THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 / 
 
 / 
 
 n\^ J^^ /r-'^^
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 THOMAS J. MUMFORD, 
 
 Memorial Tributes. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 GEORGE H. ELLIS, loi MILK STREET. 
 
 1879.
 
 Stereotyped and Printud by 
 
 Geo. H. Ei.i.is, 
 
 loi Milk Street, Boston
 
 h- 
 
 3 
 
 < 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 fllArXKR I'AOK 
 
 iNTROnUCTION 'ii 
 
 I. Review of Early Like i 
 
 II. Choice of the Ministry 7 
 
 ill. I'RErARING FOR MeADVILI.E II 
 
 IV. In the Theological School iS 
 
 V. Life in Detroit 30 
 
 VI. At Marietta <'>5 
 
 G VII. Removal to. New England 70 
 
 "" \III. The Episcopal Church 78 
 
 ^ l.\. Life in Dorchester 81 
 
 ^ .\. Editorial Life 98 
 
 E5 .\1. LA.ST Hours 113 
 
 .\II. Funeral Services 115 
 
 Address of Rev. James Freeman Clarke, D.D. 117 
 
 5! Address of Rev. Rufus P. Stebbins, D.D 121 
 
 ^ Hymn 124 
 
 > Address of Rev. J. H. Morison, D.D 124 
 
 o 
 
 ^ Hymn 130 
 
 XIII. Biographical Sketch 131 
 
 XI\'. A Memorial Sermo.v 142 
 
 . \V. Personal Trihutes . . . ico 
 
 O 
 
 (J Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney 159 
 
 ^ Cyrus A. Bartol 160 
 
 Q George W. Hosmer 162 
 
 03 John H. Heywood 165 
 
 ^ Charles (i. Ames 168 
 
 Elizabeth P. Channing . 171 
 
 Jasper L. Douthit 173 
 
 Henry G. Spaulding . 175 
 
 Henry H. 15arber 17S 
 
 Mary Bartol 181 
 
 VViliiam P. Tilden . . 1S2 
 
 Poem, N. M. Safford ,187 
 
 XVI. Rp:solutions .... . 188 
 
 .Wll. Notices of the Press 192 
 
 MSSo"-?
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 To those who knew and loved Thomas J. Mum- 
 ford, this little book will need no justification. 
 They will welcome it, not simply as a tribute to his 
 memory, but as a fresh and genial manifestation of 
 his spirit. There is not one who knew him well 
 who may not find here an opportunity to know him 
 better. In the letters which furnish nearly one-half 
 of the contents of this book, they will recognize 
 in the touch and charm of his gifted pen, new 
 exhibitions of his playful wit, his earnestness of 
 character, his strength of conviction, his heroic 
 devotion to the truth, his unwavering conscien- 
 tiousness, and that sweetness of heart which gave 
 a rich aroma to his whole life. And many of those 
 who knew him not according to the flesh may 
 delight to find in the revelations of his higher life 
 that deeper touch of moral nature which makes 
 the whole world kin. They will recognize a friend 
 whom they would like to have known, as the visitor 
 in a picture gallery is now and then charmed and 
 taken into the friendship of some one revealing 
 face, or as Paul loved the Jesus whom he had never 
 seen. 
 
 Those who were fortunate enough to have Mr. 
 Mumford as a pastor found ready access to the
 
 iv Introduction. 
 
 inner temple. The rare gifts of his nature had, in 
 this relationship, free scope for personal expression. 
 In the hearts of those whom he had thus helped and 
 served, there are tender memories which this book 
 could hardly supplement. But the far wider circle 
 of those who knew him only as an editor had not 
 an equal advantage. They could feel the pressure 
 of mind and heart in every number of his bright 
 and attractive paper ; for Mr. Mumford in his sphere 
 as editor had an unusual power of making himself 
 felt without allowing himself to be seen. Yet there 
 were few who, appreciating his editorial work, did 
 not suspect that the man was more than the editor, 
 and who did not really lose in their distance from 
 him even more than they suspected. 
 
