, weak 
 as I am, feeble and worn out as I am, the 
 
MELVILLE E. COX. 107 
 
 Lord hath something yet for me to do in his 
 church." 
 
 The next time they made land it was in the 
 dark of the morning, and so closely under the 
 coast, that there was just room to swing off, 
 after hastily casting the anchor. Luckily, they 
 got clear with only the loss of one of the cap- 
 tain's ostriches, which jumped overboard in the 
 alarm. Of this shore he says, — 
 
 " Its appearance is beautiful — hilly, and de- 
 lightfully verdant. Indeed, the land on the 
 whole coast, so far as we have run it down, has 
 the appearance of a healthy and fertile country, 
 as inviting to man as any part of America. My 
 fond hopes may all be disappointed, but it would 
 not surprise me, if in half a century Africa 
 were to show herself as far in the advancement 
 of civilization, religion, and learning, as America 
 in the same space of time ; nay, I doubt if she 
 does not equal any thing in the history of the 
 rise of nations. She has slumbered long, but 
 the hidden waters have been gathering strength. 
 Genius will burst forth, and grow, with the 
 luxuriance of the trees of her own forests." 
 
 He passed next by the De Las Islands, a 
 charming group, stretching high up from the 
 sea, and everywhere covered with verdure and 
 abundance of trees. The sun now was for the 
 first time oppressive, in the African sense, and 
 the voyage became rather, as he calls it, a 
 school of patience ; the more so that he knew 
 himself to be so near to the destination he was 
 still so slow to reach. The 29th, at last, found 
 
108 MEMOIR OF 
 
 them moored off Sierra Leone. Here he was 
 destined to spend a month, making four, at his 
 departure, since hauling off in the stream at 
 Norfolk. Mr. Moister had given him letters to 
 his reverend brother Ritchie, who, with his 
 colleague, treated him very kindly during his 
 stay here, most of which seems to have been at 
 the mission-house. A good deal of useful in- 
 formation concerning the country and the na- 
 tives was gathered here, and some progress 
 made in collecting the facilities for studying the 
 dialects, in which he was particularly indebted 
 to Mr. Raban, the Church missionary, whose 
 establishment he visited at Fourah Bay. 
 
 These suggestions we think it best to insert, 
 as they may be hints to others. They follow : — 
 " Fourah Bay, 1st February, 1833. 
 
 "My Dear Sir : — Although my occupations 
 at present are such as to leave scarcely any 
 time for correspondence, yet, knowing the ob- 
 ject which you have in view, and feeling its 
 great importance, I seize an opportunity (per- 
 haps the only one) of assuring you of my good 
 wishes on your behalf; and particularly for your 
 preservation and success in that branch of mis- 
 sionary service to which, I understand, you are 
 specially devoted. 
 
 " The shortness of our interview last evening 
 (which I should regret did it not appear provi- 
 dential) allowed but little space for explaining 
 myself, as to the manner of studying the native 
 languages. I wish now to say that it appears 
 to me very advisable, in the first instance, to 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 109 
 
 confine the attention principally to one or two 
 of the dialects ; (I would say one, unless two or 
 more be found closely related ;) entering mi- 
 nutely into the peculiarities of that small num- 
 ber, and only looking into others as they may 
 incidentally be brought under notice ; and that 
 chiefly for the sake of comparison. By attempt- 
 ing more in the commencement it seems to me 
 that there would be danger, either of discour- 
 agement to the mind, owing to the arduous and 
 perplexing nature of the task, or of exhaustion 
 of body, owing to the great labour required. 
 
 " Instead of proceeding with remarks which 
 occur to me at the moment, I beg to offer for 
 your consideration a few hints of advice, drawn 
 up with the view of assisting a fellow-labourer 
 in this work nearly three years ago. They are 
 as follows : — 
 
 "'1. Resolutely bend the mind to this employ- 
 ment, as a matter of duty, however dry and un- 
 interesting in itself. 
 
 " 4 2. Take great care to ascertain the true sound 
 of every word you hear, in the particular lan- 
 guage you study : and when satisfied of this, 
 let equal care be used in writing it, in exact 
 accordance with the scheme you follow.' 
 
 " In order to this, it may sometimes be neces- 
 sary to have the word repeated many times, till 
 there be scarcely a possibility of mistake. Set- 
 ting down words according to the sound which 
 first strikes the ear, is very unsafe, and must 
 lead to many mistakes ; owing to the quickness 
 of pronunciation which (probably) all people 
 
110 MEMOIR OF 
 
 acquire insensibly in their own tongue, and to 
 the untutored African's ignorance of syllables. 
 Those who act as interpreters should be desired 
 to speak slowly, and, as far as they can be made 
 to understand it, syllabically . As a general 
 rule, in ordinary cases, a word should be pro- 
 nounced at least three times before any attempt 
 is made to write it. 
 
 " ' 3. Compare the pronunciation of the same 
 word by different persons : it is seldom safe 
 to rely upon the testimony of one individual. 
 Not unfrequently it happens that an additional 
 syllable, or the more correct pronunciation of a 
 vowel, is discovered by such comparison.' 
 
 " A similar remark may be made respecting 
 the pronunciation of the same person at different 
 times. The mistakes to which (of course) both 
 teacher and learner are liable, are not seldom 
 detected in this way. A vowel, almost lost in 
 the usual quick pronunciation, comes into no- 
 tice when two words are united, or vice versa : 
 a consonant indistinctly heard (if at all) when 
 a word is given singly, is more distinctly sound- 
 ed, when another word is added. 
 
 " i 4. Still greater care and patience are requi- 
 site in endeavouring to determine whether a 
 word is simple or compound ; e.g., whether it be 
 a verb, or a verb and pronoun ; whether it be a 
 noun only, or a noun and adjective. It will often 
 be difficult, if not impossible, to do this with 
 a person who does not know, at least, a little of 
 grammar. Much, however, depends on subse- 
 quent study, and the comparison of similar phrases. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. HI 
 
 '"5. But the greatest care of all is requisite 
 when endeavouring to learn words which con- 
 vey religious ideas. Mrs. Kilham's remarks on 
 this point, in the preface to her "Specimens of 
 African Languages," and her " African School 
 Tracts," deserve attention. In the degree that 
 it is desirable to obtain information on this point, 
 in the very same degree is it necessary to pro- 
 ceed with caution ; a mistake being so very dan- 
 gerous, and so difficult to be removed. The only 
 safe plan appears to be, first to get a good ac- 
 quaintance with ordinary words, and then to pro- 
 ceed, but still with slow and cautious steps, to the 
 acquisition of -those which stand for spiritual 
 ideas. 
 
 '"The task is laborious, but most necessary; 
 and the end exceedingly important. It will 
 serve much to cheer the mind, under the diffi- 
 culties inseparable from such an undertaking, 
 to remember that every step really gained is a 
 step toward the attainment of that grand object 
 — the throwing open of all the treasures of 
 Scripture to the African mind.' 
 
 " I have only time to express a hope, that the 
 occasion on which the above was drawn up 
 may apologize for the style of it ; and to assure 
 you that I am, with sincerest desires for your 
 welfare, and for the prosperity of your endea- 
 vours, my dear sir, your fellow-labourer in the 
 service of our common Lord, 
 
 "John Raban." 
 
 On his passage down the coast, the captain 
 
112 MEMOIR OF 
 
 was taken sick, entirely disabled, and even de- 
 lirious. Mr. Cox (who had no especial cause 
 to be personally attached to him) attended him 
 anxiously during his illness, acted as his phy- 
 sician, and had the pleasure of seeing him the 
 better for his treatment. At the same time, he 
 aided the mate in taking his "observations," 
 and otherwise made himself of service. His 
 anxiety now hourly increased, as the journal 
 shows. It illustrates also his first impressions 
 of the colony, with some of his plans, and the 
 energy with which he set himself to his work : — 
 
 " At twelve took another observation. Ac- 
 cording to mine, we are eight miles north of our 
 long looked-for port. The mate made it one 
 more. I have perhaps never felt more anxiety 
 to be on shore than now. The sight of the bay, 
 and the thoughts of my mission here, have awa- 
 kened within me a degree of impatience to be 
 where I ought to have been months ago. But, if 
 a fault, it is not mine. Right or wrong, I believe 
 God will overrule the whole for the good of his 
 cause, in which I trust I am engaged. 
 
 " Half past three : — / have seen Liberia, and 
 live. It rises up, as yet, but like a cloud of 
 heaven. 
 
 "Friday, March 8. — Thank God, I am now 
 at Liberia. We anchored off the town last eve- 
 ning, about 10 o'clock. This morning about 
 eight I came on shore. The governor received 
 me kindly, and I am now at Rev. Brother Pin- 
 ney's room, where I am to tarry till farther pro- 
 visions are made for me. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX, 113 
 
 " Captain Peters is quite ill ; and my care of 
 him, and loss of rest and sleep, have made me 
 quite indisposed. 
 
 " Saturday, 9. — Rev. Brother Williams, the 
 acting governor of the colony, has very kindly 
 given me up his own room, untilT can obtain a 
 house. The governor bids me board with him. 
 
 " Sunday, 10. — I can scarcely realize that I 
 have attended church in Liberia, and heard the 
 gospel where, twelve years since, were heard 
 only the shouts of the pagan, or perhaps the 
 infidel prayers of the mussulman. But why 
 wonder ? God's light and truth have long since 
 received that divine impetus which will only 
 stop with the conversion of a world. 
 
 " Tuesday, 12. — I love Liberia more than 
 ever. It is humble in its appearance, compared 
 with Bathurst and Free Town ; its buildings 
 are smaller, and have less neatness, less taste, 
 and less comfort about them. But, after all, I 
 doubt if this be a real fault. The emigrants 
 were mostly poor on their arrival, and necessity, 
 in the true spirit of the pilgrims of New-Eng- 
 land, as the mother of virtue, compelled them 
 to be economical. Time and industry will 
 remedy the evil, if evil it be. The great ques- 
 tion is — Is there a good foundation ? are there 
 resources in Liberia for a great and growing re- 
 public ? I have no doubt of it. There is, how- 
 ever, much yet to be done. We need missions 
 — missions by white men here. We need, too, 
 schools, and white teachers in them. Should 
 a gracious God spare my life, I propose— 
 8 
 
114 MEMOIR OF 
 
 11 1 . To establish a mission at Grand Bassa, 
 to connect with it a school, and to give the care 
 of both into the hands of a local preacher who 
 has just arrived from Virginia.* 
 
 "2. To establish the ' New- York Mission' 
 at Sego, on the Niger. Our brother, to get 
 there, must go by the way of the Gambia River. 
 He can ascend this river within ten days' walk 
 of the Tanen. At Tenda, Mr. Grant, a mer- 
 chant at Bathurst, on the Gambia, and a great 
 friend of the Methodists, has a factory ; and by 
 the time our missionary can get there, he will 
 have another at Sego. 
 
 "3. I want to establish a school here, which 
 will connect with it agriculture and art. I pro- 
 pose the Maine Wesleyan Seminary as a model, 
 as near as may be. There should be a large 
 farm. This, in a few years, would support the 
 whole school. There must also be shoemakers, 
 tanners, blacksmiths, carpenters, &c. The na- 
 tive children must be taken and boarded, kept 
 entirely clear from their parents or associates, 
 and bound to the school until they are eighteen 
 or twenty-one. 
 
 " 4. I have another mission on my mind, 
 either for the interior or at Cape Mount. I am 
 not yet satisfied which is the better place. 
 
 " I have purchased a mission house at Mon- 
 rovia, for which I shall draw on the Society for 
 five hundred dollars. It has connected with it 
 considerable land, left by the devoted Ashmun 
 
 * This he contracted for with Rev. James Washington, 
 a coloured man, and it was subsequently finished. — Ed. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 115 
 
 for missionary purposes. I consider the pur- 
 chase as particularly providential, and worth, at 
 least, to the mission, a thousand dollars. 
 
 The house mentioned above was one which, 
 with the land around it, had been left by Mr. 
 Ashmun to the Basle Mission. This had been 
 transferred to Sierra Leone, where Mr. Cox 
 had met their agent, and negotiated with him 
 conditionally; and on viewing the premises he 
 concluded to accept of the proposals. He con- 
 sidered his bargain judicious, inasmuch as the 
 house cost three times as much as he gave for 
 it, and would be necessary for himself, as 
 boarding was out of the question, even if no 
 other missionaries should follow him. 
 
 Knowing, that if any thing were accom- 
 plished by him before an attack of the usually 
 mortal " African fever" — and that perhaps its 
 first power would carry him to his grave, he 
 turned his attention, with all the energies of his 
 body and mind, to gathering the few religious 
 emigrants there for the purpose of regularly 
 organizing them into a church. Dark indeed — 
 from various circumstances — was the prospect — 
 but bright the hopes if accomplished. But here 
 it should be stated, that some little progress had 
 been made toward it by religious emigrants, 
 several of whom had been in the habit of ex- 
 horting or preaching. After visiting and con- 
 versing with many in private, on March 17, he 
 says, — 
 
 " Saturday, at 3 o'clock, an official meet- 
 ing was held, or rather * conference,' as it is 
 
116 MEMOIR OF 
 
 called, was convened. My credentials were 
 presented ; and, after a discussion of about three 
 hours' length, I was recognised, by a vote nearly 
 unanimous, as superintendent of the Methodist 
 Episcopal Church in Liberia." 
 
 Meanwhile he spared himself but little. He 
 visited and carefully examined every circum- 
 stance connected with the religious state of the 
 colony, communicated in private freely with 
 many of his brethren, as before noticed ; set in 
 motion at Caldwell the first camp-meeting, pro- 
 bably, that ever was known on the continent, 
 which commenced March 29 ; attended to spe- 
 cial appointments of public fasting, thanksgiving, 
 and prayer ; and called together conferences for 
 the transaction of the important business of his 
 mission ; and finally succeeded in organizing, 
 in a very solemn and religious manner, a Meth- 
 odist Episcopal Church in Africa, under the su- 
 pervision and control of the General Confer- 
 ence of that Church in America. This was 
 done with great difficulty. Many prejudices 
 had crept in about the " rule of the white man ;" 
 and it was not till after several meetings, earnest 
 prayer, and the exercise of great discretion, that 
 his proposition was acceded to by the coloured 
 preachers at Liberia. But as he very decidedly 
 declined striking a single blow till this was done, 
 it was finally acceded to, and, we believe, very 
 amicably and happily concluded upon by all par- 
 ties. 
 
 Perhaps we ought to state particularly, that, 
 after our religious friends in Liberia had con 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 117 
 
 eluded to place themselves under the watch-care 
 of the American Methodist Church, some new 
 difficulties arose among the coloured preachers 
 on account of their ordination. Some there were 
 who had received that preferment, as Mr. Cox 
 supposed, in an irregular manner ; he therefore 
 could not sanction it. They, however, claimed 
 from it the right to baptize and administer the 
 Lord's supper. He on the other hand thought 
 " to throw open the doors, as they now are, to 
 any body who may perchance have had the har- 
 dihood to ordain himself, or to have been or- 
 dained by one not better qualified, would soon 
 end in anarchy — or, what was no better — no- 
 thing." Several meetings were called, and the 
 subject discussed at length, which resulted 
 finally in the adoption, by preachers and people, 
 of the following articles, on Tuesday, the ninth 
 of April, 1833, which probably may be con- 
 sidered the day on which was established on a 
 firm basis the Methodist Episcopal Church in 
 Liberia : — 
 
 " Whereas the Methodist Church in Liberia, 
 "West Africa, is yet in its infancy, poor and in 
 need of aid, inexperienced and in need of coun- 
 sel ; and whereas, by our direction, a corres- 
 pondence was opened with the Young Men's 
 Missionary Society of New-York, and a mis- 
 sionary desired to be sent over to our help from 
 the Methodist Episcopal Church in the Uni- 
 ted States of America, — which we ever wish 
 to acknowledge as our parent Church ; — and 
 whereas the said Methodist Episcopal Church 
 
118 MEMOIR OF 
 
 has kindly sent to our aid a man whom they 
 have adjudged to be fitted for the work, therefore 
 
 "Resolved, 1. That we resign the superin- 
 tendency of all our churches in Liberia to the 
 care of the said missionary, and that we will do 
 all in our power to aid hiin in promoting the work 
 of God among ourselves, and in extending the 
 interests of his mission among those around us. 
 
 " 2. That we will adopt the ' Articles of Re- 
 ligion/ the ' General Rules,' and the moral dis- 
 cipline in general of the Methodist Episcopal 
 Church in the United States of America ; and 
 that we will follow its ' spiritual ' and ' temporal 
 economy,' both to the letter and the spirit, as far 
 as our changed circumstances will possibly alio w 
 us so to do. 
 
 "3. That, though we regret exceedingly that 
 the said missionary has not come out properly 
 authorized to ordain and set apart others to the 
 office of deacons and elders in the church of 
 God, we will nevertheless patiently wait until 
 Providence shall bring us this great blessing, 
 and that hereafter none of us will administer the 
 sacraments unless we have been, or until we 
 shall have been properly authorized so to do by 
 the regular Episcopacy of the parent Church in 
 America. 
 
 " 4. That we acknowledge the authority of the 
 General Conference of the said Methodist Epis- 
 copal Church ; and that, considering our isola- 
 ted situation, the wide distance between us and 
 them, and the rapid accession that we confidently 
 hope will attendthe growth of our ministry here, 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 119 
 
 we desire, as soon as may be, to be acknow- 
 ledged by it as one of its annual conferences ; 
 but that we will leave it entirely with the Gene- 
 ral Conference to say whether we shall be con- 
 sidered as a missionary station, as an annual 
 conference, or as an independent Methodist 
 Episcopal Church in Africa. 
 
 " 5. That in view of the hazard of life which 
 always must attend a change of our climate for 
 another — of the mortality which has attended 
 most of the white missionaries who have nobly 
 come to our aid, and of the fact that we have 
 not in our church a single regularly ordained 
 coloured elder in the colony, we earnestly re- 
 quest any one of our bishops, and they are here- 
 by requested, to ordain to the offices of deacon 
 and elder our brother, A. D. Williams ; a man 
 whom we judge to be well qualified for said 
 offices, and who has been duly elected to these 
 offices by our conference, and who, moreover, 
 has been well acclimated and a long resident in 
 the colony. 
 
 " 6. That, in view of the great responsibility 
 of the ministerial office, and of the loud and in- 
 creasing calls for constant labour in the churches 
 and among the pagans around us, we will, as 
 soon and as fast as the wants of our families 
 will justify it, leave the service of tables, and 
 give ourselves wholly to the work of the mi- 
 nistry." 
 
 To the above articles he says, in his journal, 
 most all gave in their names — preachers and 
 people — in token of approbation. At the con- 
 
I 
 
 120 MEMOIR OF 
 
 elusion of which he exclaims, " The Lord has 
 done it — the Lord has done it ; Satan is disap- 
 pointed, and the church of God triumphs!" 
 
 But this was only part of his labours. Prior 
 to this date, during the four weeks he had been 
 there, he had written and transmitted to America 
 his extended " Sketches of Western Africa," 
 found in the concluding part of this volume, the 
 perusal of which cannot but deeply interest 
 every reader ; had made a lengthy report to the 
 Board of Missions, and had continued to some 
 extent his private correspondence, and preached 
 on the Sabbath. All this necessarily was at- 
 tended with deep anxiety, and exhaustion of his 
 physical power. 
 
 Meanwhile also he had convened a vigorous 
 Sunday school meeting : this gave the cause a 
 new impulse, and the next Sabbath (April 6th) 
 he began himself with a school of 70 children, 
 with appearances " warranting high hopes of 
 the result." But here he was destined to sus- 
 pend his labours. The influence of the climate, 
 which perhaps his very solicitude and occupa- 
 tion had parried for awhile, was probably aggra- 
 vated by them in fact ; and the first outbreaking, 
 when his chief troubles were just over, was 
 severe in proportion. He felt the African fever 
 on the 12th of April for the first time, and it 
 almost immediately struck through his whole 
 system. For twelve days it kept him on his 
 bed ; and it was not till the 27th that he was 
 able to walk a few steps in his room. But here 
 God did not forsake him, During his sickness 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 121 
 
 he " sometimes had great sweetness, and death 
 seemed to have no more terror than going 
 home." In another instance he says, " The 
 Lord is ever near to help and bless. So he 
 wasjn the storm, only I could not see him all 
 the time." Once he said to me, in a manner 
 affecting beyond expression, " Wherefore didst 
 thou doubt ? I felt it as sensibly as if he had 
 spoken to me, and was greatly comforted." He 
 now experienced in his own person the benefit 
 of his medical science ; the doctor visited him 
 but twice ; but " Providence has been gracious. 
 What / have done he has in kindness blessed. 
 To God I commit all. His I am, and his I ever 
 wish to be. He, I trust, will take care of me. 
 Thy voice I hear — thy voice I know, and thy 
 voice I will follow. I have followed thus far, and 
 it has led me to Liberia. I pray that I may 
 follow it to the end /" He took cold, however, 
 by damp clothes or otherwise, and grew weak 
 again. Death had visited the houses around 
 him ; the periodical rains were setting in ; the 
 governor and doctor were both confined to their 
 beds ; and now (it is not to be wondered at) 
 " his eye began to turn to the grave" 
 
 " But," he adds, " if I gain heaven-^-if, after 
 all, I get where Jesus is—it will be enough ; — 
 it will be enough. I shall see him as he is. 
 Nor pain nor death will be there. I commend 
 to him my body and my spirit ; his they are." 
 
 If he felt solitary, or even " a little sad," in 
 his present situation, it was not surprising. It 
 was a most melancholy time around him, espe- 
 
122 MEMOIR OF 
 
 cially among his fellow-emigrants. Some of 
 the colonists, judging from what we see, were 
 probably from the beginning disposed to look 
 rather coldly on the coming of a white man to 
 rule over them, especially with reforming au- 
 thority; and much cordiality, even in his sick- 
 ness, was hardly to be expected from them. A 
 nurse, meanwhile, could not be had much of the 
 time, for love or money. The rains kept every 
 thing gloomy outside, and every thing damp 
 within ; and his house was not as yet furnished 
 with so much as a chimney. That, suffering 
 the pains of a fever the while, he could be at 
 ease under such circumstances, speaks, indeed, 
 for the power of religion and the efficacy of 
 prayer, for these were his consolation. 
 
 How interesting was his present state! — 
 Earthly comforts were now withdrawn ; and 
 nothing remained but to turn his attention in- 
 tensely to spiritual things. This he did. 
 
 " Most of the day, yesterday, I spent in 
 breathing my soul out to God, either to be re- 
 stored to usefulness or fitted for heaven ; and 
 to-day I feel that it has not been in vain. This 
 evening my soul has been much comforted." 
 
 And how such a day resulted, may be seen 
 from the following : — 
 
 "Wednesday, May 1. I have fears that a 
 relapse of my fever is approaching. Last eve- 
 ning I had many sharp and shooting pains, and 
 quite a fever through the night. 
 
 " But my mind was singularly exercised. 
 Just as I was undressing myself, I felt a strong 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 123 
 
 inclination to sing — an exercise that I have not 
 been able to indulge in for years, on account of 
 the extreme debility of my lungs — and I sung 
 the hymn commencing with ' The day is past 
 and gone,' entire. After I was in bed, I sung 
 two verses more of that sweet old spiritual song, 
 
 * I'm happy, I'm happy, O wond'rous account, 
 My days are immortal, I stand on the mount ; 
 I gaze on my treasure and long to be there, 
 With Jesus and angels, my kindred so dear.'" 
 
 Can any one read the above and reflect upon 
 his situation without deep emotions 1 Tenderly 
 alive to the recollections and endearments of 
 home — in a strange land, death walking around 
 his habitation like a destroying angel ; breath- 
 ing at every moment miasmatta that was ab- 
 sorbing life as rapidly as the exhalations of the 
 morning; from necessity or other circumstances 
 denied every earthly comfort ; none to counsel 
 with — none to give food or drink, or render any 
 other service however slight ; with a view, too, 
 doubtless, that the grave was opening to receive 
 him ; and yet amid all these circumstances, his 
 soul breaks out as by an unseen influence, " I 
 am happy — my days are immortal !" That such 
 could be his feelings is proof of itself that God 
 was with him, and " had given his angels charge 
 of hiin," and that he himself "made his bed in 
 all his sickness." The following exercise also 
 gives equal proof of the power of religion over 
 every mortal circumstance. It presents, indeed, 
 a scene equally sublime. 
 
