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UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL I 
 
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 This BOOK may be kept out TWO WE 
 
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 f^OV 2 2 1g4|3 .JUL 2 4 195^ 
 
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 AUG i 8 1C95 
 
S^^^y^N 
 
 AT "OBIOGKAPHT 
 
 ^ 
 
 AND 
 
 X o csm .A. X* 
 
 OF 
 
 RE?. JOSEPH CALDWELL, D. D., LLD.. 
 
 FIRST PRESIDENT 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA. 
 
 -- ♦« -«B^ ■»♦- 
 
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 By ord*i of tile Bditors of the University inasrasine for l85J)-'60. 
 
 -♦-♦■> ^p I » 
 
 CHAPEL HILL: 
 JOHN B. NEATHERY, PRINTER. 
 
 
 1860. 
 
 ^^^^^ 
 
 S^N-Q- 
 
ja.XJTO^IQXOa-ZEtja.DPJEaiY 
 
 OF 
 
 REf. JOSEPH CALDWELL, D. D 
 
(L . c- 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 The Edict of Nantes was revoked by Louis XI Y ahotit the year 1684. 
 The well known consequence was that 500,000 French Protestants left 
 their country to look after settlements among other nations, and in other 
 parts of the world, where they might enjoy the rights of conscience, 
 and the same immunities and prospects for themselves and their families 
 as were common to other subjects or citizens of the governments under 
 which they should live. One of these emigrant families was that of Level. 
 They first passed from France into England, and continued there for some 
 time, in the etsercise of manufacturing skill. At that period, the colonies 
 of America, now known as the United States, were fast filling up from 
 difierent parts of the British empire, and Europe. The head of this Lovel 
 family did not continue very long in the vicinage of London, before he 
 concluded to transplant himself with such capital as he possessed, which, 
 it would seem, was not insignificant, to a spot which he selected on Long 
 Island, towards it western extremity, and not far from Hempsted Plains, 
 and near Oyster Bay. Here he purchased an extensive farm. The land 
 was of good (quality, and being faithfully cultivated, yielded annually an 
 abundance for the necessaries and comforts, and all that was desired 
 beyond these for the enjoyments and respectability of people who classed 
 with the substantial mediocrity of the country. With what total abstrac- 
 tion and absorbing interest did my good old grandmother, when I was a 
 boy of twelve, sit and pass in review through the details of her early years, 
 while she was growing up under the fostering guidance of her venerable 
 parent. He v/as, it would seem, of mellowed aff"ections and patriarchal 
 habits. I shall give a specimen of one of these conversations : 
 
 Grandmother. My father was considered a man of strong mind. 
 His person was large, his expression tempered of gravity, affection and truth, 
 on which the eye rested wdth confidence. He w^as often cheerful in aspect 
 and intercourse, but he was always under the chastening influence of piety. 
 He had learned to understand the doctrines of the gospel through the stern 
 constructions of Puritanism, as it has been distinctively called in England. 
 In France, people of this description went under the name of Huguenots. 
 
 CIrand.sgx. Huguenots! That's a strange name. Why were they 
 called Huguenots? What is the meaning of if:* i .suppot<c it i.? some 
 nickname, by the sound of it. 
 
Grandmother. It probably was. But I do not know its origin or 
 its meaning. They were persecuted so cruelly tliat they escaped out of 
 France by thousands^ to find subsistence and settlements as they might in 
 other countries. 3Iy father and his connexions got to the sea coast and 
 went over into England. They were people of property. Some made pur- 
 chases of houses in London, where they died without heirs. We were 
 told of this some time afterwards, and might have inherited the property, 
 but my father was either unable or too regardless of the matter to attend 
 to it, and time ran on until by the statute of limitation the claim was barred. 
 Some have said that even now, if the claim could be clearly substantiated 
 and conducted through the forms of kw, a large number of houses once 
 belonging to my uncle might possibly be recovered by our family, and if 
 they could, we should all be rich enough. 
 
 At this I remember that my little heart bounded, and I became full of 
 inquiries. 
 
 Grandsox. AVell, Grandmother, why canjiot tliat be tried? Is it not 
 worth while? You say it was a vast property, how may houses were there 
 ;^id to be ? 
 
 Grandmother. I have heard of a considerable number. My uncle 
 T^ as a bachelor, and is said to have ovrned a whole side of a scjuare, consist- 
 ing of valuable buildings. 
 
 Grandson. Has any attempt ever been made to recover the property ? 
 If not, would it not be well to make a trial at least, and, if it should fail, 
 we should but be vv^here we are. 
 
 Gr.andmother. Yes, my child, if there were anybody to do it. But 
 it would imply a great deal of trouble, and time, and expense, and it has 
 been thought best to give it all up. 
 
 This was a. theme on which 1 delighted to dwell, with the fond idea that 
 if all that pro]>erty could be reclaimed, it would be the consummation of 
 our good fortune. 
 
 Grandmother. After my father's emigration to this country with his 
 family, he brought up his children to the habits of industry, piety, and 
 economy. But though he held the reins of domestic government with a 
 steady hand, a spirit of harmony and aflection was constantly diffused 
 through all our feelings. We stood in awe of our father, and feared to 
 transgress, but it was accumpanied with such a confidence as to strengthen 
 and deepen our love for him, aud was attended with a prompt and willing 
 acquiescence in his wishes. Our mother, too, seemed to look up to him 
 with such deference to his opinions and wishes as showed that she felt liini 
 io be her guide and protector as well as the partner of her bosom. One 
 ^'iDgularity that marked his feelings ami opinions was that he never suffered 
 ."rient to be eaten in lii^ llunilv. 
 
(tRANDSON. Not eat meat! That is strange. I never heard of anj 
 body that never eat meat. What reason could he have for not eating meat? 
 
 Grandmother. He was wont to tell us that the grant to live upon 
 the tlcsli of animals was certainly in the scriptures. But he considered it 
 to have been made in consequence of the fall of man. Hence, he deduced 
 that to abstain from it was more in conformity with original innocence and 
 perfection, than was the practice of subsisting upon it. He never permitted 
 an animal to be slaughtered for his own use or that of his family. Ho 
 always had large and luxuriant pastures, kept numbers of cattle and such 
 other animals as could be useful to him upon his own principles, provided 
 plentifully for their sustenance and shelter, had an abundance of milk, 
 butter, eheese and fruits, wheat, corn, and vegetables. In short, all around 
 him, both in the house and in the field, was in the best condition. 
 
 Grandson. But, if he sold one of these animals to be killed by another 
 person, would not that be much the same thing as killing it himself? 
 
 Grandmother. So he felt, and he never would consent to sell one 
 if he knew it was to be slaughtered. Some animals we keep now without 
 ever thinking of killing them for food, such as horses, dogs, cats. He 
 put all upon the same footing. 
 
 Grandson. But, Grandmother, you eat meat now, and your family 
 were all brought up to it. 
 
 Grandmother. Yes, but I never tasted it till I was married, at 21 
 yeai-s of age. Your Grandfather had no such opinions and habits, and I 
 fell in with his customs and those of his family. To the present day, 
 however, I care very little for meat. My father and all his family were 
 thought as healthy as any people in the country, and seemed to enjoy 
 themselves as much. We were apt to be esteemed peculiarly happy among 
 our neighbors — always harmonious, plain in our manners, affectionate, 
 looking up to our parents with veneration and love, and prompt acqiiiescenco 
 in their wishes. We were taught to be scrupulous in the economy of 
 time, and to feel unhappy unless we were busy about something useful. 
 We had a family library and were educated to an enlargement of the mind, 
 by reading and improving conversation. My father was careful in direct- 
 ing the habits, dispositions and intelligence of his children. Their inge- 
 nuity was continually called out for the accomplishment of such work as 
 was assigned to them. If a difficulty occurred, the answer to an application 
 for aid was, '^Xow try your skill. Is there no way you can contrive for 
 effecting what you want? The greatest advantage in your doing that, is 
 in finding out the best method." This would interest us in our work, and 
 if we succeeded, we were applauded and encouraged, and this gave us 
 fresli heart for our occupation. 
 
 Grandson- Why, Grandmother, you seem to have been very happy 
 
6 
 
 Grandmother, We wei-^ usually so. My father was fond of sacred 
 music. He brought over an organ with him, and kept it in his family. 
 He could play upon it himself and sang well — at least we thought so. 
 Most of my brothers and sisters learned from him in succession as they 
 grew up. At the hour of morning and evening prayers, the family all 
 assembled in the room where it was kept, and united their voices with its 
 elevating tones in praising Ood. It is the very same organ which your 
 uncle John Level has in his house, and on which you have heard his 
 sisters play, who are now living with him. 
 
 Such weiNB the accounts which my kind grandmother would detail to me 
 of old Mr. John Lovel, her father, and his peculiar habits, opinions, and 
 mode of life in his family. It can scarcely be supposed that I am profess- 
 ing to describe these things in the expressions used at the time. In the 
 course of my boyhood, they were renewed at different times. They were 
 subjects on which I delighted to hear her converse, and they made in- 
 delible impressions upon me. The circumstances and events have been 
 here given in such terms as have occurred. 
 
 As there is something curious in the events of this family, I shall go on 
 to mention f^ome of them as they arise in my memory. One of my grand- 
 aunts married a man by the name of Wright. They lived in Philadelphia, 
 unhappily, I was told, for he became a sot, and she was a woman whose 
 pride, it would seem, was not a little towering. When she saw her hus- 
 band thus degrading raid brutalizing himself, she felt the mortifying 
 effects in all their force. After his death, she resolved to continue ]io 
 longer in the city, and planned an expedition for herself, which few women 
 would think of carrying into effect. She took passage in a ship for London, 
 with such property as she possessed, declaring in the loftiness of her 
 spirit, that she would throw herself upon the resources of her genius, 
 determined to seek eminence in a different sphere. She took lodgings in 
 the city of London, and began with tasking her invention to devise some 
 scheme of eminence. • I know not the different methods she might have 
 thought of for accomplishing her purpose, if more than the one by which 
 she in some degree succeeded employed her ingenuity. Her name came 
 before the public as the inventress of the art of making w^axen figures of 
 full size, with a strict likeness of the persons for whom she took them. 
 This implied more art and skill than would at first appear. The material 
 was to be purified in the first place, and, if the object required it, be 
 brought to a perfect whiteness. It must then be mixed with some sub- 
 stance that would give to it the proper complexion. It must not be liable 
 to become soft by any temperature of the atmosphere, nor be liable to 
 crack by cold, after being formed into a shell of no great thickness. Her 
 mode of taking a likeness was different, as I am informed, from that v.'liich 
 
is Tio^v practiced. I believe that waxen figures are now made by first 
 formin- a mould of some other material, and then casting the wax into 
 it She chose an apron of some fine stuif, such as cambric, and hav- 
 mcr so prepared the wax that it should be sufficiently soft to yield 
 and spread with the warmth of the hand, she gave it a first rude shape by 
 holdino- it in her hands and moulding it rudely with pressure applied at 
 discretion, while, as a portrait-painter, she looked at the countenance and 
 consulted the visage and features she would imitate. She then placed it 
 under the apron and brought it to the perfection she wished by acting 
 with one hand applied to the interior of the waxen shell, against the 
 other on the outside with the cambric between the hand and the surface. 
 This o-ave it a natural aspect, by exhibiting the pores of the skin, and 
 prevented the glazed and cadaverous appearance of which most persons 
 complain in such wax work as we commonly see. Her faces had the 
 reputation of being not only striking likenesses, but of being natural m 
 expression and agreeable in effect. 
 
 This invention was new, I was told, both in bringing waxen likenesses 
 to the full size, and in the whole manner of producing them. From 
 being totally an unknown personage she rose into notice, her name was 
 re-arded with distinction, her resources became ample, and even the court 
 treated her with favor and respect. Something of the effect which it had 
 upon her I have had occasion to remark from letters written by her at the 
 time to one of her sisters, Mrs. Willis, in America, in which she often 
 inculcated upon her the favorite maxim by no means to fail '^in maintain- 
 ing the dignity of her character." It was even curious as being sometimes 
 interjected with as little connexion with the subject as Cato's '^Belenda 
 est Carthago." 
 
 Sometime after this the American war commenced with the Declaration 
 of Independence. Aunt Wright, it would appear, was an ardent Whig, 
 and not inactive in her country's cause against the measures of Great 
 Britain. She engaged in political matters, aiid acted the part of a 
 spy, for which it is probable every American will not respect her the less, 
 by writing letters to some of our leading characters, giving information of 
 the measures of the British Government that the Americans might be on 
 their guard and prepared for events. In this she was at length discovered, 
 and orders were sent to her to leave the kingdom. She passed across the 
 country with a view to embark at Bristol. While there, walking m the 
 street, she made a misstep, fell, and her ankle was so much injured as to 
 terminate in mortification and consequent death. 
 
 My aunt Wright left two daughters— to one of them, by the name of 
 Elizabeth, she bequeathed the greater part of the wax work. This had 
 grown to be extensive by continual additions in London, where it had 
 
i)een kept for exhibition. It was transported to New York, where it was 
 set up by my aunt* Betsey, in spacious rooms, to which all visitors were 
 admitted by the payment of a quarter of a dollar each. I was then a boy 
 living in Elizabethtown, sometimes at Princeton, and sometimes at New- 
 ark, getting my education in the academies of these places. Aunt Betsey 
 had married a man by the name of Piatt, who was a trifling character, 
 and Avho persecuted her much. She at last became scrupulous in regard 
 to the correctness of keeping waxen figures for exhibition, and her con- 
 scientious feeling's upon the subject disturbed her so much, that she re- 
 solved to part with them. The figures were numerous, the drapery wa.s 
 often rich and costly, and the whole workmanship had at length amounted 
 to no small expense. She determined, however, to get rid of it, and sold 
 it at a reduced price. This happened at the time of my arrival in North 
 Carolina. I remember the feelings I had on the occasion. I was then 
 young, had traversed alone a wide interval to place myself among strangers 
 and in circumstances wholly new. I saw the wax-work which was carried 
 through the countrj^, it being at that time a perfect novelty to the public. 
 I had often seen it before in New York. It seemed as if when I looked 
 on those lifeless figures they fell little short of raising in me the fullness 
 of those joyous transports that spring up in our bosoms, when, in a land of 
 strangers, we suddenly turn our eye upon former acquaintances, or upon 
 friends near to our hearts. My aunt had come to think it a profanation for 
 her to set up those figures and likeness of the dead for show. I could not 
 suppress a revolting indignation at the thought of the degradation and 
 disgrace which they sufi"ered in being carried about the country to be 
 shown in taverns and to tasteless people, who knew nothing of the events 
 and associations with which they were connected in my bosom, who were 
 unqualified to feel or estimate the merits of the work, the characters and 
 circumstances exhibited, or the skill necessary to the production. Some 
 of those figures might be considered as emblems of fallen greatness. They 
 had been among the first works of the kind in London. They had directed 
 upon them something like the admiration which men feel for original 
 genius. They had even received the visits and fixed the eyes of the most 
 refined courtiers. Now, they must be ofiiciously introduced and studiously 
 recommended to the most debased subjects that crowded common bar- 
 rooms, or who surpassed but little the animals they bestrode. 
 
 My grandmother's maiden name was Rachel Lovel. She married a 
 Mr. Harker, who was a minister of the Presbyterian Church. What wa,*^ 
 the extent of his education I know not, though there is reason to think it 
 was respectable. It is likely, however, that he had not been originally 
 
 * Or Cousin ? 
 
given up to a liteniry course from his first boyliood. It is more probable 
 that he commenced life with manual labor, aud that it was not till he was 
 advanced towards manhood that he undertook to study for the ministry. 
 He settled with his family at a place called Black Kiver, in Morris county, 
 New Jersey. His residence was on the edge of a hill along which the 
 public road lay for nearly a mile. His house was a mile from Flanders, 
 a pretty village, so called because it had been remarkable for quarrels and 
 violence in the first settlement of the country. 
 
 I was told that my grandfather Harker was remarkable for personal size 
 and strength. By this circumstance, combined with vigorous mental fac- 
 ulties and fidelity in his profession as a pastor, we may account for the 
 opinion, said to have been prevalent, that the people in that vicinage looked 
 to him as their leading character in counsel and in action. He was ex- 
 perienced in all ordinary practical business. It was said of him that he 
 would go into the harvest-field and cradle more wheat in a day than any 
 other man in his part of the country. In his ministerial labors, both in 
 and out of the pulpit, he was ever regarded with high estimation and 
 confidence by his congregation. Their feeling was, that in the lot which 
 had fallen to them of having him for their minister, they were a flock that 
 enjoyed the privileges of a vigilant and faithful shej)herd, able to counsel 
 them in their secular interests, and to guide them to a better world through 
 the embarrassments, trials, and conscientious struggles of the christian 
 warfare. 
 
 ^^'My mother's name was Rachel. She married early in life, a physician, 
 who was also young, and just commencing practice. His name was Joseph 
 Caldwell, whose father had emigrated from the northern part of Ireland. 
 Of three children I was the youngest. My brother's name was Samuel, 
 and the difference of our ages was almost exactly four years, for we were 
 born in the same month. The birth of a sister intervened, but she died 
 very young. 
 
 I have been informed that my fiither never admitted that he was cor- 
 rectly treated in the provision made for the children of the family. There 
 was property, it seems, but none was left to him. His father was profes- 
 sionally a farmer, who looked to his children, as they grew up, to assist 
 him in the support of his family and the enlargement of his property. My 
 father was of a more delicate system than the rest of the children, and 
 with this peculiarity united a taste for study and mental occupation. On 
 this account he was no favorite with my grandfather, who estimated his 
 children chiefly by their efficacy in advancing his wishes. He was slighted 
 therefore, and by no means gratified with desired opportunities of im- 
 proving his mind at schools or academies. To this he was obliged to 
 submit till he arrived at an age when he was able to help himself forward 
 
10 
 
 by becoming useful to others. He struggled througli his diflBculties into 
 the medical profession, and probably his father thought that as he had con- 
 tributed nothing to the making of his estate, he ought not to think himself 
 aggrieved if he was left without a share of it. 
 
 He contended vigorously with his difficulties, and was successfully rising 
 in his profession. But, as he was alighted one day at a mill either having 
 accidentally stopped, on being expressly solicited on the emergency to 
 aid, he joined the too small strength that was present in replacing a mill- 
 stone. The force which he exerted was too much for him, he ruptured 
 a blood-vessel in his lungs, a profuse hemorrage instantly followed, a rapid 
 consumption was the consequence, and in a few months he sunk into the 
 grave. The death of my father, his burial, and my birth followed one 
 another in the order here mentioned in three successive days. It was im- 
 possible, therefore, that my eye could ever have looked upon him. The 
 woes of that period to my excellent mother must have been felt by her to 
 have reached an awful consummation, through alarms often renewed, hopes 
 disappointed, and sorrows protracted for months before the dark and try- 
 ing events in which they terminated. She was still in early life, and just 
 at the season when the prospects of her husband, herself and her com- 
 mencing family were brightening, a terrible cloud, dark and dense, sudden- 
 ly settled upon them, at length fell with sweeping violence, and after 
 reiterated assaults left my poor mother, widowed with two orphan infants, 
 prostrate and powerless amidst a scene of desolation. 
 
 My father died on the 19th of April, 1773, was interred on the 20th, 
 and I was born on the 21st, at Lamington, in New Jersey, near Black 
 River, a branch of the Raritan, a mile from old Germanton. My father's 
 remains were deposited in the burying-ground annexed to the Presbyterian 
 Church near that place, as appeared by the inscription on his tomb, which 
 I visited a short time before leaving that country to become a resident of 
 the South. 
 
 What were the circumstances of my mother through my infiincy and 
 for some years afterwards, it is of little consequence to state, if 1 knew 
 them. I have some early recollections that spring up in an insulated 
 manner, but how they succeeded one another, it were vain to give any 
 account. I have not the vanity to suppose, while I am writing this account 
 of my life, that any part of it is to be thought worth the time necessary to 
 its perusal. It is for every one to do with it as he pleases. Should the 
 wish to know occur to any one, he has the opportunity of such reminiscences 
 as are sufficiently distinct to be ascertained in what the writer sincerely 
 intends to be a register of truth. 
 / The date of ray birth, it will be observed, makes the earliest scenes of 
 my life cotemporar}- with the Revolutionary War, or with events immedi- 
 
11 
 
 ately connected. 1 remember the calling away of men from their hornet 
 to serve in the armies, and the spirit that was manifested in the counte- 
 nances, conversations and actions of people around me. The marching of 
 troops, a circumstance which I always hurried out to gaze on with sensa- 
 tions rising almost to transport ; the fife's shrill and piercing notes, stirring 
 into reckless activity emotions of which I had scarcely known myself ca- 
 pable ; the drum rattling into madness every impetuous feeling that thrilled 
 along the nerves or swelled in the heart ; the plumes and epaulettes of the 
 officers; the measured and stately march; the burnished arms, the exten- 
 sive columns presenting the movement of a vast and powerful body per- 
 vaded by one animating spirit — all made impressions upon me at the time 
 which in some of their characters may be considered as peculiar to the 
 years in which they were produced, and which therefore could never have 
 been attained, but at the period when they were actually acquired in the 
 experience. 
 