 It is no disparagement to Mr. Mumford's success 
 that he was known far more widely by his work 
 than he was by his name. Few editors were so 
 quotable as he. Many of his best paragraphs were 
 reset and reprinted in other journals, which intro- 
 duced him frequently to a large circle of readers 
 who never knew the author, but who certainly felt 
 his influence. Just how widely he was known and 
 appreciated as an editor did not appear until his 
 life was closed. Then the flood of notices from 
 the religious press, representing all denominations 
 and all sections of our country, revealed the depth 
 and extent and nature of the impression which his 
 editorial work had made. The unanimity of this 
 impression, and the cordiality with which it was 
 acknowledged, furnish a striking proof of the gen-
 
 Introduction. V 
 
 uineness of the man and the effectiveness of his 
 work. At the close of this volume, the reader will 
 find some of the cut flowers which his editorial 
 brethren far and near scattered so profusely over 
 his tomb. 
 
 Mr. Mumford's name and fame might safely rest 
 in the work which he did and the recognition it 
 received ; but we feel sure that there are many 
 beyond the range of his intimate personal friends 
 who will be glad to learn something more of the 
 growth and development through which it was 
 achieved. 
 
 "Every man his own Bos well," is the motto of 
 the "Autocrat of the Breakfast Table." We doubt, 
 however, if Mr. Mumford could ever have been 
 induced to write an autobiography. But in the 
 letters which are presented in this volume, he has 
 unconsciously furnished us the best kind of auto- 
 biography. They were not written for the public 
 eye. The writer had no suspicion that they were 
 even to be preserved. They were addressed to inti- 
 mate friends, — the majority to his spiritual father 
 and guide, the Rev. Samuel J. May, — at periods 
 of life ranging from youth to manhood. They 
 were the fresh, spontaneous utterances of an active 
 intellect and an affectionate heart. Arranged in 
 chronological order, they furnish an almost con- 
 nected account of his life from childhood until 
 within a week of his death. They reveal the 
 struggling and aspiring youth, the eager and indus- 
 trious student, the kind husband and father, the
 
 vi Introduction. 
 
 earnest preacher, the tender pastor, and the brilU 
 iant journalist. 
 
 It has been the aim, in arranging these letters, to 
 let them speak for themselves. All editorial matter, 
 except that which was necessary to link them to- 
 gether, has been excluded. No attempt has been 
 made to form a complete collection of Mr. Mum- 
 ford's letters. If this had been the object, the 
 present collection might well be deemed incom- 
 plete. He was a prompt and faithful correspond- 
 ent, and many of his friends who read this book 
 can claim bundles of letters which they will regard 
 as of equal value with any it contains. The 
 preponderance which is given to the letters ad- 
 dressed to the Rev. Samuel J. May will need no 
 explanation wherever the beautiful relationship 
 which subsisted between them is known. The 
 story of that friendship he told briefly as he stood 
 near Mr. May's grave : — 
 
 " Born in Beaufort District, South Carolina, where 
 four-fifths of the inhabitants were slaves, the son 
 of a slave-holder, until I was twenty years old I 
 believed in slavery as a divine institution, and 
 carried a Bible in my pocket to defend it against 
 all comers. When the faithful hands of noble 
 Quaker women removed the sacred veil which had 
 concealed the monstrous features of the system, 
 and I saw clearly at last that it was not of celes- 
 tial but infernal origin, I soon lost all faith in my 
 religious teachers, who seemed to declare that man 
 was made for the Church and not the Church for
 
 Introdiiction. vii 
 
 man. I was almost drowning in a sea of scepticism, 
 when Samuel J. May came to the town in Western 
 New York where I lived. 
 