 On the 11th of May, previous to which he 
 
124 MEMOIR OF 
 
 had what he calls " another fall-back ," with se- 
 verer chills than he had before known, he ex- 
 presses himself as follows : — 
 
 " O ! sweet, sweet has been this morning to 
 my soul. Such a morning I have not seen in 
 all my sickness in Africa. For eight years past 
 God hath chastened me with sickness and suf- 
 fering ; but this morning I see and feel that it 
 has been done for my good. Infinite mercy 
 saw that it was necessary, and perhaps the only 
 means to secure my salvation. Through it all 
 I have passed many a storm, many temptations ; 
 but this morning doubts and fears have been 
 brushed away. My soul was feasted * while it 
 was yet dark.' When no eye could see but his, 
 and no ear hear my voice but his, I had those 
 feelings that made pain sweet, and suffering as 
 though I suffered not. Yes, I can never forget 
 this blessed Saturday morning. My soul has 
 tasted that which earth knows nothing of — that 
 which the ordinary experience of the Christian 
 does not realize. I have been lifted above the 
 clouds, and received a blessing that is inexpres- 
 sible. The Lord grant that I may hold fast 
 whereunto I have attained." 
 
 Some days after this he began to feel better, 
 but " hardly dared to express it." He derived 
 much pleasure from an occasional call of Mr. 
 Pinney, whom (a Presbyterian) he invited, in 
 the absence of any regularly ordained elder, to 
 preach and administer the holy sacrament for 
 his people. Some of the neighbours now began 
 to show him a good deal of kind attention : their 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 125 
 
 prejudice was removed and changed into admi- 
 ration and love, as they became better informed 
 of his character : and they brought and sent him 
 the little delicacies which the place afforded . 
 This faculty of making friends he felt the bene- 
 fit of even in the acquaintance of an intelligent 
 young Krooman, whom he had conversed with a 
 little on the day of his leaving the Jupiter. The 
 good fellow frequently afterward came " to see 
 how he do." He called during his sickness, 
 expressing great solicitude for him. " Suppose 
 me no poor man," he said, " then me bring you 
 fowl — me bring you sheep to make soup — so 
 you get well ; but me have none ; me want to 
 see you — so* me come." He then added, with 
 evident emotion, " when me go home, me beg 
 God that he make you well !" The idea of this 
 poor heathen, whom many considered beyond 
 the power of the gospel, going home to pray 
 God for his recovery, was a "repast" to the soul 
 of the sick man such as he rarely enjoyed from 
 social converse. 
 
 Another incident gratified him much. This 
 was the reformation, as he believed, of the 
 coloured boy he had purchased at Baltimore, and 
 brought with him to the colony. The conduct 
 of the lad, at times, had tried him sorely. At 
 Norfolk he had been detected in stealing, under 
 aggravated circumstances ; and then he was 
 strongly tempted to abandon him to his fate. 
 He concluded, however, that he could take as 
 good care of him as any body else, and perhaps 
 better ; and that he was, in some sort, respon- 
 
126 MEMOIR OF 
 
 sible for him : — he kept him, therefore. At 
 Sierra Leone he made great trouble again, by 
 going to the authorities and making false repre- 
 sentations of his relation to his benefactor. He 
 had patience with him still, and now rejoiced 
 the more over the repentance which had been 
 wrought in him at the Caldwell meeting. " It mat- 
 ters not," he says, " how he has treated me* ; it is 
 enough if God has forgiven him and saved him." 
 A somewhat similar evidence of his kind and 
 tender disposition appeared not long after, on 
 the occasion of the death of a next-door neigh- 
 bour of his, with his wife — probably fellow-em- 
 igrants — leaving one little orphan boy, of six 
 years old, to the mercy of the world. " He is 
 a fine little boy (coloured,) and as he has no one 
 to take him in, I have offered him a home for a 
 while ; and should I thi^nk it the will of God, 
 after reflection, / intend to take him, and educate 
 him as a child of mine. I know what it is to 
 have been an orphan. I pray God to help me to 
 train him up in his fear." This was one of the 
 last acts of the life of Mr. Cox, and it was beau- 
 tifully characteristic of the man. A house- 
 keeper he had hired, at this time, was sick ; and 
 her little boy was the only person about him to 
 make him now and then a cup of tea ; and when 
 he was able to eat, to boil him the rice, which, 
 with a little palm oil, composed his frugal meal. 
 The poor mission-house during the rains looked 
 sadly, or to use his own expression, " looked as 
 if tubs of water had been poured into one room." 
 It was also infested with some of the vermin of 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 127 
 
 the climate. In reaching for a book from a shelf 
 about this time, he started a scorpion with his 
 finger. The house-species have not generally 
 a fatal sting, unless full-grown, though this an- 
 imal made attempts to infuse his poison, such 
 as it was, by vigorous management. 
 
 On the 21st Mr. Pinney, having resolved to 
 return to America till the end of the rains, came 
 in to take leave of his sick friend. This visit 
 suggested, for the second time, the idea of his 
 own return also till after the rainy season. 
 
 His own views we think best to transcribe, 
 especially as it may cast light upon what other- 
 wise might appear dark. We refer to his con- 
 versation with Mr. Savage, a few days before 
 his death, when he seems, for a moment at least, 
 to have been in doubt whether he ought not 
 to have returned. He says, " Mr. Pinney has 
 just called, and thinks of returning to America. 
 I would, too, could I see my way clear by di- 
 vine light. But the path is not yet plain. Till 
 it is I dare not go. True, there is no prospect 
 of either of us doing much good till after the 
 rainy season is over. In November he thinks 
 of returning. Were my brethren here, as I 
 think they ought to have been," [he had written 
 to them before leaving America to follow him 
 without delay — and on account of his own long- 
 passage, expected they were there before his 
 own arrival,] "I should feel more at liberty to 
 go. I could give them instructions, leave all 
 in their care, and I believe give the Board, by 
 a personal interview, such information as would 
 
128 * MEMOIR OF 
 
 be of great service to them. I pray that God 
 may direct him and me. I want to do right. I 
 want to follow the will of God. Then sure I 
 am, whatever may be my own private feelings, 
 all will be for his glory and my good." This 
 note was on the 18th. On the 22d he says, — 
 
 " Mr Pinney has been in to take his leave of 
 me for America. There is certainly something 
 singular about the loneliness of my voyage. 
 Perhaps it is to be equally so here. Mr. Pin- 
 ney has been here but a short time. Perhaps 
 I am to stay awhile longer alone. But my 
 spirit now asks for help. The burden is too 
 much for one. But God will provide for this 
 also in his time. What is dark to me is light 
 to him. There is labour enough in Africa for 
 thousands. God is even now at work in Africa. 
 His work is spreading at the Cape of Good 
 Hope ; at Sierra Leone there is already much 
 fruit, and seed enough daily scattered to produce 
 a harvest rich as the soil on which it is planted ; 
 and at the Gambia natives have arisen up as 
 heralds of the cross, and are now on its banks 
 preaching the gospel to multitudes in their own 
 native tongue." 
 
 The following note, too, which bears date the 
 15th, a few days before, gives a farther clue to 
 the conversation referred to : — " My heart some- 
 times sighs for the comforts of America. It fre- 
 quently tells me I had better return, and has 
 even suggested the thought of doing it in the 
 Hilarity [the vessel in which Mr. P. returned.] 
 But I do not see the cloud arise, and dare not 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 129 
 
 go. When it does, I will follow its leadings. 
 Till then I will pray for grace to resign all into 
 the hands of God, patiently to await the issue, 
 and believe that all will work together for my 
 good." 
 
 It will be seen by the above, that in his own 
 mind there were three reasons, at least, which 
 induced him to spend the rainy season in Africa : 
 
 1 . As expressed in another place, " I do not see 
 the finger of Providence point that way, and I 
 durst not go without it." We presume he here 
 refers to the general conviction of his mind, 
 after making it a subject of serious prayer. 
 
 2. The work already commenced needed some 
 one to take the charge of it ; and no one could 
 do this but himself or brethren, who had not 
 arrived. 3. There was work enough in Africa 
 for thousands, all the time, and not a moment 
 was to be lost in making preparations for such 
 labours ; and whatever might be his private 
 feelings — however " he might wish the cup to 
 pass from him" — some one must drink it, and 
 he might be the one to do it " alone." And no 
 one, we think, will now doubt the correctness 
 of his conclusions. He seems to have gone to 
 his appointment with an unchanged conviction 
 " that Africa was to be, must be, redeemed." 
 "I know" he says, "that Africa must be re- 
 deemed, for God hath spoken it. His word has 
 gone forth, and it will not return void." And 
 he knew, too, from what he had seen upon its 
 shores in Sierra Leone — what he knew was 
 doing at the Cape of Good Hope — what he had 
 
 9 
 
130 MEMOIR or 
 
 seen in talking himself with natives — that nothing 
 was wanting but men and means; and if men 
 forsook the field for dangers, or for the " com- 
 forts of America," he doubtless thought they 
 would neglect the dispensation committed to 
 their hands. The obstacles, which seemed to 
 some men as a lion in the way, were to him as 
 a " spider's web ;" and in this faith he appa- 
 rently continued unfaltering to the last. But 
 his labours were finished, and nothing remained 
 but to prepare for his exit, and " gather up his 
 feet, and die." He evidently saw that death 
 was hasting apace, and that his prayer, offered 
 before leaving America, "that his frail body 
 might enrich African soil," was soon to be 
 answered. What little strength remained he 
 tried to exercise in the improvement of the 
 mission-house and ground around it, for his 
 brethren whom he daily expected from America ; 
 but he could do but little. Little more, indeed, 
 remained for him to do. The footsteps of death 
 were at his door. On the 27th of May, the 
 next day after the adoption of the little orphan, 
 he was taken down with a bilious attack, more 
 violent than any which had preceded it. On 
 the 28th, he says, " I am very weak. I pray 
 God to preserve me. Never did I feel the need 
 of his aid more — perhaps never so much." 
 Then it came on again, " with a giant grasp." 
 And now the records of his journal grow few 
 and far between ; and the characters of the 
 only two pages which remain, for the last two 
 months of Ins life, are tremulously traced with 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 131 
 
 lingers whose^ every movement told but too 
 plainly how the yet lingering vigour of a once 
 iron constitution had retreated from its disman- 
 tled and tottering extremities for ever. We 
 copy the whole ; for feeble, and almost illegible 
 as it is, it breathes, to the last pulses of weary 
 thought, the spirit of the inflexible Christian 
 soldier, who had set up long before for his 
 dying mottoes — " Never give up the mission /" 
 and, " Africa must be redeemed, though thou- 
 sands fail r 
 
 " Wednesday, June 19. — My fever has left 
 me a mere shadow — perhaps I shall soon be 
 but a spirit. I am content. God has graciously 
 supported me. I have been much comforted. 
 God is my rock — Christ my salvation — the 
 Holy Spirit my sanctifler — and a triune God 
 my eternal all. 
 
 " Friday 21 . — I still grow more feeble. This 
 morning my stomach seems too irritable for any 
 thing. It is all well. Nature dies, but I shall 
 live again. I think I feel patience, peace, and 
 resignation. 
 
 " To-day I expect the governor to make a 
 few arrangements in my business. My brethren 
 ought to have been here to have relieved me 
 from it. 
 
 " Sunday 23. — My poor body is emaciated 
 to a degree never before known. My first fever 
 was very violent, and ten or twelve days long, 
 and reduced me much ; my second, which was 
 short, but no less violent, helped it on ; but my 
 third, which has been more violent and longer 
 
132 MEMOIR OF 
 
 than either, has left me mere sldn and bones ; 
 and every day tells me the chances are against 
 me. But why write it ? God, I know, is doing 
 all things well. This is enough. 
 
 " Wednesday 26. — It is now four days since 
 I have seen a physician. The governor^ is 
 confined to his room. My fever was dread- 
 fully high last night. This morning I feel as 
 feeble as mortality can well. To God I com- 
 mit all." 
 
 Two days previous to the date of the last 
 entry, he had affixed his signature to a paper 
 intended as a codicil to a will formerly drawn 
 up at Norfolk, and forwarded to Maine. This 
 was confirmatory of the disposition of his little 
 property there indicated, with a few trifling 
 additions, including the bequest of a pair of 
 maps to the Sabbath and parish school, proba- 
 bly under his charge, and the distribution of a 
 few memorials among his relatives. From the 
 communication of his friends Gripon and Ward, 
 to whom he intrusted the care of this instru- 
 ment, it appears that by a later verbal request, 
 he directed a similar disposal of his watch, his 
 desk, and a lock of his own hair, together with 
 his mother's miniature, and a ring of gold from 
 the Gambia. He also made arrangements in 
 reference to his funeral ; and requested that on 
 the arrival of his brethren the Rev. Rufus 
 Spaulding should preach a funeral discourse on 
 the occasion, from the text, "Behold I die; but / 
 God shall be with you." This request, we 
 believe, from the sudden attack of the fever 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 133 
 
 upon Mr. S., was never complied with. He lin- 
 gered, but it would appear in little more than a 
 merely vital condition for the most part, until three 
 o'clock on the morning of Sunday the 21st of 
 July, when he calmly ceased to breathe, faintly 
 articulating to his adorable Redeemer, " Come, 
 come." 
 
 Some additional particulars in regard to the 
 closing scene are conveyed in the following 
 letter from Mr. Savage, the missionary, to the 
 editor of this work. We insert it entire. 
 
 " Monrovia, July 22, 1833. 
 " Dear Sir : — As you wish to know of the 
 last moments of Br. Cox, though I had intended 
 to write to the editor of the Journal, I now put 
 in your possession all I know of the conversation 
 we had, trusting that you will not fail to give all 
 you deem important to his bereaved and mourn- 
 ing friends. When I first came on shore, hav- 
 ing a package for him, I took an early opportu- 
 nity to call, having previously understood that 
 he was low with sickness. At my call he 
 seemed highly gratified, and spoke with freedom 
 and apparent ease on all subjects connected 
 with the mission. He expressed his regret that 
 the assistant missionaries had not arrived, and 
 mourned over the low state of Zion in this place. 
 I inquired of him if he intended to return to 
 America ; he seemed to hesitate in his answer, 
 and said he did not know. He was at this 
 time quite cheerful, and his nurse informed me 
 that he appeared much better than he really 
 
134 MEMOIR OF 
 
 was, probably owing to his having heard from 
 America, as I was the bearer of a letter from 
 the Rev. Mr. Drake, of New-Orleans. The 
 next time I called, he appeared to have thought 
 more about returning home ;* and when he 
 found that I intended to return, he expressed his 
 regret, urging the necessity of labourers in this 
 part of the vineyard. At this time I supposed 
 it necessary for me to return, but after visiting 
 Millsburgh I came to a different conclusion. 
 Before I left, when speaking of the probability 
 of returning home, he said he thought he should 
 return with C apt. Abels, j" but still appeared low 
 in spirits. When endeavouring to ascertain 
 the cause of it, and asking him if he enjoyed 
 his mind, he said, though depressed, he knew 
 not that he had ever doubted his acceptance 
 with God ; he had long since made a covenant 
 with him, and did not distrust his mercy, but 
 had sometimes doubted whether he was in his 
 proper sphere. ' Though,' said he, ' I know I 
 had good motives in coming to Africa, yet I 
 may have erred in judgment, for even the best 
 may sometimes err.'| He further said — ' I have 
 
 * That is, as the next sentence shows — he had come 
 to the- conclusion, that such was the call for labourers, he 
 could not. — Ed. 
 
 t We do not understand this. We saw Capt. Abels 
 on his return to America, in Philadelphia. He stated 
 that he sometimes spoke of returning, but did not conclude 
 to — perhaps nothing more is meant by Mr. Savage. — Ed. 
 
 t We think, too, this gives an impression that the jour- 
 nal does not warrant. Probably Mr. Savage may not have 
 given his own words, but what he supposed was their 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 135 
 
 strong attachments in America.' He spoke with 
 emphasis on all subjects connected with his 
 mission, especially the schools, one of which 
 was about commencing at Grand Bassa ; and 
 seemed much to lament that the teacher had not 
 arrived for this place. The above is the ten our 
 of his conversation. About this time I left for 
 Millsburgh, and was absent about three days. 
 On my return I found him much worse, having 
 taken a relapse ; and although I had made 
 arrangements to return in the same boat in 
 
 "tenour;" he may, too, have admitted the connection. 
 Our own opinion is, that this whole conversation refers to 
 the fact of his visiting America during the rainy season, 
 and not to doubt, either of the practicability of the mission, 
 or that he was called to engage in it. This he seems 
 never to have questioned from the beginning ; and in a 
 letter to the writer of this, he says, " I was never surer in 
 my life of any duty, not even my call to the ministry, than 
 of my call to Africa." This further appears from the fact 
 that he regretted, in the same breath, that a teacher had not 
 arrived to visit Bassa. He could not regret this if he had 
 any misgivings either of the mission, or that it was not the 
 duty of Americans to engage in it — and why not he as well 
 as others % But whether or not he had done right, having 
 been there some time, in not returning to America to recruit 
 a little, he doubtless might have questioned. And it seems 
 to us he had enough to have changed the mind of almost 
 any man who had not been kept by the "power of God 
 through faith" constantly to his purpose. He was urged, 
 to return ; — Mr. Penny had returned — Mr. Savage was 
 intending to — the physician had gone — he was sick, and 
 ready to die — and it might seem to some almost obstinacy 
 to remain. Be this however as it may, we leave it for 
 another day to reveal, when the dying but steadfast mis- 
 sionary, and his charge, shall all be present to answer for 
 themselves. — Ed* 
 
136 MEMOIR OF 
 
 which I came down, having made up my mind 
 to stay in Africa, yet at his request I dismissed 
 the boat, concluding to remain until Monday, it 
 being Saturday morning. At this time he was 
 very weak and unable to say but a few words at 
 a time ; still he seemed anxious to return home, 
 and spoke of it, but at the same time appeared 
 resigned, and seemed conscious of the probable 
 nearness of his death. - He also said every thing 
 was arranged, and though I frequently asked 
 him if there was not some person whom he 
 wished to see, he uniformly said every thing was 
 arranged. He also said his whole trust was in 
 God. Mentioning the infinite love and conde- 
 scension of the Lord Jesus, in giving himself a 
 ransom for his rebellious and guilty creatures, 
 he added, ' all my hope is through him.' When 
 near his last, and unable to speak so as to be 
 understood, except in monosyllables, he again 
 said — ' I am not afraid to die.' This was pro- 
 nounced at intervals of some length, and with 
 much exertion. Though from the nature of his 
 disease respiration was very difficult, and he 
 apparently suffered much, yet he uniformly said 
 he was in no pain. Soon after, he appeared 
 engaged in prayer, and then articulated several 
 times in succession — * Come'— c Come' — a con- 
 siderable pause succeeding, leaving the inference 
 that he repeated the whole sentence — * Come, 
 Lord Jesus, come quickly.' Reviving a little, 
 he pronounced distinctly, ' Pen,' which I imme- 
 diately stepped to get ; but he, supposing I did 
 not understand him, said, * Ink,' — both of which 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 137 
 
 I brought to his bedside, but he was so over- 
 come by this last exertion that he could say- 
 nothing more except at intervals — ' Come.' 
 This was about one o'clock. About three he 
 turned on his side and seemed easy ; his nurse 
 thought best not to disturb him, as he had fre- 
 quently given directions when he was easy not 
 to be disturbed. But his ease was the moment 
 of his departure. The conflict now closed, and 
 he breathed forth his soul into the arms of his 
 Redeemer, leaving Africa and his Christian 
 friends to mourn their loss, though infinitely his 
 gain. Your affectionate brother in the Lord, 
 
 " A. W. Savage." 
 
 Thus closed the life of the first Methodist 
 missionary from America to Africa. A man 
 whom, to say the least, the God of nature and 
 grace endowed with an amiableness rarely sur- 
 passed, a mind capable of compassing schemes 
 of benevolence on a most exalted scale, and a 
 philanthropy which only tired with the going 
 out of life. But he rests from his labours, and 
 his works do follow him. Long will he be 
 remembered by thousands in America, and many 
 in Africa. His remains were solemnly interred 
 with more than ordinary marks of attention ; for 
 whatever might have been their feelings on his 
 first entrance among them, he had now been long 
 enough in the land of his adoption, brief as was 
 his stay upon its shores, to win the esteem and 
 affection of all who knew him. He was buried 
 a short distance from the mission-house, in 
 
138 MEMOIR OF 
 
 which lonely spot repose also the mortal remains 
 of Brother Wright, with his truly estimable 
 wife. Some months subsequently to the death 
 of Mr. Cox, and Wright and wife, who so soon 
 followed, some generous individuals in Boston, 
 through the instrumentality of Rev. R. Spauld- 
 ing, contributed to raise a monument, which was 
 transported to Africa, and placed upon their 
 graves, in memory of Rev. M. B. Cox, Rev. S. 
 O. Wright, and Mrs. Wright. It was a beauti- 
 ful Italian marble monument, about eight feet in 
 height, resting upon a free-stone base, and con- 
 sisting of a pedestal in the Tuscan form, sur- 
 mounted by an obelisk. The form of the 
 monument was selected by Mr. Spaulding, and 
 the following inscriptions, engraven on three 
 sides, were written by him. 
 
 To the Memory of 
 the Rev. MELVILLE B. COX, 
 
 the first Missionary from 
 
 the Methodist Episcopal Church 
 
 in the United States to Liberia, Western Africa. 
 
 He arrived in Monrovia on the 
 
 9th of March, 1833, where, having 
 
 organized a branch of the same 
 
 Church, he died in the triumphs 
 
 of the Christian faith 
 
 on the 21st of July of the same year, 
 
 aged 33 years. 
 
 He was a truly amiable man, 
 
 a devout Christian, and an 
 
 able and successful minister of Jesus Christ. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 139 
 
 To the Memory of 
 
 Mrs, PHEBE WRIGHT, 
 
 onsort of the Rev. S. O. Wright, 
 whose remains lie interred 
 
 beneath this stone, 
 with those of her Husband 
 
 on the right hand, 
 
 and of the Rev. M. B. Cox 
 
 on the left. 
 
 With the spirit of a Christian martyr 
 
 she accompanied her Husband 
 
 to Monrovia, Liberia, 
 
 where she died February 4, 1834, 
 
 aged 23 years. 
 
 To the Memory of 
 
 the Rev. S. OSGOOD WRIGHT, 
 
 Missionary from the Methodist 
 
 Episcopal Church 
 
 in the United States to Liberia, W. A., 
 
 where he arrived 
 
 on the first day of January, 1834, 
 
 and died on the 29th day of March 
 
 following, aged 25 years. 
 
 He was beloved 
 
 by those who knew him, 
 
 and died as universally 
 
 lamented. 
 
140 MEMOIR OF MELVILLE B. COX. 
 
 One word more in reference to the character 
 of the beloved subject of this Memoir. We have 
 had an acquaintance with him that no one else 
 on earth has. " We drew life's nourishment 
 together." We slept with him in infancy and 
 manhood. We breathed each other's breaths, 
 and lodged in each other's arms. We had from 
 each other no private thoughts : mind revealed 
 itself each to the other as face did to face. Till 
 ten years of age we were scarcely an hour from 
 each other's society ; and subsequently to this 
 there was probably an intimacy which none 
 could enjoy unless alike connected. And from 
 the cradle to the grave, we rejoice to say, save 
 the infirmities necessarily connected with our 
 natures, Melville B. Cox maintained, and has 
 left, a character " without spot or blemish." In 
 childhood, he was a child of prayer — in man- 
 hood, the devoted Christian and herald of the 
 cross of Christ. Deception he knew not, and 
 guile was a stranger to him. And we never 
 yet saw the time when we could not have com- 
 mitted to him the dearest interests of his worst 
 enemy, with the fullest assurance that he would 
 not have been wronged, either in his character 
 or purse, to the amount of a single farthing. 
 Very pleasant indeed wast thou, brother, in 
 life, and deeply wast thou bemoaned in death ; 
 and thine image, with the freshness and beauty 
 of childhood, with the endearing traits of nobler 
 manhood, sanctified by Christian love, is still, 
 and ever will remain, upon thy brother's heart. 
 
 G. F. Cox. 
 
REMAINS OF COX. 
 
REMAINS, 
 
 The Sketches of Western Africa, which we 
 insert first among the following Remains of Cox, 
 were composed on the ground which they de- 
 scribe, and in the midst of all the circumstances 
 of difficulty which every reader will infer, even " 
 from the little that appears on the subject in the 
 preceding Memoir. Still, from the many facts 
 they contain, and the beautiful style in which 
 they are written — one rarely attained by com- 
 mon writers — they will be found intrinsically 
 interesting, as well as characteristic of the wri- 
 ter ; and not the less so from the fact that the 
 region referred to, however much the oject of 
 attention in our day, has, for various reasons, 
 been suffered, by the few intelligent travellers 
 who have visited its shores, to remain almost 
 as much in obscurity as though civilization 
 and Christianity had not only made no inroads 
 as yet on the domains of its barbarism, but 
 were apparently destined to make none for a 
 long period to come. Such, however, is cer- 
 tainly not the belief of the religious world. 
 Their interest in Africa has not been extin- 
 guished by the loss of a few of the champions 
 of the cross. That sacrifice has hallowed the 
 
144 .REMAINS OF 
 
 ground, rather, and will hallow it, we trust, 
 more and more, in the hearts of all who put 
 their trust in the promises of God, and in the 
 ultimate triumph of the gospel. 
 