 At one time I was under the care of my grandmother at Black Kiver, 
 on a farm left to her by her husband, the Rev. Mr. Harker, at his death. 
 She w^as far advanced in years, and I extremely young. Her kindness, as 
 is usual in such cases, is in my recollection, but there is reason to think that 
 my misconduct was too much for the total suppression of her feelings. 
 Both she and my mother were ever faithful in giving me all the instruc- 
 tion in their power, and especially in training me to the knowledge of 
 (xod, of the scrij^tures, to pious sentiment and religious duties. 
 
 One night, alone in bed, I well remember being occupied in my 
 thoughts almost to solicitude on our manner of breathing ; and the next 
 morning the first question I put to my grandmother after seeing her, waa, 
 how it was possible for us to breathe in the dark ? I do not know whether 
 this was an inquiry involving too much for her philosophy, or for my 
 supposed capacity of understanding such explanation as she might have 
 been able to give, but no answer was returned, and it was not till many 
 years afterwards that I found the solution of my difficulty. 
 
 My grandmother would sometimes, though I believe not often, become 
 much vexed with my behavior, and when her anger was roused, the em- 
 phatical expression that she uttered with a shake at once of the head and 
 hand was, "77^ break you^ This threat, understood literally by me and 
 not in the figurative sense in which she used it, was to the last degree ter- 
 rible. It presented her to my imagination as placing me across her knee, 
 and snapping me in two, as she would dry sticks or a pipe-stem. 
 
 We lived in the neighborhood of a man who took great delight in ter- 
 rifying children. I would sometimes wander in quest of amusement, till 
 being near his house, he would suddenly present himself, writhing his 
 muscles into all the distortions expressive of fierceness, his eves flashinr^ 
 
12 
 
 with rage, and his motions indicative of the most desperate purpose. It 
 never failed to inspire me with an instinctive promptness for flight. The 
 effect was a complete panic, and precipitated me into so intent an economy 
 of time, that to have incurred a loss of it by looking over my shoulder 
 was felt to be perfectly inadmissible, and in such cases I never discovered 
 the distance which had been widening at every step between myself and 
 the enemy, until I was fairly within the threshold of my grandmother's 
 door. I relate this little circumstance, to show how some minds will pre- 
 fer that kind of gratification which arises from making themselves objects 
 of terror, though accompanied with the utmost detestation, before the 
 pleasure that springs from communicating happiness even to children, and 
 being the objects of their love. It was not long before I left that seat of 
 my earliest years, and it never failed to return upon my recollection as a 
 little paradise, but the corner of it, to which this man was contiguous, 
 seemed ever haunted by a demon with whom abhorrence in my imagina- 
 tion was inseparably connected. 
 
 At another period of these earlier years, my mother lived in Amwell, 
 a part of the State to which I believe she had retired from the confusion 
 and exposure of the warfare near Elizabethtown, New York, and other 
 parts of the maritime country. While we remained here for two or three 
 years, my memory had stamped upon it much of the agitation and discus- 
 sion that prevailed respecting the proceedings of Congress, of the States, 
 of Great Britain, the armies and battles, the raising of militia for short 
 service, and the enlisting of troops during the war, the successes and dis- 
 asters of the contending forces. One fact continues vividly in my recol- 
 lection, that a man of our neighborhood, in respectable circumstances at 
 home, who had served with the militia, suddenly made his appearance 
 among us after an absence of some months, barefoot and his clothes hang- 
 ing around him in rags and tatters. I looked upon him with astonish- 
 ment, and probably with the more, because I was totally unable to com- 
 prehend at that age, the possibility or necessity of his being in such cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 We afterwards lived in Xewton, and then in Trenton, but in the latter 
 of these places not till very near the close of the war. While we resided 
 at the former, a body of men arrived from the American army and the 
 scenes of its active movements. Newton was the court house village of 
 Sussex county, and high in the interior of the State. Dates I cannot re- 
 collect, but it is not improbable that it was at the period when the con- 
 flicts were going on in lower Jersey. While I was mingling among these 
 men, one of them gave me a fife. I went home in ecstacy, but great as it 
 was, it was doubtless not more exquisite than the annoyance was to others, 
 as I soon had occasion to learn ^ though I could by no means compre- 
 
13 
 
 liciid how my notes should not be as enchanting to them as they certainly 
 were to myself. 
 
 At a subse([iient period, young Synnnes lived at Newton, distinguished 
 afterwards for the theory which he wished to establish, that the earth was 
 a hollow sphere, and that the interior part w^as accessible near the poles. 
 His father had married my mother's sister, so that we were cousins ger- 
 man. 
 
 When my mother lived at Trenton near the conclusion of the war, the 
 portion of my life which passed at that place has ever recurred as un- 
 equalled in interest by any other in my recollection. Our situation was 
 exceedingly pleasant on elevated ground at the southern limit of the town. 
 The distance was but small to the bank of the Delaware- Being then 
 about 9 or 10 years of age, it was my custom to stroll as far as the river. 
 The prospect up and down its expanse was always enjoyed w^ith exquisite 
 delight. Above were the falls, w^here the river dashed, and roared and 
 foamed among thickly scattered rocks, displaying a scene of incessant ac- 
 tion, animating at once to the eye and the ear. On the opposite bank was 
 a mill almost always in motion. There the current of travellers passed 
 by a ferry, on the principal route between New York and Philadelphia. 
 Below was spread to the eye a long reach of the river, passing the village 
 of Lamberton, otherwise called Trenton landing, where such masted ves- 
 sels and other craft as were fitted to the navigation, w^ere seen in motion, 
 or presenting a scene of activity at the wharves. 
 
 The banks and fields were covered with verdure of a velvet softness. A 
 refreshing coolness was diff"used through the limbs by the shade from 
 above, and the earth through its grassy carpeting. A smooth margin of 
 composted sand between the bank and the water, diversified with its pure 
 whiteness the beauty of the scene, while the spirits were quickened into 
 gaiety, by the light motions of the numerous birds, by their shrill and va- 
 ried notes, and by the fish that often bounded wholly above the water, or 
 sported upon the surface. 
 
 It is hoped the reader will excuse this indulgence of a lightness, if not 
 puerility of recollections, which have often recurred through the succes- 
 sive years of a life, much indebted to them for their cheering brightness, 
 when interspersed, as they often have been, tlirough scenes of more grave 
 and sombrous aspect, and connected at last with the present approxima- 
 tion to its close. 
 
 One of the latest events of this last residence at Trenton, was the win- 
 tering of a body of troops, on a beautiful field, separated from us only by 
 the public road leading to the ferry already mentioned. The interest of 
 this circumstance was much abated to me by their being French, in con- 
 sequence of which, though I was often permitted to stroll among their 
 
14 
 
 tents tlirougli the day, I was cut off fit) in every attempt at communication 
 with the men, or of learning any thing from their conversation. One of 
 the impressions most deeply engraved upon me, was from the nightly calls 
 of the sentinels, which I scarcely ever failed to hear, at whatever period I 
 happened to be awake, through some months of their continuance in that 
 encampment. Though it was a mere formal hail, with the inquiry briskly 
 addressed, " Who goes there ?" and the answer, " Friend," yet, upon my 
 ear it never failed to strike with a stirring and portentous sound. One 
 day as I stood near the door looking towards the river, my eye was caught 
 with a sudden gleam, and was almost as quickly directed to the spot from 
 which it proceeded. Two men appeared fully in view on an ascending 
 ground, bej'ond a small ravine, engaged with rapiers in furious combat. 
 The sun was shining with all the splendor of a clear day, and the glittering 
 of their swords seemed to convey, as by an appropriate language uttered to 
 the eye, the flashings of their rage. I stood in momentary expectation to 
 see one or the other sink before me with a fatal blow. Such were their 
 eagerness and their quickly renewed passes at each other, and yet so prolong- 
 ed was the combat, that I became petrified with horror that grew upon me 
 till I was almost overpowered, and I believe I turned away for relief, for I 
 certainly did not see its termination. I soon inquired, however, and was 
 informed that neither of the combatants was killed. Two officers, who were 
 friends, had taken a walk, and began to amuse themselves by stopping now 
 and then, merely to try their dexterity in fencing with their swords. At 
 length, it seems their feelings became too ardent for mere sport, and finally 
 mounted to mortal fury. The difference of their manner was apparent. 
 Both were skilful • but one never retired from the footing that he took, 
 while the other, with a sudden thrust, instantly bounded off from his ad- 
 versary who almost as speedily followed with another thrust in return. I 
 was told that the one who had practiced the elusive movement, had not 
 succeeded in the strife equally with the other, for he had received sevoral 
 wounds, and began to be vveakened with the loss of blood, but had inflic- 
 ted scarcely any injury of consequence. The action was witnessed imme- 
 diately at its beginning from the camp, a file of men was dispatched, and 
 I'Ofore any fatal mischief occurred, they were put under arrest. 
 
 I think it some time after this, tiiat my mother removed her residence 
 Bristol, a place lower down the Delaware, and on the Pennsylvania side 
 of it. Here I went to an English scliool, which has always returned upon 
 my remembrance with peculiar pleasure. I believe the reason of this was, 
 that the master had an excellent talent for exciting good dispositions in 
 his boys towards himself, and to their studies. The affection I felt for 
 him has never been extinguished to the present day, and I have no doubt 
 it would continue unchanged to whatever number of years my life might 
 
15 
 
 be protracted. I was never kept to closer diligence in business, and yet 
 my heart reverts to it as among the most interesting and happy periods of 
 my life. Here I first engaged in the stndy of arithmetic, and though I 
 found much perplexity in some parts of it, which would probably have 
 created aversion under some teachers, I returned to every effort with fresh 
 determination and courage. This feeling seemed to be inspired and main- 
 tained whenever my eye was turned upon the man. He was ever intently 
 occupied in the various business of a numerous school ; was prompt and 
 dextrous in every thing 3 his expression was that of kindness and a wish 
 to improve us to the utmost j and, as this was apparent in his features and 
 his actions, a corresponding sentiment seemed to be transfused into the 
 bosoms of his pupils, carrying us at once into a concurrence with his 
 wishes, and an efficacious improvement of our time. 
 
 .. But a circumstance which most impressively marks this period is, that 
 here I began, for what reason I know not, to turn my thoughts with greater 
 earnestness than before, on the subject of religion. A part of the time 
 while I was in this village, my mother went abroad leaving me to board at 
 a neighbor's table. This was so near that one of the rooms in the house 
 which she occupied, was left open for my use both day and night. Here 
 I slept, and whenever I chose, to this I retired. I got hold of a religious 
 book, and finding it give me pleasure in the reading, young as I was, and 
 fond as most boys usually are of play, though I was much at my own dis- 
 cretion, I would sit or traverse the room alone, reading with au interest 
 that grew so as utterly to preclude every disposition to stop. 
 
 Wiiile I was living in Bristol, an incident occurred which might have 
 had some connection with this subject, though it had certainly happened 
 so long before this disposition to religious thought, that in my reflections 
 since on that part of my life, the one circumstance has no appearance to me 
 of having induced the other. On a Sabbath my mother was absent, having 
 left my l^rother and myself at home. She had always made it a particular 
 point in our domestic education, to pay a strict regard to the faithful ob- 
 servance of the day. I strolled down to the wharf for amusement, and 
 while there, my brother and another boy came down, and a very small 
 boat lying at the place, he immediately got into it to go out upon the water. 
 I immediately became eager to accompany him, and urged for his permis- 
 sion. This he refused, but while he was at the head of the boat I sprang 
 down upon the stern. My weight was not much, it is true, but the de- 
 scent being some four or five feet, and the boat small, the impetus sunk 
 the end on which I alighted some distance down into the water. It in- 
 stantly mounted up again, and as I was in a toppling condition, and un- 
 versed in humoring the motion, I was tossed overboard and sunk, I know 
 not how many feet, to the bottom. The pains of death of course com- 
 
in 
 
 iiieiiced with the first expansion of my lungs, and tliey produced the utmost 
 efforts of such action in all my limbs as nature prompted, for I knew noth- 
 ing of sw^imming. Though I was very young, my reflection was all alive 
 to the thought that a few moments were to end my existence here, and 
 send me into another world where my destiny was to be forever fixed. The 
 anticipation was horrible, and my struggles were convulsive. The distress 
 both of mind and body was complete; my thoughts were hurried, but they 
 Were distinct ', and it may well be supposed that no words can give utter- 
 ance equal to their intensity. After a while I found myself approaching 
 the light. Having by my struggles risen to the surface, I found myself 
 prevented from sinking once more, which, had it occurred, I have no doubt 
 would have ended the strife. jM}^ brother had placed himself at the spot 
 where I w^ent down, and as it happened, I at last rose so near that he 
 caught me by the hair and saved my life. 
 
 When I vras lifted out of the water and placed upon the wharf, I found 
 myself surrounded by a number of persons, who had hurried to the place. 
 The water spouted from my mouth and nostrils for some time with renewed 
 efforts, until I began to feel relief. My sensations of joy for the deliver- 
 ance of which the moment before I had been utterly hopeless, were as ex- 
 quisite and indescribable as the horrors I had suffered. What a vast 
 transition of feeling, and in how brief a space I It is a species of know- 
 ledge, which in its peculiarity and extent, is probably unattainable but by 
 the actual experience. Though I was obliged to be supported or carried 
 up to the house, a flood of pleasure even to exultation was pouring through 
 my mind, not apparent, as I think, to others ; but not the less real in in-- 
 tensity and continuance. I was given to the repose into which my ex- 
 hausted powers naturally sunk through the afternoon, and when I awoke 
 it was to see my mother gazing on me with concern. At once shame and 
 self-reproach must have been the expression that met her eye, for they 
 were felt in all their force. I was dumb before her. She saw that it was 
 enough for every purpose she could wish, either of warning or reproof; 
 and so tender was she to my feelings, if not wholly engrossed with grati- 
 tude for my preservation, that for a long period not a word escaped her 
 lips in my hearing, even to impress upon me lessons on the subject, which 
 she probably saw there was no occasion to illustrate or enforce. For this 
 I loved her the more ; for though I was quite young, I ascribed her for- 
 bearance to what I have ever since believed to be the real cause : that she 
 could not bear to lacerate me, when the wound upon my conscience was 
 probably almost too deep for my fortitude to bear. I had been guilty of 
 disobedience, but this w^as not the most aggravating circumstance. It was 
 on the Sabbath, and I was violating it by going in quest of amusement 
 wholly at variance with the reverence with which she had ever taught me 
 
17 
 
 to regard it. If slie liad inculcated upon me that what had happened 
 was r judgment from God upon my transgression, it would have been un- 
 necessary, for with this impression it already rested upon me in all its force. 
 These feelings gradually faded from my thoughts, and I lived as heed- 
 lessly as ever. It was long afterwards that the pious affections of which 
 I have already spoken, became quickened in my bosom, nor am I conscious 
 that the event just related had any connection with them. I was left in 
 solitude at the time, and taking up a religious book, I began to read— my 
 feelings were excited by it, and they grew into ardor and intensity. I 
 desert'^ed all amusement, my reading, my reflections, and a gratifying sense . 
 that I might be eno-aged in the service of God, and have his approbation, 
 abstracted me fronraiiy of the diversions that occurred to my thoughts. 
 As to the cause, it was perfectly inexplicable, and always has been. My 
 experience at that time was probably one of the first fruits of the pious 
 sentiments which my mother had instilled into me from the first dawnings 
 of reason. She was not there, but the spirit of God was doubtless foster- 
 in- these principles in my heart, and educing them into action. I have 
 since reverted to the few days which passed in these circumstances, and 
 with these emotions alive in my bosom, as among the most grateful seasons 
 of my life, and ever to be remembered with renovated satisfaction. 
 
 It could not have been long after this, that we removed to Princeton. 
 Here all the circumstances and events of my life begin to appear less se- 
 vered from one another by parts wholly forgotten, or obscurely remem- 
 
 Here was a grammar school, and from the interest which I had been 
 thought to show in reading books, my mother was counselled by others 
 finally to adopt the measure which herself had meditated, of giving me a 
 liberal education. The difliculty most felt by her, was the want of such 
 an income as would sustain her in the undertaking. I think it was in the 
 year 1784, when I was eleven or twelve years of age, a Latin grammar 
 was wanted, and upon inquiry none was to be had. We waited some days 
 for a supply, but none came; and as the determination was made, I grew 
 impatient. One of the boys by the name of F— n from Charleston, being 
 told of the circumstance, and having one on hand that was nearly worn 
 out, gave it to me. I refused it till I was told that he had two. I always 
 felt grateful to him, and through the whole time of our acquaintance m the 
 school, for three or four years, he manifested a peculiar friendship for me. 
 The grammar was instantly and eagerly commenced, and as eagerly prose- 
 cuted till finished. Corderius, Selecta e Veteri, Selecta e Profanis, Caesar, 
 Greek Grammar, Greek Testament, Mair's Introduction, \irgil, and per- 
 haps some other books, followed in as quick succession as intent applica- 
 tion could compass them. Before my entering college, our family remov- 
 
18 
 
 ed to Newark, where my studies were continued under Dr. Mc Whorl er. 
 The school at Princeton was made an object of special regulation, and 
 sometimes of personal attention by Dr. Witherspoon. From this circum- 
 stance it certainly had singular advantages in comparison with other acade- 
 mies. The modes of instruction, and the exercises in which we were 
 gained, were derived immediately from Scotland. Of their superior effi- 
 cacy I was made sensible by the change. Dr. 31eWhorter was undoubt- 
 edly among the best teachers in the country, but in the class with which I 
 was united, every thing came so easily in my preparations that it was al- 
 most like sport, while the rest of the class appeared to meet as much diffi- 
 culty as they could well vanquish. This difference proceeded from the 
 different methods of teaching, and I was perfectly convinced of it at the 
 time.'^ 
 
 While living in Newark, my religious impressions were often renewed. 
 I do not know that I resisted them, or strove to repress or shake them off, 
 but it is very certain that at various times when they had been felt with 
 much force, alarm of conscience, and a dissolving tenderness of affection, 
 they soon passed away, and I became as careless and thoughtless as ever. 
 Dr. McWhorter's preaching was generally animated, plain, and practical. 
 He sometimes became warm, pointed the guilty sinner to the coming wrath, 
 showed the danger of growing hardened to all the considerations of God's 
 mercy, his justice, his judgments, the means of grace, the opportunities of 
 improvement, the uncertainty of life, and the dread consequences of failing 
 to prepare in this time of discipline and probation for the eternity that is 
 to follow. I would come home like the wounded hart with the arrow in 
 my side, but it dropped off, the wound closed, and it ceased to be remem- 
 bered. 
 