 " As soon as I saw his radiant face and heard his 
 sweet yet earnest voice, I felt drawn to him by a 
 mighty magnetism. It became my first desire to 
 share in the blessed work that he was doing, to 
 follow him, although with feeble steps and a great 
 way off, in going about doing good. Since that 
 day, all of my life that I can look back upon with- 
 out regret and shame I owe to the inspiration of 
 his example and the power of his encouragement. 
 No other friend has exerted such an uplifting influ- 
 ence upon my spirit. Therefore I could not resist 
 the strong attraction which has drawn me here 
 to-day." 
 
 It was this strong and abiding attraction in the 
 character of the distinguished reformer which im- 
 pelled Mr. Mumford, at the urgent request also of 
 Mr. May's friends and executors, to write the life of 
 his spiritual counsellor and benefactor. The letters 
 in this volume may properly be considered as a 
 sequel to that work. They throw light, not merely 
 upon the character of him who wrote them, but also 
 upon the character of the noble man who inspired 
 them. They show in what way that friendship was 
 formed, and into what a tender union it ripened. 
 We cannot but feel that all who rejoice in a frank, 
 manly, earne5t, and devout nature will find assist- 
 ance in reading these warm and guileless exhala- 
 tions of a pure and consecrated heart. They furnish
 
 viii Introduction. 
 
 a high yet normal key to which every young and 
 aspiring life should be tuned. 
 
 The second part of the book is made up of the 
 personal and biographical tributes which were pub- 
 lished in a few numbers of The Christian Register 
 immediately after Mr. Mumford's death, together 
 with the friendly notices from the press which that 
 event called forth. Interesting details and por- 
 traiture of life not revealed in his letters may be 
 found in a biographical sketch by the Rev. Rush 
 R. Shippen and in the sermon of Mr. Chadvvick. 
 These papers have been revised to adapt them to 
 the more permanent record of this book, while the 
 addresses made at the funeral have been preserved 
 in the same free and spontaneous form in which 
 they were caught by the stenographer's pen. 
 
 There is still another tribute tenderly recorded in 
 this book to which it is most pleasing to revert. It 
 is that which is silently expressed in the love and 
 respect borne for Mr. Mumford by the publisher, his 
 intimate friend and associate, and also by all those 
 who have assisted in its mechanical preparation. 
 This part of the work has been committed to no 
 strange hands. It has been set up and printed 
 by those who knew him well, who had so often 
 followed his copy, and who were glad to pay him 
 a printer's tribute of respect by the faithful use 
 of the very same types whose imprint he so con- 
 stantly read. No more cordial relation ever sub- 
 sisted between editor and publisher, or between 
 editor and printers and proof-readers, than sub-
 
 Introduction. ix 
 
 sisted between Mr. Mumford and his co-vvorkcrs 
 on the paper. The CJiristian Register was one of 
 the first papers in Boston upon which women com- 
 positors were regularly employed. IMr. Mumford 
 was a warm champion of this innovation, and was 
 fond of pointing to its success. He was proud of 
 the "girls," as he called them, and the acknowl- 
 edged excellence of the typographical work of the 
 Register shows that his pride was well founded. It 
 is not surprising, then, that those whose interests 
 he had so much at heart should delight to illus- 
 trate in his honor the fidelity and graces of that 
 art through whose aid he achieved his highest 
 success. 
 
 In the harmonious union in this threnody of the 
 voice of him, who being dead yet speaketh, with 
 the antiphonal song of those friends, — teachers, 
 parishioners, brother-ministers, fellow-editors, and 
 co-workers — who have gathered around his grave, 
 there is blended in low undertone the minor strain 
 of her who above all others has most right to 
 mourn. Writing most of the editorial connectives, 
 furnishing the facts for others, suggesting and select- 
 ing the letters which so well reveal his spirit, she 
 has brought, like one of old, her sweet spices and 
 ointment to tenderly embalm the memory of him 
 whose spirit can no more be contained in the grave 
 than could the spirit of him from whose tomb the 
 angel rolled away the stone. 
 
 S. J. Barrows.
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS,
 
 LIFE AND LETTERS OF THOMAS J. MUMFORD. 
 
 REVIEW OF EARLY LIFE. 
 