 SKETCHES OF WESTERN AFRICA. 
 PORT PRAYA. 
 
 Port Praya is situated at the south-east part 
 of St. Jago, in latitude 15° north, on a table- 
 eminence of land, about seventy or a hundred 
 feet above the level of the sea. The town— or 
 city, as it is called — is surrounded at a distance 
 by mountains without number, thrown into every 
 variety of form which a bursting volcano could 
 give to an uplifting mass of earth. 
 
 To me the appearance of the place is per- 
 fectly unique. There is nothing analogous to 
 it in the United States ; and to an American 
 who has never been out of them all descriptions 
 of it must be more or less deceptive. Search 
 for the poorest little village on our rivers, or in 
 some of our farthest wildernesses, nay, I might 
 say by the side of a good mill-stream, and in 
 appearance it would have by far the pre-emi- 
 nence. When you enter the village there is 
 something a little redeeming about it ; the sight 
 of what is called the public square, and a gar- 
 den or two, make it quite tolerable ; but at best, 
 to use the homely phrase of our supercargo, 
 "it is a beggarly place." In the harbour, it 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. ' 145 
 
 strikes one as nothing but ancient ruins crumb- 
 ling under the weight of years. In its midst 
 you see it animated with human beings too ig- 
 norant to make it better if they would, and too 
 indolent to do it if they could. 
 
 Still, as a port for water and refreshment for 
 ships, it is one of great importance, and seems 
 to have been thrown from the bottom of the 
 great deep, as a common resting place for ves- 
 sels from every quarter of the globe, by that 
 Hand which so constantly and so abundantly 
 provides for the wants of his creatures. 
 
 The buildings are generally remarkably low, 
 built of a dark-coloured kind of free-stone, stuc- 
 coed with plaster, and covered with tile, or 
 thatched with grass. The number of inhabit- 
 ants is estimated at from two to three thousand. 
 It has a church, a custom-house, a jail, and a 
 "palace," as it is called, though less like one 
 than almost any ordinary house in America. 
 
 Religion here, as in countries in general ex- 
 clusively Catholic, consists in mere ceremony. 
 I saw nothing that looked like the gospel in 
 church or out of it, except in a few gentlemen 
 from America. The Sabbath has but little re- 
 spect paid to it, though on that day they profess 
 to worship God ; but morning, noon, and even- 
 ing, the market was open ; and hides, horses, 
 and clothes, as well as provisions, were exposed 
 for sale. Form obliges them not to forget that 
 there is such a day, but when it comes, instead 
 of the evangelical worship of a holy and intelli- 
 gent Spirit, you see nothing but the show of 
 10 
 
146 REMAINS OF 
 
 military parade, and the merest mummeries to 
 which a rational being could stoop. 
 
 At nine o'clock, the Sabbath I passed there, 
 the bell rang, the drums beat, and the fife blew, 
 and in a few minutes his excellency and his 
 suite were escorted to a neat little church by a 
 company of soldiers, with a " pomp of circum- 
 stance," which, to a dissenter, was really pitia- 
 ble if not ridiculous. They were soon followed 
 by some eight or ten gentlemen and ladies, and 
 perhaps twenty or thirty of the poorer classes of 
 society, making in all about forty-five or fifty. 
 This was all the congregation out of a popula- 
 tion of twenty-five hundred. When comfortably 
 seated, at a heavy tap of the drum, all fell on 
 their knees, while the fife continued to play and 
 the drum to beat. The devotions lasted from 
 fifteen to twenty minutes, and consisted only of 
 kneeling twice, making a few crosses, a little 
 tattooing with the drum, an air from the fife, and 
 about a dozen words from the priest. I am not 
 sure but that while we were kneeling the holy 
 sacrament was administered to his excellency 
 and suite. But such an exhibition of Chris- 
 tianity I never saw before, and hope never to 
 see again. Men of common sense cannot be- 
 lieve in such nonsense ; and viewed in the most 
 charitable light, I believe it is only made a step- 
 ping stone to further the designs of a set of men 
 whose only object is self-indulgence and a lordly 
 pre-eminence over their fellow-beings. I do 
 not believe they either know or fear God. How 
 much they love their fellow-beings their recent 
 interest for the dying will tell. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 147 
 
 This is the place where, a few years since, 
 "his holiness" ordered a public bonfire to be 
 made of some Bibles which had very kindly 
 been sent out to them by the American Bible 
 Society. What greater proof can be given to 
 the world, that papists are wrong, and that they 
 know it 1 Else why fear they the light of the 
 word of God ? 
 
 Our stay was too short on the island to become 
 familiar with the manners and customs of the 
 people ; but we were there long enough to wit- 
 ness some of the sufferings which this group 
 of islands has recently experienced. They are 
 not yet at an end. They are still dying daily, 
 and some of the poor I saw picked up by the 
 limbs, as a butcher's boy would pick up a slaugh- 
 tered sheep, carried through the street without 
 even a " grave cloth," and buried as you would 
 bury a horse or a dog. 
 
 Famine is sweeping over these little "specks 
 on the ocean" with far more fearfulness than 
 has the cholera in America. Not less than 
 thirty-three thousand, out of a population of one 
 hundred thousand, have perished within the last 
 twelve months ; and the prospect of any relief 
 from the produce of their own country is still 
 very dubious. A vessel from Portland, and 
 another from Philadelphia, we heard had just 
 arrived, laden entirely with provisions for the 
 dying. They will be as life to the dead. What 
 we had was but little among thousands, but it 
 will no doubt save the lives of some. 
 
 The scenes of wretchedness, as pictured by 
 
148 REMAINS OF 
 
 those who had witnessed it at Antonio, Bravo, 
 and Togo, are beyond description. At St. Jago 
 there was but little of it, comparatively, except 
 from those who flocked there for relief from the 
 other islands. Those of them who still lived 
 were grouped together in a large yard, under 
 the direction of the police, or the American 
 consul, and fed from provisions which our 
 country has so kindly sent to them. The scene 
 was an affecting one. Here and there I was 
 pointed to little orphan children, who had neither 
 father, mother, brother, nor sister left. Some of 
 them were sitting on the ground, with a little 
 garment thrown over them to screen them from 
 the harmattan winds — which were then blowing 
 very coldly — so far gone as to be entirely in- 
 sensible of what was passing around them, and 
 as if patiently waiting for death to relieve them 
 from their sufferings. Others were walking as 
 mere skeletons on earth, crying with piteous 
 moans for " bread," but whose stomachs, when 
 supplied, were grown too weak to derive any 
 nourishment from it. Mothers, with nothing but 
 skin and bones themselves, were bowing and 
 courtesying for a copper to buy something for 
 their children, with an importunity that might 
 move a stone. Such a sight I had never before 
 witnessed, and it has left an impression never 
 to be forgotten. But God is just and good. Sin 
 sin hath done it all. Mercy has cried to heaven 
 for the rod of correction, and mercy and love, 
 though unseen to us, are directing and measur- 
 ing its stripes. The misery of these poor little 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 149 
 
 children is only preparatory for a bliss where 
 death and want are unknown, or designed im- 
 pressively to teach them and a guilty world that 
 this is not the home of man. 
 
 The weather was not so intensely hot while 
 we were on the island as has generally been 
 represented. Most of the time it was pleasantly 
 cool ; sometimes too much so for comfort ; and 
 no day, I believe, was the thermometer above 
 summer heat at noon. 
 
 BATHURST. 
 
 Bathurst is a beautiful little village on the 
 south side of the river Gambia, about ten miles 
 from its mouth, and in between 13 and 14° 
 north latitude. It is situated on a little island 
 called the St. Mary's, which is separated from 
 the main land only by a very narrow creek. 
 The soil is evidently alluvial ; the island rather 
 barren, from four to five miles in length, and 
 perhaps two in breadth. The town receives its 
 name, I believe, from an English lord, who 
 possibly rendered it some assistance in the early 
 history of the place. 
 
 Like English settlements in general, it is well 
 fortified with a fort on the island, and protected 
 by another about three miles below, which might 
 easily be made strong enough to command the 
 whole mouth of the river. The appearance of 
 the village is almost enchanting to one who has 
 seen little else than a wide waste of waters for 
 more than two months. The European houses, 
 
150 REMAINS OF 
 
 though few, are well built, handsomely finished 
 and furnished, and some of them tastefully orna- 
 mented in front with a row of trees. The huts 
 of the natives are apparently new, and neatly 
 and conveniently constructed, though built of 
 bamboo. 
 
 The population is variously estimated, but 
 generally at a little more than two thousand, 
 chiefly Jaloofs,* and "liberated Africans." — 
 Now and then you meet with a Mandingo — 
 rarely with a Moor. These, with eighteen or 
 twenty Europeans, and two white ladies, make 
 up what I suppose is the prettiest little village 
 on the whole coast of Africa. 
 
 It is a place of considerable trade, and must 
 ultimately become one of great commercial in- 
 terest. Vessels are constanly entering and 
 clearing from England, France, and America. 
 They supply not only the settlement itself, but, 
 through the merchants, the whole valley of 
 the Gambia, with European goods, and receive 
 in return hides, ivory, gold, beeswax, and oil, 
 which are brought from the interior by the na- 
 tives and some of the merchants who have 
 occasionally ascended the river. 
 
 Religion. — The cause of the blessed Re- 
 deemer here is yet in its infancy ; but a good 
 foundation, I trust, is laying. The confidence 
 of the natives in its excellence is every day in- 
 creasing, and Christianity evidently holds an 
 
 * Sometimes written Walloofs, Jalofs, or Jolioofs ; but 
 properly Jol-ufs, giving the u its second sound. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 151 
 
 ascendency in the place, that will justify the 
 hope of great ultimate success. No churches 
 have yet been built, but the town has for several 
 years past engaged the constant labours of a 
 Wesleyan Methodist missionary, and the chap- 
 lain of the island from the English national 
 Church. The lower part of the mission-house 
 for the present is occupied as a church and as a 
 school-room : the chaplain officiates in the court- 
 house. The number of communicants in the 
 English Church I did not learn, but from fre- 
 quent conversations with the chaplain, I am under 
 an impression that, though very small, it is not 
 less prosperous than usual. 
 
 The Wesleyan Mission is doing well. The 
 station is now in charge of the Rev. William 
 Moister, an amiable and devoted servant of 
 Christ. He has endured his two years' toil with 
 far better health than he expected, and is now 
 daily looking for one to supply his place, when 
 he will return to his friends. Several have 
 been added to his charge the last year, and he 
 now has about eighty native communicants. 
 Five I believe have preceded him in this labour 
 of love, two of whom perished in their toils. 
 The tomb of one was pointed out to me. It 
 was mouldering in ruin amid the sprouts of 
 mangroves, which almost screen it from human 
 observation. I could not repress the thought, 
 as I lifted the green, foliage from the bricks that 
 covered his remains, that I too might find a bed 
 in African soil. The spot of the other could not 
 be found. But though dead, and the place where 
 
152 REMAINS OF 
 
 one of the good men lay is lost in the recollec- 
 tion of those for whom he nobly toiled, " they 
 still speak," and their works follow them. Their 
 labour has not been in vain, and their names 
 at least are still as "ointment poured forth" 
 among those who are yet their living epistles, 
 known and read of all men. 
 
 At M'Carthy's island, three hundred miles 
 up the Gambia, this mission has another station, 
 now under the charge of a native preacher, who 
 promises great usefulness to the church. As 
 yet, only fifteen have joined themselves in com- 
 munion with him, but it is expected to exert, 
 and indeed it must of necessity, with the bles- 
 sing of God, soon exert, a mighty influence on 
 the wilderness of Africa. Light and truth, 
 when thrown from such a beacon, must be seen, 
 and their influence must be felt. 
 
 The school at Bathurst far exceeded my ex- 
 pectations. Under the fostering care of both 
 Mr. and Mrs. Moister, who have taken a deep 
 interest in instructing the scholars, it refutes the 
 pitiful slander, that the black man, under simi- 
 lar circumstances, is inferior in intellect to the 
 white. Many of them read with propriety and 
 ease the English and Jaloof, and speak the one 
 almost as well as the other. There are in the 
 school fifty boys and twenty girls : most of them 
 are from four to fifteen ; one or two were per- 
 haps eighteen or twenty. They write well, 
 read well, and commit admirably. I was forcibly 
 struck, on a visit to the school, with the improve- 
 ment of one little fellow about nine or ten years 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 153 
 
 of age ; he repeated his whole catechism both 
 in English and Jaloof, without scarcely a word 
 of prompting. After this he repeated with the 
 same fluency and accuracy a long chapter from 
 the New Testament. He speaks three lan- 
 guages with great readiness, and on all occa- 
 sions seems as a little interpreter in the pur- 
 chase of domestic articles for the family, or in 
 private conversations with the Mandingoes and 
 Jaloofs upon the subject of religion. I might 
 say much of his piety ; though so young, he evi- 
 dently knows the power of the gospel. I can- 
 not but think, from the spirit he breathes, and 
 the mental capacity which he exhibits, that Pro- 
 vidence is preparing him for the sacred services 
 of the sanctuary. He frequently prays with his 
 little associates, and speaks in class-meeting 
 more like a man than a young boy. And these 
 are the natives who have no intellect — who 
 have been classed with the brutes of the field, 
 and treated in a manner perfectly corresponding 
 with such exalted sentiments ! 
 
 But our missionary has not confined his la- 
 bours to children only. Every Sabbath after- 
 noon he devotes an hour to the instruction of a 
 large class of adults. These are labouring men ; 
 and such is their anxiety to learn, that, for the 
 want of other opportunities, they assemble be- 
 tween the intervals of the Sunday service to learn 
 the Book of God. It was really affecting to see 
 them. Each one had his Bible, and, with fin- 
 ger pointing to every word, they would wait 
 with the deepest interest until their turn came, 
 
154 REMAINS OF 
 
 then read as if each letter were a syllable, and 
 each syllable a word, written by the immediate 
 finger of the great I am. O, had these poor 
 creatures our advantages, would they not shame 
 us in the improvement they would make of 
 them 1 Once I had the pleasure of preaching 
 a few minutes to them through an interpreter. 
 Seldom have I spoken- with more pleasure — 
 never with feelings so peculiar. All seemed 
 deeply serious, and at the close of the services 
 one wept aloud. 
 
 Our Wesleyan brethren have shown their 
 usual wisdom in selecting this as a point of 
 moral effort for Western Africa. I rejoice that 
 so powerful a lever is found here. The Gam- 
 bia is a noble river, and must ultimately become 
 the Mississippi of Africa. It is about eleven 
 miles wide at its mouth, and about four opposite 
 Bathurst. How far it extends into the interior 
 is yet unknown. My map sets it down at seven 
 hundred and fifty miles, but some assured me, 
 from actual observation, that it is much longer. 
 One gentleman with whom I conversed stated 
 that he had himself ascended it from twelve to 
 fifteen hundred miles. It is navigable three 
 hundred miles for ships of almost any size ; and 
 I saw a vessel with eight feet draught of water 
 which had ascended it between seven and eight 
 hundred. 
 
 What renders this river of still greater import- 
 ance, for moral effort is, that throughout its vast 
 valley the Mandingo language is spoken ; — an 
 advantage which can seldom be found where 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 155 
 
 languages are multiplied like the tongues of a 
 Mohammedan paradise. Here, too, may be 
 found every comfort of man. It has cattle in 
 great abundance, horses, sheep, swine, rice, 
 cotton, corn, and fowl, and fruit of almost every 
 description, and in great profusion. It has, too, 
 its mines of pure gold, as well as soil of the 
 best quality ; and the farther you go into the in- 
 terior, report says, the healthier is the climate, 
 and the more intelligent the people. Indeed 
 the Mandingoes, wherever found, are noted for 
 their shrewdness, their strong propensity to 
 traffic, and their intelligence. In appearance, 
 compared with otlrers, they are men of lofty 
 bearing, some of high, intellectual foreheads, a 
 quick, sagacious eye, and national attachments 
 which nothing can overcome. They are tall 
 and well made, and remind me more of an 
 American Indian than any thing I have seen in 
 the African character. I doubt, however, if, as 
 a general thing, they have the Indian's strength 
 of intellect. 
 
 The Natives of Bathurst. — The natives 
 settled at Bathurst still retain many of their an- 
 cient manners and customs, though they have 
 mingled much with the Europeans. The 
 breasts and arms of females of the first rank, 
 except when they have intermarried with the 
 whites, are generally exposed, and the pang or 
 skirt, which is drawn around the waist, falls but 
 a little below the knee. A scarf, called also a 
 pang, of the same size and form with the other, 
 is sometimes thrown over one shoulder, but with 
 
156 REMAINS OF 
 
 no apparent motives whatever, or any delicacy 
 of feeling. Beneath the lower pang mothers 
 have another piece of cloth in which they carry 
 their little ones, precisely in the style of an 
 American squaw. They have beads in abun- 
 dance round the neck, the wrist, the ancles, and 
 waist ; and with all these I have seen a gold 
 necklace, worth from twenty to thirty dollars in 
 its weight of gold. These, with a cap or hat on 
 the head, wooden or leather sandals for the feet, 
 rings in the ears, and perhaps on the ringers, 
 constitute the dress of an African lady. The 
 wealthier ones frequently have manilias, made 
 of large bars of pure gold or silver, round the 
 waist. I am quite sure that I have seen from 
 one hundred to one hundred and fifty dollars' 
 worth of pure native gold on many of them* 
 The ear-ring, though of gold, is so enormously 
 heavy that an African ear is obliged to have it 
 supported by a string attached to the hair. 
 
 Nearly all that are not Christians wear charms 
 or gree-grees,* as they are called. These are 
 of various forms, sometimes made very beauti- 
 fully of leather, at others of a plain piece of 
 
 * " Gree-gree, pronounced greg-o-ry, is a word of Euro- 
 pean origin, though adopted by the natives. The Soosoos 
 call them seb'-bay. Some derive the word fetish from the 
 Portuguese fides, from feiticeira, a witch, or from feiticana, 
 witchcraft." — In its use among the natives it has great 
 latitude of meaning. Any thing that is supposed by them 
 to possess a superhuman power, if either good or evil, is 
 called fetish. Thus the tiger, the snake, the alligator, the 
 lizard, and the hyena, are the fetishes of the different parts 
 of the coast. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 157 
 
 cloth. Their virtue is found in a small scrap 
 of paper, with a few Arabic sentences written 
 on it by a Mohammedan priest, for which he 
 charges from five to ten dollars. The amount 
 of the inscription is — " If this be worn the bul- 
 let shall not harm thee," or " the pestilence 
 shall not come nigh thy dwelling." I suppose 
 that the charm is always suited to the various 
 fears and dangers of those who purchase them. 
 Inferiority of Females. — As in all barba- 
 rous countries, the female here is always consi- 
 dered much inferior to the male. I think, how- 
 ever, that there is less difference than among the 
 American Indians, though this difference arises 
 probably more from the natural indolence and 
 indulgence of the African character than from 
 any proper estimate of female worth. One 
 trait in the Indian character is self-denial and 
 self-severity. There is no passion but that he 
 has learned to conceal — no propensity but at 
 his pleasure is controlled. The African is the 
 very antipodes of this. He loves pleasure, but 
 has not energy enough to make many sacrifices 
 to obtain it. His only object seems to be pre- 
 sent enjoyments ; at whose expense they are 
 had is of little consequence, so that he is not 
 tasked to gain them. But to return. The fol- 
 lowing little circumstance struck me as illus- 
 trating very forcibly how much the " polished 
 lady" is indebted to the gospel of Christ for the 
 stand she holds in society, while perhaps she 
 is trampling his precious blood beneath her 
 feet. On a visit to one of their most genteel 
 
158 REMAINS OF 
 
 huts, I begged leave to look into the bed-room. 
 It was well furnished though small : had a high 
 posted single bedstead, curtained in European 
 style. Aware that the person of the house had 
 a wife and family, I asked if both slept in so 
 narrow a bed ? " No, one sleep dare." Your 
 wife not sleep with you 1 said I. " No ; she 
 have one baby, she no sleep wid me." On fur- 
 ther inquiry, I learned that the poor mother and 
 her little one lodged on a mat on the floor, while 
 her lord enjoyed the comfort of a good bed- 
 stead. 
 
 The native hut is very simple, but quite com- 
 fortable. I know of nothing that looks so much 
 like those at Bathurst, at a distance, as the New- 
 England hay-stacks. They are made of split 
 cane, woven or " wattled" as you would weave 
 a basket. The body of the house is generally 
 circular, though sometimes an oblong square, 
 from five to eight feet high, and from ten to 
 twenty or twenty-five in diameter. The roof is 
 conical, built also of cane or small poles, and 
 thatched with long grass or the leaves of the 
 bamboo. Many of them are well plastered 
 with lime inside, and occasionally outside, but 
 either affords a shelter that would be very de- 
 sirable to almost any one when wet or weary. 
 The country villages, I presume, of course, are 
 much inferior to that of Bathurst. 
 
 Labour-saving machines are here unknown. 
 There is no ploughing or drawing with horses, 
 or turning with water or steam. Barrels, stone 
 for building — in a word, every thing portable — 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 159 
 
 are carried on the head or shoulders. What 
 cannot be raised, is roiled or dragged — but all 
 done by manual labour ; and yet they have fine 
 spirited horses, and bullocks in great abundance. 
 I saw in one herd not less than a hundred and 
 fifty, or two hundred. 
 
 Arts. — I saw a few, but fine specimens of 
 native art at Bathurst, such as I had never 
 dreamed of seeing with my own eye in Africa. 
 The best was an ear-ring, woven throughout 
 with gold wire. The gold is first beaten, then 
 drawn through small holes, (perhaps drilled 
 through an old iron hoop,) until it is drawn down 
 to the size wished. The ring, or drop, as the 
 x\merican ladies would call it, is woven round 
 a wooden mould, made to any pattern desired, 
 and when finished, the mould is burned to ashes 
 within the ring. The wire of which it was 
 wrought, was about the size of fine cotton thread. 
 Its beauty, when burnished, is equal to any thing 
 of the kind in an European jeweller's shop. 
 The bellows with which the smith of* Africa 
 blew his fire, was made of a couple of goat- 
 skins, sewed up as you would sew a leathern 
 bag, attached to two short pieces of an old gun- 
 barrel as nozzles for the bellows, with small 
 apertures at the other end of the skins in place 
 of valves. The skins were then raised up and 
 pressed down, alternately, by the hands of a 
 little boy. His forge, anvil, and bellows, were 
 all on the ground, and might all, with every tool 
 he had, have been put into a half-bushel mea- 
 sure. 
 
160 REMAINS or 
 
 They also spin and weave ; but destitute as 
 they are of proper wheels and looms, it is done 
 with great labour ; though when done, their 
 cloth is much more durable than ours. A beau- 
 tiful specimen of it was shown me from Sego, on 
 the far-famed Niger, which, but for the best of 
 evidence, I could not have believed ever came 
 from the interior of Africa. I have a sword, 
 made in the kingdom of Bondoo, that would do 
 credit to a regular artist. I have also the head- 
 stall of a war-bridle, that exhibits considerable 
 taste as well as ingenuity ; the bit is made of 
 native iron. They tan leather very handsomely, 
 and I am told do it in a few hours. Baskets, 
 mats, reticules, and money-purses, are made 
 in a great variety of forms, and some of them 
 very handsomely, from the cane and shreds of 
 the bamboo. 
 