 * For instance, in Mair's Introduction, it was the custom at Newark to write 
 down no more than tAVO or three of the longer sentences in good Latin, as a 
 weekly task on Saturday. But in Princeton we were required to come prepar- 
 ed every forenoon, while we were in that book, to read the whole of one of those 
 sentences in English, and then to repeat it with equal promptness in correct 
 Latin ; and our daily appointment was two or three pages. Nor was this all. 
 For we then closed our books, and the instructor Avould read to us Jong portions 
 of the English, and we must give the Latin of them without mistake in word 
 or grammatical construction, from beginning to end. AVe were not permitted 
 to do this tardily, for not only if any one made a mistake, but if he did not 
 move directly forward in enunciating the translation of the sentence put to 
 him, the next below was to pronounce it forthwith, and if j^uccessful, was to 
 take his place. To a student trained to this vigor and promptness of thought 
 and action, what difficulty could there be in writing doAvn two or three sentences 
 in corrected Latin as a weekly exercise, as was tlie custom at Newark ? Wc 
 ■wrote Latin versions weekly at Princeton also, but we had nothing hut English 
 sentences given, and we selected the Latin words and phraseology for ourselves. 
 This taught us the use of words agreeably to their true classical ijuport. Dr. 
 Witherspoon had various methods of drilling a class. One was to run a verb, 
 
10 
 
 That our present life is u state of trial, I think must be confirmed bj, 
 every man Avho reflects upon the events of liis own, and the manner in 
 which tliey affect liis mind, liis affections, his outward condition, his men- 
 tal character, and his prospects of the future, liimiting our views even 
 to our earthly existence, it is probationary. Our choice of action, at any 
 moment wdicn it is made, must be regulated by the past, that we may 
 choose our object, be intelligently directed to it, whatever it may be, and 
 that the means may be adapted to its attainment. In regard to every one 
 of these we are liable to error, and of course to be corrected by experience. 
 This experience constitutes the very thing which is called providence by 
 those who believe in God's administration of all human affairs. It setfl 
 before us all the variety of ends which it is possible for us to choose, and 
 we are subjects of trial, when w^e make our selection. If our end be a 
 good one, it is one evidence in behalf of our virtue. We have been put 
 to the test on this point, and it has terminated in our favor. If we limit 
 ourselves to instrumentality which God approves, it is another proof that 
 our affections and views have been formed as we have advanced through 
 the past upon correct principles. If conscience has been our authority, it 
 is still further testimony, by evincing both that it is enlightened, and that 
 w^e have listened as became us to its voice. If at any time we have not 
 adhered to these principles, it proves no less that we have been in fault, 
 and as we have had our choice, we must properly sustain the consequences. 
 One great consequence must ever be, that if w^e have chosen ill, and re- 
 fuse afterwards to be chastened bj its external effects, or the reproofs and 
 interdicts of the heart, we give pr-xif that we are, so far at least, ripening 
 
 as it was called, through all the successive tenses and moods in the first per- 
 pon, then in the second person, the third, and so on: and to repeat the impera- 
 tive, the infinitive, the gerunds, supines, and participles. This was done in 
 both voices. Another exercise consisted in comparing an adjective, and keep- 
 ing up the repetition of the degrees, through all the genders and cases in both 
 numbers. A third method of giving us skill was to carry an adjective through 
 the cases and numbers in company with a masculine substantive, then with 
 a feminine, and then with a neuter. A fourth exercise was to come prepared 
 daily with a page or two of vocables, so as to give the English for the Latin, 
 and the Latin for the English. In another instance, he would select a Latin 
 verjj, and call upon each of us, successively, to ^ive a compound with the mean- 
 ing, till all the compounds were exhausted. A sixth exercise was made out 
 by taking some verb, as ago, having various idiomatic imports according to its 
 connection, and we were required to give examples of its idiomatic uses. This 
 note is subjoined evidently not for all readers, but as a suggestion to teachers. 
 But these are by no means all the methods of drilling to whrch we were called. 
 When we first commenced any one of them, we were slow ; but the quickness 
 to which we presently attained, was evidence of the improvement consequent 
 upon such practice. The UK^st efiicicnt cause of the high degree of pci-foction 
 at which scholars arrive in European grammar schools and scientific institu- 
 tions, is to be seen in the diversity of exercises devised and continually prac- 
 ticed through the whole course of education. 
 
20 
 
 in iniquity, and exposing ourselves to God's disapprobation, to that of all 
 good being's, to our own, and to all the calamities which God has connec- 
 ted with it, in the constitution of his works, and by his positive determi- 
 nation. If it be said that we are the children of circumstances, still it is 
 true that these circumstances are at once the arrangement of God, so as 
 forever to retain us under a complete responsibility for the result as to 
 good or ill which is to be their issue with respect to us. If we cannot 
 choose our condition, or control events, we have our choice of the course 
 we will pursue, so far as sin or obedience to the truth is concerned. This 
 is unquestionable at every step we take, we have the incontestable evidence 
 to it, which is of the nature of fact, the evidence pronounced by con- 
 sciousness, whenever we appeal to it. The overruling power of the Al- 
 mighty, then, detracts nothing from our complete responsibility. We are 
 truly and justly probationers, both in our present state, and as to our fram- 
 ing ourselves to the good or ill connected with our welfare or our misery 
 hereafter. He gives us external opportunity of knowing our duty, and 
 having it forcibly urged upon us. He impresses it upon us by his Spirit, 
 in a manner calculated to reform and improve us. This he never would 
 do, were we, who are of wicked dispositions, not in a state of trial, nor sus- 
 ceptible of recovery. Were not this our condition, were we not in a state 
 of discipline and responsibility, but wholly given up to the spirit of dis- 
 obedience which every man feels to be prevalent within him, our only 
 feelings at all times would be opposition to holiness, and complete aban- 
 donment to its motives and the outward expressions of it — our universal 
 intercourse — and a consequent utter despair of heaven, and an over- 
 whelming sense of final consignment to sin and all its woes. 
 
 I have indulged in these reflections here, because they are the result of 
 the thought and experience of all those years of my life on the events of 
 which I am now turning a reviewing eye. I can remember many occa- 
 sions in those early years, in the various places in which they were passed, 
 when my reflections were directed on God, a future state, and the eternal 
 world. The interest I took in them when they were impressed upon me 
 by the scriptures, or by any other cause, was the same in its aspect and 
 species as it has been through later years. The intervals sometimes are 
 apparent as to their cause, and sometimes they seem to have become irre- 
 coverably lost to my remembrance. Whether they had a connection with 
 one another, and by what ties of circumstances, or thought, or emotion as 
 they were successively renewed, it would be impossible for me to deter- 
 mine, though to the Spirit of God who produced them and witnessed all 
 their efi"ects, they are present now as at the moment when they agitated 
 my bosom. , Sometimes I would return from church with a heart deeply 
 afi"ccted with the considerations presented there of my obligations to God 
 
21 
 
 for his goodness in the ordinary blessings of food and raiment, relations 
 and friends, health and the pleasures connected with it. (Conscience im- 
 pressed upon me portentously the consequences of my thoughtless ingrati- 
 tude. The prospects of heaven to the good, and of endless misery to the 
 wicked, drove from me for a time every wish for the amusements on which 
 I was commonly intent. The love of God in sending his Son into the 
 world to redeem me from death, and open the way to heaven, combined 
 with all its force in impressing my conscience with the responsibility im- 
 posed by this consummation of mercy. My mother was often engaged in 
 giving me religious instruction, and deepening its impressions upon my 
 heart. Sometimes an accident would happen, to set before me the utter 
 uncertainty in which I lived. The death of a neighbor by sickness, or 
 by some sudden accident, the grave-yard, the darkness of night when in 
 solitude, naturally accompanied with abstraction from sensible scenes, and 
 plunging my thought into the spiritual world — every thing of this nature 
 excited in me a sense of religion, a reference to God, and to the danger 
 I was in of being lost forever, if I should die without being made the sub- 
 ject of his saving grace. It was all the striving of his Spirit, to prevent 
 me from being wholly engrossed with the earth, and to educate me in this 
 school of his providence for better and more glorious purposes than the 
 interests and pleasures of a mere earthly existence. An excellent practical 
 writer on " Keeping the Heart" remarks that '^ Providence is like a cu- 
 rious piece of tapestry, made of a thousand shreds, which single appear 
 useless, but put together, they represent a regular and connected liistory 
 to the eye." 
 
 I am reminded here of an incident which happened at Princeton, but 
 which it did not occur to mention among events there. Among our boy- 
 ish diversions, it was one to range ourselves in two companies, and having 
 small wagons, to run stages, as we called it, along the street, to see who 
 could pass and leave the others behind. One day we set out in this man- 
 ner fresh and buoyant in our spirits, six in each company, and pressing 
 the strife of our opposition to the utmost. We presently met a wagon 
 with four horses, and in turning out, we all took the same side of the way. 
 Our company, as it happened, were to pass between the other and the team 
 before us. Our antagonists, thoughtles^y urged to take advantage of the 
 circumstance, suddenly thrust themselves against us as soon as we came 
 by the side of the horses. In the instant six of us were all thrown in a 
 promiscuous heap directly upon the track of the wheels. It happened 
 that the driver was following his wagon at some distance behind, and could 
 do nothing in the emergency. The animals it seems chose their steps so 
 as not to strike or trample on any of us. The wheels were to come next. 
 The movement that overthrew us was so sudden and unexpected that I 
 
22 
 
 had no knowledge of our situation on tlie ground, and I was so complctelj 
 under the rest that I could see nothing. In thinking immediately after- 
 wards upon the matter, it appeared to me most natural that I should have 
 waited tiJl the others might have time to rise and release me ; and this was 
 my first thought after I was down. But it continued only for a moment. 
 The very next instant I commenced a violent effort of limbs and body at 
 hap-hazard, contracting and tossing in every direction, so as to disengage 
 myself with a speed that quite surprised me, when I considered the con- 
 fining pressure which had seemed to forbid all hopes of extrication. By 
 this exertion, those that were above me were thrown off, and no sooner was 
 I released than I sprang upon my feet, and found myself outside of the 
 road, but in such confusion of senses that I knew nothing of the imminent 
 danger^ I had eluded. I saw, however, the fore-wheel and then the other 
 pass over the ankles of one of my comjDanions. The rest had been saved . 
 from being crushed by the same effort which had proved the means of my 
 own escape. The petrifying and awful effect, however, which w^as produced 
 upon me, may be conceived when immediately afterwards I was told by a 
 boy who saw the whole, that while I was down my neck lay exactly across 
 the route in which the wheel was to run. I was young and thoughtless ; 
 but the first reflection that rushed upon me, was, that Grod in his goodness 
 had saved my life by prompting me in the critical moment to act as I did. 
 I exchanged not a word more with any one, but walked home with feelings 
 sunk as low as a few minutes before they had been elevated. I soon found 
 that every one but my mother knew the circumstance, and they seemed to 
 gaze at me for a time with particular interest. My resolutions rose to a 
 high pitch of strength, that I would no longer live as before, in the neg- 
 lect of my religious duties. My mother afterwards learned from others 
 the peril in which I had been, for I could not bear to tell her myself. She 
 remarked, as did others, that a deep and settled gloom hung upon me for 
 man}'' days, and my feelings were certainly in accordance with their obser- 
 vation. 
 
 There are doubtless incidents in the life of every one, which cannot but 
 appear calculated to produce religious impressions. Even the man who is 
 habitually an unbeliever in a special providence, will probably remember 
 some, if not many, which had tlifcir instant effect in filling his mind with. 
 thoughts of God, of eternity, and a want of preparation for passing out of the 
 present into a future state. If this be true, it is evidence of the nature 
 of fact, that in our constitution we are destined for immortality. The first 
 references of our minds- in instances of danger, or extreme distress, are the 
 Icinguage of nature. They may, in after thought, be resolved into baseless 
 notions and superstitious fears, but still it must be admitted that our first 
 suggestions are those of religion, and bear all the marks of being the genu- 
 
28 
 
 ine result of an origiiuil detcnninaiion, to us inevitable, and a.s certainly 
 natural. Is it to be esteemed a privilege or an honorable distinction t<j be 
 wholly exempt from them? Then the brutes, in this respect at least, arc 
 to be envied by us, for whatever other attributes may be common to them 
 and us, they are most unquestionably devoid of the religious faculty. For 
 my own part, if there be a possibility, ascertained by the actual experience 
 of any one, of a real and total freedom from the apprehension f)f future 
 responsibility, and the consequences of conscious guilt through jiast life, 
 when pressed by sudden peril upon the verge of death, it is a peculiarity 
 in which I have never participated, and of which, therefore, I am umible 
 to judge. To meet death with unyielding firmness in a righteous cause, 
 or in inevitable necessity, is not incompatible with the gravest considera- 
 tion of its ultimate issues. To unite these in our feelings is not only hon- 
 orable, as something of which the inferior animals are incapable, but con- 
 stitutes one at least of the most glorious distinctions of man among ration- 
 al and immortal beings. 
 
 My recollection tells me that I have always been suscepti-jle on the sub- 
 ject of religion. This has been the case on occasions of public or retired 
 worship calculated to excite pious reflection and devout emotion, as well as 
 in instances of sudden peril. It is not remarkable, however, that exam- 
 ples of the latter description should have taken the most tenacious hold 
 upon my memory, both on account of their rare occurrence and their deep 
 impressions, and the peculiar vividness of the emotions excited by them. 
 That they were directed in signal mercy, I am perfectly convinced, both 
 from the nature and permanency of their effects. 
 
 While at school in Newark, it was usual for us to bathe in the Passaic. 
 On one of these occasions, my companions commenced amusing themselves 
 by running along the ridge of a high sand bank, and jumping from the 
 extremity down a precipice of five and twenty feet, taking care to present 
 their feet in alighting in such a manner as to sink them into the sand that 
 lay loose and sloping in large quantities near the bottom, so as to be stop- 
 ped gradually by its easy resistance as it was carried before them. I ob- 
 served their manner for some time, and was prevented at first from at- 
 tempting it by the height, and tho danger of not preserving the right di- 
 rection of the body and feet through so long a descent. At length, hoAV- 
 ever, I resolved to put it to the trial, and the very failure happened which 
 I had apprehended. They had commenced with small distances, till learn- 
 ing the manner to be consulted, they at length bounded from the top al- 
 most to the base. The essay with me was through the whole extent at 
 once, and throwing out my feet too far, I alighted upon the extremity of 
 my body with a shock that struck me breathless. It was attended also 
 with so agonizing a pain in my back that 1 had no dmiljt it was broken. 
 
24 
 
 and that it must terminate in immediate death. 1 had perfect presence 
 of mind, and made some attempts to breathe, but wholly failed. The 
 torture was extreme, both of body and mind. At length I felt cheered 
 by some commencing success, and in about five minutes I found myself 
 able to rise upon my feet. The pain abated afterwards in a manner that 
 perfectly surprised me, and once more I seemed to have been snatched, as in 
 a moment, from the jaws of death. My companions who had been appalled 
 at the accident, were rejoicing over me as we walked home, which I at last 
 found myself able to do, though it was at least a mile from the river. Once 
 more I was for some time oppressed with a melancholy feeling at the 
 thought of the danger I had escaped ; but I am ashamed to say, that it 
 was accompanied more with the pleasure of safety, than with gratitude 
 for the deliverance, or with steadfast resolutions to live prepared to die. 
 
 While I continued in Newark, my progress in the languages was unin- 
 terrupted. I never experienced any thing like reluctance or dissatisfac- 
 tion in relinquishing amusement for study. I do not know that I was 
 ever whipped for not getting a lesson. My usual feeling was that of grat- 
 ification, when the hour for reciting arrived. The consequence Avas, as 
 may be supposed, and as all my recollections suggest, that my teachers and 
 myself were mutually satisfied. And though I have seen much of the in- 
 disposition of youth to prosecute knowledge when it was put into their 
 power, and they had nothing else to do, I have never had such a com- 
 prehension of aversion from it, as their experience would probably con- 
 vey. Nor is this by any means to be supposed singular. In every school 
 or literary institution where numbers are assembled, there are always some, 
 if not many, of whom the same thing is true. Yet, we are compelled to 
 believe that there are others, if, indeed, they do not make the majority, to 
 whom it is equally mysterious, how it is possible so to delight in study, as to 
 have their richest enjoyments broken up, if they could not be employed in it. 
 
 Having been much engaged in the instruction of youth, it has sometimes 
 occurred to remark to such as could not be induced to an improvement of 
 their opportunities, that there were hundreds of minds to whom, if the 
 avenues of knowledge and its enjoyments could be thrown open as liberally 
 as to them, it would be estimated as a consummation beyond which there 
 was no earthly privilege, which, even in their youthful imagination, they 
 would be so visionary as to have a conception of or a wish for. Upon some, 
 perhaps, a beneficial impression has been left by the thought ; but upon 
 others there was every reason to know that it was followed by no other 
 feelings than those of offence and irritation, which they would unhappily 
 deduce from a supposed, or at least a chargeable, invidious contrast to their 
 disadvantage between themselves and some others who were far beneath 
 them in the world. 
 
9.p; 
 
 We at length removed from Newark to Elizabetlitown. At this place 
 too much time ^Yas lost to mc in advancing my education. I believe all 
 thou-ht was for some time rclinciiiished of extending it further. My time 
 passe'd away in such boyish amusements as casually offered, or my inven- 
 tion contrived. After a year or two had passed in this manner, which I 
 cannot but consider as wholly wasted as to all important acquisition in 
 knowledge or culture. Dr. Witherspoon, who had known me in the gram- 
 mar school at Princeton, passing one day in the stage through Elizabeth- 
 town to or from New York, mentioned to my mother the subject of con- 
 tinuino- my education. He encouraged her to do so, if it could be effec- 
 ted and he dropped some hints that if it could be no otherwise accom- 
 plished, himself would become my patron and see that by some means I 
 should be sustained through a collegiate course. When he was gone, I 
 was told of it, and in a moment, though I had nothing before me at home 
 but an unlimited swing in pastime, my heart bounded at the suggestion of 
 renewing the prosecution of my studies. My recollection presents to me 
 no influence of motives springing from the ultimate conseciuences of a 
 liberal education. The engagements of a school had always been inter- 
 esting to me, and it was the gratification that was to be renewed, that 
 filled°me with eagerness for the object. I therefore teazed my mother 
 with inquiries respecting the precise manner in which the Doctor had 
 spoken of the matter, and the probability there might be that my studies 
 mioht be resumed. Some weeks, if not months, passed away in ,this 
 uncertainty, and at last I received information that the determination 
 was becoming conclusive in my favor. 
 
 Before leaving the subject of my residence at Elizabethtown, a circum- 
 stance occurs as having furnished another instance of the manner m winch 
 Providence decides our destination through life by incidents upon which 
 the future seems to turn as upon the nicest pivot. In traveling along a 
 road, the difference may appear of little import as to which of two roads 
 we may happen to take when they are presented to our choice. The re- 
 gion we are to traverse, may seem to be much the same, especially to our 
 early youth, which knows not how to look at distant consequences. And 
 yet, by the decision made at the moment, the whole scenery and circiim^ 
 stances of our future days may become totally different from such as would 
 have ensued had the determination been different. While living then at 
 Elizabethtown, my mother spoke to me one day of a thought which had 
 entered her mind of putting me into a printing office, to be brought up U> 
 that business. After asking the particulars as to the manner of making 
 provision for it, and the man with whom I was to be placed, I was capti- 
 vated with the plan, and urged it with much persuasion to as speedy an 
 issue .s possible. It would seem that I felt no real complacence in the 
 
26 
 
 idle life that I was leading, nor any wish for it3 continuance. The occu- 
 pation of a printer was connected with literary pursuits, and my education 
 was sufficiently advanced to enter upon it with advantage, and to furnish 
 a foundation for an enlarged and liberal prosecution of the profession. 
 Such were my views, even at that early period. Every day I asked my 
 mother how the plan advanced, and when I was to begin. She told me 
 that she had proposed the matter to one who carried on the business and 
 published a newspaper in the town, that he had promised to consider it, 
 and was to give an answer. At length she received one in the affirmative : 
 but no sooner was it reported to her, than she revolted from the project, 
 and informed me that her mind was now in such a state that she never 
 could consent to it. At this I was not a little surprised. I argued, and 
 even remonstrated : explained to her the comprehensive prospects which 
 I hoped to push with success, beyond the mechanical parts of the profes- 
 sion, that I had no idea of limiting myself to humble and contracted views 
 in the business, and that though it was easy to do this, it was with a view 
 to the ulterior and higher opportunities it would put in my power, that I 
 was induced to wish for it. When her dissent was communicated to the 
 one who had consented to take me, he complained not a little, and I urged 
 this also as a reason for concluding the affair by letting me go to him. All, 
 however, was of no avail. She had thought more fully, and could not be 
 reconciled. Her reasons on which she conclusively rested, did credit to 
 her sentiments, whether those reasons were in accordance with tact and 
 truth or not. She finally objected to the profession, as having a tendency 
 to harden and pervert the heart, by engaging it in the temptations and 
 wiles of controversy. The facility of publication to one who commands a 
 press, she said, was a snare, inducing him* to give vent to passions, and to 
 commit himself in sentiments, which, if sustained, must injure his moral 
 principles, and, if relinquished, must expose him. It seemed to her as if 
 a familiar and mechanical dealing in types was attended with the conse- 
 quences of recklessness and hardihood in regard to true sentiment, as sail- 
 ors who eminently live in the midst of dangers are most regardless of con- 
 scientious restriction, and learn to "sin as with a castrope." It was with 
 such impressions as these, whether experimentally true, or only baseless ap- 
 prehensions, that she explained her purpose as it became finally settled on 
 the subject, and the plan was relinquished. It was so long after this that 
 Dr. Witherspoon proposed the continuance of my education through a 
 complete collegiate course, that the thought of my becoming a printer, 
 from which I had been so critically diverted, had dropped out of sight. 
 But when I look back at these events, they contain to me a striking ex- 
 emplification of our being wholly at the disposal of Providence, while at 
 the moment we may think of nothing else than of determining every 
 
27 
 
 tiling by our own choice, or by the opinions and wishes of our friends. 
 This conviction is more apt to be made upon us, when on tlie turnino- 
 point we took a direction that changed the whole aspect of our life, than 
 in cases of minute and scarcely observable consequence. But there is no 
 difficulty in seeing that by one of these two, or by a succession of them, 
 w^e may come to be placed in circumstances equally decisive upon an ex- 
 tensive scale, or in producing such a contexture of our character and con- 
 dition at last, as must exhibit those little events or influences to have been 
 of the utmost consequence, though while they were passing they scarcely 
 attracted our notice, and have long been forgotten, and become to us as 
 though they had never been. 
 