 First Letter to Samuel jf. May. — Story of his Yout/i. — 
 Aspi}-es to the Ministry. — Zeal for Reform. 
 
 Waterloo, N.Y., Jan. 8, 1849. 
 Rev. S. J. May: 
 
 Dear Sir, — Permit a stranger to ask a favor of 
 you. I wish to know what peculiar qualifications are 
 necessary to fit a candidate for the ministry of the 
 Unitarian Church, the nature and extent of the prep- 
 aration, the places where the studies may be pursued, 
 and the plan of the Cambridge Divinity School. If 
 you will send me an answer to these inquiries, I will 
 thank you most heartily. Trusting that you will 
 pardon the liberty I have taken, I am, 
 
 With great respect, your humble serv't, 
 
 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 P.S. — If you are willing to listen, I will be glad to 
 
 inform you of my reasons for asking the questions 
 
 above, and to avail myself of your instruction and 
 
 advice. 
 
 Waterloo, N.Y., Jan. 21, 1849. 
 
 Dear Sir, — Your kind letter of the nth inst. was 
 duly received. The extracts from the "Register"
 
 '2 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 contained the information that I desired, and I thank 
 you for your prompt compliance with my request. 
 
 Agreeably to your suggestions, I shall now write 
 an explanation of my object in consulting you; and 
 that it may be intelligible, I will preface it with a 
 brief narrative of the most important events of my 
 past life. § 
 
 I am now twenty-two years of age. I am a native 
 of South Carolina, but have resided in this place for 
 eleven years. I have received an ordinary academ- 
 ical education. I left school in 1844, and entered 
 upon the study of the law. After I had almost com- 
 pleted my preparatory studies, I abandoned the idea 
 of becoming a lawyer. My reasons for so doing 
 were twofold : I had become slightly deaf, and thus 
 unfitted for successful practice at the bar, and I was 
 sorely disappointed in the nature of legal practice. 
 I could not reconcile myself to that indiscriminate 
 advocacy of the right and the wrong which seems 
 to be required by the present state of the profession. 
 Last spring I became one of the editors and pub- 
 lishers of the Seneca Coimiy Courier, the old Whig 
 organ of this county. Soon after I entered upon my 
 editorial career, I was compelled to choose between 
 interest and duty. Gen. Taylor was nominated, and 
 I promptly refused to support him. About the first 
 of September, I was compelled to sell my paper to 
 the more orthodox Whigs. This act was performed 
 with reluctance ; but I could not afford to make any 
 more pecuniary sacrifices, even for the cause of Free- 
 dom. I now intend, for several years at least, to
 
 Life and Letters. 3 
 
 pursue the editorial calling ; but I am not sure that 
 duty does not call me to another station. 
 
 For many years, I have been impressed with a 
 belief that I ought to devote myself to the work of 
 elevating the popular standard of morality, and dis- 
 seminating correct ideas of the nature and laws of 
 God. My parents were Episcopalians (my father, 
 who died three years since, being a warden in the 
 church, superintendent of the Sunday-school, etc.) ; 
 and almost all my friends and relations are members 
 of the various "orthodox" societies. Ever since I 
 became conscious of responsibility, I have endeavored 
 to observe all the rules of morality, and to cherish a 
 sense of reverence and love for the Supreme Being ; 
 and when at the academy I attracted some notice as 
 a speaker on several public occasions, my parents 
 and others, observing my deportment, thought me 
 calculated for the work of the Christian ministry. 
 Accordingly, I was frequently urged by my much- 
 beloved friend, the Rev. Mr. Wheeler, to prepare for 
 the pulpit. Many inducements were held out to me, 
 and I should probably have followed the bent of their 
 inclination, and to some extent my own, had I been 
 satisfied with the doctrines of the Church. But I 
 was not satisfied, and I could not play the hypocrite. 
 
 I have read and thought much on the subject of 
 Christian doctrine for several years past, and the 
 effect of my investigation and reflection is a warm 
 attachment to the principles of the Unitarian Chris- 
 tians, as set forth in the writings of Dr. Channing. 
 