 Literature. — The literature of course is 
 very limited. I have seen nothing myself ex- 
 cept Alcorans, gree-grees, and a few Moham- 
 medan prayers, written in Arabic on loose sheets 
 of paper, but carefully enveloped in the form 
 of a book, some larger and some smaller, and 
 encased in a handsome leather covering. Some 
 of the priests can write modern Arabic with 
 great facility, and now and then you meet with 
 those who can read an Arabic Bible or Testa- 
 ment. I was forcibly struck with the readiness 
 with which one wrote for me the Lord's prayer, 
 with Arabic characters, but in Jaloof orthogra- 
 phy. There are those, I am told, in the inte- 
 rior, who form a regular code of laws written 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 161 
 
 in Arabic. Of this I have some doubt, except 
 so far as it may have reference to the Alcoran, 
 or the tradition of the Mussulman priests. These 
 have almost unlimited control. I have had a 
 few interesting conversations with some of them 
 upon the claims of Mohammed to the character 
 of a prophet. One in particular, with whom I 
 had rather a long argument, seemed deeply in- 
 terested in hearing any thing about the gospel. 
 His faith in the Alcoran had evidently been 
 shaken. Before he left me, he confessed that 
 he had found Mohammed was no prophet, and 
 finally begged me to tell him how or what he 
 must do to obtain the blessing of God. I point- 
 ed him to Christ, bid him pray to Christ, and 
 assured him that he would hear him — would 
 talk "with him" — would quiet all his fears, and 
 fill his heart with peace. " Will he hear," said 
 he anxiously, " if I pray to him in Jaloof?" 
 " Yes — -Arabic, Jaloof, Mandingo, and English 
 are the same to him." With this we parted, 
 and he really seemed to tread more lightly on 
 the earth — to walk as if he had heard " glad 
 tidings of great joy." 
 
 Climate. — The weather here is much more 
 temperate than I had expected. I have found 
 no " frying of fish on the quarter-deck, nor roast- 
 ing of eggs in the sand." Though in the " dry 
 season," we have occasionally a light shower 
 of rain, the sky has been more or less hazy, 
 and we have generally had either a land or sea 
 breeze, that has made even the noon-day heat com- 
 fortable. Indeed I have felt oppressed with the 
 11 
 
162 REMAINS OF 
 
 heat but one day since we left America, and that 
 was on the ocean. I still wear a winter's dress, 
 except occasionally a thin pair of pantaloons 
 and a roundabout. The thermometer has gene- 
 rally ranged from 68 to 78°, seldom above sum- 
 mer heat. Once, and once only, it rose to 84° 
 at noon. I of course cannot judge as those who 
 have had several years' residence here, but 
 with all the light which I have been able to 
 gain, I should sooner by far hope for health at 
 Bathurst than at New-Orleans. In March it 
 will no doubt be warmer ; — in the rainy season 
 fevers will probably be frequent ; but I am con- 
 fident that a civilized population and a well- 
 cultivated and drained soil will make an Afri- 
 can climate a healthy one. 
 
 It is now about half a century since coloniza- 
 tion in Africa, with reference to civilization, 
 was first contemplated in England. Shortly after, 
 a society was formed among the Quakers,* as 
 they were then called, for the abolition of the 
 slave-trade ; and the great and good Mr. Wil- 
 berforce was the first, I believe, who introduced 
 the subject into the British Parliament. Public 
 sympathy thus enlisted, neither plans nor means 
 were long wanted for its active exercise. Seirra 
 Leone was fixed upon as a point well suited 
 to the objects in view, ,and some were readily 
 collected for the purpose ; but, like too many 
 of the foreign British settlements, this, the most 
 important English colony in Africa, was first 
 
 * Goldsmith's History of England, p. 526. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 163 
 
 settled by materials fitted only for a poor-house 
 or penitentiary. 
 
 Some of the slaves, who, daring our revolu- 
 tion served under the British standard, were, 
 after the peace of 1783, sent to Nova Scotia. 
 Not contented with their- situation there, many 
 of them repaired to London, where, it is said, 
 they " became subject to every misery, and fa- 
 miliar with every vice." A committee was 
 soon formed for their relief, in which Mr.. Gran- 
 ville Sharpe took a distinguished part ; and in 
 1787 about four hundred blacks and sixty 
 whites were embarked for Sierra Leone. The 
 whites were chiefly women of the most aban- 
 doned character. This hopeful colony of Ame- 
 rican refugee slaves and London prostitutes was 
 the first that was sent out by English philan- 
 thropy to enlighten and civilize Africa! But 
 God seeth not as man seeth. In kindness to 
 the name of Christianity, soon after their arrival 
 Death commenced his ravages among them, and 
 in a few months nearly half of the whole had 
 either died or made their escape from the colo- 
 ny. Desertions continued, and in less than a 
 year the whole were dispersed, and the town 
 burned by an African chief. 
 
 In 1791 an association was formed by some 
 of the friends of Africa, called the " St. George's 
 Bay Company."* By the efforts of this society 
 some of the dispersed colonists were collected 
 again, and about twelve hundred more free ne- 
 
 * Missionary Gazetteer. 
 
164 REMAINS OF 
 
 groes were transported from Nova Scotia. In 
 1794 the town was again destroyed by a French 
 squadron ; and in 1808, disappointed and dis- 
 couraged, the company transferred the whole 
 establishment to the British government. Un- 
 der the banner of Zion and the cross the colony 
 has found security from enemies within and 
 without, and since its transfer till within the 
 last year or two has been rapidly increasing in 
 its commercial interests and in the number of 
 its inhabitants. The population now amounts 
 to thirty thousand, about one hundred of whom 
 are whites. Perhaps such a motley mixture 
 was never before collected on the same amount 
 of territory. It is more than Africa in miniature. 
 They are almost literally of " all nations, tongues, 
 and people;" English, Scotch, American, Irish, 
 West Indian ; and to these must be added those 
 from an endless list of tribes from the interior of 
 Africa ; and their complexions have all the va- 
 riety of shades, from a beautiful white to an 
 African jet. But to speak without a hyperbole, 
 there are between thirty and forty of the African 
 languages spoken in the colony. The burden 
 of the whole are " liberated Africans," — those 
 whom the humanity of England has wrested 
 from that curse of the human species, the slave- 
 stealer. It is a proud thought to the African, 
 that, come from where he may, whether from 
 Christian, Pagan, or Mohammedan servitude, or 
 from the floating hell that is unworthy of the 
 name of either, the moment he treads on the 
 soil of Sierra Leone, that moment he is free. 
 
MELVILLE E. COX. 165 
 
 X), it must be a proud thought, too, to the 
 monarch who has bequeathed this high privi- 
 lege, however humble and degraded the objects 
 of his mercy. England has no slaves! May 
 the same soon be said of all the colonies where 
 her flag waves its authority. 
 
 The government of Sierra Leone extends its 
 jurisdiction over all the British settlements on 
 the western coast of Africa, between 20° north 
 and 20° south ; but Sierra Leone proper is only 
 80 or 90 miles in its greatest length, and about 
 40 or 50 wide. Over this territory there are 
 scattered some ten or a dozen villages, all of 
 which are more or less under Christian tuition, 
 and the civil jurisprudence of the colony. 
 
 FREE TOWN. 
 
 The principal place in the colony is in lat. 8° 
 30' north, on .the south bank of the river Sierra 
 Leone, and about six miles from the western 
 extremity of the cape. It is built at the foot of 
 a range of mountains, which, in nearly the form 
 of a semi-circle, shelters the whole village, and 
 which, when the breeze happens to be south- 
 erly in very hot weather, must render the heat 
 of a noon-day sun almost insupportable. The 
 town opens handsomely as you approach it up 
 the river, and, enlivened as it was the evening 
 of our arrival by the sound of a keyed bugle 
 and an occasional gun from the fort, we felt 
 ourselves nearer something more like home than 
 any thing we had seen since we left America. 
 
166 rl:iaixs or 
 
 The morning light made the scenery still more 
 beautiful. Every thing on which the eye could 
 rest was rich with luxuriance ; the hills and 
 ravines were covered with verdure, the forest 
 was green with foliage, trees were loaded with 
 fruit, and the town seemed alive with human 
 beings — such as might have been naturally ex- 
 pected — neither wholly civilized nor entirely 
 barbarous. Mixed as the population now is, 
 and receiving, as it constantly does, new acces- 
 sions from the captured slave-ship, it must be a 
 long while before European manners and cus- 
 toms will be wholly adopted by the natives. 
 Instead, however, of expressing surprise at see- 
 ing a part of the population half naked, and some 
 of the little boys and girls entirely so, perhaps 
 we ought rather to thank God, and rejoice for 
 the hundreds who, with a change of residence, 
 have left their paganism and rudeness in " the 
 bush," and are becoming pious Christians and 
 good citizens. Quite a proportion of the native 
 population have already adopted the European 
 dress, and the congregations in general appear 
 quite Christian in their Sunday costume, if we 
 except the strange custom which almost all the 
 ladies have adopted, in substituting the hat for 
 the bonnet. 
 
 The town is rather handsomely laid out, — 
 most of its streets running at right angles, and, 
 with its barracks, its ordnance, churches, and 
 other public buildings, has an air of finish about 
 it that really gladdens the heart in this vast 
 wilderness. Most of the public buildings are 
 
.MELVILLE B. COX. 167 
 
 of a coarse kind of free-stone ; perhaps half of 
 the private dwellings are of the same, or of 
 wood, the others of " wattle"— a kind of coarse 
 basket stuff — with grass or bamboo-leaved roofs. 
 
 The number of the inhabitants I did not learn, 
 but suppose, including the suburbs of the town, 
 there are some six or eight thousand, about 
 eighty of whom are whites. 
 
 Morals of the Place. — The morals of 
 Free Town are fearfully, fearfully bad. As in 
 colonies too generally, where the restraints of 
 home, of friends, of those we love, and those we 
 fear, are broken off, licentiousness prevails to a 
 most lamentable degree. Judging from much 
 that occurs, one might suppose the seventh 
 commandment had never been heard of; or if 
 heard of, that the eternity and weight of wrath 
 connected with its disobedience had been en- 
 tirely forgotten, The marriage tie is not un fre- 
 quently disregarded ; and where this solemn 
 obligation has never been entered into, there 
 appears to be neither shame nor restraint. The 
 abomination is not committed under the cover of 
 midnight ; nor am I speaking of the natives, 
 whose early habits might plead some apology 
 for them ;— it is done at noon-day, and, to use 
 a figure, the throne as well as the footstool has 
 participated in the evil. And the evil I am told 
 is increasing. Sanctioned as it is by those who 
 take the lead in society, and who ought to form 
 the morals of the colony, avarice has been added 
 to lust, and those who otherwise might have 
 been virtuous have " sold themselves" to work 
 
168 REMAINS OF 
 
 wickedness. Already mothers begin to barter 
 their daughters as soon as they are fourteen or 
 fifteen to the white man for this horrid purpose, 
 and, strange to tell, both the mother and the 
 daughter seem proud of the infamous distinc- 
 tion. Christianity weeps at facts like these ; — 
 humanity and philanthropy, which have strug- 
 gled so hard and so long to help this degraded 
 country, must weep and cover themselves with 
 sackcloth to see their best interests so wickedly 
 perverted. Time only can tell the destructive 
 influence of such excesses on the interests of 
 the colony ; but if no standard be lifted up to 
 check the tide that is now setting in like a flood, 
 half a century hence we need not be surprised 
 if female virtue is unknown at Sierra Leone. 
 If it has not been done already, without a great 
 change, Europeans, it will be found, instead of 
 raising the morals of the people up to the stand- 
 ard of Christian communities in general, will 
 have lamentably lowered them. How fearful 
 the account of such men in the day of eternity ! 
 God forbid that I should do the place injustice ; 
 but such vile iniquity, such open and abandoned 
 prostitution as is practised here, ought to be held 
 up to public scorn, and the aggressors made 
 ashamed, if indeed shame they have. The 
 love of many has already waxed cold from its 
 influence. Some it has already turned back 
 like the dog to his vomit ; the progress of the 
 gospel it has greatly retarded, and it has given 
 a strength to infidelity and paganism that years 
 of hard toil from the pious missionary will 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 169 
 
 scarcely overcome. Vice literally has a pre- 
 mium, and he who will pay most is sure to have 
 virtue sacrificed at his feet. Horse-racing and 
 gambling prevail here, too, in a degree not to 
 have been expected in a colony planted for the 
 special purpose of civilizing and evangelizing 
 Africa. Duels are sometimes fought, but, like 
 those of England, they are seldom fatal to either 
 of the parties. Seven, I am told, occurred in 
 one week, but neither blood nor life was lost 
 in either of them. Bullets, I believe, are gene- 
 rally scarce on such occasions. Equally fastid- 
 ious, but with less hardihood than a Kentuckian, 
 the parties return from the field of combat quite 
 as well as they entered it, with the grateful as- 
 surance of having vindicated insulted honour by 
 firing a good charge of powder at their antago- 
 nist ! If this be not ridiculous, what is 1 Worse 
 than' this, a recent publication in England 
 charges some of them with aiding and abetting 
 in the accursed practice of slave-stealing. What 
 is man ! 
 
 To these abominations fidelity will oblige me 
 to add one more — that of intemperance. I have 
 not seen, however, a great many instances of 
 vulgar drunkenness. The great evil, I suspect, 
 lies in what the lover of spirit calls a "mode- 
 rate," or "necessary" use of it. With this plea, 
 and each one being the judge of the moderation 
 or necessity, one drinks his gill, another his 
 two, a third his pint, and a fourth his quart of 
 brandy per day. This is no hyperbole. From 
 what I saw and heard on the best of evidence, 
 
170 REMAINS OF 
 
 the drunkard himself would be astounded to 
 know the quantity of fermented and distilled 
 liquors imported in one year into Free Town. 
 So it is. Even in benighted Africa, on tile 
 spot selected by religion and philanthropy where 
 they might scatter their mutual blessings, erect 
 the temples of science and of art, and churches 
 of a holy God, this abomination that maketh 
 desolate — this vicegerent of the devil— stalks 
 abroad at midnight and at noon, making man 
 worse than barbarous here, and treasuring up 
 for him wrath against the day of wrath here- 
 after. God have mercy ! God have mercy on 
 the abettors of this soul-murdering traffic ! 
 
 Religion. — But in the midst of all the wick- 
 edness among the Europeans, the ignorance 
 and superstition of the surrounding natives, and 
 the constant influx of " liberated Africans," re- 
 ligion holds a most gracious influence in the 
 colony. It was planted here with the earliest 
 permanent history of the place ; and though there 
 has been much to oppose its progress, and 
 mighty obstacles to be overcome, there have 
 always been a " little few" who loved God, and 
 " held on their way." By these prayer was 
 offered, and the prayer was heard ; and now 
 there are hundreds who have been gathered 
 from the wilds of this waste wilderness, that 
 can bear testimony to the truth of the gospel, 
 and to its power over sin. In the midst of the 
 iniquity of those who were nursed under the 
 institutions of Christianity, but who have thrown 
 off its restraints as the shackles of superstition, 
 
MELVILLE £. COX. 171 
 
 the Christian stranger cannot be long in the 
 place without feeling that God is here. The 
 Sabbath is here, churches are here, ministers 
 of Christ are here, and, in a word, here are all 
 the essentials of a community of true Christians. 
 But as in the " city full," so at Sierra Leone, it is 
 seen less under the gilded spire than in the lit- 
 tle thatched hut or grass-roofed church. 
 
 Church Missionary Society. — If we pass 
 by the unsuccessful mission of Dr. Coke for the 
 Foulah country, in 1796,* the first of any thing 
 like foreign religious effort for this place was 
 made by the Church Missionary Society of 
 London. In 1804 two clergymen and a lady 
 were sent out under its direction. From that 
 time till now their efforts in support of the mis- 
 sion have been as constant as they are Chris- 
 tian and benevolent. Nearly one hundred, inr 
 eluding clergymen, catechists, their wives, &c, 
 have been provided and sent out at their ex- 
 pense, half of whom, to say the least, have here 
 found a grave. But with these frequent inroads 
 on their number by death, and with some other 
 embarrassments too painful to be mentioned, the 
 society still continues its exertions for this por- 
 tion of the outcasts of Ham, with a patience and 
 perseverance of labour worthy the cause in 
 which it has engaged. It has now under its 
 charge in the colony six churches and eight 
 congregations. Religion with them is said to 
 be rather prosperous than otherwise, though, 
 when compared with former reports, there ap- 
 * Drew's Life of Dr. Coke, p. 268. 
 
172 REMAINS OF 
 
 pears to be some diminution in number, and a 
 little declension of zeal. It was remarked, 
 however, by one of its friends, that there was as 
 much real piety among them now as at any time 
 since the commencement of the mission. In- 
 cluding the colonial church, which I believe is 
 supported by the national establishment, I may 
 set down between three and four thousand as 
 waiting more or less on their ministry. 
 
 Wesleyan Methodists. — The emigration 
 from Nova Scotia, in 1791, brought with it some 
 Methodists. They soon formed themselves in- 
 to a society, and two or three of the most intel- 
 ligent among the brethren were appointed to 
 watch over its spiritual interests. Though poor, 
 they contrived after a while to build them a 
 church, and continued to preach in it with con- 
 siderable success until 1811, when, in answer 
 to many pressing letters from the colonists, Dr. 
 Coke* sent to their aid Warren, Hayley, Rey- 
 ner, and Hurst, who had nobly volunteered 
 themselves for this service. Warren died, and 
 for a while a cloud seemed to rest on the pros- 
 pects of the mission ; but his place was soon 
 supplied by another; and since the death of 
 Dr. Coke the mission has been sustained by the 
 untiring hand of the Wesleyan Missionary So- 
 ciety of London. Eight have perished in this 
 glorious work, but love for souls and zeal for 
 God can conquer death. There are still those 
 who say of even Sierra Leone — " Here am I, 
 send me." 
 
 * Coke's Life, pp. 343, 344. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 173 
 
 The station is now supplied with two young 
 men, who, in the spirit of their Master, have 
 taken their lives in their hands and come forth 
 to this land of darkness, to point sinners to 
 Christ. Owing to affliction, one, the Rev. Mr. 
 Maer, arrived here only a few weeks since ; 
 the other, Rev. Mr. Ritchie, with almost inde- 
 scribable toil and fatigue, has supplied the place 
 of two for the last nine months. Nor has his 
 labour been in vain. More than one hundred 
 have been added to the church the last year, 
 and the work is still progressing. Several have 
 given evidence of conversion within the few 
 days I have been in the colony, and others 
 are seeking for it with great earnestness and 
 deep contrition of spirit. I may say with safety, 
 that God is at work among the people ; and I 
 trust that the day is not far distant when the 
 iniquity that now stalks abroad at noon-day will 
 at last be ashamed and hide itself. 
 
 Among those gathered in, in the late revival, 
 are some of the most respectable and intelligent 
 in the colony. A line or two from my private 
 journal will give to the reader my own impres- 
 sions of the worth of one : — 
 
 "Yesterday evening I dined in company with 
 
 Mr. and Mrs, . A more intelligent lady 
 
 than Mrs. I have seldom met with any- 
 
 where. She is a native of Africa, and of the 
 family of a distinguished chief of the Soosoo 
 kingdom. But for her complexion, no one 
 could believe for a moment that she was from 
 the wilds of this dark wilderness. She has 
 
174 REMAINS OF 
 
 visited England and Ireland, was educated in 
 America, and will now entertain with as much 
 gentility and intelligence as ladies of the first 
 rank in general. Recently she has been born 
 again. She is deeply pious, well educated, and 
 promises great usefulness to the church, and if 
 faithful, cannot but exert the most happy influ- 
 ence on those around her. Her husband has 
 followed her example, and they are both now 
 members of our church. They have one son 
 at school in England, and several interesting 
 children at home. God bless them ; may they 
 be kept by his power through faith unto eternal 
 life." 
 
 This mission has now seven churches ; three 
 of stone, the others of cane or basket bodies, 
 with grass or bamboo-leaf roofs. There are 
 four hundred and nineteen members in full fel- 
 lowship, sixty-three on trial, and ten coloured* 
 local preachers, who very, much aid in the du- 
 ties of the sanctuary. The average attendance 
 on our ministry is estimated at fourteen hun- 
 dred ; but I should think this estimate below 
 what it really is. 
 
 This little sketch, however, does not give a 
 just view of the fruits of Methodism at Sierra 
 Leone. As in America, so here, some have 
 found peace through the labours of our zealous 
 ministry, who now walk no more with us. 
 Others, who had been nursed a few years as 
 official members, thinking themselves too wise 
 
 * I use the word coloured for blacks, as well as those 
 that are yellow or mised. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 175 
 
 to endure the checks of a Wesley an disci- 
 pline, have taken leave and " set up for them- 
 selves." 
 
 In 1823 a separation took place which nearly 
 ruined the society. The separatists still hold 
 our largest chapel, but it is expected that jus- 
 tice will soon open its doors to those to whom 
 it belongs. But the spirit of radicalism still 
 continues, and I fear has exerted a most de- 
 structive influence on the interests of vital god- 
 liness. There are not less than six or eight 
 churches, or chapels, as they are called, in the 
 colony, which are offsprings of this spirit of 
 religious faction. Some of them, no doubt, may 
 be truly good. Others, who are of but yester- 
 day and know nothing, and of whose piety mo- 
 ralists might be ashamed, have assumed the 
 direction of the church with but little more 
 ceremony than would be made by the clerk of 
 a counting-house in entering upon the duties of 
 his office. Such men, with a self-sufficiency 
 and confidence an angel would tremble to feel, 
 seem well fitted to impose on the ignorant na- 
 tions around them. And it is to be feared that 
 the latitudinarian policy of the government has 
 a most tempting tendency to encourage men of 
 this character, in this — shall I say mockery of 
 gospel discipline 1 Almost any man, whether 
 duly authorized or not, can obtain license of 
 the government to baptize ; nay, the executive 
 himself, without any particular pretensions to 
 piety, has occasionally administered the ordi- 
 nance. Thus has the sacredness of the min- 
 
176 REMAINS OF 
 
 isterial office been lightly esteemed,* and its in- 
 terests committed to the direction of unhallowed 
 hands. 
 
 An African Female Class-meeting. — A 
 few days after my arrival in the colony, we 
 were visited by some of our poor liberated Afri- 
 cans, who are members of our f church. They 
 came by special invitation, and were desired to 
 relate some of the most interesting incidents in 
 their Christian experience. They all spoke in 
 broken English,^ and I believe converse in it 
 generally. To an American ear, it is a strange 
 tongue ; but by their suiting action so much to 
 their words, and uttering them under a corres- 
 ponding expression of feeling, with the aid of a 
 
 * Daniel Baker is here,' has assumed episcopal powers, 
 and a few months since ordained two to the office of dea- 
 con. Since then he has been placed in charge of a con- 
 gregation in one of the back villages, with a salary of £150 
 per year. 
 
 + I say our, because Wesleyan Methodists are one 
 throughout the worid. 
 
 t Bad English is now assuming an importance among 
 the evils of the colony, which those who have been the 
 occasion of it once could not have believed. An Ameri- 
 can can now scarcely understand the colonists. Those that 
 did speak good English among the blacks — and I may say 
 it of Europeans in general — instead of preserving it, have 
 accommodated themselves to a kind of broken English, 
 more barbarous, if possible, than the most barbarous among 
 the Africans. It is a mere jargon. I know no more what 
 half of them say than if they were talking gibberish. And 
 yet they talk English ! But for the schools, it would be 
 but a few years hence before another language would be 
 added to this already polyglot colony, fof which there is 
 now no name. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 177 
 
 little interpretation from one of our missiona- 
 ries, I understood them quite well. 
 
 It was an impressive scene. It was a lovely 
 morning. I was in Africa — in the Wesleyan 
 mission-house — surrounded by fifteen or twenty 
 native females, who a few years since had been 
 cruelly torn from home by the slave-steaier, im- 
 mured in a slave-ship, with the hope of nothing 
 before them but the horrors of a life of servitude 
 under a Portuguese task-master ; but who, by 
 a gracious Providence, had been " liberated," 
 and kindly returned to their own country, under 
 circumstances far more favourable than those in 
 which they had been born. They had been pa- 
 gans — were now Christians. 
 
 More of the simplicity, power, and efficacy 
 of the gospel of Jesus Christ, I have seldom 
 seen than was manifested in this little African 
 class-meeting. - If they were ignorant of the 
 philosophy of religion, or of even some of the 
 simplest terms by which its first principles are 
 expressed, they certainly were not strangers to 
 the nature of what I call religion. They know 
 the power of God on the human heart. They 
 know that they were once blind — that now 
 they see. Agreeably to a well-known law in 
 the human mind, intellect can know perfectly 
 and distinctly what it cannot express intelligibly 
 to another. So of these poor children of the 
 forest — they know the enkindlings of God's 
 love, and the divine influence of the Holy Spirit, 
 as certainly as the best-taught Christian in 
 America. How God " reveals himself" to minds 
 12 
 
178 REMAINS OF 
 
 so untutored, and to Hottentots who know 
 comparatively nothing, is not for me now to 
 show. I only speak of the fact. He does it, 
 and leaves Nicodemuses to " wonder and per- 
 ish/' or learn to receive the kingdom of heaven 
 as little children. But to return to our class- 
 meeting. Experience has well taught them 
 what means the "wormwood and the gall." 
 Deeper convictions of sin, or a more lively 
 sense of God's abhorrence of it, I have rarely 
 heard from a Christian congregation. When 
 under conviction, to use their own language, 
 they "no eat, no drink ;"" their "heart trouble 
 them too much." A Christian needs no further 
 proof of their real brokenness of heart than to 
 listen to one of their prayers. There is in it a 
 sincerity and fervour, a real outpouring of heart, 
 and a spirit of supplication, blended with hum- 
 ble confidence, so that the conviction is irre- 
 sistible, that they are communing with God. 
 Their expressions of the sufferings of Christ are 
 uttered with so much simplicity, that they are 
 still more affecting. " He hang on de cross — 
 he bleed — he crucified, to save my poor one soul." 
 "O, I never can do enough for Jesus." — 
 " What can I do — what can I tell him to please 
 him dis morning !" 
 