 Had the bestowment of me upon the printer been fulfilled, the whole 
 train of circumstances and events ensuing upon it must of course have 
 been different from the course into which the disposition by Dr. Wither- 
 spoon gave a direction. The time came when the conclusion was an- 
 nounced to me, and that the stage was forthwith to carry me to Prince- 
 ton. It was in the spring of 1787, and I was fourteen years of age. A 
 few hours brought me to the place, but they were filled with a profusion 
 of thoughts, as to the immediate and more distant prospects that were 
 now opening before me. The course of trial already past, of the species 
 of employment before me, was of such a nature as Jiot to harrass me with 
 distrust, and though at an age when we may be supposed to feel but little 
 concern about the subsequent years, still distant, when the arrival at man- 
 hood will call upon us to act for ourselves, my anticipations then extended 
 to them. The tender premonitions which my mother had sometimes 
 poured into my bosom, while the tears flowed down her cheeks, she would 
 cast her eye forward, and endeavor to impress me with the dreadful un- 
 certainty of the course I might choose, and the destiny that awaited me 
 in the w^orld, had not been wholly lost upon me. I had long been idle, 
 and in the habit of looking for nothing but pastime, but this occasioned 
 no regrets, and I looked forward to assiduous application as the certain 
 and proper consequence of the change. Upon this my purpose was fixed, 
 nor was a doubt felt that it was to be instantly and constantly realized. 
 
 On arriving at Princeton, I went and offered myself to Dr. Smith for 
 examination, and being told that it would be proper for me to see Dr. 
 Witherspoon, I went to him at Tusculum, a mile in the country. He sub- 
 jected me to trial on one or tw^o sentences in Mair's Introduction, and 
 then said that I must enter the senior class in the grammar-school. This 
 was a mortifying disappointment to me, for I had counted on joining the 
 freshman class in college. I did not realize the efiects which a long 
 absence from studies had produced, and when called on to make Latin, 
 rushed upon it as though 1 had just left it off. I instantly experienced 
 
2b 
 
 the consequence, in the tardiness of my recollection, and the blunders I 
 committed. I told the Doctor I hoped soon to renew my attainments, 
 which had been much impaired by long intermission, and that if allowed 
 to enter the freshman class, I should prove able, by a close application, to 
 take standing with it. He replied that even if I could, it would be under 
 so great disadvantages that it was by no means advisable ; that I was 
 young, and that he wished me to have every opportunity of being a good 
 scholar. He said that by taking a stand upon entire equality with my 
 classmates, I should, by a sense of strength, go on with pleasure in the 
 prosecution of my education, instead of being disheartened by difficulties, 
 and liable to have the standard of my feelings lowered, and of becoming 
 reconciled to inferiority, by resorting to the reflection that I ought to be 
 excused on account of my disadvantages. The Doctor was unquestion- 
 ably right, for though my feelings suffered mortification at the moment, I 
 never doubted afterwards of the solid benefits resulting from his deter- 
 mination. As it was, I was graduated under nineteen years of age. Of 
 what importance was it to finish an education sooner ? And even had my 
 years been such at the t'me, as to have brought on a completion of my 
 collegiate course at one, two, or three and twenty, instead of nineteen, 
 the consequences of laying a substantial foundation, of growing into 
 proper confidence and decision of character, by habitual success through 
 every occurring difficulty, and the greater maturity of faculties by the 
 delay, would have been amply sufficient to recommend the retrocession of 
 a year at the commencement of the course. 
 
 In the autumn of 1787 my class became freshman in college, and at 
 the end of four years afterwards we were graduated. 
 
 A residence of four years and a half at that time of life, may well be 
 supposed among the most interesting of all that I have ever passed. It 
 is usual for men liberally educated to remark, though certainly it is not 
 without exception, that the collegiate part of life is often an opportunity 
 of experimental comparison, more happy than any other at least of equal 
 length. As it happened with me, the impression is confirmatory of the 
 truth of the remark. It was not, however, without deduction in ample 
 sufficiency to do credit to another conclusion which men have been apt to 
 pronounce when life is drawing to a close, that when the whole with all 
 its diversity of coloring, is looked at with a retroverted eye, it is ques- 
 tionable whether the enjoyment or the suffering has predominated. 
 
 When a concurrence is here expressed in the opinion that the years of 
 a collegiate life are among the happiest we ever enjoy, an explanation 
 seems necessary to prevent mistakes of most pernicious tendency. What- 
 ever may have been the experience of others, my own tells me that if any 
 instances occurred, and my recollections sadly remind me there were some 
 
29 
 
 in wliich I sought after enjoyment in violations of the hiws', it was not to 
 these that I have ever held myself indebted for that portion of time which 
 was to be credited as happy. If there was any pleasure in the moments 
 of clandestine acts of mischief, it was so mixed in my bosom with the 
 agitations of apprehended discovery, and dread of the consequences dart- 
 ing across my mind, that I should be far from recommending it on the 
 score of enjoyment. But in all such cases, and I most heartily thank 
 the guardian Providence that was over me that they were not very nu- 
 merous, as soon as they were over, the gloomy cloud which they brought 
 upon my feelings, and which they kept hovering around me for many 
 days, was enough to decide most unequivocally that much was to be set 
 down on the page, not of profit but loss. Things of this kind which I 
 did during the four years of college residence, were happily "few and 
 far between," so that the effects produced in each instance in tormenting 
 me, had some opportunity of fading out of my recollection, before another 
 could act with any temptation upon me. But the miseries more or less, 
 which in compliance with solicitation, I sometimes consented to inflict 
 upon myself, were only a portion of the consequent suffering. They have 
 never returned upon me but with pain, and always to beget most sincere 
 wishes that they had never happened. Then with the sensations from 
 which they have sprung, have been their unfailing retribution, when they 
 have been resuscitated in my remembrance. 
 
 Undoubtedly it were well if all who have lived in colleges were simi- 
 larly affected by similar causes. We have occasion to hear persons re- 
 verting with no small amusement, if not with delight to the disorders 
 committed by them while students of college. It is true, there are sports 
 of a description to be recollected and related without regret for any ill in 
 their nature or their consequences. But every act at variance with the 
 laws or the regular business of a body of youth assembled for education ; 
 especially such violations as spring from a spirit of insubordination, op- 
 position, or ill will to instructors; all schemes of mischief by night or by 
 day that have for their object to produce tumult, disrespect towards the 
 persons or the authority of teachers, or to dissolve energy in the prosecu- 
 tion of business by diffusing levity, or contempt through the transactions 
 of it, can never be re membered by a man of correct feeling without com- 
 punction and chagrin. And if these be the sentiments excited in the 
 bosom, the feats in which they w^ere exhibited must drive out all the 
 pleasure that can be supposed to proceed from the renovation in our 
 bosoms of the lawless and pernicious hilarity which was once permitted to 
 revel in our early years, at the expense of all that was valuable in the 
 habits, dispositions and attainments of our primitive education. 
 
 I have sometimes seen persons advanced in life, manifest no hesitation 
 
in recounting by the liour the disorders of their college life, in the pres- 
 ence of youth, and even of their own sons, who were themselves students 
 at the time, and passing a vacation at home, or incidentally in company 
 with them at the very site of the college, or perhaps some other place. 
 The manner, the loud laugh, the arch and contemptuous jeer at the in- 
 structors upon whom, their tricks, if not their gross and shameful outrages, 
 had been directed, all acted as a charm upon the thoughtless being in 
 whose hearing they were recited with so m>ich glee, and he would return 
 into the college, charged with a spirit of mischief, and with a disposition 
 to beard the faculty, or his tutor at least, up to the very brim. What 
 consequence is so likely to be heard of next, as that the young man has be- 
 come a bad member of his community, that he is remarkable for idleness and 
 dissipation, that his time is passed in furtive acts of disturbance, noise, 
 interruption of others, sallying out in the night upon excursions of intem- 
 perance, debauch, and such heroic deeds of irregularity as will serve to 
 fill up hours of transport in the recollection, to the delight of the company 
 around him in future years. But these are not all the consequences of 
 which he may expect to hear. The most probable result is, that the youth 
 may present himself at the door of his parents, to stun their ears with 
 the intelligence that he has been ejected from the place of his education 
 upon one or more charges of ill behaviour, so violent as at once to make 
 it impossible for him to be retained any longer in the college, or so incor- 
 rigibly persevering that all attempts to reclaim and save had been ex- 
 hausted upon him in vain. Then commences another process no less 
 dangerous to principle, if it can be made successful. It consists in pre- 
 senting the picture of the wrongs, oppressions and prejudices of those 
 with whom he had to deal, in such coloring and form, as to win upon 
 the affection to which he appeals, turn over the ignominy of the case to 
 the authors of this foul treatment, and thus be initiated in the methods 
 of commencing with ill, and triumphing by address. It is infinitely better 
 never to speak of the disorders of a college life, whether once committed 
 by ourselves, or reported by others, but with the most decided disappro- 
 bation. This is preferable in all societ}^, but especially in that of the 
 young. Let such disorders never hope to find countenance or palliation 
 with those who wish all the guaranty possible to the prospects of their 
 children, or to the efficacy of good education in the country. Too many 
 are apt to indulge the weak imagination, that to expect or insist that a 
 youth shall refrain from disorderly or rakish practices, w^ould be to make him 
 miserable. The better method is to impress him with a conviction, and 
 rationally and afi"ectionately to make it' as far as we can, the true and in- 
 ternal result of every experience, that every escape from temptations of 
 this nature is to be estimated as an escape from the miseries inseparable 
 from a corruption of the heart and degeneracy of habit. 
 
Dort- 
 
 :Vor let it be tliouglit, that when a youth strays from a regular dcp 
 meut, he is to have t^eiitence harshly pronounced upon him as though his 
 case \vere highly penal. The difference is wide between displaccncy on 
 our part in their extravagances, and an imputation of total abandonment. 
 But through the whole range of this interval, while we arc confining our- 
 selves within it, we may still feel a portentous gravity towards their follies, 
 show earnestness in the connection of their mistakes, frown upon 
 their excesses, and pronounce with severity upon their transgressions. In 
 doing all these pertinently, we need never be afraid that we are detracting 
 from°their enjoyments by withholding them from immoralities, but for 
 our encouragement feel most confidently assured that just in proportion 
 as we can become successful, we are building up and establishing their 
 true instant as well as permanent happiness. 
 
 I have been led through these reflections by a recurrence to the events 
 of my collegiate course. Their importance to the young, to parents, and 
 to society, it is hoped may apologize for their protraction. Through the 
 whole of that period of my life, my habits were marked with diligence, 
 punctuality, and good will to my teachers, and the habitual satisfViction, 
 I believe I may say enjoyment, which is the natural conseqence of these. 
 To this an exception must be made in an event, some circumstances of 
 which it may not be amiss to relate. Toward the latter part of the time 
 that I lived in college, it became customary for the steward to furnish a 
 milk diet alternately, with coffee at supper. At length it was observed 
 that our supper table was served with bread and milk only, and it came to 
 be understood as a rule finally adopted that nothing else was in future to 
 be expected. Numbers were dissatisfied, and the discontent soon spread 
 until it was supposed universal. This was signified to the steward, but it 
 produced no alteration. The feeling grew to a higher pitch, and it was 
 resolved that measures must be taken to obtain redress, as we thought 
 proper to call it. The method seemed to us moderate enough, for it con- 
 sisted in nothing more than entering the dining room in the utmost order, 
 in the usual manner, taking our seats regularly, and in forbearing to touch 
 the food. This we continued to do for some two or three days, at the 
 supper hour. We begun at length to grow tired of it, and as it seemed like- 
 ly to continue, the students became violent, and when the door was open- 
 ed for admission, threw in a volley of stones, which, as the tables being 
 long, stood with their ends towards the door, raked them, as manners 
 would say, fore and aft. The whole, as is obvious, was a foolish piece of 
 business, but the last was most unwarrantable, and ought to have been too 
 shocking to be perpetrated except by a vulgar mob. Certainly it was un- 
 worthy of a society of young gentlemen of the first order, a.s we professed 
 to be Could we all hnve been transferred back to the grnmmar-school,, 
 
there would have been no perplexity in selecting a'penalty fitted to the 
 nature of the act. But under the system received in colleges^ we had 
 doubtless made good our claim to the credit of posing the Faculty as to 
 the method of treatment best adapted to the emergency. To give way 
 before violence and outrage, especially with combination, was not to be 
 entertained for a moment. The difference between coffee and milk was a 
 trifle in comparison with the consequences to the government of the insti- 
 tution. We were told that Dr. Smith would personally attend at the 
 table with us in the evening, to take his supper with us, and observe the 
 quality of the milk, against which complaints had been raised. This was 
 a new thing, and as we certainly had a high respect for his person and 
 character, it was to be tried whether this would not be enough to bring us 
 back to propriety. The experiment failed, for, while the vice-president 
 and tutors took their meal, the students touched nothing. 
 
 I find, however, that in reciting these pitiful details, I am engaged in 
 matters that may well be supposed to become sickening to the reader, as 
 they do once more to myself, and as they always have done whenever they 
 recurred. And yet I have known many an insurrection raised in a college, 
 the merits of which were not more respectable than this. The following 
 day, it appeared that our offences were felt to have risen to such a height, 
 that the Faculty could not reconcile themselves to the ordinary transac- 
 tion of business with us, and our recitations were broken off until the or- 
 der of college could be restored, and respect to the authority and laws 
 re-established. The general feeling now showed itself agitated and tumul- 
 tuary and, as is usual in such cases, stories began to be circulated, either 
 totally groundless, or distorted into provoking shapes from some little fact 
 or expression wholly indifferent in its nature which might have actually 
 occurred, but all ingeniously and strangely calculated to excite the reign- 
 ing resentment especially against the steward. And now we continued to 
 be tossed for sometime in a manner to most of us more and more distress- 
 ing, while others evidently exulted in the pretext it furnished them for 
 every species of disorder, and the protection from punishment, under the 
 plea that the best students of the college were involved alike with them- 
 selves. It was not very long before that which the wisdom of the Faculty 
 had hoped and anticipated, really happened. Most of us began really to 
 wish to find out some mode of extricating ourselves from the perplexity 
 which continually grew more painful and embarrassing. This was prob- 
 ably soon understood by Dr. Smith, and many of us rejoiced when we 
 were told that he would be willing to see a few of us in his study. A 
 number were speedily selected, and I happened to be one. We presented 
 ourselves before him, and he spoke to us at once with gentleness and 
 a dignified reserve. He asked if the students were prepared to come to 
 
an lUKlerstunding with the I'liculty upon any terms which coukl be con- 
 sistent witli the rc-cstablishment of authority and the government of the 
 college ? I well remember the shameful manner in which some of us 
 met this inquiry. And I among the rest assumed to talk swellingly, and 
 to endeavor to show with what wrongs the students had been provoked, 
 particularly by the steward. But I have done with the narrative, when 
 it is further said, that we took care not to leave the IJoctor wathout ac- 
 cepting the assurance he gave, wdiich was that if we were all prepared to 
 submit to the laws of college, and return to order, it would be acceded to 
 on the part of the Faculty, and the business of the classes might imme- 
 diately re-commence, without further notice of any thing which had been 
 done. It was a grace on the part of the Faculty, which some of us were 
 very far from having a right to expect. For my own part, without any 
 disposition at this moment to extenuate any absardity in which I was im- 
 plicated while that shameful behaviour was going on, I was certainly not 
 forward in participating in the disorder or promoting it. It is enough for 
 me, and ever has been, when the remembrance has haunted me, to think 
 of the bold and flippant airs which I assumed in that interview with 
 Doctor Smith. To these I w\ns very much prompted by my standing 
 before him as a representative of the students ; for as to myself, my feel- 
 ings and conduct were habitually respectful, benevolent and ingenuous. 
 But the plea with which I then sustained myself has never since that 
 period been able to mitigate the bitterness of my mortification, or prevent 
 the ardent wish that my conduct on that occasion could be merged in a 
 complete and perpetual forgetfulness. 
 
 I have already related some incidents from which I narrowly escaped 
 with life. Another of this nature happened, v/hilc I was a student of 
 college. It w^as usual for us to resort on summer evenings to a particular 
 spot in a small stream about a mile distant, where the water was deeper 
 than common, to amuse ourselves in bathing. A sort of raft had heen 
 constructed by nailing planks to cross pieces of timber of no great size, 
 so that a surface of plank was made on both sides of the pieces. It was 
 not very buoyant, and would scarcely bear tha weight of one individual 
 without sinking under him. The sport consisted in hanging around it by 
 the hands, thrusting it about, and turning it over in the water. Several 
 were engaged in this manner, and the amusement became so inviting to 
 me, that though but just beginning to swim, I felt persuaded it would no; 
 be difficult to keep myself above the water by means of the raft. I 
 watched my opportunity and reached it, but no sooner w^as this efi'ected 
 than it was turned into a vertical position by the rest, and the next 
 moment came down and covered me as under a trap. I was instantly 
 drowning, and again began to think myself wholly lost. Happily; one of 
 
34 
 
 the company perceiving that I was gone and no more made any appear- 
 ance^ pushed away the raft from above me, observed where the air made 
 its appearance that was escaping from my Inngs as they filled with water. 
 Being well grown and strong, and I but small and light, he seized my 
 arm and bore me to the shore. 
 
 Rescued once more from those dying agonies, I ought to have been 
 filled with gratitude for the mercy which had spared and preserved me. 
 But these feelings had at the time but little place in my bosom. Through 
 the earher part of my residence in college, religion found scarcely any 
 admittance into my heart. It appeared to be a subject of which I had be- 
 come exceedingly thoughtless. The studies to which I was daily called, 
 the amusements of athletic exercises, of walking through the fields and 
 into the country, the pleasures of growing knowledge, the occupation of 
 castle-building, to which my imagination was much addicted, the gratifi- 
 cations of success in my recitations, interspersed with occasional failures, 
 calculated to mortify and vex me, the pleasures which I took care gener- 
 ally to secure, of success in the public examinations, the buoyancy of 
 spirits which immediately followed, seeming almost to lift me up from the 
 earth, from a sense of release from every restricting tie of business, and 
 the opening of a vacation of some weeks' continuance in unlimited freedom, 
 constituted altogether a series of occupations that left no time or disposi- 
 tion to think of G-od, the giver of all my blessings, of the sinfulness of 
 my heart, the uncertainty of life, or the prospects and destinies of eternity. 
 But I was not left to proceed uninterruptedly under this engrossing in- 
 fluence of the world. In the full enjoyment of health, I attended break- 
 fast one morning as usual in the steward's hall. It was customary to sup- 
 ply our table with buck- wheat cakes, which being light, well made, and 
 bespread liberally with butter, were counted by many of us, at least, 
 among our luxuries. I had heard it suggested a little before, that those 
 cakes were prepared upon extensive copper surfaces, for the purpose of 
 greater expedition. No attention, however, had been paid to the report. 
 It was heard as an idle story, which some might propagate to discredit our 
 fare. After having eaten about half a breakfast, my eye was caught with 
 what I thought a pretty lively appearance of greenness upon the cakes, of 
 which I had been freely participating. A sudden horror thrilled through 
 my whole system. In a moment a full conviction seized upon me that I 
 was poisoned, and that I was beginning to feel the fatal consequences. I 
 rose almost tottering from the table, asked permission to retire, and from 
 that instant through the space of several weeks, considered myself as has- 
 tening speedily to the grave. Never did an unhappy being continue more 
 harrassed and agitated from day to day with symptoms of dissolving 
 strength and a rapid decline. I sometimes suspected^ for I wished to think 
 
35 
 
 that I was under mLstakcn apprelicnsions of having received poison with 
 my food. But though it did not fail to occur that others ought to have 
 been affected similarly to myself, it was impossible with all the efforts of 
 which I was then capable, to shake off the impressions that haunted me, 
 that various feelings to which I was subject, indicated a hastening disso- 
 lution. A dismal melancholy brooded over my mind, as a dark and low- 
 ering cloud. My whole aspect and manners must have soon appeared al- 
 tered to others, though I had an extreme reluctance to let my situation be 
 known, and strove much at first to carrj a countenance of cheerfulness, 
 for which I was usually rather remarkable. My spirits were depressed. 
 The world grew to be a matter of indifference, or rather unpleasant repul- 
 sion. I could think no more of it as having interests for me. I invol- 
 untarily retired from intercourse, and courted solitude, that I might be free 
 to indulge in the gloomy train of reflections that kept me miserable. I 
 often prayed that I might be prepared for death, but derived no satisfac- 
 tion from it, for I seemed to be sunk down and lost to all the capacities of 
 happiness or hope. 
 