 I have been so unfortunate as to differ with some
 
 4 TJiomas J. Mumford. 
 
 of my most beloved relatives and many of my kindest 
 friends upon several vital questions. Tlieyare slave- 
 holders ; I am an ardent hater of the accursed sys- 
 tem of human bondage. They are Whigs, ever loyal 
 to their party. In my opinion, the Whig party has 
 belied its noble anti-slavery professions, and in the 
 late contest I found myself compelled to act against 
 it, or stifle the voice of conscience. And, lastly, they 
 are "orthodox," and I am Unitarian. 
 
 Now, although I do not hesitate to think and do 
 what I believe to be right on account of these dif- 
 ferences, I find that their di.slike of my views is, in 
 some particulars, a serious hindrance to my progress. 
 They think I have rashly throv/n away a fine chance 
 to obtain political honor and offices ; and should I 
 immediately begin to study for the Unitarian min- 
 istry, I fear that I should hazard even their friend- 
 ship. They woultl regard me as one seeking to 
 become an instrument of evil and heresy, and would 
 probably be as unwilling to grant as I should be 
 indisposed to ask any "aid and comfort," pecuniary 
 or spiritual. I can, however, obtain enough money 
 to defray my expenses at Meadville, if the published 
 statement be true. 
 
 I have determined to devote myself to the work 
 of religious, moral, and political reformation ; and I 
 am only at a loss to decide in which station I can 
 be most useful, — the newspaper office or the pulpit. 
 If my decision be in favor of the latter, I shall 
 endeavor to earn my living and a part of the means 
 of prosecuting my studies, even though my entrance
 
 Life and Letters. 5 
 
 upon my future duties should be considerably post- 
 poned. But I am not entirely satisfied that it will 
 not be better for me to remain an editor. 
 
 If the learning required at the Cambridge Divinity 
 School be a " condition precedent " to the ministry, 
 I hardly know how I can now master it. I have 
 already spent three years in studying for one pro- 
 fession. I have always been a diligent and careful 
 reader, and I think I may justly claim to an exten- 
 sive acquaintance with English literature, and som.e 
 familiarity with political history and the great move- 
 ments of the present day. While at school I was 
 perhaps too much interested in the events of the 
 present, and too much inclined to " let the dead 
 past bury its dead"; for I valued the Latin and 
 Greek only as helps to a better knowledge of the 
 English. I would like the study of the German, I 
 think, and would apply myself to the task of learning 
 so much of the dead languages as may be absolutely 
 necessary to a proper preparation for the ministry. 
 
 Will you oblige me by writing your opinion upon 
 this matter of "classical learning" in connection 
 with the studies for the ministry } 
 
 I am, with great respect, your friend, 
 
 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 P.S. — I acknowledge that the chief reason of my 
 wish to stand in the pulpit arises from a painful con- 
 viction that the present popular standard of morality 
 is lamentably low. If I become a minister, I shall 
 devote much of my attention to the popular sins of
 
 6 Thomas J. Muinford. 
 
 the day, repudiating all such atheistical maxims as 
 " my country (or my party), right or wrong," and 
 striving to be for the right, whoever may oppose it ; 
 against the wrong, whoever may uphold it. I think 
 the pulpits of our country are wanting in ministers 
 bold enough to do this, and hope that I am among 
 the number who are ready to reinforce the gallant 
 band who now defend Freedom and Truth against 
 such fearful odds. 
 
 I know the dangers and difficulties of such a 
 course, but trust that an ardent love of righteousness, 
 and rigid economy will, with the Divine aid, enable 
 me to wage a manly warfare against the giant evils 
 of our time and nation. 
 
 Rev. S. J. May.
 
 II. 
 
 CHOICE OF THE MINISTRY. 
 
 The Decisio7i Made. — Spirit of Sacrifice. — Notes of his 
 Reading. — Opposition from Friends. 
 
 Feb. I, 1849. 
 