 Infidels condemn all this as delusion ; — the 
 wicked have been heard to say, that "there was 
 not a good coloured man in the colony ;" but I 
 can only say, if I ever knew any thing about 
 experimental religion, the members of this class 
 know what it is. They feel the same love — 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 179 
 
 the same power — the same contrition of heart 
 and sorrow for having offended a holy God — 
 and the same confidence in his protection and 
 mercy. They trust in the same Saviour, and 
 feel the same solicitude for the salvation of 
 others. 
 
 A few more expressions which I penned 
 down at the moment, perhaps may not be un- 
 interesting. They may faintly illustrate their 
 confidence in the divine mercy, and the " pur- 
 pose of heart " with which they intend to follow 
 Christ. " He be with me in trouble ; when 
 Satan come,, he with me. He with me in sick- 
 ness — he with me all de time" " Me hold fast 
 that which Christ give me — me no let it go. 
 Me creep to follow my Jesus." " 1 feel a little 
 heaven in my heart all de time ; for me to live 
 is Christ, to die is gain." But it should be re- 
 membered that these expressions did not fall from 
 their lips as they do from my pen ; — they were 
 uttered with tears — with a deep sense of their 
 utter unworthiness of the least of God's mer- 
 cies, and in full hope of immortality and eternal 
 life. I should do them injustice, and their in- 
 structers too, were I not to say r they have no 
 confidence in the flesh whatever. They trust 
 emphatically in Christ; and nothing short of 
 a change of heart and its attestation by the 
 blessed Spirit can satisfy them. With this " cer- 
 tain hope," death has to them no terror, and, as 
 Christians ever should, they look forward to 
 heaven with all the simplicity that a child looks 
 to his father's home. 
 
180 REMAINS OF 
 
 Our class-meeting ended in a prayer-meeting, 
 and was closed by a farewell hymn, which, 
 judging from its poetry, might have been com- 
 posed in Africa. It was sung, however, with 
 great sincerity, with much Christian affection, 
 and with that depth of feeling which in every 
 climate characterizes the African character. 
 To some the meeting might have been unwor- 
 thy of note or record ; but it was accompanied 
 with so much of divine influence, and awakened 
 within me such commingled feelings of joy and 
 hope, of fear and trembling, that I shall long, 
 long remember the iifrican female class-meet- 
 ing at Sierra Leone. 
 
 A few days after, I attended a love-feast ; 
 but I have dwelt so long on the class-meeting, 
 that a few lines on this will be sufficient. It 
 was held in the Maroon chapel — a neat stone 
 building, which will seat comfortably four or 
 five hundred. It was well filled. The services 
 were introduced, as usual with us, by the 
 preacher in charge. A prayer was offered, 
 hymns were sung, the bread and water were 
 handed and the members desired to speak. 
 From this moment till the end of the meeting, 
 which lasted over two hours, there was not at 
 one time, perhaps, two minutes' silence — nay, 
 not one. Occasionally, in their anxiety to "speak 
 that they might be refreshed," two would rise 
 at the same moment, but the first who heard the 
 other immediately sat down. Though they are 
 in a warm climate, and during a part of the 
 meeting they were under great excitement of 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 181 
 
 feeling, there was much less of extravagance 
 either in language or action than I have fre- 
 quently met with in the coloured congregations 
 in America. Most of them "spoke trembling- 
 ly," but I do not recollect to have seen any one 
 fall on the floor, or remove from his place. One 
 father, in particular, whose son and daughter 
 had recently found peace, shouted aloud, and, 
 as was very natural, sometimes he did it very 
 lustily, but he did it " decently and in order ;" 
 and so far from condemning him, when I heard 
 his children testifying what God had done for 
 them, my heart responded a hearty and quite as 
 loud an Amen ! 
 
 The assembly was composed of all ages, 
 from eighty down to the mere child. There 
 were among them a poor " blind man" and a 
 sergeant in uniform from the military establish- 
 ment ; and the mother of the queen of a neigh- 
 bouring kingdom was there, and spoke with great 
 feeling and considerable intelligence. 
 
 Their experiences were very similar. To 
 borrow the language of the sergeant, they " had 
 worshipped the devly god* — had been very 
 wicked — had been in darkness — saw no light." 
 But Christ through his ministry, and by the 
 agency of the Holy Spirit, came to them " and 
 
 * The description which one gave in speaking of her con • 
 victions of everlasting punishment, struck me rather forcibly, 
 though it showed an ignorance of the true nature of the im- 
 materiality of the soul. " Minister say," said she, "if wicked 
 man die, he burn and burn till he burn all up •, then he be 
 made up again, and burn for ever." 
 
182 REMAINS OF 
 
 say, Dis be de way, walk in it. Me say no. 
 He come again — my heart trouble me — me very 
 sick — me go and pray," &c. The end of it 
 was, they followed Christ, and found peace in 
 believing, and joy in the Holy Ghost. 
 
 Schools. — Learning, as well as religion, has 
 been a leading object among the friends of the 
 colony ever since its commencement ; and 
 much has been done for its support. The 
 schoolmaster, as well as the clergyman, was in 
 the first mission of the Wesleyan Methodists in 
 1811 and 1813. The Church Missionary So- 
 ciety engaged in it with a strong hand. From 
 that period till now the efforts of the societies 
 have been unceasing in the promotion of this 
 great work. During the past year the Church 
 Missionary Society, of itself, has expended in 
 the colony .£3,712 ; and though death in years 
 past has made great havoc among its teachers, 
 it still continues its undiminished exertions. 
 They have now about three thousand in the dif- 
 ferent villages under tuition, with an average 
 attendance of about two thousand. This in- 
 cludes, however, adults, Sunday school, even- 
 ing and day scholars ; all of whom, while they 
 are taught more or less the elementary branches 
 of English education, are carefully instructed 
 in the doctrines of the gospel. Such labours 
 of love cannot be in vain. Its fruit may not as 
 yet have been as evidently seen as was ex- 
 pected by some of its friends ; but the fires it 
 has enkindled cannot be concealed long. As 
 soon as the mustard-seed shall have taken deep 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 183 
 
 root, it will spring up with a luxuriance and 
 strength proportionate to the labour with which 
 it was planted. Then, with the blessing of 
 God, may we hope that these Africans, gathered 
 by the slave-ship from almost every tribe in 
 Africa, "liberated" by the hand of humanity, 
 and placed under the tuition of the church of 
 Christ, will soon be penetrating the forests to 
 their long-lost homes, richly laden, with the 
 Book of God in one hand, that of man in the 
 other. Light and truth cannot be inert, nor can 
 the work of faith be in vain. It must be that the 
 end will be glorious. 
 
 I have not had an opportunity of visiting either 
 of the schools under their charge, but from a 
 short interview with the Rev. Mr. Raban, of 
 Fourah Bay, I learn that they are, in general, 
 prosperous. 
 
 The Wesleyan Mission has two schools of 
 about eighty-five each under its care, but under 
 the immediate tuition of two native instructers. 
 Once a week they visit the mission-house for 
 examination, when each receives the reward of 
 a little book. One of these examinations I had 
 the pleasure of attending. The children * were 
 from about four to fourteen years of age, and, 
 for Africa, were all decently clad. All that 
 attended could read in the Testament, and some 
 of them admirably. And they seemed to under- 
 stand what they read. I asked a little fellow 
 what a "nobleman" meant. "A rich and a 
 
 * The ages of the native children are here unknown. 
 
184 REMAINS OF 
 
 good man," said he — a definition which, though 
 we may wish it were just, he certainly could 
 never have heard of before. I asked another, 
 equally small, what "two days" meant. " To- 
 day and to-morrow," said he. " Forty-eight 
 hours'" might have been more scholastic, but 
 certainly not more accurate. Of another I in- 
 quired who a " prophet" was. " One man sent 
 to preach de word of God," said he, with scarce 
 a moment's reflection. Of another, still more 
 intelligent, I inquired the meaning of " sin." 
 " If a man steal, dat be sin, sir ; if a man curse, 
 dat be sin, sir ; if a man break the Sabbath, dat 
 be sin, sir ; if a man swear, dat be sin, sir ; if 
 a man do dat which be not right, dat be sin, 
 sir." The definition I thought worthy of pre- 
 servation, and have given it word for word as 
 uttered by the boy. 
 
 They spell, in general, quite well, and a few 
 of them had made a considerable progress in 
 arithmetic. Several of them, not more than 
 seven or eight, write a hand far more legible 
 than my own. One or two read as fluently, and 
 with as much propriety, as Americans of the 
 same size ; but then it should be remembered 
 that my specimens are selected from the better 
 sort of them. But the more I see of the African 
 character, the more I am assured that, under 
 similar circumstances, they are not inferior in 
 intellect to the rest of the human species. In- 
 deed I can scarcely realize that I am in dark 
 and degraded Africa — the country of Hottentots 
 and cannibals. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 185 
 
 These schools are principally supported by a 
 few ladies of the Society of Friends, in Peck- 
 ham, England. 
 
 Labour. — Labour is extremely low in the 
 colony. Indeed I cannot conceive how an 
 American or English settler, unless he is a me- 
 chanic, can possibly compete with the natives 
 of the place. Hale, hearty, and athletic Kroo- 
 men sometimes work for an English sixpence 
 per day and " find themselves ;" and the worth 
 of one day's labour will support them for a week. 
 They live on fruit and the vegetable productions 
 of the country; and these cost but little more 
 than white sorrel on an American beach.* Or- 
 anges sell at a shilling and one and sixpence 
 per bushel, and the most delicious pine-apples 
 that I ever tasted can be purchased at three 
 for a penny. Cassada is but sixpence per 
 bushel, and other productions of the country 
 are proportionably cheap. 
 
 One pound per month is considered high 
 wages for domestic men-servants ; and out of 
 this they find their own provision and clothes. 
 
 * Though the fruit and vegetables, which are the pro- 
 duction of Africa, are so remarkakly cheap, the foreigner, 
 whether white or black, is but very little benefited by them. 
 On these he does not, cannot live. Rice sells at a dollar 
 a "tub,' 1 — a measure that is perhaps a little more than a 
 bushel. Flour nine and ten dollars per barrel. Salt meats, 
 and indeed every thing from an American or English mar- 
 ket, pays nearly a hundred, even two hundred per cent., 
 and many things much more. On this the colonists are 
 obliged to live. This is an evil, I presume, all along the 
 coast, which cannot be remedied until Africa is so far civil- 
 ized as to rely on her own resources. 
 
186 REMAINS OF 
 
 Health. — The climate here now is much 
 warmer than at the Gambia. The thermome- 
 ter has generally ranged from 80 to 84 ; occa- 
 sionally it has fallen as low as summer heat, and 
 once or twice two degrees below it. What ren- 
 ders the heat here more sensible, is the moun- 
 tains with which Free Town is half surrounded. 
 These break off all the moderate breezes from 
 the south, and leave the town sometimes with 
 scarcely a breath of air at noon-day. Then we 
 feel how grateful is the " shadow of a great 
 rock," and then we know the power of a noon- 
 day African sun. 
 
 I have mentioned elsewhere, I believe, that 
 more than half a hundred Church missionaries, 
 including catechists, &c, &c, have here found a 
 grave. Eight Wesleyan missionaries have died 
 also. But these days of peril have in a great 
 measure passed away. The colony is now 
 much, much healthier than it has been, but the 
 exact per centage of deaths for the past year I 
 found it impossible to learn. Grave-diggers 
 either cannot or do not couut ; physicians are 
 not required to make returns ; and many die, 
 like the felons in England, without the " benefit 
 of the clergy," or the attentions of a regular 
 physician. From common remark, however, I 
 should think Sierra Leone, the mountains in 
 particular, quite as healthy as the southern 
 states in general. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 187 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 The following letters, and portions of letters, 
 are selected from a considerable quantity which 
 were put into the editor's hands with that view. 
 They furnish perhaps the best illustrations of 
 the real character of Mr. Cox which can be had 
 in any of his papers, next to his private journals ; 
 and upon some subjects much better than even 
 those. " Written in haste" they were, of course, 
 as he mentions in one of the number inserted 
 here ; but what they lose from that circum- 
 stance in the value of their style, as literary 
 specimens, is more than made up by the 
 greater insight they give us, for the same rea- 
 son, into the habits and spirit of the man. The 
 first, it will be seen, is without date ; but the 
 tenour of it points with sufficient plainness to 
 the period of its composition. 
 
 The few miscellanies which close the volume 
 are also, it is believed, of a character to require 
 neither apology nor explanation, as to the pur- 
 pose or propriety of their admission. 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 My Dear Sister : — I have but a moment to 
 write, and that I will improve in directing a line 
 to my only sister, in this the hour of my deep- 
 est gloom. Your consoling letter — the dictate, 
 I am sure, of the best of feelings, from the best 
 of sisters — has just been read. But O ! my 
 
188 REMAINS OF 
 
 sister, what recollections, what feelings, it 
 awaked from a momentary slumber, I cannot 
 tell. I have buried two sisters — little cherubs 
 of innocence ; I have listened to the melancholy 
 knell which tolled for two dear brothers, the 
 hope of an afflicted family ; I heard with ago- 
 nized feelings of the death of a father; but 
 I never knew the loss of the partner of all my 
 joys and sorrows till now. I have met, my dear 
 Emily, many ills in life ; I have tasted many 
 sorrows, owing, perhaps, to the peculiar tem- 
 perament of a mind naturally sensitive ; many 
 hopes, big with promise, have withered, in the 
 progress of time, like the blasted rose, or been 
 shattered as with the lightning's scathing blast ; 
 but I never felt the severing of that untold tie 
 which mutual confidence and mutual love form 
 between husband and wife. It was a scene, my 
 dear sister, at which common humanity would 
 have wept, to have witnessed the painful suffer- 
 ings of my dear wife, and one on which a hus- 
 band could not look with any command of feel- 
 ing. At times, especially during her sickness, 
 I mourned without restraint ; but through the 
 grace of God, I was prepared to meet the last 
 tale of mortality — " she's gone" — with more 
 fortitude than I had expected. But ! the 
 daily and hourly recollections which each little 
 incident — each endearing memento, with which 
 her memory is associated — brings to the hours 
 of silence and solitude. 'Tis when alone that 
 each kind look, and those little attentions for 
 which she was distinguished, rise up before me, 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 189 
 
 and tell me I did not appreciate her worth. 
 And well I may feel the loss of one so lovely. 
 I shall write my dear mother as soon as pos- 
 sible. The sympathies of all I am sure to have. 
 Add to these your fervent prayers that this af- 
 fliction may fit me for a better world. 
 
 The following, (partly on the same subject 
 with one or two others we have selected,) which 
 appears never to have been sent, as addressed, 
 to his sister, bears at the commencement of the 
 second division of it, in the manuscript, the date 
 of Baltimore, June 28, 1830. 
 
 It is with mingled feelings of hope and fear 
 that I am now looking on our dear little Martha, 
 who, for six days, has been very ill indeed with 
 a catarrhal fever. The doctor insists that there 
 is neither danger nor cause of alarm ; but I 
 know him of old. The fearful side of the pic- 
 ture, however, I cannot look at. My heart bit- 
 terly yearns at the thought that my last solace 
 on earth shall be taken from me. And yet, sis- 
 ter, I know that God is good — that all his ways, 
 though to us unaccountable, are in wisdom and 
 in love. 
 
 The moment it was said to me that Martha 
 was ill, I felt that it was the voice of death; but 
 it may have been owing to the cutting recollec- 
 tions which her sickness awakened. I feel, I 
 assure you, but ill prepared to bear the shock 
 
190 REMAINS OF 
 
 which present appearances, notwithstanding all 
 the doctor's hopes, warn me to apprehend will 
 be mine to endure. 
 
 Martha is a bud, which to me has promised 
 much. She is not pretty, though she has a fair 
 forehead and a most speaking eye. But how 
 vain is hope ! She is a flower that I have care- 
 fully watched and watered with tears. The dear 
 little thing I believe must die I She cannot 
 endure the tempest's blast. * 
 
 Thus far, my dear sister, had I written, be- 
 fore the event of which you ere this have heard. 
 She died this day week, and was buried by the 
 side of her dear mother the day following. I 
 should have forwarded the above, that you might 
 have been prepared, but for the opinion of the 
 doctor and friends, and some flattering change 
 in the disease. But they saw not with the 
 solicitude of a father. To them, probably, the 
 death of my child was no darkening cloud. 
 They could not feel the breaking of ties where 
 they had no existence, nor the yearnings of a 
 parent for his first-born. But she is gone ! She 
 retained the most perfect recollection till the 
 last moment of her existence. Not two minutes 
 before she died she raised her little hands to 
 her nurse, and asked her to walk her. She 
 took her up, walked across the room, sat down 
 in a chair, and the dear little thing fell asleep. 
 
 Under this event I had feared that I should 
 be overwhelmed. But my feelings are subdued, 
 and calmer than could be expected. When it 
 was first said to me that she was sick, they 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 191 
 
 were unutterable. I went to my room, and 
 wept, and prayed for the life of my child — my 
 only child. But in wisdom God has taken her 
 to himself; and though my heart feels the bit- 
 terness of sorrow, though I longed and struggled 
 for the life of the child, I murmur not. Though 
 he " slay me," yet will I trust in him. 
 
 Yet at times, sister, my cup does seem to 
 have been a bitter one. What vicissitudes 
 have I passed in a short life of thirty years f 
 Still I know, and what is better, feel, that God 
 has been infinitely better to me than I have 
 deserved. All that I have experienced within 
 the last eight months, I am sure, has been de- 
 signed for my special benefit. The child, I am 
 sure too, is safe. Thought I, when I heard of 
 its death — " Well, there is a happy meeting in 
 heaven." The mother and child will both join 
 and together praise God that they have escaped 
 the storms. If anxiety could be felt in heaven* 
 I am sure Ellen felt it for Martha. But they 
 are now safe, and beckon me on to a holier life, 
 and for aught I know, may be to me the guar- 
 dian angels of my life. 
 
 It seems as if there was no sacrifice which 
 I would not make, could I see you all, and 
 partake of your sympathy. But circumstances 
 will not permit it — it must be deferred. And 
 perhaps, sister, we may never meet again here ; 
 but O ! may we, may we meet in heaven \ 
 
 Nothing was wanting in Mrs. W , the 
 
 lady who took care of Martha. Speaking of 
 Martha's intellect, she remarked that she had 
 
192 REMAINS OF 
 
 " seen many children in her life, but that she 
 never had seen, and never expected to see her 
 equal." * * * 
 
 I am now sitting in my office alone — a stran- 
 ger comparatively, still, in a strange land. Like 
 a tree that has been riven by the tempest, until 
 root and branch have felt the shock, I still live 
 but a memento of the past. My wife has gone — 
 my child is no more. How soon I shall follow 
 them I know not. The oak that has braved 
 the storm must fall at last. 
 
 TO A FRIEND IN AFFLICTION. 
 
 September 15, 1830. 
 My Dear Sir : — I sincerely sympathize with 
 you in the loss of your truly amiable and la- 
 mented father. To the few members that still 
 remain of your family his memory must be che- 
 rished with a fondness, I have often thought, 
 which the " many" could never feel. I have 
 but a few relatives ; and to this circumstance I 
 have attributed that severity of grief which the 
 loss of but one never fails to awaken. But our 
 loss, I sincerely believe, is your father's infinite 
 gain. Never, probably, since he arrived at the 
 years of responsibility, was he so w r ell prepared 
 for an exchange of worlds, as at the day of his 
 death. To a Christian, there is something cal- 
 culated to excite the liveliest gratitude, and the 
 most profound adoration, toward that infinitely 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 193 
 
 wise Providence which has so lately called him 
 from darkness to light. God had foreseen the 
 event which we now deplore, and in mercy- 
 had prepared him for himself. Thus are " his 
 paths in the great deep, and. his footsteps un- 
 known." 
 
 To you, as an only son, the cup must be a 
 bitter one. When the trunk falls beneath the 
 pressure of the storm, the branches cannot but 
 feel the shock. But yours is the privilege to 
 find from a " bitter bud" a flower that is sweet. 
 Only improve it as we are directed to in the gos- 
 pel, and you will yet say — " Good is the hand 
 of the Lord; let him do what seemeth him 
 good." Then this " chastening," though afflict- 
 ing, shall u yield the peaceable fruits of right- 
 eousness." 
 
 I cannot but hope, sir, that this bereavement 
 will exert a happy and a lasting influence upon 
 your religious feelings. You have already seen 
 too many of the vicissitudes of this life to hope 
 for any permanent enjoyment in this state of 
 being. The death of a father speaks, with a 
 force irresistible, that this is not the home of 
 the son. Look, then, to that world which is as 
 endless as duration. " Lay up treasure in 
 heaven," and, in due season, you will reap its 
 ineffable enjoyments. Christ yet waits to be 
 gracious to you, and all heaven beckons you on, 
 to secure an interest in his blood. But soon 
 the scene will be over, the curtain drop, and a 
 day of the most gracious probation exchanged 
 for the light of eternity and the inexorable 
 13 
 
194 REMAINS OF 
 
 rewards of justice. Then mercy can plead no 
 longer for friend or foe. He that is unright- 
 eous, must be unrighteous still. Then shall be 
 written on all impenitents — " Lo-ruhamah," and 
 "Lo-ammi." 
 
 Tender to your sisters my kindest regards, 
 and assure your mother of my prayers, that hers 
 may be the widow's God in this hour of trial. 
 
 TO A FRIEND IN PERSECUTION. 
 
 Georgetown, D. C, Dec. 17, 1830. 
 Dear Brother : — I am truly pained to hear 
 that you still are suffering under the odium of a 
 calumny too cruel to be named, and unequalled 
 in the history of modern reform. Censure, 
 when made against a whole community of 
 Christians, is of but little consequence ; because 
 the identity of the offender is lost in the multi- 
 tude criminated, and the charge divides itself 
 among so many, that its force is unfelt by each. 
 But when one is singled out, and made the vic- 
 tim of the smothered malignity of disappointed 
 partizans, and the accumulated wrath of a long 
 and anxiously cherished hostility, he must be 
 more than mortal not to feel; and unfeeling 
 must that heart be which will not tender the 
 sympathies of its nature, or offer any relief in 
 its power, to him who is made the subject of 
 such merciless persecution. Be assured, dear 
 brother, that we feel for you. You are yet 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 195 
 
 remembered in the prayers of thousands. Bear 
 that reproach— which has always been the por- 
 tion of good men— with firmness, but subdued 
 feeling, only a* "little while" longer, and He 
 from whom no secret, is hidden will read your 
 innocence by the light of eternity, before an 
 assembled universe. This world cannot do 
 justice to virtue. " God manifest in the flesh" 
 was persecuted, spit upon, mocked, falsely ac- 
 cused, and cruelly put to death. And if his 
 disciples were more careful to imitate his exam- 
 ple, doubtless they would share more largely in 
 those trials peculiar to a holy life. The " world 
 to come" will make all right ; and it is only a 
 moment before we shall enter k Say to your 
 enemies, as a Roman chieftain did to a spirit, 
 "Til meet thee there." 
 
 If a want of responsibility in your shameless 
 persecutors prevent you from seeking that 
 redress in a court of justice which an indepen- 
 dent judiciary would not fail to award you, it is 
 well; more certain and " greater will be your 
 reward" hereafter. Commit it all to God. And 
 this little storm may be the precursor of the 
 brightest day that you have ever witnessed. 
 The strength of the tree can only be tested by 
 the violence of the storm. And virtue never 
 commands more admiration than when strug- 
 gling with the infirmities of human nature, to 
 meet, unmoved, the unmerited obloquy of out- 
 laws and unprincipled hypocrites. Tis then 
 its real worth and fortitude are seen. 
 J really wish I could say one word that might ' 
 
196 REMAINS OF 
 
 be comforting, well-timed and " fitly spoken." 
 I should then feel that I had caught something 
 of the spirit of our Divine Master, and of those 
 holy angels who ministered to him after his 
 agony in the garden. It is the spirit of our holy 
 religion to participate in each other's sorrows, 
 and to "bear one another's burdens." Christ 
 never forsook his disciples. When toiling amid 
 the darkness and the tempest, they heard his 
 voice upon the waters, saying — " Be not afraid ; 
 it is I." Let me repeat it to you, brother — 
 Greater is He that is for you than all that are 
 against you. Trust in him, and you, your 
 reputation and cause, are all safe. And all 
 your afflictions, of whatever character they may 
 be, will hereafter " yield the peaceable fruits of 
 righteousness," if " exercised thereby." 
 