 It is probable that others observed and distinctly noted the change that 
 had passed upon me, long before I suspected them to know or think any 
 thing respecting it. It appeared as if I was shut up within myself, and 
 had ceased to know aught that was passing around me. There was reason 
 to think, as I learned afterwards, that I was under religious conviction, 
 and the delicacy with which they acted towards me on this account, pre- 
 vented me from discovering anything said or thought respecting me. I 
 came, therefore, to be left to the solitude which was r^.t once my wish and 
 my torment. It is not to be doubted, that had some discreet Christian 
 contrived to fall in with me, and engage affectionately in conversation on 
 religion, until he could have learned something respecting the peculiarity 
 of mj situation, I might have been taken by the hand, and with the light 
 of the gospel, been conducted out of a despondency which to me was like 
 the valley of the shadow of death, into a region illuminated with the 
 brightness of heaven, and the smiles of God's favor. But I have reason 
 to believe that I appeared to others so anxious to conceal my situation, and 
 possibly betrayed such sensitiveness to every thing that bore allusion to it, 
 that no one was willing to attempt an intrusion into my confidence. What 
 makes me think that a balm might have been poured into my diseased 
 feelings, that would have been attended with grateful relief, and not been 
 rejected as offered by an impertinent interference, is, that after long con- 
 tinuance in this suffering state, some person in whom I had confidence, did 
 take occasion from some expression incidentally thrown out on my part, 
 to advert to the satisfactions of religion ; and the manner in which it was 
 done, made me grateful, as though I saw in him the friend of my heart. 
 
36 
 
 The truth is, as the reader is well aware, that a morbid melancholy had 
 settled upon me. It is of no consequence how futile and senseless was 
 the cause. This will only show that the precariousness of our temporal 
 happinesF may sprinp:, not from evils that are real and inevitable merely, 
 but from sources which, if you will, exist in the imagination only, and are 
 in their true merits equivalent to nothing. Religion is the proper and. 
 only effectual cure of all the ills that humanity '^ is heir to." Ignorance, 
 misconceptions, the natural darkness of the soul, or a diseased action of 
 the body upon the mind, may sink the unhappy subject into desperation; 
 but in every case, could the gospel be brought to bear upon him, not with 
 a perverted, but with its genuine influence, the remedy is infallible and 
 complete. Its action in the instant it is felt, will be pronounced to be the 
 very infusion into the wounded spirit which heals wherever it is felt, car- 
 rying along with it energy and joy that are like "life from the dead." 
 
 The reader will see that at a period of my life as happy as any which I 
 had ever known, which had been of long continuance, and to which I 
 suspected no interruption, it was broken as suddenly as a vessel of glass is 
 dashed in pieces, not by the loss of property or friends, not by a fit of 
 .sickness, the necessary amputation of a limb, or the stopping up of one of 
 my senses, but by a glancing thought of imagination only, converting a 
 bosom into a scene of darkness and desolation, where all, till then had been 
 light and cheerfulness. I sometimes struggled for deliverance, from an 
 occasional supposition, that such might really be the nature of my affec- 
 tion. But in every effort, though resolutely made, I was fairly overpow- 
 ered, and felt myself broiight down irresistibly into the dust. I discovered 
 upon a few occasions incidentally occurring, that being in company my 
 thoughts were stolen away from the dejecting apprehensions that usually 
 occupied them, and my spirits would mount unawares to the gaiety once 
 familiar to them. But in less than an hour after returning into solitude, 
 I found myself again prostrate under the same incumbent pressure, though 
 I recollect that at the moment I manfully determined no more to yield to 
 it. After a continuance of some two or three months in this wretched 
 state, I came to a conclusion that to prosecute education any longer in 
 circumstances so disqualifying and disheartening promised no valuable re- 
 sult, and that it was too much for me to continue to bear. The issue to 
 which I arrived was, to obtain permission to leave the college, and should 
 I live to study a profession, to apply myself to the study of medicine. 
 The explanation was made to Dr. Witherspoon and Dr. Smith, and they 
 listened to it apparently with regret. They spoke of the importance of 
 completing an education whatever my profession might be. It terminated 
 in a recommendation to visit my friends for two or three weeks ) that pos- 
 r^bly my health might be improved; and if it should be, by all means to 
 
return as soon as possible to my studies. Tliey doubtless suspected the 
 true cause of my difficulties, and their advice was fitted to the removal of 
 thein. To get home was but au afternoon's ride in the stage, and after 
 being- there a few days I discovered that the state of my feelings began 
 sensibly to change. I had grown into the habit of daily prayer, and it 
 was not long before my mother without my knowledge discovered it, to 
 her great satisfaction. I staid out the three weeks, and so surprising was 
 the recovery of my mental firmness and emancipation from the bondage 
 which had so long bowed me to the earth, that I felt no difficulty in re- 
 solving to return and resume the studies to which I had once determined 
 to bid adieu forever. 
 
 It may be asked, perhaps, in what light I considered the experience 
 through which I passed in regard to its rehgious influence, and whether 
 it was deemed by myself to be attended with true conviction of sin, or to 
 terminate in a change of heart? To this I feel compelled to answer in the 
 negative. My heart was too much in a state of bondage through the fear 
 of death, to agree to the character of one renovated by the faith of the gos- 
 pel. I never enjoyed an}^ of the satisfactions of religion, springing from 
 love to God, and confidence in his mercy, through Christ's atonement, as 
 the means or the pledge of pardon and acceptance as an heir of life.. Could 
 I have experienced this, it would probably have dispersed the thick and 
 dreaiy cloud that hovered around me, and would have darted sunshine 
 through the soul. It was a spirit of depression and despondency, as if all 
 hope were blighted, and I could look with no complacency upon the pre- 
 sent or the future. I struggled for deliverance, but every efi'ort was felt 
 to be in vain. I engaged in prayer because I dreaded iJie final judgment 
 of the Almighty, to which, in my apprehension, I might soon be called. 
 Looking on this life as having no interests /or /ue, and on death as all that 
 intervened between the prescMit and the irretrievable loss that was to fol- 
 low, every resource was cut off to wliich I might look for some satisfaction 
 to beam upon my mind, or replace its dejection with joy and courage. And 
 that which makes me tliinlc the more that I had none of the true spirit of 
 a cliild of God is, that in my wishes for relief, I thought but little of ita 
 nature, provided only I could effect an escape from the dreadful gloom 
 which constituted my misery. The consequence vfas, that in a very short 
 time after my return to cheerfulness and confidence, my thoughtlessness 
 of God, of piety, and a future world, in too great a degree returned vrith 
 them, until at length my mind became as w'orldly as ever. 
 
 It has been already mentioned that Dr. Witherspoon lived a mile from 
 town. It was already a long time that he had retired from the daily and 
 personal supervision of the college. He had become advanced in 3'cars, 
 and after passing much of his life, not only in an active and efficient man- 
 
agement of tlie institution^ but in a participation of public affairs^ and as 
 a member of Congress in the Eevolutionary War, lie souglit exemption 
 from tbe daily cares of collegiate government, leaving its maintenance 
 principally in tlie hands of Dr. Smith, who had married his daughter, and 
 who held the vice-presidency. Mrs. Witherspoon, whom he had married 
 in Scotland, died while I was a student, and some time afterwards it ap- 
 peared that even at that late period he resolved upon another marriage. 
 One morning, shortly after prayers, it was run- ore d among us that the 
 Doctor had set out very early, in the old family carriage for Philadelphia. 
 It was soon confirmed, to the surprise of all, for the matter had been con- 
 ducted in brief time, and principally, if not entirely, by correspondence, 
 with a lady of his acquaintance. He took breakfast that morning with 
 Dr. Armstrong, in Trenton, twelve miles on the way. Dr. xi. felt the sub- 
 ject to be of a delicate nature, and forebore all allusion to it, especially as 
 Dr. Witherspoon said nothing respecting it himself. Dr. W. was but lit- 
 tle in the habit of appearing in the style of that morning's equipment ; 
 probiibly it had been some years since the wheels of the ancient vehicle 
 had rolled under him. To make out a competent number of animals for 
 the draught, (less than four, it seems, would not do,) some were called in- 
 to this higher service, from the more humble functions of the cart or the 
 plough. It could not be expected, therefore, that they should appear in 
 uniform, as if they had been originally selected for purposes such as that 
 for which they were now arranged. As speedily after the dispatch of 
 breakfast as might be, the visitor and the visited passed to the door, one 
 for the continuance of his journey, the other to show honor to his guest, 
 as well as gratitude for the privilege he had enjoyed. For truly Dr. 
 AYitherspoon's conversation could multiply many times the pleasure of a 
 breakfast served up to a man in the best manner, by his own fireside, and 
 in the most auspicious circumstances. As ill luck would have it, if that 
 can properly be called luck which the circumstances rendered almost in- 
 evitable, the first thing that caught the eye of Dr. Armstrong, and in easy 
 good nature prompted the tongue, was the disparity in size, color, and 
 form that reigned luxuriantly among the quadrupeds. "Why, Doctor,'' 
 was his remark in pleasantry, " you do not seem to be very well matched. '^ 
 It will not appear strange if to one upon the verge of being a bridegroom, 
 at any age, though it might be sixty-two, which happened to be the Doc- 
 tor's, the image of horses, absorbing as that might be which was furnish- 
 ed by his own, v/as not uppermost in his thought. And this might espe- 
 cially be expected, when the one to v.hom he looked to be the bride, was 
 in all the bloom and fullness of two and twenty. That, therefore, befell 
 which the two friends had most studiously, and till this very last moment, 
 successfully eluded. The one spoke of horses, the other thought of niatri- 
 
mony; and the reply of the Doctor was, "I neither give advice, nor do I 
 take any/' This was said as he ascended into the vehicle, and both the 
 coachman and his animals commenced their respective functions with an 
 action commensurate with their energies. 
 
 A few days elapsed, and one morning it was whispered anjong the stu- 
 dents that on the previous evening the Doctor had returned with his bride. 
 This was at first offered in the shape of a surmise onty. But such a sub- 
 ject could not be permitted to rest without more light than A\hat the night 
 had thrown upon it. It was soon ascertained to be a fact, and a few of us 
 were forthwith deputed to solicit the intermispion of business for a day at 
 least, that we might all manifest our joy, and do honor to the occasion. 
 'We soon arrived near the Doctor's mansion, and while vre were yet some 
 distance from the door, he presented himself for our reception. We were 
 not a little delighted to be greeted with a welcome beyond v/hat we felt 
 ourselves assured in anticipating. We were invited with a flow of feel- 
 ing such as we had never observed in the Doctor, to enter, and then ad- 
 vancing to the side-board, to join with him in a glass of wine, which need- 
 ed not to have been so well selected as it was, to prove to us highly pala- 
 table and cheering. Being commended to drink to the health of the 
 bride, we answered by uniting that of the bridegroom also, with a respect- 
 ful wish, and I am sure an ardent one too, flowing from the bottom of our 
 hearts, for their happiness through many years to come. We informed 
 him that we appeared on the part of the college to ask some release from 
 ordinary business on an occasion so gratifying to us all, and that we might 
 have opportunity of manifesting our joy. " Yes, by all means, if it is your 
 wish,^' was the reply. " At such a time as this, we must admit a suspen- 
 sion of business for two days at least, if not three." In the length of time 
 spoken of, a discovery was made of something beyond our most sanguine 
 expectations. It was one, as may be supposed, in which we could see 
 nothing to mar our satisfaction. We were delighted to the full, and though 
 we could not press him to our bosoms, he found his way to our hearts. 
 We took our leave with grateful expressions, and hastened back with the 
 tidings to our fellow students. 
 
 At the close of the third day, a large piece of ordnance, a thirt3'-six 
 pounder I think, which was a relict of the Revolutionary contest, had 
 been brought up and placed before the college. At the first fire, as a sig- 
 nal, the whole front appeared illuminated as in an instant : at the second, 
 in an hour or tvro afterwards, the light was as suddenly extinguished. This 
 was the conclusion of the three days allowed us, falling little short in hil- 
 arity of feeling to our young bosoms, of that which had been excited in 
 older minds six years before, when intelligence was received that definite 
 articles of peace had been signed at the British court, recognizing the 
 
) 40 
 
 independence of these 'United States. I have related these incidents of a 
 college life, because • to some they may be amusing, who have been them- 
 selves familiar with it : to others who have not, they will serve as speci- 
 mens of the manner in which students live, or may be affected in their 
 peculiar circumstances. 
 
 It is a question which may easily occur, whether the youth is happier 
 who passes his early years in a University, or he who is reared to an occu- 
 pation vrhich through the game period calls him to bodily labor. The in- 
 quiry may be extended to the whole of life. It may be asked whether 
 any one has a greater prospect of enjoyment in a life of diligent mental 
 or corporeal occupation. As to indolence or unfaithfulness in the prose- 
 cution of either, they are not to be brought into view, both because they 
 are unworthy of our consideration, and if mixed with the subject, must 
 make it vrholly indefinite. It is certainly very common with students to 
 ])ant afcer the privileges of a rural life ; and perhaps it is no less so for 
 the son of the farmer, who is constrained to daily toil, as every one ought 
 to be Vvho io to follow that profession, to feel convinced that the opportu- 
 nities of a liberal education would crown his utmost wishes. It is proba- 
 ble that the uuhappiness of each is chiefly due, not to the nature of his 
 business, but to the indulgence of an unsettled mind, and of complaint 
 against the renewed exertion and confinement that return upon him in 
 uninterrupted continuance. Each of them knows and feels his own diffi- 
 culties and discontents, and it is through these that his conclusion is drawn 
 unfavorably to his own employment. Each looks at the occupation of the 
 other through imagination only. This selects tiie objects and colors of 
 the picture, and he longs for the pleasures on which his eye is directed, 
 without having forced upon his feelings the toils and solicitudes which ex- 
 perience would teach him to be inseparable from them. An actual sub- 
 jection to these would soon convince him that nothing was gained by the 
 exchange, were he allowed to make it. The true secret of human happi- 
 ness, so far as profession is concerned, is probably to be seen, not so much 
 in the employment, as in that discipline over ourselves which by directing 
 our efforts upon the greatest eificacy and skill in the performance of every 
 thing we would ^o, becomes interested in the result, and in the true and 
 efficient means of its attainment. Let not the farmer or the mechanic, 
 nor let their sons look vvith envy upon the privileges of the student. 
 Placed in his situation, subjected to his confinement, and to the same rig- 
 orous exaction upon his mental faculties in the daily task, he would pro- 
 bably soon sigh for exemption from them, that he might be replaced in the 
 condition which he had deserted with fond and disappointed calculations. 
 A student sometimes returns hom.e from the academy or the college, repin- 
 ing or clamoring with discontent^ and soliciting as a privilege to be em- 
 
41 
 
 ployed in some manual or bodily exertion, rather than continue under the 
 pressure and restriction of a college life. He is perhaps gratified by his 
 parent. A short trial convinces him of his misapprehensions, and he 
 eagerly compromises for a return to that from which his feelings had so 
 strongly revolted. This furnishes no evidence in behalf of collegiate fe- 
 licity, any more than that the blistering of the hands, or the soreness of 
 the muscles by the labor of the first days, would prove that the same ef- 
 fects and the sufi'erings from them arc to be borne continually, should he 
 addict himself to labor through the whole of life. Before we can be enured 
 to any species of industry, some uneasy, if not painful efi"ects, must be ex- 
 perienced. A mind unalterably fixed upon its purpose will find these to 
 be trifles. Once seasoned to its occupation, it is better capable of deter- 
 mining the satisfactions it is to enjoy in the choice which it has made. 
 Nor will it then do justice to its own election, if doubt and vacillation be 
 not perfectly excluded. In proportion as these are permitted to agitate 
 the breast, they will prove elements of dissolution to our happiness. All 
 envy at the imagined superior advantages of others, all repugnance and 
 fretfulness at the obstacles or inconveniencies that meet us as we advance, 
 are an unreasonable quarrel with the laws of nature, and the determina- 
 tions of Providence ; and if that be our temper, every situation and every 
 profession will harrass us with their occurrence in sufficient numbers to 
 make us dissatisfied with our lot. One who often counts the hours that 
 are passing, or which are yet to come before a release from his business, is 
 likely to find it too long for his wishes. Another who looks to the objects 
 he is bent on accomplishing, will be apt to think it too short, and instead 
 of abridging the day, he longs to extend it. The one who improves his 
 time with diligence, receiving it as it is meted out to him, in the prosecu- 
 tion of his settled purpose, admitting no wavering uncertainties to weaken 
 or tease him with discontents furnishes a third description of character ; 
 and which of them is likely to exceed in happiness, cannot be difficult of 
 determination. Let not the student, or the professional man, envy the 
 mechanic, or the flirmer. It implies that he wants self-discipline, and if 
 he continue long unhappy, the fault is in himself and not in his circum- 
 stances. Nor let the person whose business calls him to muscuUir action, 
 imagine that in literary, or professional life, he would be more highly fa- 
 vored. It is to this very indulgence of an uncertain mind that he owes 
 all his miseries. But who can be happy without reference to God ? How 
 shall any man, young or old, rationally hope to be blest, if his plans be all 
 chosen and pressed forward without the admission of the principle that He 
 rules and must be consulted in all our affiiirs ? In our diligence, our dan- 
 ger is that we shall rest in our own efficacy, and the sufficiency of the 
 world. If this be our spirit, it is essentially an error, nor is it one of 
 
 6 
 
42 
 
 minor consequence, which may take plaee^ and j^et we make our way with 
 disadvantages only. It is an error more fatal to our plans and efibrts, 
 at least to our happiness, than any other can be. This would appear to 
 carry with it the evidence of a first truth, an indisputable axiom, to the 
 judgment of the most enlightened mind, as well as the humblest christian. 
 The man who admits this, not merely as a general principle when he hap- 
 pens to come to it, but habitually and practically, in his meditations and 
 the execution of his plans, will find himself carried forward by consistency 
 to a complete acknowledgement of the gospel. 
 ^ After a continuance of four years and a half from the time of my join- 
 ing the senior class in the grammar-school, we were graduated in 1791, 
 my age being then eighteen years and a half. The delight I felt on that 
 occasion must have been excited by a disenthralment from the confining 
 rules and the ever-returning responsibilities of a college life, rather than 
 by any prospect of circumstances more exuberant in happiness. My edu- 
 cation was all that I could look to ; my fortune was to be made, and not 
 one definite object was before me to give direction to my movements. The 
 gay feelings that spread through m}^ bosom were overcast by a sombrous 
 aspect, diffusing through them a pensiveness that sometimes almost op- 
 pressed me. I had always been successful in my studies, and this was an 
 encouragement. But my views were altogether indefinite ; the world was 
 before me, and I knew not how I was to get hold of it, that I might bring 
 any ability I might possess into action, gain advantages, and then make 
 them avail for the acquisition of more. I had not even decided the pro- 
 fession I was to follow, and of course could not look any where for this 
 species of preparation. I was young, however ; my spirits were cheerful. 
 One thought in which I indulged was, that I had time to spare before 
 coming of age, and that I might afford to pass some of it in amusement, 
 in reprisal for the long confinement from which I was now emancipated. 
 This was an unhappy mistake, for I acted so much upon it, that the im- 
 provement of a year or two was lost ; which time, had it been faithfully 
 applied in a course of valuable studies, would have added largely to my 
 attainments. I went to reside with my mother and brother, who were now 
 at Black River, near Flanders, w^here he lived as a farmer upon the land 
 once my grandmother's, and which she had bequeathed to him at her death. 
 Some months passed away in idleness, or little better. I grew weary of 
 it, but knew not what to do. I was among farmers, and yet wholly un- 
 qualified to participate in their interests or occupations. I found that 
 capital without a market was of no value. They looked upon me as a 
 scholar, but they had no use for scholarship, and I was in danger of fal- 
 ling into disesteem, if not contempt, from the inefficacy of all that I 
 possessed for any profit to them or to myself 
 
4^ 
 
 At length it wad BUggestcd by some of theiii, tliat a few boys in the 
 village and neighborhood w^anted instruction in the languages. It was 
 proposed that I should teach them ; and so weary was I of doing nothing, 
 that I took refuge in the employment, though I thought it an humble bu- 
 siness. It was an easy business to me, and I took pleasure in looking again 
 at the beauties of Virgil, and unfolding them to my scholars. I contin- 
 ued some months to do this, but it was felt to be a matter of small moment 
 in comparison with the larger and higher objects of imagination. It wa.s 
 still a difficulty to know how to get at them. They rose up in numerous 
 and picturesque forms, but in my youthful inexperience and inability to 
 address myself to men, to make propositions or present inducements to 
 them, it seemed that it was all fancy only, which I began at last to think 
 was never to be realized. 
 