 Dear Sir, — After the gravest deliberation of which 
 my mind is capable, I am well convinced that my 
 place is in the pulpit, and that I ought to enter 
 upon the work of preparation immediately. Your 
 kind interest in my welfare has excited my liveliest 
 gratitude, and an early reply to the inquiry I am 
 about to make will be most pleasing and serviceable 
 to me. 
 
 Upon referring to the leaves of the " Register," for 
 which I am indebted to you, I perceive that a term of 
 the Meadville School will commence in about a fort- 
 night from this time. I am anxious to enter upon 
 the duties of the ministry as soon as I may be fitted 
 therefor, and no sooner ; and I think that by com- 
 mencing immediately, the end I have in view will be 
 more speedily attained. What shall I do, — go to 
 Meadville the middle of this month, or study at home 
 until September .^ If it will hasten my preparation, 
 I prefer the former course ; and my business here 
 requires that I shall have at least a fortnight's notice 
 of the fact. I have broached my purposes to my
 
 8 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 family and to some of my friends. The former as- 
 sent, only regretting that I am not to be the advo- 
 cate of their faith. Some of the latter with whom 
 I have conversed about the expense of time and 
 money which will be incurred, hint that most clergy- 
 men are starved into silence concerning popular sins, 
 etc. ; but I tell them I will be content with a moderate 
 share of this world's goods, if I can only live a true 
 life, serving God and doing good to my fellow-men. 
 Is it unreasonable to suppose that an earnest, indus- 
 trious, and competent minister can somewhere find 
 hearers and the means of living .? 
 
 March S, 1S49. 
 
 My dear Friend, — Agreeably to the promise made 
 at the close of the pleasant visit which I enjoyed at 
 your house a few weeks since, I will now write an 
 account of my progress and prospects. 
 
 My strong dislike of pecuniary dependence has led 
 me to accept several offers of brief but lucrative 
 employment, and therefore I have not, according to 
 my purpose at the time of our last conversation, de- 
 voted all of my time to study. 
 
 Oat of the course which you have so kindly sug- 
 gested, I have read the first volume of Macaulay's 
 History, Channing's essay on "The Duty of the 
 Free States," his letter on " Creeds," and several of 
 his discourses. Among the last, I have experienced 
 most exquisite pleasure in reading those entitled 
 "Christianity a Rational Religion," "The Church," 
 and "Spiritual Freedom." These breathe the spirit 
 which I trust animates me, and their trains of
 
 Life and Letters. q 
 
 thought have often passed through my own mind. 
 I am, of course, in many respects at a vast distance 
 from Dr. Channing; but I am near enough to know 
 and feel and rejoice that there is between us a pure 
 and joyous spiritual communion. In the writings of 
 no other man do I meet witli thoughts that find so 
 perfect an echo in my highest convictions of right, 
 and so cordial a response in my noblest sense of 
 duty. I feel that I cannot be too grateful to Heaven 
 for having sent such a hero soul before me, and I 
 know of no better way of evincing my gratitude than 
 by emulating to the uttermost verge of my ability 
 his bright and lofty example. 
 
 I have also read Parker's sermon on " The Idea of 
 a Christian Church," with which I was much pleased. 
 The fresh, vigorous, and free style with which his 
 keen perceptions of the beautiful, the true, and the 
 absurd compel him to clothe his thoughts, gives a 
 charm to his writings which will always secure them 
 many delighted readers ; but I prefer the closer rea- 
 soning and the more tranquil (and yet not less strong 
 and triumphant) faith which distinguish the works of 
 Channing. 
 
 I have also read Mr. Furness' sermon on " The 
 Nature and Uses of Public Worship," delivered in 
 New York and published in the Tribune about a fort- 
 night ago. His thoughts are mine, and I think you 
 will not object to any of them. In any event, I shall 
 be glad to learn your opinion. 
 