 When I commenced this letter, I intended 
 only to say that if I could assist you in any 
 way, by pen or otherwise, my services were 
 at your command. Would that I could assist 
 a suffering servant of Christ ! Do let me know 
 more of this anomalous affair. 
 
 Raleigh, March 20, 1831. 
 My Very Dear Brother : — I have just re- 
 turned from the labours of the Sabbath ; am alone 
 in my room ; had a little refreshment brought 
 to me ; and now sit by my table too much ex- 
 hausted to speak one word. I preached by spe- 
 cial appointment to the young, from — " Wilt 
 
MELVILLE 13. COX. 197 
 
 thou not from this time cry unto me, My Father, 
 thou art the guide of my youth?" The close 
 was affecting — deeply so, at least to myself — 
 nor less so, I hope, to some who are strangers 
 to religion. I have strong hopes of one from 
 this day's labour. And unless I shall see the 
 work of God revive, I have but little hope of 
 life. Mental solicitude has become, with me, 
 a kind of virtue; and in all my pulpit labours, 
 and preparations for it, I cherish it as indispen- 
 sably associated with my calling to the ministry 
 of God's word. Others may philosophize about 
 heaven and hell, — may freeze their own lips 
 and the hearts of their hearers with cold moral 
 tales, — but I cannot, if I have constant commu- 
 nion with God. Nor do I think myself called 
 to it. There was no stoical feeling in the tears 
 of Christ over devoted Jerusalem ; none in the 
 mental agony and sweated blood in the garden. 
 The memorable " My God ! my God !" is the 
 language of unuttered feeling. The apostles 
 warned from house to house with tears. And 
 shall I fold my arms in ease ? No, brother, I 
 could not if I would, with the feelings I have 
 now. Stones would cry out. I must speak to 
 be refreshed. I do not condemn those who 
 point a different course, They stand or fall to 
 their own master. But if a soul is to be eter- 
 nally damned or saved, it is the blindness of a 
 stupidity colder than death not to be in earnest 
 about its salvation. 1 believe, as much as I 
 believe I hold this pen in my hand, that the 
 want of zeal, ardour, deep feeling, in speaking 
 
198 REMAINS OF 
 
 of the momentous truths of revelation in ministers 
 of the gospel, has sent thousands and thousands 
 of precious souls to eternal wo. 
 
 But, brother, perhaps I never had such feel- 
 ings as I now have. I cannot tell them to you. 
 But I feel as if I were drawing nearer and 
 nearer to the seat of God. Eternal interest 
 seems overpowering. When I bow before God, 
 he seems all around me and within me. When 
 I look beyond this world, the other seems ex- 
 ceedingly near to me. A few evenings since, 
 alone in my room, in secret prayer, it seemed 
 as if the last idol was gone. I have since found 
 many reasons to doubt it. But this one thing 
 I'll do, — I will press on, nor rest, till I am a 
 holy man. I cry out for it within me. and I am 
 sure it will come, by and by. I want to know 
 all of God that man can k?iow, and live. 
 
 A part of the five years past seems a melan- 
 choly vacuum in the history of my poor life. 
 But by the grace of God, this " shall suffice," 
 be my days many or few. This is well ; but 
 O! would to God it had been always so. 
 
 You need have no anxiety about me. I am 
 among friends — friends who love me. I have 
 a comfortable room to myself, and all I need ; 
 though not in sister's style, or that which I have 
 been accustomed to in Baltimore. But I have 
 enough — much better than had my gracious 
 
 Master. I am with Mr. S , a merchant of 
 
 this place. Mrs. S is just such a lady as 
 
 a Methodist travelling preacher delights to meet 
 with, particularly if in delicate health. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 190 
 
 We shall no doubt meet, should we live, at 
 the "General Conference" of 1836. But this 
 is too far ahead for me. I may see it, but I 
 doubt. And yet I have no presentiment that I 
 shall die immediately. I may live as long with 
 preaching as without it, for aught I know. But 
 I intend to be prepared for it, come when it 
 may. 
 
 Your letter gave me real pleasure. Its kind 
 cautions I will do the best I can to observe. I 
 have, however, seldom tried to preach a "great" 
 sermon in my life, and never since my sickness. 
 I onpe tried to make a "great" prayer. "O 
 Lord," and " Amen," commenced and ended it ; 
 this is all or nearly every word of it. Not one 
 sentence could I utter. I now number it among 
 the most profitable I ever offered. It was then 
 deeply humiliating. 
 
 I read your interesting letter last evening, and 
 was much affected in reading it. But you see 
 how I have answered it — scarcely alluded to it. 
 Well, you want to know of me, not of yourself. 
 I think I am in a better state now than for years. 
 But all is not yet right. There is something I 
 cannot define yet, which must be crucified. But 
 my pride, which has so long been a curse to 
 me, is nearly broken. My ambitious hopes are 
 buried. And I hope soon to be, if I live, a 
 plain, humble, holy minister of God. Pray, my 
 dear brother, that that blessed anticipated hour 
 may be near at hand. 
 
200 REMAINS OF 
 
 TO A FEMALE FRIEND. 
 
 Raleigh, March 23, 1831 . 
 
 My Dear Sister S. : — I was truly pleased 
 with what I beg leave to call your " pious note." 
 Confidence, whether reposed by a friend or an 
 enemy, should be held as sacred as our honour 
 and virtue. It is immaterial whether it be a 
 trivial or a momentous concern ; to betray it is 
 treachery. Whoever confides in me, does it 
 with the presumption that there it will remain 
 for ever, silent as death ; if exposure be neces- 
 sary, and the tale need be told, why, he could 
 do that himself. 
 
 In your case, however, my dear sister, there 
 was little or no fault. You felt under obliga- 
 tions, with your views of my intentions, to men- 
 tion it to the one you did. To have made it 
 perfectly correct, you ought to have suggested 
 the necessity oimy consulting with him ; though, 
 as time proved, I had this in view from the be- 
 ginning. 
 
 But it is all well. I know, now, your views 
 upon the subject, and can confide hereafter, 
 with less solicitude. The acute sensibility man- 
 ifested at this little unintentional error gives 
 but higher proofs that your heart is indeed un- 
 der divine influence. I can only say, Cherish 
 this heavenly, this holy tenderness of con- 
 science, as among the best boons of God to 
 man. Neither moral sensibility nor moral obli- 
 gation can ever be trifled with, in the smallest 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 201 
 
 concerns of life, with impunity ; the first is soon 
 blunted, and the last soon forgotten. Sin, in all 
 its forms, is more dangerous than the " upas ;" 
 it is spiritual death to come within the circle of 
 its atmosphere. And would we, my sister, be 
 "holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from 
 sinners," we must do right in all things. Hu- 
 man life is made up of " trifles ;" and correct- 
 ness in these is the essence of true religion. 
 He that is faithful in " little," will be faithful in 
 " much." 
 
 I have dwelt on this a moment, not because 
 I think you faulty in the past, but that it may be 
 a guide for the future. I sincerely love the 
 spirit you manifest ; and your kind attentions, 
 and solicitude for my health, comfort, and hap- 
 piness, have awakened feelings of friendship 
 that I trust will only die with my existence. 
 
 I have "■ prayed" for you. Will my sister re- 
 turn the favour, and believe me, most affection- 
 ately, her sincere but unworthy pastor in Christ, 
 
 TO ANOTHER FEMALE FRIEND. 
 
 Raleigh, March 26, 1831. 
 My Dear Sister H.:-^-Let me beg of your 
 sister, Miss M., through you, for Christ's sake, 
 for her own soul's sake, to let nothing divert 
 her from those means which she has already 
 felt particularly beneficial to her spiritual inte- 
 rest. This, possibly, is the most eventful mo- 
 
202 REHIAIKS OF 
 
 ment that she has ever experienced. A trivial 
 thing now may produce consequences of the 
 deepest interest. A little neglect, or a little 
 violence to the suggestions of the Holy Spirit, 
 may at last leave her in darkness and mourning 
 for months. Would she soon find Christ, she 
 must press through the crowd, overcome obsta- 
 cles, deny herself, and take up the cross, and 
 cherish every kind emotion of the Spirit of God. 
 She must act conscientiously where and when 
 she goes ; and in every thing act according to 
 the best light God has given her. 
 
 I say not these things because I wish her to 
 be a Methodist ; no ! this is of the least conse- 
 quence. I want her to be a Christian. I want 
 that her soul shall know the love of God shed 
 abroad in the heart by experience. 
 
 I am sure, however, from rny own observa- 
 tion, that for this the Methodist Church has more 
 helps than the Protestant Episcopal. But let 
 her obtain religion ; there will be quite time 
 enough to think of the comparative merits of 
 churches. 
 
 You will excuse my apparent concern. If I 
 can estimate my own feelings, it is the eternal 
 worth of her soul that makes me solicitous. 
 And I have known so many to perish in the 
 way before they found Christ, that I am fearful. 
 Injudicious advice of officious friends, light and 
 trifling company or conversation, if joined in, 
 are as fatal to such a one as poison. 
 
MELVILLE E. COX. 203 
 
 TO ANOTHER, ON A FALSE REPORT. 
 
 Raleigh, Oct. 31, 1831. 
 
 My Dear Sister : — Your last was duly re- 
 ceived. I am just as much of an " Episcopalian" 
 as you are — just as much of one as I was while 
 with you — and that is, a-jlrm "Episcopal" Me- 
 thodist. Should I never meet with any thing 
 more powerful or convincing than the " book" 
 alluded to, I presume I shall be quite satisfied 
 with either the "ordination'* or " burial service" 
 of the Methodist discipline. I don't think either 
 of them will condemn me. 
 
 No tale, however marvellous or improbable, 
 if reported in North Carolina, will ever again 
 surprise me ; and, should Providence make this 
 my residence long, it will need more than a 
 " story" well and confidently told to command my 
 confidence in any thing true or false. I think I 
 have never known guess-work, or a " hope so," 
 so soon to become a plain matter-of-fact as in 
 this state. It is only necessary for some one to 
 suggest his wishes, suspicions, or hopes, and to- 
 morrow they are well-told rumours, and the 
 next day facts of unquestionable authenticity. 
 This is making "street-yarn" and broadcloth, 
 also, by the wholesale, and that, too, without 
 wheel, spindle, loom, or shuttle. 
 
 Sometimes I have thought, sister, that people 
 forget the distinction between thought and action; 
 the one, by some loquacious individuals, whose 
 tongues never rest long enough to catch a long 
 breath, is mistaken for the other ; and what was 
 
204 REMAINS Of 
 
 just now only a floating idea in the brain, in an 
 hour or two is detailed with as much assurance 
 as if this wayward thought had been real action. 
 How else can we account for such monstrous 
 absurdities, such gross inconsistencies, among 
 those who would think themselves highly in- 
 sulted if their integrity was in the least suspect- 
 ed 1 Christians certainly will not lie. And yet 
 some who profess to be such tell tales, for 
 which, upon investigation, you can find neither 
 foundation, superstructure, nor top-stone — for 
 which there is not even the shadow of an apol- 
 ogy. Perhaps phrenology may palliate their 
 crime, but I need not tell you that the Book of 
 God will write on all such " Mehe Tekel" in 
 the day of eternity. 
 
 TO THE REV. BISHOP HEDDING. 
 
 Norfolk, Feb. 22, 1832. 
 
 Rev. and Dear Sir: — You may propose me 
 if you please to the Episcopacy as a missionary 
 to Liberia. If you and they, after advising with 
 each other, should think me fitted for the work, 
 / will go, trusting in the God of missions for 
 protection and success. It may cure me— it 
 may bury me. In either case I think I can say 
 from the heart — " The will of the Lord be done." 
 I shall go without any " fear which hath tor- 
 ment ;" with a cheerful, nay, a glad heart. 
 
 In weighing the subject, the following reflec- 
 tions have suggested themselves : — 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. - 205 
 
 1. It is my duty, sick or well, to live and die 
 in the service of the church. 
 
 2. There is a loud call in Providence at this 
 eventful moment for some one to go to Liberia, 
 which ought and must be heard. 
 
 3. There are some indications that this voice 
 addresses itself to me. 
 
 4. A man in high health would run a far 
 greater hazard of life, humanly speaking, than I 
 should. 
 
 5. Though perhaps my health does not war- 
 rant much in expectation, yet, by the blessing 
 of God, I may do great good. " The race is 
 not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong." 
 There is much, very much to be done in a mis- 
 sion of the kind which would not tax my voice 
 at all. 
 
 Praying that God would direct and give suc- 
 cess to the enterprise, I am, affectionately, your 
 son in the gospel. 
 
 Philadelphia, May 7, 1832. 
 My Dear Mother : — Possibly this letter 
 will surprise you. If Providence permit, be- 
 tween this and next fall your son will be tread- 
 ing on African soil. The Episcopacy have 
 just unanimously agreed to send me, as soon as 
 may be, as a missionary to Liberia. I can 
 truly say it is the most welcome appointment I 
 have ever received from them. I shall go with 
 a cheerful, nay, a glad heart. Already I thirst 
 
206 REMAINS OF 
 
 to be on my way — to know that the winds of 
 heaven are wafting me as the messenger of 
 heaven to those outcasts of the world. Though 
 counted as the white man's cemetery, to me it 
 has nothing to awaken a lingering fear. Even 
 a grave there looks pleasant to me. If God be 
 with me, it shall be sweet to my soul to be com- 
 forted in my last hours by redeemed slaves. 
 
 But before I leave I intend to visit my be- 
 loved mother and endeared sister. Since my 
 last my health has not at all improved. You 
 must not expect to see any thing like health in 
 me. I have lost both youth and health ; but 
 " Thought still burns within." 
 
 If the Lord will, I hope to be with you in 
 June. In August I must be ready to sail from 
 Baltimore or Norfolk for Africa. Let me hear 
 from you in New-York. 
 
 New-York, June 13, 1832. 
 My Dear Brother : — So far as an appoint- 
 ment from others, and the fixed intention of my- 
 self can make it so, there is now no longer any 
 uncertainty about my mission to Liberia, If 
 God will, I shall go to Africa. And I assure 
 you, my dear brother, if I can estimate my own 
 feelings upon this subject, that I had rather be 
 an humble missionary of the cross there, beg- 
 ging my bread from kraal to kraal, traversing its 
 interminable deserts on a camel, or sleeping in 
 the tent of an Arab, than to be the emperor of 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 207 
 
 its millions. I perhaps even glory in the hon- 
 our of such an enterprise.* Yes, I love its name. 
 Paris and London have not half its charms. 
 Palaces sink into insignificance before it, and 
 the gay and giddy courts which throng them 
 have now far less interest to me than the aproned 
 Bassas. Liberia, I do truly believe, is to be the 
 " Land of Promise" as well as that of the "libe- 
 rated ;" not indeed to myself, but to thousands 
 of my fellow-beings now groaning under the 
 cursed bonds of slavery ; and to thousands more 
 sitting in heathenish darkness, it must be as the 
 rising sun of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I see, 
 or think I see, shed upon its burning sands the 
 dew of heaven and the light of God. Clouds 
 from Europe and America, fraught with the be- 
 nevolence of thousands, are gathering over it, 
 and heaven itself, with the mercy of a God, is 
 bending to- do it good. This, brother, is not 
 ideal ; it is not ardour's feverish view; it is lit- 
 eral and plain truth. In my coolest moments 
 upon this subject, I believe all that is beautiful or 
 cheering in hope, rational in reason, or sustaining 
 in faith, is blended in the godlike enterprise of 
 evangelizing Africa to God. In comparison 
 with it, the conquests of kingdoms or worlds of 
 wealth (with a Christian, of course) are but as 
 vanity. Indeed, it has something too sacred in 
 its designs, and too lofty in its promise, to be 
 compared with the pageantry of show or glitter 
 of gold. It has for its object the salvation of 
 spirits — of souls undying and immortal as our 
 own; and heaven for its eternal reward. 
 
208 REMAINS OF 
 
 I know, brother, that it hath its darker side. 
 I know that he who engages in the mission 
 must not expect beds of down, sofas of ease, or 
 tables of luxury. He must be content to bear 
 the scalding rays of a vertical sun ; to feed on 
 only an African potato, if need be; to breathe 
 the miasma of its low lands ; to meet a Nubian 
 blast ; and, perhaps, to lay him down and die. 
 But God's word hath taught me that all these 
 can be made the ministers of mercy, and even 
 joy. If God be in the mission, a den of lions 
 shall be a quiet home, or a burning furnace a 
 paradise. In his hands pain is pleasure ; and 
 privation plenty; yes, and Africa as America. 
 
 And if I be the humble individual designated 
 in the providence of God as a missionary to this 
 land of darkness, my soul says, whether it be 
 the path of suffering or enjoyment, of life or 
 death, it shall be the joy of my heart to go. 
 Yes, I'll go — go to its burning sands, — its luxu- 
 riant vales, — its moon mountains, — its clayey 
 cottages, — and palaces, if such they may be 
 called ; and I'll tell them the story of the cross. 
 I will tell them how God hath loved them ; that 
 even they were not forgotten in the history of 
 redemption ; that Christ died for them, that he 
 has risen ; and that for them he now intercedes. 
 
 And shall I fear, my dear brother, to do this ? 
 Shall I hesitate, or go with a reluctant step? 
 God forbid. And dear as we are to each other, 
 will you not say, God forbid it, too ? I think I 
 love you ; love her who gave us birth, and her 
 who has so often cheered our path through life; 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 209 
 
 but tender as are these associations, / thirst to 
 feel that the winds of heaven are wafting me to 
 that shore. I long to breathe air never inhaled 
 by the Christian, — to be within some of their 
 little mud walls, telling for once to heathens, 
 properly such, the tragedy of Calvary. The 
 thought, brother, is sweet to my soul. I think 
 'God will be with me. I think that Christ will 
 give a power to his own name and truth there 
 that I have never before witnessed — a power 
 that devils cannot resist. And should I be the 
 instrument of the conversion of one, and should 
 that one become a herald of the cross to gather 
 in his thousands, it will be enough. I can then 
 lay me down and die, with feelings sweeter far 
 " than on softer bed," in healthier clime. 
 
 Please to commend the interests of the mis- 
 sion to the people of your charge. Enlist all the 
 prayers for it that you can, especially the " pray- 
 ers of the poor ;" — prayers are better to the mis- 
 sionary than gold, though both are necessary, 
 but if the one be secured, the other will follow 
 as naturally as the effect follows its cause. . 
 
 Boston, July 22, 1832. 
 My Dear Mother : — I have just received 
 your very kind letter by Mr. Robinson. It has 
 given me both pleasure and pain : pleasure that 
 once more I have heard from my dear mother, 
 and for the deep interest she feels in a son's 
 welfare •. pain that she should so often seem 
 14 
 
210 REMAINS OF 
 
 to doubt his love for her. Perhaps I have given 
 you reason to doubt it. If I ever did, I merit 
 for it the severest reproof. Never did a mother 
 sacrifice more willingly her own happiness for 
 that of her children than have you. To love 
 you for it is the least we can do. But we are 
 all imperfect creatures. Our hearts are fre- 
 quently wayward in their love to each other, as 
 well as in love to Him to whom we are indebted 
 for all. But of this I am sure ; if I have erred 
 toward you, never was one more willing than 
 you to forgive. 
 
 I have been as comfortable since I left you 
 as I could expect. My mind is quite at rest 
 and in peace. 
 
 If Providence permit, I shall probably leave 
 here for New- York on Tuesday. Give your- 
 self no further anxiety about me than affection- 
 ately and fervently to commend me and my 
 mission to God. He reigns. Amid sword, 
 pestilence, or famine^ all that is intrusted to 
 him is safe. Make prayer, my dear mother, 
 your only comfort in your anxiety for me or 
 others. Quietude that is obtained here will be 
 both substantial and abiding. If ever your heart 
 should be troubled about me, go to God ; tell 
 him a mother's feelings, and renewedly conse- 
 crate me to his service, and commend me to 
 his care. He is always near, and can at any 
 time feed me by a raven, or make the lion my 
 friend. 
 
 One word more, mother. Suffer from a son 
 a word of exhortation. As you go down th d 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 211 
 
 hill of life, see how holy you can live. Get 
 your heart all moulded into the spirit and tem- 
 per of Christ. Do nothing but in his fear. Try 
 to be a mother in Israel, and to persuade sinners 
 to seek Christ. Then stars will gem your 
 crown hereafter. 
 
 Thank cousin Sarah for her postscript. It is 
 truly grateful to my feelings to be assured of so 
 much kindness from friends. The Lord help 
 me to feel that to him I am indebted for all. 
 
 I wrote sister this morning. I do pray that 
 the God of all comfort will comfort her. I fear 
 that she is indulging in too much feeling at my 
 absence. O that Christ would comfort her 
 heart and fill it with his own presence. Her 
 feeling upon this subject I think should be joy, 
 a holy joy, that I have been counted worthy of 
 the sufferings and pleasures attending such an 
 enterprise. I would not exclude tears from the 
 scene, but they should be shed with unfeigned 
 submission to God, and the fullest assurance 
 that all things shall work together for the good 
 of those who sincerely and truly love God. 
 
 My love to all. This, as all my letters must 
 be, is written in great haste. A kiss to the 
 children, and affectionate remembrance to all. 
 
 Richmond, Sept 10, 1832. 
 My Dear Brother : — Liberia is still the 
 burden of my thoughts, and the more I contem- 
 plate the mission, the more sensibly do I feel a 
 
212 remains or 
 
 shrinking from the responsibility of the under- 
 taking. There is a great work before me. I 
 see a country stretching itself from latitude 35 
 north to 35 south, and from longitude 50 east 
 to 1 5 west. It is covered with a population 
 perhaps five or six times larger than the whole 
 of the United States. Degraded and oppressed 
 as they are, they are all human beings and have 
 souls. This were well ; but these souls, many 
 of them, seem elevated but little above brutes. 
 They are enveloped in a darkness that may be 
 felt, and sunken in a depravity that knows no 
 bounds but unrestrained indulgence, sottish ease, 
 or studied crime. With the exception of a 
 few insulated spots which skirt the continent, 
 they are "all gone out of the way ;" they know 
 not God, nor Jesus Christ whom he hath sent. 
 Some are bowing down to " stocks and stones," 
 others to the grave of a false prophet ; while 
 others are offering the sacrifice of human blood. 
 Added to a heart "deceitful above all things and 
 desperately wicked," and to an ignorance that 
 never saw pure light, they have felt the influ- 
 ence of all the superstitions which human nature 
 has been capable of inventing for more than a 
 thousand years. From what I can glean from 
 its history, in many places Satan hath literally 
 taken his seat among them, and I doubt not he 
 will hold it with the grasp of death. 
 
 But Satan, brother, must be dethroned, and 
 these millions must feel the force of gospel 
 truth, and the regenerating influence of the Ho- 
 ly Spirit. They must ultimately " all be taughP 
 
MELVILLE B. COX 213 
 
 of God," or prophecy must fail. The Arab 
 path from Timbuctoo to Morocco, Tripoli and 
 Cairo, must be traced by the missionary of the 
 cross, and a new one cut from Liberia. The 
 Senegal and the Gambia, the Kamaranka and 
 the St. Paul's, must be studded with Christian 
 stations ; ay, and churches, too, in which must 
 be taught and sung the high praises of God. 
 The Niger must be followed from the mountains 
 of Kong to its little inland sea ; and its path 
 traced back to the Atlantic. The CafFrarian 
 missionaries, with their Madagascar and Good 
 Hope brethren, and the missionaries at Sierra 
 Leone, must meet each other at Monrovia ; and 
 these, with their associates at Morocco, Tripoli, 
 and Cairo, must ultimately meet at some com- 
 mon centre of the whole, and together sing the 
 triumphant song,. that "Africa is evangelized to 
 God !" This, brother, is the work before us. 
 The whole of Africa must be redeemed. " Who 
 is sufficient for these things ?" 
 