 Whatever else may enter into the purposes of the young, love is certain 
 to constitute a part. Some of our neighbors, as must always happen, made 
 a figure in property and consequence above others. Next door but one to 
 ours, was a family of this description. A young lady was of its number, 
 who I found began to fasten upon me in a manner so pleasing, that I had 
 no disposition to displace the thought of her by any reflections whicli 
 might be at variance with it as an inmate of my bosom. My morning 
 w^alks soon came to be decidedly more frequent by her house, than in the 
 opposite direction. If she happened to be visible, which was not unfre- 
 quently the case, as northern families in the country are apt to be in the 
 habit of bestirring themselves early, my eye would steal glances towards 
 her, which would serve to make the time till I returned home, pass with 
 more vivid enjoyment of the fresh air, the scenery around, the alacrity of 
 healthful sensation, and the enchanting tints difi'used by fancy over the 
 fields, and every subject of my thoughts. As yet our intercourse had 
 been but infrequent. "We w^ere both young, and could scarcely venture 
 to think of a matter involving such serious consequences as matrimony. It 
 was to our early minds too distant to be realized. Such at least I deemed 
 to be the state of her sentiments, from her manner, so far as I had ob- 
 served it. She was willingly communicative, but rather pensive than gay. 
 Her father had been educated for the ministry, but being of a slender con- 
 stitution, and somewhat apprehensive of pectoral weakness, he had made 
 choice of a farmer's life, that he might be called into activity, augment 
 bodily strength, and prevent that reaction of the mind which might over- 
 power it. Her mother was an excellent wonum, but fell much short of 
 her husband in sprightliuess and intelligence. 
 
 At length as my w^alks would recur, for they were agreeable, it seemed 
 observable that I was seldom, if ever, disappointed in seeing her ; and 
 when she appeared, it was not in a passing manner only, as at firr.t, but 
 
44 
 
 when I came into view her movement lingered, her eye became directed 
 upon mine, which, in spite of a repressive fechng of modesty to which I 
 was exceedingly subject, was sure to be turned upon her, and we would 
 almost stop under the influence that certainly fascinated me, and to which 
 I could not but flatter myself she was not wholly insensible. If the wings 
 of Mercury had been put upon my feet, I could not have felt lighter after 
 observations like these. My heart began to run upon this object with re- 
 newed interest through the day. And whenever the thought of Miss 
 returned, the probability that if I should seek a more intimate ac- 
 quaintance, the proffer would not be declined, excited in my young bosom 
 trembling emotions, to be set down under the head of enjoyment; for time 
 which had before dragged heavily, now glided along with a pleasing 
 smoothness, and my uneasiness at the idea that I was making no headway 
 towards the prospects to which I looked with indefinite contemplation, but 
 determined purpose, ceased to torment me. My walks were still renewed, 
 as I did not fail to be gratified with the appearance of her who was now 
 their principal motive, I loitered as I drew near, and when the bow and the 
 good morning were offered with a smile of interest and complacency, they 
 were returned with expression and manner which I thought I could not 
 misunderstand. I stood still and entered into conversation. The soft 
 and pleasant tones of her voice, with her willingness to listen and reply, 
 without any appearance of a disposition to terminate the interview, gave 
 delightful intimations that something of the same sentiment was alive in 
 her bosom, which was thrilling in mine. 
 
 After this our acquaintance grew more intimate. I visited the family 
 sometimes, and my reception implied that there was no unwillingness that 
 my visits should be continued. But to what purpose was all this ? was 
 an inquiry which began to press much upon me, and to occupy my thoughts 
 BS though I was engaged in an inconsistency with which I could not be 
 satisfied. I had never given up the idea that my destiny was to be mark- 
 ed out, not in the place where I then was, but somewhere at large, in some 
 other sphere, for the one in which I then moved was felt to be of dimen- 
 sions too diminutive to satisfy me. These considerations, though thrust 
 out of sight by the force of my first youthful experience of a passion that 
 reigns in the bosoms of all, began to weigh heavily upon me, whenever an 
 approximation to the final issue compelled me to look upon it as but a few 
 steps before me. I pretend not to say whether, if the plan of a matrimo- 
 nial connection with this young lady whose charms had given me more 
 knowledge of what it was to love than I had before acquired, had been 
 urged to a determination, it would or would not have been successful. It 
 was a question which in the existing circumstances, I felt too appalling to 
 bring to a crisis. Had it been pressed to a successful conclusion, it would 
 
15 
 
 have undoubtedly furnished another instance of Providential disposition^ 
 by which the whole course of my life would have been permanently di- 
 rected by a turn, as upon the minutest pivot, into a channel wholly differ- 
 ent from that in which it has flowed. To myself alone it can be supposed 
 a matter of any interest. But when every other person directs his eye 
 upon similar instances in his own history, in which circumstances the most 
 trivial have given a shape to the whole of his subsequent condition in the 
 world, the reflection becomes obvious and impressive, by what small events 
 Providence guides the destinies of our existence. 
 
 While in this situation which seemed tending to a crisis, and not long 
 after its last peculiarities which had been so delicately interesting to me 
 had occurred, I received notice, I scarcely remember how, that my services 
 as an assistant teacher would be acceptable in Elizabethtown, in the lower 
 part of the State. No hesitation was felt in accepting the oIFer. I left 
 Black Hiver forever, my studies were renewed, and the opportunities of a 
 polished community, and Hterary society were relished more exquisitely 
 after the tedious and dismal sequestration I had sufi"ered. My compan- 
 ionship, and the privileges of living under a ministry and in a congrega- 
 tion where religion was highly estimated, and its impressions were often 
 deeply felt, proved the means of turning my thoughts and affections anew 
 and with more intensity on that subject. The result was such that the 
 question of a profession, which had never yet been decided, terminated in a 
 conclusion, if God would sanction it with his grace, that I would commence 
 a course of studies for the sacred ministry. With much diffidence and 
 apprehension, I entered on the prosecution of these subjects under the 
 direction of the Rev. David Austin, then pastor of the Presbyterian con- 
 gregation in the place. A relative of his by the name of Sherman, was 
 my companion in study. My obligations both to the uncle and the ne- 
 phew, for their personal kindness and encouragement, have ever been re- 
 membered with the deepest and most affectionate gratitude. Poor Sher- 
 man, as himself told me some years afterwards, in a letter, renounced Or- 
 thodoxy and espoused Socinianism. Other events afterwards befell, dis- 
 tressing and mortifying in their nature, which were successively heard of 
 by me with surprise and regret. They must have been humiliating to liim, 
 but it is useless to repeat them here. They imply nothing, however, that 
 will affect his moral character, except it were true, as I was told, that he 
 became, at least in some degree, intemperate. 
 
 Some months after commencing the study of Divinity, it was proposed 
 to me to undertake the instruction of an academy at Springfield. To ob- 
 tain funds, I entered into negotiation upon the subject. The gentlemen 
 who spoke of it, appeared to me at first rather cool and reserved for my 
 feelings, for their manner implied some apprehension respecting the re- 
 
4G 
 
 suit. I felt and manifested more independence than was consistent with 
 my circumstances, for it was really a matter of some consequence to me to 
 \engage in the business. AVhile we were conTersing on preliminaries, and 
 were on the point of reaching a conclusion, a letter came from Dr. Smith, 
 of Princeton, proposing that I should become a tutor in the college. As 
 soon as these gentlemen were aware of this, they manifested no small sur- 
 prise and agitation, and their urgency grew continually, until while I per- 
 severed in my conclusion to accept of the tutorship, I was in danger of 
 being charged with improperly disappointing them, as though a contract 
 had been already made. On this, however, they could by no means in- 
 sist. I asked them whether as friends, they would advise me to accept of 
 their offer in preference to my prospects at Princeton. They candidly re- 
 plied that they could not, and so we parted upon sufficiently good terms. 
 At the college I instantly began to feel the vast difference between the 
 privileges of a student in a place where science and literature were the 
 professional occupation of all around me, and abroad in the world, where 
 the prosecution of these objects not only was unsupported by a communi- 
 ty of feelings and interests, except perhaps with one or two, but seclusion 
 from much intercourse was indispensably necessary to any tolerable suc- 
 cess. In the midst of professors, and scholars, and libraries, bent upon 
 as great attainments as I could compass, having a taste for learning and 
 intent on qualifying myself liberally for a profession, I was happy in ex- 
 patiating upon classic ground, and desired nothing so much as the very 
 privileges I enjoyed of traversing the volumes which it was my duty to 
 take as my guides to the ulterior purposes before me. Nothing troubled 
 me so much as an interruption of my studies. This had been much the 
 case through the whole course of my education, and as my disposition was 
 in general kindly towards others, I never could well understand how num- 
 bers of young men could be prompted as they evidently were, not only to 
 lavish as much time as possible in idleness, but to interpose obstructions 
 with almost a spirit of malignity and persecution, in the way of others who 
 were studious of abstraction and improvement. It is evident, however, 
 that where there is no community of sentiment among men, they are not 
 satisfied with neutrality or indifference toward one another, but grow into 
 opposition and even mutual hatred. To prevent this, self-discipline is 
 more or less necessary. Its cultivation and establishment through society 
 is one evidence of superior civilization. But the spirit of forbearance 
 can never be fully comprehended, but by the exposition of the gospel to 
 the mind and the heart, not in their ordinary natural state, but as they are 
 made capable of the proper feelings of this virtue, by the Spirit of Him 
 who revealed and illustrated it in the scriptures. And if forbearance, 
 which is but a negative virtue, cannot be known and felt without such 
 
47 
 
 a reformation, much less can the spirit of that positive celestial charity ho 
 supposed producible by us, which binds all in the creation that arc under 
 its influence, to the throne of God and to one another in tics, which by 
 his own formation, are the certain and only pledge at once of individual 
 and universal happiness. 
 
 The same variance in taste, sentiment, and interest is exhibited in the 
 little society of a college, as agitates the world at large, through its com- 
 munities and governments. There is no condition, indeed, in which we 
 may not learn human nature, and find it the very same in one as in another. 
 In every one will be enough of the evil passions and obliquities to sicken 
 or wound us with their offensive forms, and thanks be to Him who pre- 
 serves and governs this vrorld as a probationary state in mercy, there is a 
 mixture of better characters and qualities, sufficient not merely to recon- 
 cile us to the evil, but to create attachments even in the best of men, by 
 which they cling to their objects as with a dying grasp. 
 
 While residing at Princeton this third and last time, an incident occur- 
 red once more of a nature to impress upon me awfully the perfect uncer- 
 tainty of life, while we are in the height of its enjoyments, in the vigor 
 of youth, and when the peril is unsuspected the moment before we are in- 
 volved in it. A young man fully grown, by the name of Simpson, was a 
 student of the college. It happened that some intimacy grew between 
 us, as might easily be, as I occupied a room in the college building. In 
 the warm season of the year, we agreed to take an early walk to the usual 
 place of bathing, because the air would be fresh, and we should be with- 
 out other company. Simpson, though of full size and age, could swim 
 but little ; scarcely with skill and confidence enough to venture into deep 
 water. It was different with me, and while he was practising in shallow 
 places, the freedom and repitition of my passages over the deeper part^, 
 there was reason to think became a temptation to him. In setting off 
 from where he was to pass up the stream, which could not be done with- 
 out swimming further than he had ever before attempted, I called out to 
 him with a cheering voice, and without thinking whether he would make 
 the trial or not, to follow on. I arrived at the shallow water above, and 
 on turning round was surprised to see him arrived at the middle of the 
 deepest part. He seemed to be doing very well, and I told him so for his 
 encouragement. Almost instantly afterwards I saw him place himself de- 
 liberately in an erect attitude, and descend as we generally do, to try the 
 depth of the water. His appearance was so much that of self-possession, that 
 it seemed handsomely done; but when he rose, as a little afterwards he did, 
 his person shooting almost half above the surface, and the water project- 
 ing a full stream from his mouth, a sudden horror seized me; F saw that 
 he had given out at the time when ho went down; in his confusion, he 
 
48 
 
 had hoped the depth might not be too great for him ; it was, however, far 
 over his head, and, if he had held his breath at all, he had instantly ceased 
 to do so, Without assistance, he must inevitably drown, perhaps before 
 I could get to him to aiFord it, even if I were able. I was aware of the 
 convulsive struggles of a drowning man, and had often heard how dan- 
 gerous. I was small and light; he was larger than the ordiuaiy size in 
 bone and muscle, and had the appearance of unusual strength. The mo- 
 ment I saw him in that desperate situation a sudden compunction flashed 
 through me for having probably been the occasion of his losing his life, 
 when I so rashly spoke to him to follow from the starting place ; and, be- 
 side this, I could not indulg^e for a moment the thouo^ht of seeing him 
 drown without an effort to save him. All these considerations passed 
 through my mind in far less than the time necessary to their utterance, 
 for we think with almost incredible rapidity in such extreme emergencies. 
 In fact, he had no sooner disappeared again, after rising out of the water, 
 than I was on the way, whatever was to be the consequence. 
 
 In passing to the spot where he was struggling with death, I observed 
 that he still continued to project himself above the water from the bottom, 
 as often as he sunk. My plan forgetting him out was, to avoid his grasp 
 by going up behind him, in such a manner that by reaching out my right 
 hand in front and taking hold of his left arm near the shoulder, I might 
 exert upon him, steadily, as much force as was necessary to support his 
 head above water, and so push him forward to the shore, depending on 
 the other arm and my feet for swimming. This method was thought of 
 on the way, for when I set out I really had not considered how the object 
 was to be accomplished. It was, I believe, the third time of his appearing 
 above the water, when I was so near him as to arrive where he was, against 
 the next time, and place myself for taking hold of him, should he come 
 up once more. While he was in view this third time, I called out to him 
 with a voice exerted to the utmost, "To let me alone, and I would get him 
 out.'' I certainly did not reflect in the pressure of the moment, that he 
 might as well have been expected to hear me and follow my directions, as 
 if he had been in the remotest extremit}^ of the globe. He arose once 
 more, and finding myself precisely in the position I wished, I attempted 
 to grasp his arm, but as I might have anticipated, it was too large for one 
 so much smaller as I was than himself, especially at that part, and beside 
 this the smoothness occasioned by the water, and the convulsive violence 
 of his motions, convinced me at once that my scheme was utterly hopeless. 
 He went down once more, and I was filled with horror in the despair of 
 saving him. The next moment, liowever, I felt his fingers grappling at 
 my legs, xAih such an indication in the manner as shocked me with the 
 conviction that if he succeeded in layingshold on me, which had novr cvi- 
 
49 
 
 dently become his object, we must both drown together. In an instant 
 I was in the utmost stretch of exertion to escape from him. Still hia 
 hands now and then continued to be felt, and always with a terrifyin"- 
 violence. I was convinced that I had swam far enough to be out of his 
 way, and could not imagine how it could be that when I was persuading-- 
 myself that I must be safe, his contact filled me with fresh alarm. I be- 
 gan to think that it would be impossible to elude him. My efforts, how- 
 ever, were of course continued, though I knew nothing of the direction in 
 which they were made, until my breast struck upon the sliore. I was 
 surprised when this occurred, that it should have been so completely in- 
 visible to me. No sooner had it happened than turning round, I saw Simp- 
 son standing erect upon his feet, within four feet of me, his eyes closed, 
 and the water shooting out of his mouth in a copious and continued stream. 
 The relief felt when my own safety was ensured was as great as it was 
 sudden, but how exquisite was the joy when I saw that he too was secure. 
 While I had been making my way to the best of my ability at the surface 
 of the water, he had been instinctively pursuing hard after me, though 
 buried under it, and had felt the bottom in the same moment that I had 
 touched the shore. He had been long struggling in the arms of death, 
 but to my astonishment it soon appeared that I was much more exhausted 
 than he. In walking half the mile we had to go to the college, my strength 
 was wholly gone, and sinking upon the ground, I called upon him to give 
 me time to rest. He showed no extreme debility, but seemed able to 
 walk the whole distance without any such distress. My system certainly 
 had no claims to the strength of his, but although while in the water, be- 
 fore missing my aim at his arm, I had retained perfect self-possession ; 
 from the moment I felt his clutch, it must have been a perfect panic 
 with me, and my powers were overdone by the intensity of action that fol- 
 lowed. The consequent langor, however, was not of long continuance. 
 Rest, and the first meal produced no small repairs, and the pleasure felt 
 for the safety of us both, probably hastened the system to its usual activity, 
 so that by the next day the efi"ects were no more perceptible. 
 
 I shall not think it worth while to note many incidents of my second 
 continuance at Princeton, except that I was called to act as tutor in the 
 college, and one other. 
 
 In the tutorship my time was principally occupied in giving critical 
 perfection, as far as possible, to my knowledge of the classical authors 
 which it was my business to teach. This was at once my duty and my 
 delight. It may be supposed, of course, that my qualifications to instruct 
 were not questioned. But the part of a tutor's office which consists in 
 government, is by no means certain to run parallel with knowledge and 
 the ability to communicate it. This was the occasion of much solicitude^ 
 
 7 
 
50 
 
 and of more trial to my feelings than I should have consented to bear, 
 had it not been that advantages of improvement of a practical nature re- 
 commended \% and that the necessity of funds imposed it upon me. My 
 feelings were always delicate and sensitive, and this put it easily into the 
 power of those to whom the thought of being under authority was upper- 
 most as ungrateful in their situation, to take revenge upon the unfortu- 
 nate being whose indispensable duty it was to enforce the rules of the col- 
 lege. No provocation was necessary to call into action a spirit of mischief, 
 tumult, and attack. No plea of necessity for quiet to the success of study, 
 or for decorum and respect for the enjoyment of privileges and credit in 
 society, was of sufficient avail to repress disorderly conduct, or prevent it 
 from growing into outrage if it was not met and resisted. He, then, who 
 exercises authority, especially over the young, may expect to be unreason- 
 ably assailed by some at least, whose study it will be, and who will there- 
 fore be far more successful than in prosecuting their education, to punc- 
 ture his feelings, and to inflict torture upon them in an exquisite degree. 
 The true and only remedy for such evils is forbearance, cordial solicitude 
 for the real welfare of the young whose tuition is entrusted to us, and 
 unremitting fidelity to the obligations binding us to the institution that 
 looks to us for a conscientious discharge of the office it has devolved upon 
 us, and for which we have made ourselves responsible. The instructor 
 iu whose bosom these motives are habitually alive, may, and will be, 
 thoughtlessly or rudely assailed by the unfeeling, the discontented, and 
 the unreasonable ; but his motives and proper character will be irresistibly 
 felt, and in the hour of trial he will be sustained against all the efforts of 
 obloquy and opposition. It i^ difficult, if not impossible, for a young man 
 acting in a tutorship to know at all times the estimation that attends him 
 in his personal or official character. Incidents will occur to make him feel 
 himself disparaged and depressed. The wounds which appear intention- 
 ally inflicted upon him, are apt to be felt much more deeply than accords 
 to the real merits of the case, and if the officer be not mercifully inclined, 
 he may easily exceed in the infliction of punishment. The conviction of 
 the offender in his own mind, and his reclamation from his fault, are cer- 
 tainly the first objects of a teacher, and scarcely to be relinquished, until 
 all the efforts of reason and affectionate solicitude have failed, and the 
 stubbornness and invincible adherence to a bad cause, after time for reflec] 
 tion, have decided his case to be hopeless. The student who yields in 
 such a struggle, furnishes greater assurance against future disorder or mis- 
 conduct, than can be gained by a treatment that aims to deter by severity; 
 and if he persist, the penalty which becomes necessary, will ensure all the 
 efficacy which it is the proper object of exemplary discipline to secure. 
 He who seeks to win the heart upon correct principles, will with difficulty 
 
51 
 
 be resisted. If he even be met in return with rudeness and insolence, let 
 him not despair, for these if rightly received, furnish fresh pledges of final 
 
 success. 
 