 Sunday mornings I devote to the reading of the 
 Scriptures. In the afternoons, I attend Episcopal
 
 lo Thomas J. AhiDiford. 
 
 service with the other members of my family. A 
 few Sundays since, my good friend Mr. M. preached 
 an able and most pointed sermon against Unita- 
 rianism. He relied mainly on the text which in- 
 quires how Christ could be both David's Lord and 
 Son. Many of my friends call the discourse tri- 
 umphant ; but they have only heard the advocate of 
 one side of the question. 
 
 As I expected, I am somewhat annoyed by the 
 horror expressed, with uplifted hands and mournful 
 voice, by some of my friends when they speak of the 
 awful peril to which I have exposed my soul. Their 
 frequent allusions to my father's orthodoxy in con- 
 trast with my heterodoxy, although doubtless well 
 meant, are not always either delicate or agreeable. 
 But what are these petty trials compared with the 
 self-contempt which attends the profession of a faith 
 which the reason rejects, and to which the heart will 
 not respond .-' No person who knows what Unitari- 
 anism is has yet attacked me, and I am glad of it. 
 I want my time for undisturbed study and reflection 
 upon truths which even bigots believe and neglect. 
 Although prone to well-conducted debate, I do not 
 desire to erect the structure of my theological edu- 
 cation, after the manner of certain builders of old, 
 with a trowel in one hand and a sword in the other, 
 and I trust I shall be spared the disagreeable neces- 
 sity. At the same time, however, I am not ashamed 
 of my faith, and shall not shrink from its vindication 
 on all proper occasions.
 
 in. 
 
 PREPARING FOR MEADVILLE. 
 
 Interest in his Studies. — Paley Arraigned. — Anti-Slavery 
 Sympathies. — Ideal of the Ministry. — Theological Dis- 
 cussions. 
 
 March 22, 1S49. 
 
 Dear Friend, — During the last fortnight, I have 
 studied constantly and satisfactorily. I have read 
 Paley's " Natural Theology" with the most careful at- 
 tention, and think I have obtained a pretty thorough 
 knowledge of the work. The edition which I read 
 contains notes by Sir Charles Bell, Lord Brougham, 
 and Dr. — now Bishop — Potter. In connection with 
 Paley's chapters on the subject, I read many pages in 
 several works on physiology. In the "Theology" I 
 have found much to admire, and some things to 
 which I cannot now assent. Those passages which 
 seem to imply a belief that the slaughter of human 
 beings on the field of battle is one of God's provisions 
 for counteracting the superfecundity of our species 
 shocked me most. I have always disliked the school 
 of writers who advocate the theory of population 
 broached, I believe, by Mai thus, and in part in- 
 dorsed by Dr. Chalmers. 
 
 I am surprised that the clear-sighted Paley coun- 
 tenanced the horrible idea that war is one of the 
 heaven-appointed means of ridding countries of their
 
 12 Thomas J. Miiniford. 
 
 surplus inhabitants. It seems to me that a Chris- 
 tian statesman would find in emigration and the 
 breaking up of immense landed estates a much more 
 effective and far less objectionable cure for the evil. 
 
 Do you not think the "Theology" incomplete.'* 
 A system of "natural theology" should be built 
 upon facts concerning our moral and mental consti- 
 tutions, as well as the mechanism of the material 
 world. . . . 
 
 Since I decided to study for the ministry, I have 
 received an offer of a somewhat attractive situation 
 in a newspaper establishment, procured for me by 
 an influential friend, to whom I had applied several 
 months before. I was very sorry to disappoint him ; 
 but I could not avoid doing so without changing my 
 plans of study, and repressing what I believe to be 
 the promptings of duty. 
 
 My interest in the subject of my studies increases 
 daily. In contemplating the glorious attributes of 
 God, and in cherishing the proper notions of the 
 dignity of human nature, I experience great and 
 growing delight. I regret that I cannot be near you, 
 and enjoy the pleasure and profit of frequent conver- 
 sations ; but perhaps the lesson of self-dependence 
 will, in part, compensate for the j^rivation. 
 
 May i8, 1849. 
 