 But great as is this work, the grace of God, 
 with or without means, will soon accomplish it. 
 Happy, happy indeed is he whose contributions 
 aid in it ; thrice happier he who is immediately 
 engaged in the work. I do not speak in the 
 dark. I know the work will be accomplished. 
 Prophetic influence has pledged us the word of 
 Him who wills and it is done. " Ethiopia shall 
 stretch forth her hands to God," and when she 
 crieth he will hear. We have only to begin 
 the work in his name, and by the spirit of his 
 grace, and such a flame will be kindled from it 
 
214 REMAINS OF 
 
 as to light all Africa with its fires. Yes, I re- 
 peat it, the whole of Africa must be redeemed. 
 
 I know this is strong language. It may 
 startle cold-hearted moralists. Their faith may 
 not penetrate the dense forests of Africa, may 
 not scan its deserts, may not reach even to its 
 shores; but ours, with " the Book" of prophecy 
 in our hands, and Christ in our hearts, can take 
 up mountains — could compass worlds. 
 
 Pray for me, my dear brother ; not that I may 
 have a long life or days of ease ; but that I may 
 be truly holy — a " man of God" — a representa- 
 tive of Christ to a heathen world. Then if I 
 am hungry, Elijah's God will feed me ; f if I die 
 — alone — the God of Moses will take care of 
 my body till the resurrection, and take my soul 
 to himself. 
 
 Free Town, Feb. 20, 1833. 
 
 My Dear Mother and Sister : — I am now 
 at Sierra Leone. An opportunity offers by 
 which I may drop you a line ; and I should do 
 as much injustice to you as violence to my own 
 feelings did I not improve it. 
 
 We have had a long and tedious voyage of 
 almost four months, since we left the Capes of 
 Virginia. But I cannot now give any of its in- 
 cidents. The earliest opportunity after my ar- 
 rival they will probably be made public. This, 
 however, I must not omit ; — I have never bee* 
 happier since I first drew Breath for the same 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 215 
 
 length of time, than since I left America. In 
 storms or in calms, in sickness or in compara- 
 tive health, my heart has been greatly, greatly 
 comforted. God has been with me. Never, 
 no, never was I supported with such heavenly 
 and kind suggestions as while tumbling and 
 tossing on a world of waters. I am sure, my 
 dear mother and sister, be the consequences 
 what they may, that I am in the path of duty. 
 With this / am content, and with this I pray 
 that you may be. 
 
 For twenty days I was dreadfully sea sick : 
 adeed, during the whole voyage thus far, any 
 ting like rough weather would nauseate me. 
 A have just sent on board of a Bath ship, whose 
 r*ame I have not learned, a couple of very hand- 
 some native mats. I have other curiosities 
 which I should be glad to send, but I must re- 
 serve them for the mission in whose service I 
 am engaged. When you hear from me through 
 them, Africa will not seem that gloomy and sa- 
 vage place which you have been accustomed 
 to associate with its name. 
 
 For a few days past I have been quite indis- 
 posed ; — have some fears that I may have my 
 " seasoning" before I arrive at Liberia, but I 
 pray constantly that I may be kept from it till 
 then. If all had been as we expected, we should 
 have been there long since. Others I suppose 
 will now take the ground before me. It is well. 
 The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to 
 the strong. 
 
 I am now far, far away from you. I hope to 
 
216 REMAINS OF 
 
 see you again here, but have a thousand doubts 
 whether the hope will ever be realized. But 
 doubt not, if I hold fast whereunto I have at- 
 tained, that it will be well with me. There re- 
 maineth a rest for me. I have an earnest of it 
 within me that is sweeter than life, and strongei 
 than death. 
 
 We visited the Cape de Verd islands, and 
 touched at Goree, — the mouth of the Gambia, — 
 and have been at Sierra Leone for three weeks. 
 As yet not one of our company has been lost. 
 Sometimes my faith has been such that I have 
 thought we were all immortal till we arrived at 
 Liberia. The Lord knoweth. Still fem<?,nl>3r 
 me in your prayers — still strive for a holy *(e 
 and constant communion with God. 
 
 You will excuse me that I have said nothVi j 
 of what my eye hath seen. I have it all care - 
 fully written down, but a part of it would spoU 
 the beauty of the picture. 
 
 My clothes during so long a voyage have be- 
 come much damaged. My thermometer was 
 broken in a storm. This, however, is the only 
 thing that has been entirely spoiled. The main- 
 spring of my watch was broken too, and here 
 it has cost me a pound to have it repaired. 
 
 My love to the friends in general. 
 
 Hope by next arrival to hear what is doing 
 in America. 
 
 Kiss the sweet little children for me «ad re- 
 memoer me with much love to Mr. L 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 217 
 
 Monrovia, (Liberia,) April 5, 1833. 
 
 My Dear Mother . — I have one moment 
 which I can steal from duties pressing beyond 
 measure, just to say to you from this far off 
 land, that, though far off, I cannot forget a kind 
 and affectionate mother. I have purchased a 
 mission-house at Monro via r in which I am now 
 comfortably seated. It is a small two story 
 house, the lower one of stone, the upper of 
 wood. I am to pay for it five hundred dollars, 
 or rather I am to draw on the Missionary Society 
 for this amount. There is connected with it 
 about a thousand dollars' worth of land, the in- 
 come of which, by the purchase I have made, 
 will be secured to the society, so that in fact 
 the house will cost them nothing. 
 
 I have bought a table, a candlestick, a few- 
 cups and saucers, a pound of tea, a kroo of rice, 
 a few mackerel, borrowed one tea-spoon, a cot 
 to sleep on, and am living on rice morning, 
 noon, and night. But I assure you it eats 
 sweetly. We have beef, mutton, goat, and 
 some pork here, but they are so exorbitantly 
 high I don't choose to indulge myself with them. 
 
 I will only say of Liberia that its promise 
 will justify any effort that philanthropy or reli- 
 gion can make. 
 
 My health jit present is quite feeble, but I 
 have more cause of gratitude than of complaint. 
 Most of the emigrants who were with me have 
 had the fever, which thus far I have escaped. 
 
 I can scarcely realize, my dear mother, that 
 I am live or six thousand miles from you. But 
 
218 REMAINS OF 
 
 we shall meet by and by. Neither of us can 
 be here a long while. God grant that we may 
 meet in heaven. I have a most pleasant as- 
 surance that I am on my way there. Indeed I. 
 have never in my life felt such divine support 
 from grace as since I left home. My cup has 
 been full, never empty. Give yourself no care 
 for me, except to pray for success in my mis- 
 sion and the perfection of my nature in the 
 spirit and practice of the gospel. 
 
 I wrote sister from Sierra Leone, and for 
 warded a couple of mats, two ostrich eggs, &c 
 One egg is for brother, the largest mat for sis- 
 ter, the other for you. The little money-purses 
 are to be given to Ann, Charles Melville, and 
 Ellen Margaret. 
 
 Write me on the reception of this, and direct 
 to the care of Mr. Gurley, at Washington. I 
 shall send this in the Jupiter, by Mr. Williams, 
 a coloured gentleman, the vice agent, as he is 
 popularly called, the acting governor of the 
 colony. He will spend some two or three 
 months in the vicinity of Washington, and will 
 be pleased to take any letters for me forwarded 
 to his or Mr. Gurley 's care. I have written 
 this in great haste — business allows me no more 
 time. With much love, I am, dear mother, 
 your affectionate son 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 219 
 
 COMMISSION. + 
 
 Among the other papers of Mr. Cox we find 
 his Commission, of which the following is a 
 copy : — 
 
 New-York, June 22, 1832. 
 
 Dear Brother : — As you have been ap- 
 pointed a superintendent of the mission at Li- 
 beria, it is your duty to enter upon said mission 
 with all convenient and possible despatch, to 
 take the oversight of the people within the 
 bounds of your mission, to do your utmost to 
 promote the cause of God, by preaching, visit- 
 ing from house to house, establishing schools, 
 instructing the children, and doing all the duties 
 peculiar to a Methodist preacher, as the Disci- 
 pline directs. It is your duty also to make 
 quarterly reports to the managers of the Mis- 
 sionary Society of the Methodist Episcopal 
 Church. 
 
 Wishing you the blessing of God on your la- 
 bours, we remain affectionately yours, 
 
 R. R. Roberts. 
 Elijah Hedding. 
 
220 REMAINS OF 
 
 ■ 
 
 MISSIONARY NOTICE. 
 
 The following Plea for Africa was address- 
 ed to the public in behalf of the Young Men's 
 Missionary Society of New-Y"ork, by whom 
 Mr. Cox was engaged, and was prefixed to the 
 Letter from him, which we have here also con- 
 cluded to preserve entire, although it comprises 
 a few repetitions, in details, of statements, 
 already communicated, partially, in the other 
 Letters, or in the Memoir. It is not only charac- 
 teristic of him, and will therefore be read with 
 interest, but both the Plea and the Letter con- 
 tain many valuable suggestions, which may 
 prove of essential service to any that shall yet 
 be destined to follow in his path. 
 
 A PLEA FOR AFRICA. 
 
 The Young Men's Missionary Society of 
 New-York, auxiliary to the Missionary Society 
 of the Methodist Episcopal Church, having for 
 several years directed their sole efforts toward 
 introducing the gospel into Africa, and having 
 happily succeeded in obtaining the appointment 
 of the Rev. Melville B. Cox, as the superin- 
 tendent of that mission, respectfully and affec- 
 tionately present to the public the accompany- 
 ing Missionary Report, containing the latest 
 and most encouraging information from our mis- 
 sionary, from the colony at Liberia, and the 
 adjacent country. It will serve to show the 
 opening prospects of usefulness before the friends 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 221 
 
 of Christ, and the strong claim with which we 
 approach the benevolent, to plead for their libe- 
 rality in behalf of the support of our missionary, 
 in his labours and expenditures for the literary 
 and religious improvement of the colonists now 
 settled at Liberia, and the native inhabitants of 
 the coast as well as the interior of Africa. 
 
 For the entire support of Brother Cox and 
 this interesting mission, the Board of Managers 
 of the Young Men's Missionary Society of New- 
 York have pledged themselves to the superin- 
 tendents and the parent board ; relying on the 
 blessing of God upon their exertions, and con- 
 fidently expecting to share in the liberality of 
 the Christian public. They have already paid 
 the expenses of his embarkation, passage, and 
 a part of his salary ; and they are now notified 
 of a draft on its way for five hundred dollars for 
 a mission-house, which has been purchased by 
 our missionary as his place of residence at Mon- 
 rovia. The purchase is an eligible and eco- 
 nomical one, and is approved by the board as 
 one highly important and necessary. This, 
 with other expenses incidental to the formation 
 of mission-schools in the several settlements, 
 and the extension of the work, will call for 
 other and additional funds, far beyond the pre- 
 sent available resources of the board. 
 
 We believe, however, that " the silver and 
 gold are the Lord's," and so are "the cattle upon 
 a thousand hills." And we have full confidence, 
 that among the friends of Christ to whom our 
 appeal will come there is a sufficiency of zeal 
 
222 REMAINS OF 
 
 and liberality in the blessed cause of missions, 
 to induce them promptly to come forward to 
 our help ; and surely the cry of Ethiopia now, 
 through this mission, emphatically " stretching 
 forth her hands unto God," will be heard ; and 
 the plea for hapless, degraded, forgotten Africa, 
 will not now be made in vain. 
 
 Whatever contrariety of views may exist 
 among Christians as respects the claims and 
 policy of the colonization scheme, all must 
 agree that there is now opened, through the 
 colony at Liberia, a " great and effectual door" 
 for the introduction of the gospel into that dark 
 and populous quarter of our earth. None can 
 object to the policy we pursue, in sending 
 teachers and missionaries, first to the colony, 
 then to the surrounding country ; and thus find- 
 ing our way into the interior of the continent, 
 with the Bible and the gospel of Jesus Christ. 
 Surely no Christian, who acknowledges the 
 obligation to send this gospel to every creature, 
 can be an idle spectator of so holy an enter- 
 prise as that of evangelizing the millions who 
 now sit in darkness and the shadow of death. 
 And however long the Christian world has 
 slumbered over the wrongs, the oppressions, 
 and the butcheries which have cursed the whole 
 coast of that hapless country, — and however 
 long the friends of the Redeemer have forgotten 
 or neglected the pagan tribes and nations, whose 
 millions of deluded victims throng the cities of 
 central Africa, yetrthe time has now fully come, 
 when we can no longer be innocent if we come 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 223 
 
 not up to the " help of the Lord, to the help of 
 the Lord against the mighty ;" but should fear 
 lest the "bitter curse" which fell on Meroz be 
 our portion and our desert. 
 
 In the name of hapless, benighted, and bleed- 
 ing Africa ; in the name of the millions of our 
 wretched fellow-beings who inhabit those de- 
 serts of superstition and idolatry ; in the name 
 of that God who made of one blood all the na- 
 tions of the earth ; and in the name of Jesus 
 Christ, who " by the grace of God tasted death 
 for every man ; we now make our appeal to our 
 fellow Christians of every name, and solicit 
 their prompt and enlarged liberality. Friends 
 of Christ! friends of Africa! now is the time 
 for united and vigorous exertion. If, with the 
 blessing of the great Head of the Church, we 
 shall succeed in sustaining this mission, we 
 may confidently anticipate that the gospel, 
 almighty as it is, when once introduced, will 
 win its widening way from the Atlantic to the 
 Indian Ocean, from the Cape of Good Hope to 
 the Mediterranean. Yes, the proud crescent of 
 the arch-deceiver will quail before the standard 
 ot the cross ; heathen temples and pagan dei- 
 ties will crumble before the armies of the Prince 
 of peace ; *he ?«. ^virsed crime of man-stealing, 
 with all its enormities, mil be annihilated for 
 ever, and Africa, redeemed, regenerated, disen- 
 thralled, shall yet be " the praise of the whole 
 earth." 
 
 Come, then, ye who love the gospel, and 
 long for its promulgation to the ends of the 
 
224 remains or 
 
 earth ; let the love of Christ constrain you to 
 aid us by your contributions and your prayers 
 in this great work. Brother Cox is already 
 in the field, harnessed for the battle ; two other 
 missionaries, with their wives, are now almost 
 ready to embark as his fellow-labourers, and God 
 has men for missionaries, and women for teach- 
 ers, among his people in America, sufficient, 
 with his blessing, to plant the standard and un 
 furl the banner of his cross at all the points of 
 the coast and of the interior to which our Broth- 
 er Cox's enlarged soul looks with so much hope. 
 And when the work of God is thus begun by 
 his people, he will raise up native heralds of 
 the cross, who, in their own tongue, shall pro- 
 claim the unsearchable riches of Christ. Thus 
 the " gift of tongues," as in ancient times, will 
 follow the outpouring of the Holy Ghost, and 
 thus "a nation may be born in a day." 
 
 Finally, we would say to all who delight in 
 doing good, and wish to share with us in sus- 
 taining this African mission, that they may for- 
 ward their donations or subscriptions to either 
 of the undersigned, or, if more convenient, to 
 the Rev. Dr. Bangs, treasurer of the parent so- 
 ciety at New- York, when they will be faithfully 
 appropriated to this noble object. Surely our 
 brethren in the ministry and membership of our 
 own church will not disregard our plea ; and 
 the young men we especially invite to enrol 
 their names among our members, by the pay- 
 ment of one dollar annually, or ten dollars for 
 a life-subscription. Perhaps in no way can 
 
MELVILLE B. COX.. 225 
 
 they more readily or more usefully serve our 
 cause, than by making their ministers, or others, 
 life-members. 
 
 Pray for us, that the word of the Lord may 
 have free course and be glorified. 
 
 On behalf of the Managers of the Young 
 Men's Missionary Society of New- York. 
 
 David M. Reese, M. D., President. 
 Gabriel P. Disosway, Cor. Secretary. 
 Louis King, Treasurer. 
 
 LETTER FROM MR. COX. 
 
 Dear Brethreic : — I am sure you will join 
 me in grateful acknowledgments to a gracious 
 God for my safe arrival at Liberia. It is of his 
 mercy I am here. To him be all the praise. 
 
 Of my voyage I will here only say, it was a 
 stormy and a long one. We were more than 
 two months from coast to coast, and more than 
 four to Cape Montserado. But, thank God, we 
 are here- — here safely. Though more than two 
 months on the coast before our arrival, not one 
 of our number was lost until we were safely set 
 on shore at Monrovia. Since then death has 
 taken one from our company ; one that was too 
 far gone, however, with the pulmonary con- 
 sumption, to have survived long in any climate. 
 With this exception, we are all as well as 
 "new comers" in general. Some have had 
 slight attacks of the fever, which, it is said, all 
 15 
 
228 REMAINS OF 
 
 must have ; the remainder are waiting, some 
 patiently, others anxiously, their seasoning. 
 For my own part, I have no painful fears on 
 the subject. God, I know, has both life and 
 health in his keeping ; — what is good, that will 
 he do. I have had too many instances of his 
 goodness in my rather lonely enterprise, to be 
 at all afraid to trust in him now. 
 
 In view of much friendly advice that has 
 been given me by those better acquainted with 
 the climate than myself, I have as yet done but 
 little. Thought, however, has not been idle. 
 I have been planning and watching the open- 
 ings of Providence, and praying for the direc- 
 tion of Almighty God, without whose aid the 
 best-concerted plans and utmost vigour of 
 strength I know are but as ropes of sand. His 
 light, and his only, I intend to follow. And as 
 Methodism has hitherto been the child of Pro- 
 vidence, wherever established, so here I trust 
 it will be planted with his own hand. With 
 these convictions, and by a train of circum- 
 stances which I think singularly and clearly 
 providential, I have been led to purchase a 
 mission-house at Monrovia, for which I am to 
 pay five hundred dollars. Though I have done 
 it on my own responsibility, I have great confi- 
 dence to believe that you will not only approve, 
 but commend the courage which sustained me 
 in doing it. 
 
 The house was built by the lamented Ash- 
 mun, and three lots, besides the one on which 
 the house stands, were by him assigned foi 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 227 
 
 missionary purposes. At his death he gave the 
 house in fee simple to the Basle mission, and 
 by consequence, on some mutual agreement 
 between them and him, they became possessed 
 of the land also. One of these missionaries is 
 now at Sierra Leone ; and hearing that the 
 house was for sale, and presuming, what I have 
 found to be true, that houses would be rented 
 with much difficulty, I sought an interview with 
 him, and, after some conversation, proposed pur- 
 chasing it, provided, on seeing it, it should suit 
 the interests of our mission, with the under- 
 standing, however, that we should become pos- 
 sessed of the land also. 
 
 Presuming that our Missionary Society has 
 never been legally incorporated, I shall take 
 good care that the house and premises are pro- 
 perly secured to individual members of the board 
 for the benefit of the mission. For its payment 
 I shall draw, payable at thirty days after sight, 
 on the Young Men's Missionary Society, with 
 the hope that it may be made the occasion of a 
 special meeting ; at which perhaps a collection 
 may be lifted that will more than cover its 
 amount. Sure I am, could they see our colony 
 as it is ; could they have but one bird's eye 
 view of the magnitude of our mission, as seen 
 from Cape Montserado, of Africa, and the mil- 
 lions that are perishing for the lack of know- 
 ledge in its vast wildernesses, they might take 
 up as many thousands as they now do hundreds, 
 in New-York alone. There is not in the wide 
 world such a field for missionary enterprises. 
 
228 REMAINS OF 
 
 There is not in the wide world a field that 
 promises to the sincere efforts of a Christian 
 community a richer harvest. There is not in 
 the wide world a spot to which Americans owe 
 so much to human beings, as to this same 
 degraded Africa. She has toiled for our com- 
 fort ; she has borne a galling yoke for our ease 
 and indulgence ; she has driven our plough, has 
 tilled our soil, and gathered our harvests, while 
 our children have lived in ease, and been edu- 
 cated with the fruits thereof. Shall we make 
 her no returns ? If she has given to us " car- 
 nal things," can we do less than return her 
 intellectual and spiritual things 1 God help us 
 to do it, nor to think we have done enough until 
 Africa is redeemed. 
 
 What I want to do. — I want to establish 
 a mission at Grand Bassa, a very promising 
 settlement, about seventy miles to the eastward 
 of Monrovia. Our church has children already 
 there who have emigrated from America. They 
 need our care — our instruction. Religion in 
 our coloured friends from home has not been 
 sufficiently fortified with principle to withstand 
 the temptations and to meet the difficulties 
 which will necessarily occur in a land of pagan 
 idolatry and heathen superstition. I have 
 thought, too, that through them perhaps the 
 gospel might be the more readily communicated 
 to the natives around them. Added to this, the 
 place is very easy of access, is better suited to 
 the interests of agriculture than perhaps any 
 settlement yet made in the colony; and the 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 229 
 
 natives are said to have a strong desire to learn, 
 and to be possessed of much more than ordinary 
 innocency and docility of character. 
 
 I have already engaged a person to build a 
 small house and a cane or log church near the 
 centre of the settlement ; the whole of which 
 will cost perhaps one hundred and fifty or two 
 hundred dollars, over thirty of which I have 
 already advanced. The governor has kindly 
 offered an acre of land to build them on, which, 
 of itself, in the course of a few years, will cover 
 the expense. 
 
 A mission of still greater importance I pro- 
 pose to establish at or near to Grand Cape 
 Mount, about fifty miles to the windward. As 
 vou will perceive, we intend to line the coast. 
 And I do pray that it may be with such a moral 
 *)ower as shall effectually put a stop to the 
 uvrsed practice of slave-stealing, which I regret 
 o say is still carried on between this and Sierra 
 Leone, and between that and the Gambia. As 
 vet no colonists have settled there, but the king 
 is exceedingly anxious for a missionary who 
 will teach his children " Book," and the natives 
 are represented as being far more intelligent 
 than at any place under the protection of the 
 colony. The spot, from appearances as I passed 
 it, and from representation, I should think 
 healthier than this ; and, as a mission for the 
 instruction of natives, offers, in my view, greater 
 advantages than any place south of Sierra 
 Leone. 
 
 I shall employ my own time for the present 
 
230 REMAINS OF 
 
 in visiting the different stations, learning and 
 arranging some one of the native languages, 
 establishing and visiting the schools, and preach- 
 ing as my health will permit. 
 
 The "Myrick mission" must be established 
 at Sego," on the Niger. And there is no place 
 to which I shall look for happier results than 
 from this far-famed river. I had fixed on Sego 
 as a place for missionary exertion before I 
 received Brother Hall's letter, mentioning your 
 intentions. It is in the very heart of Africa. 
 
 To get there we must ascend the Gambia as 
 far as Tenda, whence it is but about ten days' 
 walk. There is a factory at Tenda, and before 
 we arrive, there will be another at Sego, owned 
 by Mr. Grant, an English merchant at Bathurst. 
 He is very friendly to Methodism. I am per- 
 sonally acquainted: with him, and, if the board 
 desire it, I will meet the missionary selected 
 for this spot, at the Gambia or here, and accom- 
 pany him to Sego, see him well settled, and 
 return. I am also personally acquainted with 
 the governor at Gambia, with several of the 
 merchants, and trust that my visit there left a 
 favourable impression on the community in 
 general. Either or all, I am sure, will afford 
 every facility in their power to promote the 
 interests of both learning and religion in the 
 benighted region with which they are sur- 
 rounded. 
 
 In selecting a man for this station, in particu- 
 lar, great care will be necessary. Do not send 
 a boy, nor one whose character is unformed or 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 231 
 
 unsettled. He will be exposed to many priva- 
 tions, hardships, and temptations ; and besides, 
 Africans pay almost as much deference to age 
 as did the Jews anciently. Send one well ac- 
 quainted with Methodism, and one well ac- 
 quainted with theology in general. Added to 
 these and to all those tempers, self-sacrifice and 
 deep devotion, which should characterize all 
 missionaries, it would be well if, before he leaves, 
 he would devote a few months, at least, to the 
 study of the Arabic language. He will be there 
 constantly coming in contact with Mohammed- 
 ans, and a knowledge of Arabic would very 
 much exalt him in their estimation. And though 
 others seem to think the conversion of these 
 next to an impossibility, I know of no other 
 class to which I would sooner go with the story 
 of the cross for success than to these same sons 
 of the prophet. They have now some know- 
 ledge of God, and their absurdities would soon 
 yield to truth. Difficulties would no doubt occur 
 at first ; but once gain access and you have the 
 whole mass — a mighty host — at command — and 
 more intellect than perhaps can be found in the 
 same number of souls in all uncivilized Africa. 
 Schools. — I wish to connect with each of 
 the missions named, a small school, at first to 
 be under the immediate tuition of the mission- 
 ary ; afterward, as the labours of the station may 
 increase, to be under a regular teacher. I 
 scarcely need say, that in all uncivilized coun- 
 tries but little progress can be made in religion 
 or learning, unless they go hand in hand; as 
 
232 REMAINS OF 
 
 soon as we can speak to them, appeal to the heart, 
 but let it be sustained by another to the head. 
 