 In the beginning of September, 1796, I set out upon my journey to 
 North Carolina. Mr. Charles Harris of that State had been acquainted 
 with me while he was a student of Nassau Hall. It was but a year that 
 he was at Princeton, for he entered the Senior Class on his admission into 
 the college. So little had been our personal intercourse with one another, 
 hat I afterward scarcely remembered that I had ever seen him. This was 
 about the year 1791. In 1796, the University of North Carolina had 
 commenced its business, and Mr. Harris was acting as Professor of Mathe- 
 -natics. Having determined to make the law his profession, he accepted 
 ohe professorship for a short time only, and at the close of the year he 
 was to relinquish his place in the college. He had understood that I was 
 in the tutorship at Princeton, and sent me a letter to know whether I 
 would consent to be appointed his successor. I was as incompetent as a 
 child to determine the answer I ought to give. I could do nothmg but 
 refer the question to others whom I supposed better judges, and whom I 
 had reason to consider as my best and sincerest friends. The opinion of 
 most, if not all, was, that I ought to accept the offer if it should be made 
 As to myself, it was flattering to my feelings, and presented a prospect of 
 respectable and permanent income. I had but little practical knowledge 
 of men, but felt quite convinced that if I was qualified to engage at once 
 in any species of business, it was in teaching rather than any thmg else. 
 If my acquaintance with the world, even where I had grown up mto it, 
 was but small, of that part of it into which I was going, it might be liter- 
 ally said that I knew nothing. I might have had an idea that some dit- 
 ference was to be seen in the state of society, and in the manners and 
 customs of the people; but in what the peculiarities specifically consisted, 
 I certainly had no conception. It was concluded that it was best to travel 
 bv private conveyance, and after bidding an adieu, more trying to my feel- 
 in J than I had supposed it was to be, I found myself with horse and gig 
 on'the road to Philadelphia. I stopped at Dr. Armstrong's in Trenton, 
 to receive from him letters of introduction to gentlemen of Hillsborough, 
 in North Carolina, where he had resided some time with the Ame^^^^;^ 
 army as chaplain during the Revolutionary War. Coming to Philadel- 
 phia on a Saturday, I was invited to preach the next day in Dr. Green s 
 pulpit in Arch street. On Monday morning, one or two elderly gentle- 
 men, who appeared incidentally to call, began to say that they had under- 
 stood I was on a journey to another part of the country, but they had 
 started the question whether it might not be possible and expedient to 
 stop me where I was. They alluded to a vacant pulpit, which it seems, 
 
some suggestion liad been made, tliat I might "be invited to occupy as 
 pastor. To this Dr. Green suddenly, and in a manner somewhat more de- 
 cisive than was agreeable to me at the moment, remarked that the matter 
 he believed to be totally decided : that I was on my way to Carolina, and 
 that to Carolina he understood I was certainly to go. It would be to no 
 purpose, therefore, to speak of plans which might be at variance with this. 
 My disposition was exceedingly pliant at that age ; I had been accustom- 
 ed to look to others for determination more than to myself; the sugges- 
 tion had struck suddenly upon my ear; my mind, it was true, had felt it- 
 self conclusively settled as to its object, and although there was an instan- 
 taneous and involuntary start of revolt in my bosom at the promptness 
 with which Dr. Green undertook to pronounce for me, the matter passed 
 away without any thing farther said, and the next day I again found my- 
 self on the road. The gentlemen who had entered Dr. Green's house, 
 and commenced with the remark respecting the object of my journey, 
 which they had learned, I knew not how, undoubtedly were about to pro- 
 pose that I should remain some little time in the city, to give further op- 
 portunity to some vacant congregation to which they probably belonged 
 as elders, to form an opinion of me as a minister, and determine whether 
 they might not give me a call. On this I have sometimes ruminated, as 
 to the eifects it might have produced upon the whole aspect of my life, 
 had their proposition been listened to, and followed by a relinquishment 
 of my prospects in the South, for a pulpit and a congregation in the city. 
 It has impressed upon me anew, how surprisingly we are in the hands of 
 u God's providential interposition. 
 
 Should we place an elastic ball upon an immense plain, and imagine 
 a motion given to it which would continue through the distance of 70 
 miles, and that it was subject, every now and then, to be acted on by 
 impulses from other balls coming into contact in all various directions, 
 sometinies laterally, sometimes obliquely in the direction of its motion, 
 and then contrary to its direction, sometimes in the same line against, at 
 other times in exact concurrence with its course, now with great efficacy, 
 then with an action scarcely discernible, it would be a question of no easy 
 solution, where such a rolling body was likely to be found at any period 
 of its motion, how far it would have proceeded, or in what line it would 
 be advancing. It would have set out with an impetus originall}^ inqjurted 
 to it, and which is afterwards its own, it ever continues with an impetus 
 forward, and these have a share of influence in determining both its dis- 
 tance and its course, but it is only a portion of' influence which it exerts. 
 How much is ever depending upon other influences and impacts which in 
 continual succession are meeting it on every side, and whose arrival both 
 in time and place is wholly from without and independent of itself. Will 
 
53 
 
 not tills serve as an analogous illustration of tlie life of a being setting 
 out in the world, and advancing through it under the controlling power of 
 an overruling Providence ? Let it not be imagined that I would confound 
 the distinction between moral and physical motives, or consider them the 
 same in their nature. Were this true, all responsibility would be taken 
 away, and fatality be alike applicable to the material and spiritual world. 
 Moral action is wholly diverse in its very nature, from material action, and 
 it is in this difference that we forever continue accountable for every 
 choice we make, and every deed we perform. In this very circumstance 
 we see the wonderful and unsearchable wisdom of God. We might have 
 been made acquainted with one species of agency only, the physical : and 
 then every result, and our whole progress through existence, would have 
 been with no more accountableness on our part, than the ball would be 
 answerable for its position or direction at any particular moment. But 
 this it seems is not the only way which God can devise for the influences 
 of Providence. He can connect with his government over his creatures, 
 a responsibility as complete on their part, as though any exertion of power 
 by himself were wholly excluded. Who shall deny this wisdom and this 
 ability to God ? All the issues of our lives are the result, not of physi- 
 cal necessity, but of moral certainty, so connected in us with freedom of 
 choice, and felt with a conviction so complete, that when God judges us, 
 every mouth shall be stopped, for we shall know that our [destiny as to 
 happiness or misery, has been of our own framing. We cannot choose our 
 own circumstances externally, but while we are standing in them, we can 
 choose or retain our principles. It is by these that a character is impar- 
 ted to us in the eye of our Heavenly Father, and it is with these that he 
 connects our happiness or misery by inviolable conditions. 
 
 NOTE 
 
 [The following Note was written by a relative and pupil of Dr. Caldwell 
 who, it seems, intended to prepare a Biography of Dr. C. to accompany the 
 Autobiography. From some cause he failed to execute that intention, and the 
 preface to his biography is here inserted as it gives the motives which proba- 
 bly actuated the writer in penning the Autobiography.] 
 
 When a man dies who has filled a considerable space in the public eye, 
 there seems to be a natural and just curiosity to know something of his 
 private history, his parentage, his education, the events of Providence and 
 the personal exertions by which he at length rose to merited distinction. 
 This public interest in the history of a man who has been snatched by 
 death from the stage of the world where he was acting a conspicuous part 
 may be turned to valuable account. The memory of such an individual, 
 who was of late the object of love and veneration, may be made a vehicle 
 
54 
 
 of much valuable instruction which would never have obtained access to 
 the mind, if offered in a didactic form, unembodied with the narrative 
 It is fortunate when the subject of the memoir, himself, has left us authentic 
 materials for the history of the earlier and more obscure part of his life. 
 The development of all that secret portion of a man's history which passes 
 within his own bosom, the geography, if we may be allowed the figure, of 
 that terra incognita which, though rich in veins of gold, must have remain- 
 ed always unknown, but for these personal disclosures, has often been 
 found interesting enough to make amends for the absence of incidents and 
 adventures, and has rendered Confessions and Autobiographies the most 
 attractive of all publications. Such an advantage the writer of the pres- 
 ent memoir enjoys, having found among the papers of his deceased relative 
 two small manuscript volumes, containing an account of his life till the 
 year 1796 when he set out for the State of North Carolina, at the invita- 
 tion of the Trustees of the University to become Professor of Mathematics 
 of that institution. This memoir of himself it has been thought best to 
 introduce in the form in which it was found. It is supposed that the compiler 
 of this volume will perform his task in a manner more gratifying to others 
 who will take an interest in perusing it, if even a considerable portion of 
 it should be occupied with personal narrative and private reflections rather 
 than with sermons — a kind of composition with which, and that too of 
 first-rate excellence, the world i already so full that there seems to be 
 little use in increasing the ctock All, I presume, which his friends and 
 the public of North Carolina wo'ild desire besides the personal and official 
 history, is a specimen of a few sermons, which together with that may 
 furnish their libraries with a memento of the man who was thought so 
 great a benefactor to this State and who is endeared to so many, as the 
 preceptor and guide of their youth. 
 
 From several passages in the narrative it would appear not to have been 
 intended for the public eye, but only designed for the perusal of his 
 circle of friends and to furnish authentic materials in case any future ac- 
 count of him should be called for. The reader will, therefore, make re- 
 quisite allowance for any want of care in the composition which he may 
 discover. The complaint, however, will probably be of the opposite fault : 
 too great formality and precision of expression, which it must be con- 
 fessed characterized his style in a considerable degree, and of which he 
 could not quite divest himself even in relating the familiar transactions of 
 his private life. But although the reader will probably remark occasion- 
 ally an involved and circuitous construction of his sentences, yet he will 
 perhaps admit that oftentimes the thought is given forth with more 
 strength from these tortuous involutions, as the stone from the sling, de- 
 riving impetus from its numerous gyrations. 
 
biography; 
 
 A very brief notice of the early circumstances of tlie T,^niversity ol" 
 North Carolina, may not be misplaced or deemed impertinent here, as Dr. 
 Caldwell's connection with it began in its infancy. The act of Corpora- 
 tion was past in 1789 ; but little efficient aid was given by the Legisla- 
 ture of the State towards the accomplishment of the undertaking. 
 Grants of escheated property and of certain monies due to the State, and sub- 
 secpently, of all confiscated property, were made ; but of this latter source 
 of revenue, the Trustees were soon afterwards divested, and the others 
 were never very productive, except in Western Lands, the value of which 
 remained for a long time little more than nominal, though at this day 
 constituting a splendid endowment. Private munificence compensated 
 the tardiness of the public benefactions. Gov. Benjamin Smith made a 
 donation of twenty thousand acres of land ; 3Iajor Charles Girard be- 
 queathed thirteen thousand acres, and numerous contributions in money 
 were made throughout the State, which enabled the Trustees to commence 
 the buildings necessary for the accommodation of the students. But all 
 these resources together were not commensurate with the magnitude of 
 the enterprize; and the College struggled through a very feeble infancy 
 for several years, until a development of its resources and the zeal and ener- 
 gy of its friends, brought it to a condition of more maturity and stability. 
 The labors and constantly increasing reputation of Br. Caldwell, were in- 
 strumental, in no small degree, in effecting this result; and he was per- 
 mitted to live to see our Institution rising from the humble condition 
 of a mere Grammer School, progressively through all the successive gra- 
 dations of usefulness and respectability, to the high and honorable station 
 which it occupied at his death among the Universities of the land. May 
 we be pardoned for adverting here to one article in the Act of Incorpora- 
 tion, which seems to have been nugatory, from the limitation as to the 
 time annexed to it, but the purpose of which might still be partly carried 
 
 * This Biographical Sketch of Dr. Caldwell is designed to illustrate the life 
 of that great and good man after ho became connected with the University of 
 North Carolina in 1790. His early life is modestly narrated in the preceding 
 pages by his own hand. We have not liecn aljlc to procure a more copious 
 narrative, therefore we have taken the liberty of re-publisliing, with verbal 
 and other modifications, the last part of the admirable "Oration on the Life 
 and Character of Rev. Joseph Caldwell, D. D., L. L. D., delivered in 1835, by 
 Professor Walker Anderson." 
 
 8 
 
58 
 
 into effect in perfect consistency with its original design. It was enacted 
 that six of the Halls, attached to the College precincts, should bear the 
 Barnes of the six individuals who, within four years, should be the largest 
 contributors to the funds of the institution. It is probable, that with the 
 exception of Grov. Smith's, there were not within that period any bene- 
 factions of such an amount as to warrant the Trustees in giving effect 
 to this provisional act of gratitude ; but the magnitude of one subsequent 
 benefaction, at least, may well redeem it from the penalty annexed to its 
 tardiness. Of the eight buildings constituting our present accommoda- 
 tions, one does honor to the name of one contributor, and the Chapel 
 serves as a monument to the memory of another. The others are yet un- 
 appropriated; and, as we shall presently see, we are indebted for the 
 largest of them, to funds accumulated from individual donations by the 
 active exertions and persevering industry of Dr. Caldwell. He has been 
 our most munificent benefactor, and to him should be awarded the highest 
 meed of honor. Nor should the labors in our behalf of the lamented 
 Mitchell go unremembered, when we come to christen our new edifices. 
 The business of Education in the University of North Carolina was 
 commenced in the early part of the year%795 ; Mr. Hinton James of 
 Wilmington, the first Student, having arrived here on the 12th day of 
 February of that year. The first InstMictor was the Eev. David Kerr, a 
 
 Grraduate of Trinity College, Dublin, assisted by Mr. Holmes^ in the 
 
 Preparatory Department. Very shortly aftervrards, the Professorship of 
 Mathematics was filled by the appointment of Mr. Charles Harris, of Ire- 
 dell count}", and a Graduate of the College of New Jersey. It was not 
 the intention of Mr. Harris to engage permanently in the business of In- 
 struction, his views being directed to the Profession of the Law ; and when 
 lie accepted the Professorship, it was with the understanding that he was 
 to relinquish it at the expiration of one year. Mr. Harris, while at Prince- 
 ton, had formed an acquaintance with Dr. Caldwell, but their personal inter- 
 course was so slight, that the latter scarcely remembered that he had ever 
 seen him. His recommendation of Dr. Caldwell, therefore, as his suc- 
 cessor, is a proof of the high estimation in which the latter was held by 
 all who had an opportunity of knowing him, and is a forcible illustration 
 of the influence which undeviating rectitude and close attention to the 
 duties of their station exercise over the future destinies of the young. 
 
 To the penetration of Mr. Harris, and his agency in fiUing the 
 Professorship vacated by himself, with so competent ?u successor, North 
 Carohnians owe an eternal debt of gratitude. The letter to Dr. Caldwell, 
 enquiring whether he would accept the Professorship of ^lathematics, 
 reached him, as we learn in his autobiography, while engaged in the discharge 
 of his Tutorship at Princeton, and employing such a portion of his time as 
 
59 
 
 could be spared from his more immediate business, in fitting liimself for the 
 ministerial office. The invitation being unsolicited, was unexpected, and 
 found him wholly unprepared with an answer. The question was referred to 
 his friends, who were supposed by him to be better judges than himself. 
 They advised him to accept the offer; and, as it was flattering to his own 
 feelings, and presented a prospect of a respectable and permanent income, 
 he yielded to their advice, and accordingly signified to IMr. Harris his de- 
 termination to accept the Professorship, if it should be offered him by the 
 Trustees of the College. The appointment was made by an unanimous 
 vote of the Board, and Dr. Caldwell, after being admitted to the ministry 
 in the Presbytel-ian Church, left Princeton in the beginning of Septem- 
 ber 1T9G, for his journey to the South. AYhile passing through Phila- 
 delphia, he was invited to preach in the pulpit of Dr. Ashbel Green, and 
 made so favorable an impression, that inducements were held out to him 
 to remain in the city, with a view of taking charge of a congregation 
 there. By the advice of Dr. Green, he at once rejected the proposal and 
 pursued his way to North Carolhia. At the time that Dr. Caldwell be- 
 came connected with the University, its pretensions were very humble. 
 In consequence of the slender patronage extended to it in its infancy, it 
 was more tlian five years, as we have seen, after the incorporation was 
 passed, before the business of instruction was commenced. A single 
 building of two stories, now known as the East Building, was the only 
 edifice, Imd that was occupied in part by the Preparatory School. Two in- 
 structors only were employed, and the scale of studies was exceedingly 
 contracted when considered as the course prescribed by a University. 
 Throughout the whole establishment, there was much to try the feelings 
 and ex'ercise the patience of those to whom was entrusted the task of 
 maintaining its discipline and communicating instruction. The popula- 
 tion of th^ country was in general rude and uncultured, to a degree of 
 which one, who has not marked the progress of the change, will find it 
 difficult to conceive. The young men, bringing to this place the senti- 
 ments and manners which they received from the associates of their earlier 
 days, were but ill-prepared for that quiet devotion to the pursuits of lite- 
 rature and science, without which, the apparatus of professors and libra- 
 ries and other fiicilities for acquiring knowledge, can be of little avail. 
 Among the early associates too of Dr. Caldwell, were some of loose prin- 
 ciples °and corresponding habits, who threw additional obstacles in his 
 way. For these reasons, the early part of his connection with the Uni- 
 versity was to him a scene of severe suffering and trial; and he seems at 
 first to have been ready to yield to the promptings of his natural mchna- 
 tion, and to have retired from the turmoils and perplexities of his situa- 
 tion, to the less responsible and arduous, though humbler, station he had 
 
60 
 
 left. A record is found on tlie Journal of the Board of Trustees at 
 that period, of the resignation of his appointment; but he was induced to 
 withdraw it immediately, and to continue at his unpleasant, but honorable 
 post. He then nerved himself with fresh resolution to encounter the diffi- 
 culties which lay in his path ; and, by the exercise of an untiring devotion 
 and unshaken fidelity, aided by a resolution and decision of character, 
 which, though not wholly natural, could not be daunted, he at length 
 brought the unformed mass to a degree of order and respectability, which 
 none can fully appreciate but the associates and successors to his labors. 
 In the formation of his character as the presiding officer of an institution 
 in which were thus met the wildest clenients of insubordination, we see 
 a striking illustration of the effects of an unwavering determination to 
 walk in whatever path duty may point out. To those who witnessed the 
 exercise of this character in its full vigor and efficiency, it is scarcely 
 credible, how much it was a formation of the circumstances of his situa- 
 tion, united to a conscientious resolution to make himself useful and hon- 
 orable in the station he occupied. Yet we have the best reasons for 
 knowing, that, in incipient manhood, he 'shrunk from every thing like 
 sternness and the rigid enforcement of authority, and was much in the 
 habit of looking to others to determine for him in difficult emergencies. 
 His career at Princeton, it is true, had somewhat broken in upon this 
 gentleness of disposition; but the situation of a subordinate officer of a 
 long established College, was widely different from that of the head of an 
 Institution such as ours was in its infancy, and called for the exercise of 
 very different principles. After seeing and clearly estimating what his 
 new station demanded of him, he shook off every opposing habit and 
 feeling, and gave himself up with a noble resolution, to a faithful and 
 diligent discharge of its duties. Hov/ well he fulfilled this resolution, 
 will be attested by many a grateful heart and sympathising bosom through- 
 out our State. 
 
 During the first nine years of its existence, no one of the officers of 
 the University was distinguished by the title of President. In 1804, Dr. 
 Caldwell, who had for some time been the presiding officer, and who at 
 all times subsefjuent to his introduction into the Faculty, had been its 
 master spirit, was elected to the Presidency. He had then been recently 
 married to Miss Susan E,owan, of whom he was deprived three years af- 
 terwards by death, as well as of an infant daughter, the only fruit of the 
 marriage. He was again married in 1809, to Mrs. Hooper, who survived 
 him. The limits prescribed for this article, will not admit of any ex- 
 tended detail of the incidents of the period of Dr. Caldwell's life subse- 
 quent to his elevation to the Presidency, if indeed it were necessary; but 
 they arc best known from their results, so richly scattered over the whole 
 
Gl 
 
 face of our land, and so manifest in the circumstances in wliich our insti- 
 tution now stands, as contrasted with its feebleness and immaturity when 
 first confided to his fostering care. After the first few years of his Presi- 
 dency, the reputation of the University, continually advancing, attracted 
 so man}' students, that the want of enlarged means of accommodatino- 
 them became very urgent; and the building now known as the ^outh 
 Building, much the most spacious of all we have, and containing most of 
 the recitation rooms and lecture halls, was commenced and prosecuted, for 
 some time, with vigor. But the Legislature having withdrawn the bounty 
 it had before extended, and divested the Trustees of some of the sources 
 of revenue originally assigned to the use of the University, left them un- 
 der the necessity of suspending the prosecution of this work, and leaving 
 it in a condition unfit for any useful application. Two years longer the in- 
 convenience of narrow accommodations was submitted to; but the still 
 increasing number of students caused the want of the additional building 
 to become more and more pressing. At length Dr. Caldwell, whose inter- 
 est in the institution was never confined to the faithful discharge of the 
 duties of his peculiar office, requested of the Trustees permission to make 
 an appeal to the liberality of the friends of education throughout the State. 
 Nor did he appropriate to this business, any portion of his time required 
 by his more immediate duties. During the six weeks vacation of the 
 summer of 1811, he visited such parts of the State as were within his 
 reach, and having headed the subscription list with his own name and a lib- 
 eral donation, he obtained the sum of $12,000. This liberal contribution 
 enabled the Trustees to push the work on to completion and thus to secure 
 that patronage, which, in all likelihood, v/ould have been soon withdrawn, 
 in consequence of actual want of room. This well-timed relief gave a 
 new impulse to the progress of the institution in public favor, until addi- 
 tional buildings were once more needed for the reception of students. 
 But the resources of the Trustees had become more ample, and more suf- 
 ficient to provide all the required accommodations. Having removed this 
 impediment which so seriously threatened the prosperity, if not the very 
 existence of the University, and having seen it grow up from the humble 
 condition in which he found it, to respectability and usefulness, Dr. Cald- 
 well thought that, without hazarding the interests of the institution, he 
 might now yield to the inclination which had never left him, of devoting 
 more time and attention to study, than the duties of the Presidency al- 
 lowed him, and accordingly, in 1812, he resigned his situation, and re- 
 turned to the ^Mathematical Chair. Apart, however, from the preference 
 which he felt and thus indulged, of devoting himself to the task of in- 
 struction rather than of direction and discipline, he was contemplating the 
 execution of a literary labor in which he took much interest, and which 
 
62 
 
 remuiiis as a monument of liis skill in adapting the details of an abstruse 
 science to tlie comprehension of the young. We allude to his work on 
 Geometry, which, though not published for some years afterwards, (1822) 
 engaged much of his attention and time during the interval which elapsed 
 between his retirement from the Presidency and his reluctant resumption 
 of it in 1817. The subject is one which, in the ablest hands, does not at 
 the present day admit of much that is strictly original. The most skil- 
 ful mathematician who undertakes a work of this kind, must content 
 himself with moulding into new forms the materials handed down lo him by 
 writers of other times, and with introducing occasionally a demonstration 
 that is new, more lucid, or more direct and brief. The object proposed 
 by Dr. Caldwell in this publication, was to produce a system less extend- 
 ed and tedious than that of Euclid^ but comprising all the capital propo- 
 sitions of that Geometer, and retaining, throughout his strict and rigid 
 methods of demonstration — an object which he will be allowed by all com- 
 petent judges to have well and happily accomplished. Upon his resigna- 
 tion of the Presidency, Pr. Robert Chapman was selected by the Trus- 
 tees as his successor. After holding the office for five years, Pr. Chap- 
 man retired in 1817, and Pr. Caldwell was induced to resume the situa- 
 tion, which he continued to hold during the remainder of his life^ though 
 not without making efforts to resign it. The distinguished success which 
 •atfended his labors did not fail to attract attention from abroad, as it 
 excited the admiration and gratitude of the friends of the University at 
 home. In 1816, the Trustees of the College of New Jersey, his alma 
 mater, conferred on him, by an unanimous vote, the degree of Poctor of 
 Pivinity. xVnd subsequently inducements were lield out to him by at 
 least two respectable Colleges to change his situation j but he clung to 
 our College with a paternal devotion, commensurate with the obligations 
 it owed him ; and, with a determination which appears to have been 
 formed very soon after his first connection with it, he resisted every at- 
 tempt to draw him to a more lucrative appointment. 
 
 After his re-appointment to the Presidency, he pui sued the even tenor 
 of his way, dispensing intellectual and moral good tlirough all our bor- 
 ders. One event, with its auspicious consequences, vv'ill detain us a few 
 moments, before we come reluctantly to that solemn period, when the 
 shadows of the grave began to gather over his bright and benificent ca- 
 reer. The Trustees having determined to add to the facilities for im- 
 provement already enjoyed by the students of the University, a Philoso- 
 phical apparatus, and additional volumes for the Library, Pr. Caldwell^ 
 entrusting the temporary supervision of the College to the Senior Profes- 
 sor who deservedly possessed his and the public's entire confidence, visited 
 Europe, in order to direct, in person, the constuction of the apparatus, 
 
and the selection of the books. lie sailed from this country in the month 
 of April, 182-1, and landing at Liverpool, proceeded immediately to J^on- 
 don, to accomplish the object of his voyage. After having put the busi- 
 ness in a train that promised to lead to its speedy completion, he passed 
 over into France ; and traversing that country, by the route of Paris and 
 Lyons, after visiting the Lower Alps, passed through the western part of 
 Switzerland and Germany, and proceeded down the llhine as far as 
 Frankfort, whence he returned to London. Subsequently, he visited 
 Scotland ; and at length returned to this country, after an absence of 
 ten months. The fidelity and skill with which he discharged the trust 
 confided to him by the Trustees, are abundantly attested by the excellence 
 of the apparatus which now occupies our lecture rooms, and by the value 
 of the addition made to our library. But far the most interesting result 
 of his visit to Europe, was the strong feeling excited in his mind on the 
 subject of internal improvement — a subject, which perhaps engrossed 
 more of his thoughts during some of the last years of his life, than a^y 
 thing else connected with this world. The sound practical views which 
 he entertained on the introduction of this system into our own State, and 
 which are ably and clearly set forth in the numbers of Carlton, have 
 commanded the admiration of every enlightened citizen; and the zeal 
 with which he advocated it on every suitable occasion, and long after 
 disease had impaired the energies of his body, must secure him the last- 
 ing gratitude of every true friend of his couutry. It is well known, that 
 the magnificent project of a railroad to reach from Beaufort to the moun- 
 tains, originated with him, and was advocated with such ability as to have 
 rendered it a favorite measure of State policy with some of the most en- 
 lightened and devoted patriots of our land long before his death, and 
 finally led to the construction of the N. C. Central and Atlantic and X. 
 C. Railroads. 
 
 The first access of the disease by which Dr. Caldwell's life was finally 
 brought to a close, occurred in 1828 or 1829 ; after which period, as he 
 states in a note made in 1831, he was never in the enjoyment of good 
 health. Nearly the whole of the six or seven years which elapsed before 
 the termination of his sufferings, was a period of unremitted uneasiness; 
 during a considerable part of it his bodily sufferings were severe, and 
 often, he was the victim of excruciating pain. He seldom spoke on the 
 subject even to his most intimate friends ; and having a singular power 
 of subduing and controling his emotions, he would often wear upon hig 
 countenance a calmness and serenity, that indicated to a stranger, an en- 
 joyment of the blessings of existence ; when, to those better acquainted 
 with him, it would be revealed by some involuntary movement, that this 
 appearance of ease and comfort, was not maintained without a powerful 
 
G4 
 
 struggle. But the triumpli wliich disease was tlius achieving over the 
 body, did not, till the very last hours of his existence, extend to the 
 faculties of his mind, or impair, in the slightest degree, the devotedness 
 of the interest with which he cherished the institution, that for so many 
 years had been the object of his fostering care. It is true, that within 
 the last two years of his life, when acute and unceasing suffering disabled 
 him from taking his wonted share in the business of instruction, he 
 proffered to the Trustees the resignation of his office of President; but it 
 was under an apprehension that he was becoming an incumbrance to the 
 College, and would not be able to make a full return of service for the 
 salary attached to his station. That honorable body with a liberality and 
 feeling of gratitude worthy of them and of him, resisted the attempt 
 made by him to surrender the trust he had received from their predeces- 
 sors. But to relieve him from the task of instruction, and to secure to 
 him the leisure and tranquility which his age and infirmities demanded, 
 they established an Adjunct Professorship, to provide for his entire 
 withdrawal from the labors of his station. The individual selected by Dr. 
 Caldwell himself to fill this professorship. Walker Anderson, A. M., 
 brought to the filial task, a heart full of veneration and love, and a reso- 
 lution to fulfil to the uttermost the pious purpose of the Trustees. But 
 though provision was thus made, by the character of the professorship 
 and the disposition of its incumbent, for the entire release of Dr. Caldwell 
 from the business of instruction, he could not be induced to avail himself 
 of the indulgence to the extent proposed, but resolutely persevered, till 
 within three days of his death, in performing as much labor as his fast 
 declining strength was equal to. One half of the ordinary duties of his 
 professorship he reserved to himself, and manifested a settled purpose to 
 abide by this arrangement, by assigning to his adjunct, in addition to the 
 other half, a portion of the general business of the College. Though his 
 frame was racked with unremitting pain, and worn and wasted by sleep- 
 less and tortured nights, yet on no occasion, except during an attendance 
 on the Presbytery to which he belonged, and a visit to Philadelphia in a 
 fruitless effort to find relief from his sufferings — on no other occasion did 
 he devolve these reserved duties on his associate, though often and earn- 
 estly entreated to do so. " Sepidchri immemor, struit domos,." On the 
 Saturday previous to his death, he retired from the lecture room to his 
 bed, from which he never rose again, but under the impulse of his mortal 
 agonies. 
 
 The religious character of Dr. Caldwell was not the formation of a day, 
 nor the hasty and imperfect work of a dying bed. His trust was anchored 
 on the rock of ages, and he was therefore well furnished for the terrible 
 conflict that awaited him. We have seen in his autobiography that he 
 
65 
 
 liad made religion tlic guide of his youth ; it beautified and sanctified the 
 kibors of his well-sj^ent life; nor did it i'aii him in the trying hour, whicli 
 an all-wise but inscrutable providence permitted to be to him peculiarly 
 dark and fearful. The rich consolations of his faith became brighter and 
 stronger, amidst the wreck of the decaying tabernacle of flesh ; and, if 
 the dying testimony of a pure and humble spirit may be received, death 
 had for him no sting — the grave achieved no triumph. In any frequent 
 and detailed account of his religious feelings, he was not inclined to in- 
 dulge — the spirit that walks most closely with its God, needs not the 
 sustaining influence of such excitements — yet a few weeks previous to his 
 death, a friend frgni a distant part of the State calling to see him, made 
 inquiries as to the state of his mind, and had the privilege of hearing 
 from him the calm assurance of his perfect resignation and submission to 
 the will of God. His hope of happy immortality beyond the grave, was 
 such as belongs only to the Christian, and by him was modestly and hum- 
 bly, but confidently entertained. It was to him a principle of strength 
 that sustained him amidst the conflicts of the dark valley, and to those 
 who witnessed the agonies of his parting hour, a bright radiance illuming 
 the gloom which memory throws around the trying scene. On the even- 
 ing of the 24th of January, 1835, his terrible disease made its last 
 ferocious assault, with such violence, that he knew that his hour of release 
 was at hand. He gratefully hailed the anxiously expected period, and 
 his house having long since been set in order, he withdrew his thoughts 
 from earthly objects, and calmly looked upon that futurity to whose verge 
 he was come. By the exercise of prayer and other acts of the holy reli- 
 gion which he professed, he strengthened him for the last conflict, and 
 spoke words of consolation and hope, to his sorrowing friends. Eut death 
 was yet to be indulged with a brief triumph, and for three days his suf- 
 ferings were protracted with such intensity, that his vigorous and well 
 balanced mind sank beneath the contest. We willingly drop the veil 
 over the bitter recollections of that hour, and take refuge in those high 
 and holy hopes, which were the last objects of his fading consciousness, 
 and which had lent to the long twilight of his mortal career, some of the 
 light of that heaven to which they had directed his longing gaze. To no 
 one who lived at that time, need we tell of the universal and heartfelt 
 sorrow, with whicli the intelligence of Dr. Caldwell's death was received 
 throughout the State. Multitudes there were, who felt that they had 
 been deprived of a personal benefactor — of one, whose kindness and the 
 value of whose services to them, are more and more valued, as increasing 
 experience points out the worth of those labors which the young can never 
 fully appreciate. The Trustees of the University, more than one half of 
 whom had been students of the institution while under his charge, be- 
 
 9 
 
66 
 
 came the organs of the public sentiment, in the expression of the general 
 grief. Some of them, with alumni and others from abroad, mingled in 
 the train of the bereaved officers and members of the College, in commit- 
 ting to the dust all that remained to them of their departed Father. All 
 that remained, did we say ? AVe look around us, and stand rebuked for 
 ihe desponding murmur. The labors of a useful life, to use the thought 
 of the old stoic^ are like things consecrated to God, over which mortality 
 has no power. ^^ Usee est pars temjmris nostri, sacra ac dedlcaia; quam 
 no,i inojiia, non metiis non morhorum incursus exagitat." The pure and 
 patient spirit has long since escaped its narrow and tempest-stricken prison 
 house, the wasted form is now resting from its sore conflict, in the blessed 
 hope of a joyful resurrection, but those consecrated acts of his useful life 
 remain with us, to spread their benificent influence through successive 
 generations. It is trite remark to speak of the ever-renewed efi"ects of 
 such an influence -, but calm observation and reflection abundantly sanc- 
 tion the warm effusions of our grateful admiration. The benefits received 
 from a faithful instructor and guide of our youth, are not only transmitted 
 to cur children, but through our whole lives exert a diffusive influence 
 throughout the sphere in which we move. "We may say, therefore, with- 
 out the fear of contradiction, that the whole present generation of the 
 citizens of North Carolina owe to the memory of Dr. Caldwell, gratitude 
 as well as admiration; and that we are indebted to his agency, directly or 
 indirectly, more than to any other inditidual, for the very remarkable 
 change that has taken place in the moral and intellectual character of our 
 State within the last sixty years. We speak not only of the fruits of his 
 labors, as a faithful instructor and ripe scholar, though it were not an easy 
 task to estimate their extent. We claim not for his tomb, only the sphere 
 and the cylinder which decorated that of Archimedes — we speak of the 
 whole moral influence of his life and labors — as a christian minister, an 
 enlightened and active patriot — as one who conscientiously fulfilled all the 
 duties binding him as a man and a Christian ; we claim to write upon his 
 tomb the proud but safe defiance — " Uhi loj^sus?'^ The relation in which 
 Dr. Caldwell stood towards a great part of the youth of his day, will 
 justify us in inviting the attention of our younger readers to a brief consid- 
 eration of the principles of that moral strength, which Dr. Caldwell 
 exerted with such salutary power on all who came within his influence, 
 and in endeavoring to draw from thence some lesson of wisdom or motive 
 to exertion. In allusion to the little knowledge which we possess of the 
 early studies of the illustrious Newton, Fontenelle applied to him the idea 
 of the Ancients respecting the unknown source of the river Nile : " No 
 one has ever looked upon the Nile in its feebleness and infancy." But 
 we have been more favored. That magnificent stream which fertilized 
 
67 ' 
 
 and blessed our borders for so many years, we have just been tracin^i^ up 
 to its youngest and freshest fountains, and it is permitted us to draw from 
 thence, new draughts of instruction and delight. As in his maturer 
 years, Dr. Caldwell was the guide and governor of young men, so, in his 
 youth, he should be their example. They should learn that it was in his 
 early life, that his character, in its great outlines, was irrevocably fixed • 
 that the honest, candid, generous and open-hearted boy ^' foreshowed the 
 man" who brought to the engagements and occupations of after life, the 
 same ennobling principles. 
 
 His example confirms, what the example of thousands teaches us, that 
 it is not by sudden and solitary acts of volition that men prepare them- 
 selves to become conspicuous, in either good or evil ; but by a discipline 
 commencing in childhood, and continuing through youth far into maturer 
 life. If it may be permitted us to look into the elements of that mighty 
 intellect which has been prolific of such momentous results — into the 
 '^altse penetralia mentis" befoie which we bow with such reverence and 
 admiration — we would say that Dr. Caldwell was not indebted in any ex- 
 traordinary degree to the bounty of Nature, for the extent and perfection 
 of his large mental acquirements. To patient and persevering industry 
 his youth was indebted for that wide and solid foundation, on which the 
 patient and persevering industry of manhood reared so noble a superstruc- 
 ture. But that which we have ever esteemed the great primary element 
 of his intellectual excellence, was the perfect accuracy which he gave to his 
 every mental acquisition. However slow, a strict regard to this funda- 
 mental quality might make his progress appear, it was never sacrificed to 
 the whispers of indolence, nor to the murmurs of impatience. Whatever 
 progress was made, though it were slow and painful at first, the ground 
 was thoroughly conquered, and every outpost fully occupied ; nothing 
 was left unfinished to annoy him by the necessity of constant retrospec- 
 tion, nor to impede his onward march by a sense of insecurity and doubt. 
 Nor is the eventual flight of a mind, thus solicitous about the accuracy 
 and perfection of its first movements, less rapid or less elevated than the 
 towering, but unequal essays of what is sometimes called genius. The 
 latter may at times soar to the highest heavens, but it has often to stooj) 
 to earth to repair the deficiencies of its early preparation ; while the for- 
 mer, having once surmounted the difficulties and dull delays of its lower 
 flight, thenceforward moves in a purer sk}- — 
 
 Heaven's sunshine on its joyful wa}^ 
 And freedom on its wings. 
 
 Nor, while thus presenting his intellectual character, would we lose 
 sight of the great moving principle of his moral character. In one word, 
 the Religion of Jesus Christ gave direction and efficiency to all his varied 
 
68 
 
 works. To its claims he sacrificed evei*y conflicting passion and propen- 
 sity of early youth, and it became the easy habit of his manhood and old age. 
 
 It has been supposed by some, that the dignity of manner, sometimes 
 approaching to sternness, which characterized Dr. Caldwell's intercourse 
 with the students of the University, Vv^as the result of a corresponding 
 sternness of temper. This injurious thought might be easily repelled by 
 the testimony of those who were admitted to the high privilege of social 
 companionship with him, and who could bear witness to the kind and cour- 
 teous, though still dignified demeanor, wdiich marked all his intercourse 
 with them. Circumstances, easily understood, imparted to his manner, 
 when brought into contact with those under his charge, a certain degree 
 of reserve ; which, however, was gi-eatly misunderstood, if regarded as 
 indicating a want of sympathy with their youthful feelings, or a wish to 
 repel them from communion with him. The brief glance which we have 
 taken at the early condition of our College, and its tempestuous elements, 
 which then needed a master-spirit to subdue and control them, reveals to 
 us the necessity there was for that authoritative dignity and decision of 
 character, which, after that period, so eminently distinguished Dr. Cald- 
 well. In obedience to the law which was the rule of his life — the fitting 
 himself to fulfill, in the best possible manner, the duties of the 
 station in which Providence had placed him — he moulded his temper and 
 deportment to the demands of his peculiar situation; and, if in more 
 quiet times he did not entirely recede from the manner which circumstan- 
 ces had forced upon him, something must be forgiven to the inflexibility 
 of habits acquired upon principle, and continued from necessity through 
 many successive years. But who are they who have brought this charge 
 of sternness against his memory? Those who judge hastily and superfi- 
 cially, not those who had the best opportunities of knowing him They 
 who were brought into the closest contact with him, say that, though 
 hardened vice was ever frowned upon with severity, yet, when ingenuous 
 and honorable contrition was excited, his brow was the first to relax, and 
 his tongue the first to drop the balm of kindness and encouragement. 
 
 In his general intercourse. Dr. Caldwell was accessible and courteous, 
 and though in his usual habits, much devoted to study, he relished, in a 
 very high degree, the pleasures of intellectual society. In the various 
 domestic relations of life, he exhibited the kindest and gentlest traits of 
 character ; and, with a heart and hand open as the day to melting charity, 
 he was the beloved benefactor of the whole circle in which he moved. 
 
 We have endeavored to trace, though with a feeble hand, the incidents 
 of a life so dear to us all, and to unfold some of the traits of that charac- 
 ter which has been so long our pride and admiration. 
 
f 
 41- 
 
I FOR USE ONLY IN 
 
 THE NORTH CAROLINA COLLECTION 
 
 IHfS IITLE HAS BEEH MICROFILMED 
 
 ■orm No. A -363