 A school of greater importance than all these 
 I wish to establish somewhere near Monrovia, 
 Caldwell, or Millsburg — a school that shall be 
 properly academical as well as "primary." For 
 my model I have selected the Maine Wesley an 
 Seminary. The object will be to unite, under 
 one roof, religion, art, science, and industry 
 This is just what Africa needs. It struck me 
 with great force on my passage here, and ob- 
 servation on the coast has but strengthened the 
 conviction. Nothing, I am sure, short of some- 
 thing of this kind can meet wants such as are 
 here found. The natives, of course, have no 
 habits of well-directed industry ; they know but 
 little of agriculture, and every thing like art is 
 done at immense labour,— and these all come 
 within the purview of our mission. If we 
 Christianize them, — if the one could be done 
 without the other, — and have them mingle with 
 the common herd, we shall spend our strength 
 for naught. They must be both Christianized 
 and civilized before our work will be well done. 
 
 The great difficulty in instructing the natives 
 here has been to keep them entirely from native 
 influence. For the want of this much labour 
 has been, if possible, worse than lost. For this 
 evil the seminary proposed will be a sovereign 
 remedy. It is intended that all the natives who 
 may attend it shall be bound to the society until 
 they are eighteen and twenty-one ; that they in 
 particula.r shall become properly "institution 
 
MELVILLE B. COX< 233 
 
 scholars." Half of their time will be devoted 
 to manual labour, the remainder to study. With 
 seven or ten years' course like this, habit, to say 
 nothing of religion, will become nature, and the 
 mind too well enlightened and disciplined, and 
 the taste and feelings too much refined, not to 
 revolt at the thought of retrograding to its former 
 barbarism. But should God in mercy, as we 
 doubt not he will, bless the scholars with a saving 
 knowledge of Christ, they might then be trusted 
 anywhere, and many among them would no 
 doubt be raised up as able ministers of the New 
 Testament, who would go forth into the wilder- 
 ness, whence they had been gathered, weep- 
 ing, bearing precious seed. 
 
 Moreover, the interests of the colony, in the 
 most emphatic manner, require such an institu- 
 tion. It is not enough that one, two, or a dozen 
 well-educated coloured men are sent from 
 America, though we have not now one-third of 
 that number. Parents want something here to 
 which they can look for an education for their 
 children, that will fit them for every thing use- 
 ful in business, and, if desired, all that is neces- 
 sary as preparatory to a regular collegiate course. 
 The wants of Africa, as a whole, call for it. 
 The safety of gospel doctrines and gospel insti- 
 tutions calls for it. At present, the intellectual 
 are more pressing, if possible, than even the 
 moral wants of the colony. 
 
 There is, too, I am glad to say, among the 
 colonists in general, especially in the late 
 Charleston expedition, an ardent thirst for 
 
234 REMAINS OF 
 
 knowledge, and a strong desire for an institu- 
 tion of the kind named. In conversing a few- 
 days since with a pious mechanic upon this 
 subject, " I would," said he, " willingly give a 
 year's labour for a year's instruction." 
 
 Schools and colleges to educate them in 
 America will not answer our wants. We need 
 to breathe and to feel the atmosphere of such in- 
 structions here. It would awaken a still deeper 
 thirst for learning. It would arouse much in 
 intellect that is now as dormant as inert matter, 
 excite a laudable emulation, and secure the edu- 
 cation of many a promising youth here, whose 
 genius and talents might otherwise be unknown. 
 
 The teachers of this institution should be 
 white men, at least the principal. There are 
 now no white teachers here, nor any white 
 preachers except Mr. Pinney and myself. 
 Whether or not he will locate in the interior, I 
 cannot tell. 
 
 To establish a seminary of this kind, I know 
 will cost money. But at this moment, ten thou- 
 sand dollars might very easily be raised for 
 such a purpose. Let an agent be appointed for 
 the work, whose sole duty it shall be to travel 
 and take up collections for it one year, and 
 I should be almost willing to become respon- 
 sible for the balance that might be necessary. 
 
 The religious state of the colony I must de- 
 fer for a future communication. My mind is 
 too much burdened with the care of properly 
 organizing the church, of regulating the Sab- 
 bath school, and of settling some difficulties 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 235 
 
 vhich occurred before my arrival ; and perhaps 
 I have not sufficiently caught the spirit of the 
 times to do it accurately. 
 
 I cannot close this without mentioning that I 
 am much indebted to the Wesleyan missionary 
 at the Gambia ; also those at Sierra Leone ; 
 nor would it be just to omit the names of the 
 Rev. Messrs. West, Raban, Metzger, Graham, 
 and Kissling, of the Church of England. From 
 them I derived many of the facts in the few 
 " sketches" I have made. Mr. West, the chap- 
 lain of St. Mary's, in particular, in addition to 
 his Christian courtesy to myself, just before I 
 left him, handed me a purse of about twenty 
 dollars, to be distributed among our emigrants. 
 
 I will only add, that I believe our mission to 
 be admirably timed. Earlier might have been 
 fatal — later, the ascendency lost. The field is 
 wide, and I believe ripe for the sickle. Should 
 our lives and health be preserved, you may 
 calculate on a success that will justify any ef- 
 fort in sustaining the mission, which religion or 
 humanity can make. 
 
236 REMAINS OF 
 
 THE 
 
 RESPONSIBILITY OF THE SACRED 
 OFFICE. 
 
 A SERMON, BY MR. COX. 
 
 Wo is unto me if I preach not the gospel. 
 
 1 Cor. ix, 16. 
 
 A consciousness of what is our duty, and 
 an assurance that we are following its dictates, 
 are necessary to the efficient and proper dis- 
 charge of any office of a moral nature, but above 
 all things, that of the gospel ministry. To enter 
 upon any thing with the fearful uncertainty 
 that we may be wrong, is always painful— pain- 
 ful in proportion to the strength of our doubts, 
 and the importance of the enterprise in which 
 we are engaged. And whoever undertakes any 
 thing involving interests of an eternal nature 
 with feelings of this character, will suffer an 
 anxiety, a fearfulness, that must embarrass every 
 effort, and paralyze all the energies of the soul ; 
 or what is worse, perhaps, induce a stupidity 
 which is less alive to a delicate sense of moral 
 obligation than the stoicism of a heathen philo- 
 sopher. 
 
 Confidence, right or wrong, never fails to arm 
 the soul with an energy and fortitude which 
 doubt never feels. But when this confidence 
 is humble, and well founded ; when it is the re- 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 237 
 
 ult of internal conviction, and the evidence of 
 divine truth ; when suggested by sacred and 
 holy impressions, of clearly a divine character, 
 opposition is in vain. Vain are the bugbears 
 of a morbid sensibility, the solicitude of friends, 
 the threats of persecution, and even the strong 
 ties of endeared love. The soul, under the deep 
 sense of a " thus saith the Lord," rises superior 
 to them all. As duty is paramount to indul- 
 gence, it follows its paths at any and every 
 hazard, with the manly fortitude which belongs 
 to virtue. The funeral pile startles it not. It 
 fears not a premature grave. The only inquiry 
 is— "Is it duty?" 
 
 On this subject the Apostle Paul felt no hesi- 
 tancy. He knew what his calling was ; and he 
 knew the fearful woes that rested on a desecra- 
 tion of it by an unfaithful steward. A "neces- 
 sity" had been laid upon him ; yea, wo was unto 
 him, if he preached not the gospel. 
 
 From this touching expression of the great, 
 the holy, and untiring apostle of the Gentiles, 
 we may gather the following sentiments : — 
 
 1. The call of the true minister of God is an 
 imperative one. It cannot be dispensed with. 
 It is not for man to lay it down or take it up at 
 his pleasure. It is an obligation imposed wholly 
 and solely by the Master. His call is not of 
 that convenient character which could be put 
 behind a counter, or hidden in a corn-field, at 
 the pleasure of the steward. It is the plain, 
 positive command of God, made applicable by 
 the Holy Ghost to a particular individual. And 
 
238 REMAINS OF 
 
 who dares reject it does it at the peril of his 
 soul. On this subject the call of Moses fur- 
 nishes an instructive piece of history. The 
 mere murmurs of his heart were followed by 
 the fearful displeasure of a God. The case of 
 Jonah stands out in still stronger relief. And 
 with these before us, who will dare, in this re- 
 spect, to imitate their example? When our 
 equals command, it is ours to obey or disobey ; 
 but when God speaks — to a worm — it must be 
 done, or our account must be associated with 
 " wo is unto me if I preach not the gospel." 
 Nay, my brethren, when God calls a man into 
 the ministry, he will curse him if he obeys not 
 the call. Through life he will mourn over a 
 cold heart, a barren soul, if not a useless life ; 
 and possibly, in misery at last, will look up and 
 remember the fearful sentence — " I called, but 
 ye have refused." It is a fearful thing to trifle 
 with a known, special, and positive command 
 of God. 
 
 2. The second, and perhaps the most im- 
 portant suggestion seems to be, that motives of 
 a higher character than any thing earthly al- 
 ways influence the minister of God. 
 
 This, probably, in part, is the true import of 
 the text. The apostle had proved, by an ap- 
 peal to the usages of men in the different voca- 
 tions of life, to the law of Moses, and to reason, 
 that if he had sowed unto the Corinthians " spi- 
 ritual things," he was entitled to a reward of 
 their " carnal things." He had shown from ex- 
 perience that the soldier bared not his bosom to 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 239 
 
 the storm at his own charge, that he that plant- 
 ed ate of the fruit, that the faithful ox, who 
 threshed the corn, should not be muzzled, and 
 that the priests " who ministered about holy 
 things, lived of the things of the temple." But 
 all this, whether befieved or disbelieved, prac- 
 tised or neglected, lessened not his obligation 
 to preach the gospel. Both the duty and re- 
 sponsibility of others belonged to themselves ; 
 and whether faithful or unfaithful in the dis- 
 charge of it,.it could have no possible connec- 
 tion with his commission to preach the unsearch- 
 able riches of Christ. A necessity had been 
 laid upon him, and whether done at the stake 
 or in prison — in perils by land or sea — in sick- 
 ness or in health — whether he starved in po- 
 verty or waded in wealth — it must be accom- 
 plished. Wo was unto him if he preached not 
 the gospel. God had commissioned him ; and 
 it was not his duty to wait and inquire what 
 would be the reward of his services. He pointed 
 out their duty clearly ; but was careful to show 
 them that it interfered not with the discharge 
 of his own. No, my brethren, earth, with all its 
 wealth and pleasures, had no part in those mo- 
 tives which moved the apostle to take upon 
 him this most fearful of responsibilities. A di- 
 vine impress had written it on his heart, and in- 
 terwoven it in his very nature ; and the "record 
 of the Lord" had become as "fire in his bones." 
 He could not forbear ; he must speak to be re- 
 freshed ; — speak — or perish himself. His was 
 " to do, or die." When sacrifices were called 
 
240 REMAINS OF 
 
 for, they must be made, or an apology found in 
 the absolute weakness of human infirmity, tir an 
 insufficiency of grace to sustain him in the 
 effort. He felt all -that unspeakable weight of 
 responsibility which the sincere minister of God 
 feels, when, standing, as it were, in the imme- 
 diate presence of a holy God, he sees a hell 
 opened, and myriads of his fellow-beings hur- 
 rying themselves into it, while heaven yearns 
 with compassion at- their madness and folly. 
 The sword of justice was unsheathed before 
 him. An angry God, just ready to cut the brit- 
 tle thread, stood arrayed in a purity at w T hich 
 iniquity or guilt could not look ; the time of 
 probation almost out, and he bidden to hasten 
 the sinner to Christ, before the storm burst in 
 its terrible wrath upon them ! And do you 
 think he would stop to weigh wealth— to count 
 dollars ? No, my brethren ! Nothing short of 
 the things of an eternal nature for a moment 
 tempted the apostle to take upon himself this 
 high and holy calling. 
 
 3. Thirdly, my brethren, this may suggest to 
 us the soundness and importance of a call to 
 the ministry. Any thing which has such conse- 
 quences as are uttered in this touching expres* 
 sion, could be of no trivial character ; and wo 
 must be indeed to that man who trifles with it. 
 We are assured of a hearty response from all 
 whom we address, when we say, there is no- 
 thing this side of heaven and hell, in which man 
 can engage, of such deep interest in its labours, 
 such fearfulness in its accountability. The 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 241 
 
 professions of law and literature, however great 
 and good, sink into insignificance when com- 
 pared with it. What is the labour of science to 
 that of saving souls ? What the responsibility 
 of him who pleads for the life of a criminal to 
 that of him who is the advocate of immortal 
 spirits ? You, my brethren, are physicians of 
 undying exertions — watchmen of God ! Con- 
 template it in whatever light we may, eternity, 
 with which all its duties are associated, gives 
 an eternity of consequences to all its obligations. 
 The apostle felt it so, when, with all his great- 
 ness to perform, willingness to suffer, and for- 
 titude to endure, he tremblingly inquired — 
 " Who is sufficient for these things ?" My 
 God ! if such were the feelings of Paul, what 
 should be those of worms like us ! 
 
 But to dwell on this part of our subject a mo- 
 ment longer : — It is important in its labour. All 
 that is acute in intellect, strong and comprehen- 
 sive in grasp of thought, bold in conception, or 
 touching in expression, may here find calls for 
 the exertion of every power. Though in its es- 
 sentials it is comprehended by an ordinary capa- 
 city, it has depths that human intellect can never 
 fathom, and heights that, but for an infinitely 
 wise economy in our natures, would make giddy 
 the strongest thought. Here, nothing that is 
 worthy in science, in experience, or in observa- 
 tion need pall upon the mind for the want of 
 use. The good man will find ample field for 
 the exercise of soul, body, and spirit. Here 
 the strongest constitution may tire itself. A 
 16 
 
242 REMAINS OF 
 
 Summerfield, with all his taste, eloquence, and 
 touching sensibility, may make himself a martyr. 
 Though fashioned of brass or steel, I need not 
 tell Methodist preachers, that our lungs may 
 wear out. 
 
 And it is not for us to mark the ground of 
 our labours. Sodoms must be preached to, as 
 well as Jerusalems ; Rome as well as her 
 "meaner cities." Felix must be reasoned with 
 until he trembles, and his humble valet by his 
 side made to embrace the religion of Jesus. 
 Your commission embraces a world ; and a 
 world of human beings ; and to all must the 
 gospel be preached. If our field of labour be 
 poor, we must make it rich. It is for the min- 
 ister to make fruitful fields of wildernesses. It 
 is for him to pluck up the thorn and plant the 
 rose in its stead — to turn prisons to chapels — 
 hells to heavens. Following our Master at an 
 humble distance, we must go out " into the 
 highways and hedges" — into the abodes of 
 wretchedness and poverty ; for the poor must 
 have the gospel preached to them. 
 
 When I hear inquiries for the better stations and 
 circuits, I cannot but fear that a measure of the 
 spirit of the Master is lost. Thus did not Christ ; 
 and the servant should not be above his Lord. 
 Wherever poverty, sickness, and death were to 
 be found, there was Christ. He did not neglect 
 the rich ; but he did not feast upon their luxu- 
 ries, while he should have been administering 
 consolation to the afflicted, bereaved, and deso- 
 late. 
 
MELVILLE B COX. 243 
 
 And this, my brethren, is the spirit of our 
 holy religion. O ! what fearful searchings will 
 be awakened by that stern appeal to fact by the 
 Judge of the world — " 1 was a hungered and ye 
 gave me no meat; thirsty, and ye gave me no 
 drink ; sick and in prison, and ye visited me 
 not." And how think ye ; my brethren ? Will 
 the consciences of all who have stood in the 
 high and holy place feel no inquietude in that 
 day? O God! if in indulgence we have for- 
 gotten the distressed," forgive us. 
 
 But if the preaching of the gospel is thus im- 
 portant in its labour, it is more so in its respon- 
 sibility. Whatever is precious is committed to 
 your care. You are bearers of life or death. 
 Yours is the salvation or damnation of immor- 
 tal spirits. Souls, undying as eternity, are com- 
 mitted to your charge ; and their blood will be 
 required at your hands. Eternity — an eternity 
 ©f consequences — associates itself with all you 
 say or do. An influence you must exert — your 
 words and actions will kill or make alive. Ah, 
 my God ! " who is sufficient for these things V 9 
 What wonder at the complainings of the pro- 
 phet — " I am a child and cannot speak." 
 
 Hear what the Lord of all says — " Son of 
 man, I have made thee a watchman ; if thou 
 cease to warn the wicked, his blood will I require 
 at thy hand." O sinner, hear me now. I may 
 never address thee again. Be this as it may, 
 in the name of God, I charge thee to escape for 
 thy life. 
 
 If this, then, be our fearful responsibility, 
 
244 REMAINS OF 
 
 should not the minister of God feel the weight 
 of his mission ? 
 
 We may talk of a mere school-boy's being a 
 minister ; but I need other evidence to believe 
 it. A college-hall never made one so yet ; and 
 wo will be unto him who has dared to presume 
 it. A man who feels not upon this subject, is 
 either ignorant — totally ignorant of the guilt or 
 consequences of sin — or more stoical than ada- 
 mant. In either case, he has nothing to do with 
 the pulpit. Christ wept tfver Jerusalem. " O 
 that my head were waters, that I might weep 
 day and night for the slain of the daughter of 
 my people," said Jeremiah. "Rivers of wa- 
 ter," saith the psalmist, " run down my eyes, 
 because men make void thy law." Nor was 
 Paul less sensitive upon this subject. Heaven 
 witnessed that he warned from house to house 
 with tears. 
 
 But it is not the condition of man and the 
 nature of sin only, that awaken his feelings. 
 He knows who has commissioned him. He 
 feels that he is a moral and accountable being. 
 He is tremblingly alive in the acute moral sen- 
 sibility which observes the most delicate shade 
 of obligation. He cannot, he dare not, trifle — 
 with heaven — with hell. What ! shall we mock 
 God with jests, and jokes, in the pulpit ? with 
 the tinsel show and drapery of man? Other 
 things than these, my brethren, actuate the true 
 minister of God. His object is to save souls. 
 And whether in the desk or drawing-room, by 
 the cottage fireside or in the palace, he remem- 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 245 
 
 bers his calling. It is written too deeply on the 
 heart to be forgotten or neglected. A " neces- 
 sity is laid upon him ;" wo is unto him if he 
 preaches not the gospel. 
 
 And it was this " wo," and this "necessity," 
 that urged a Wesley from place to place, until 
 threekingdoms trembled beneath his moral influ- 
 ence ; that led an Asbury through the wilds of 
 America, and a Coke across the pathless deep ; 
 that armed a Whitefield with that power and 
 pathos before which thousands fell. And it 
 was this acute sense of responsibility that urged 
 on the apostles, while suffering in sheep-skins 
 and caves — in perils by land and sea — and 
 worse than all, in perils among false brethren. 
 
 And to this I verily believe we may attribute 
 much of the success which has so eminently 
 attended our ministry. A poor ploughman, with 
 a trembling sense of his accountability to God, 
 will accomplish more, in building up Christ's 
 kingdom, than a Demosthenes could if destitute 
 of it. 
 
 But further — This subject may show the im- 
 portance of a sacred regard for divine truth — 
 for the doctrines once delivered to the saints. 
 Wo is unto me if I preach not the gospel. He 
 who goes with a " burden of his own," or a 
 " vision of his own heart," or amuses his hear- 
 ers with the idle speculations of philosophy, 
 with uncertainty and conjecture, instead of so- 
 ber truth, has greatly mistaken the nature of his 
 calling. These he should leave to dreamers and 
 moralists. His business is — to preach the gos- 
 
246 re&aists of 
 
 pel; to give himself " wholly to the work," to 
 show himself a " workman that needeth not to 
 be ashamed." 
 
 It is cruel to train up, educate, and press a 
 child into a service to which God has never 
 called him, and for which he has neither capa- 
 city nor inclination. A sacrifice like this God 
 will not accept at our hands. And for such a 
 one preaching is a burden to himself, and a curse 
 to his congregation. 
 
 A few inferences will close our subject. 
 
 1. It is the prerogative of God only to call 
 to this great and important work. In the formu- 
 laries of most of the Christian churches, this is 
 recognised as necessary in record, but we fear, 
 too often, 
 
 : 'The spirit's in the letter lost ;" 
 
 and though all profess to have been moved by 
 the Holy Ghost to take upon them his work, 
 have we not reason to fear that some even 
 know not its meaning ? that they know not that 
 strong internal light which proves itself of 
 divine origin; those deep impressions which 
 leave an irresistible conviction that they were 
 made by the Holy Ghost ? On this subject we 
 believe there can be no mistake, if the Scrip- 
 tures be our guide. The work requires a com- 
 mission that none can give but God, and none 
 make applicable to individuals but the Holy 
 Ghost. And no man must take this honour t$ 
 himself but he that is called of God, as was 
 Aaron. We know not who is best suited to 
 this work. God's thoughts are not our thought? 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 247 
 
 nor his ways our ways. Who would have gone 
 to a fishing-boat to obtain a pillar on which to 
 rest such a mighty edifice as that of Christian- 
 ity 1 Yet these were the very men best calcu- 
 lated to build up and sustain the work. They 
 had a Paul to combat infidels ; they had sons of 
 thunder and of consolation. They had all that 
 God saw was necessary. And when we want 
 more, we should feel a jealousy of our own wants. 
 
 2. No man should enter this duty unadvi- 
 sedly. Go not " uncertainly" If the divine 
 word and impress say — Go up ; if his provi- 
 dence says — Go up ; if your brethren say — Go 
 up ; go, fearless of consequences. 
 
 But before this can be properly determined, 
 the soul must commune with its God. It must 
 learn an intercourse with heaven which no lan- 
 guage can tell, and which the soul itself can 
 only know while under those deep emotions 
 which are inspired by an overpowering sense 
 of the divine presence. To a cold formalist, 
 probably, this language is foolishness. But 
 there are those here who know its import. So 
 we believe, and so we preach. 
 
 A word to my brethren : — Holiness must 
 associate itself with all you think, speak, or do. 
 Bells, pots, and every thing must have the 
 inscription— " Holiness to the Lord." No- 
 thing can atone for the want of this. The 
 eloquence of art. forced or selfish zeal, the phy- 
 sical exertion and mechanical strains of a mo- 
 notonous vociferation, the almost dying efforts 
 and ingenuity of an accursed thirst for popular 
 
248 REMAINS OF 
 
 applause, — all cannot be a substitute for holiness. 
 The heads and hearts of ministers must be clean, 
 else all is vain. Take this away, and they are 
 weak as other men. In this, and this only, can 
 modern Samsons find strength to move the pil- 
 lars of darkness. By it you will exert an influ- 
 ence which will be felt in heaven — in the dark 
 abodes of the miserable — through infinite dura- 
 tion. Like the flaming sword which guarded 
 the gate of paradise, you will turn every way, 
 and, as you turn, cut with convictions irresist- 
 ible. 
 
 Finally — You have commenced duties which 
 can end only with your earthly existence. 
 Other professions can be laid down at will ; 
 your commission can only die with your death. 
 In health, in the pulpit, in the social circle, you 
 must always preach. If on the bed of death, 
 you must preach there ; and like your Divine 
 Master, let your last moments bear a more con- 
 vincing testimony that " this was the Son of 
 God" than did the most eloquent sermon you 
 ever delivered. 
 
MELVILLE B. COX. 249 
 
 THE GRAVE OF COX. 
 
 BY REV. MR. MAFPITT. 
 
 From Niger's dubious billow, 
 
 From Gambia's silver wave, 
 Where rests on death's cold pillow 
 
 The tenant of the grave, 
 We hear a voice of weeping, 
 
 Like low-toned lutes at night, 
 In plaintive echoes sweeping 
 
 Up Mesurado's height. 
 
 The palm-tree o'er him waving, 
 
 The grass above his head, 
 The stream his clay-couch laving, 
 
 All — all proclaim him dead : 
 Dead ! but alive in glory, — 
 
 A conqueror at rest ; — 
 Embalm'd in sacred story, 
 
 And crown'd amid the blest, 
 
 A martyr's grave encloses 
 
 His wearied frame at last, 
 Perfumed with heaven's sweet roses, 
 
 On his dear bosom cast ; 
 And Afric's sons deploring 
 
 Their champion laid low, 
 Like many waters roaring, 
 
 Unbosom all their wo. 
 
250 REMAINS OF COX. 
 
 The moon's lone chain of mountains, 
 
 The plain where Carthage stood, 
 Jugurtha's ancient fountains, 
 
 And Teemboo's palmy wood 
 Are wild with notes of sorrow, 
 
 Above their sainted friend, 
 To whom there comes no morrow, 
 
 But glory without end. 
 
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