 Since my return from Syracuse, I have studied 
 regularly, with great enjoyment and profit. Mr. W. 
 takes the Christian Register, and by exchanging with 
 him I read l)oth papers. I like the Inquirer best.
 
 Life and Letter's . 15 
 
 Its notices of the Anniversaries were capital, and 
 more liberal than I had expected. What is said 
 of the Meadville School is very proper. I suppose 
 the comparison instituted between Meadville and 
 Cambridge was intended to remove any jealousy 
 which might exist among the friends of the latter, 
 and not to directly assert that Meadville would fur- 
 nish the privates, and Cambridge the officers, of the 
 society. However, such matters will regulate them- 
 selves. 
 
 I am very much interested in the emancipation 
 movement which is going on so bravely in Kentucky. 
 When I read the proceedings of the late convention 
 at Frankfort, I was overjoyed, for I thought that the 
 South would yet be redeemed from the Slave Power 
 which has so long crushed and disgraced her. I feel 
 so much on the subject that if 1 had no other plans 
 of duty, I think I should go to Kentucky and enlist 
 in the army of Freedom. 
 
 June 9, 1S49. 
 
 The Progressive Quakers have just closed their 
 first yearly meeting. It was well attended, and they 
 seem to be delighted with the result of their labors. 
 Lucretia Mott, Oliver Johnson, and Joseph Dugdale 
 of Ohio, were among the chief speakers. Among the 
 addresses issued by the meeting is an excellent one 
 "To Reformers," from the pen of Oliver Johnson. 
 Mrs. Mott spoke to a large audience in the court- 
 house, last Tuesday evening. She is a noble woman, 
 and I think her discourse will aid the cause of Lib- 
 eral Christianity in this vicinity.
 
 14 Thomas J. Mnuifoid. 
 
 Mr. W. has furnished me with tracts, which I have 
 circulated among my friends, — some of whom read 
 them willingly and attentii'ely. 
 
 July 22, 1849. 
 
 I have six weeks more for reading before I start 
 for Meadville. I continue to recite in Greek regu- 
 larly. 
 
 You once asked me whether I wished you to pro- 
 cure for me the stipend which the American Uni- 
 tarian Association allows indigent students for the 
 ministry. After due deliberation, I have resolved 
 not to ask for any such aid. I am well aware that a 
 student is almost necessarily a consninc)', when by 
 engaging in other pursuits he might be a producer of 
 money ; and that if he is not rich, yet disposed to 
 effect his education without foreign aid, he must 
 practise self-denial and close economy ; but, having a 
 strong and almost romantic love of independence^ 
 while I have youth, health, and strength, I cannot 
 consent to be the recipient of anything that looks 
 like charity. If I err in this, the error is venial, for 
 it springs from a dread of dependence and the ser- 
 vility which it so often breeds. 
 
 I read Dr. Bellows' letter, in which he speaks at 
 great length of the Meadville School. His style 
 is always animated and pleasing, and the informa- 
 tion which he furnished was very interesting to me.. 
 Notwithstanding a different feeling on the first hasty 
 reading, his representations make me more willing 
 than ever to attend the institution. 
 
 I could not help smiling when I read the grave
 
 Life and Letters. 15 
 
 remarks of certain "well-paid" clergymen who, at a 
 meeting in Boston during Anniversary week, men- 
 tioned one hundred and one hundred and fifty dollars 
 as ample incomes for men engaged in the work 
 for which the students at Meadville are preparing ; 
 and my mirth was again provoked when I saw 
 
 Dr. 's complimentary allusion to the minister 
 
 on Long Island, who occupies the box of the stage- 
 coach in the week and the pulpit on Sunday. I 
 agree with the good divines when they pronounce 
 such men instruments of much good ; but I have 
 no desire to engage in the profession under similar 
 circumstances. Dr. Dewey, in his article on the 
 "Pulpit," etc., expresses the true idea of what the 
 ministry is, and what it should be. If I am not 
 greatly deceived, the times now demand ministers 
 free from aristocratic tendencies and false notions 
 of refinement, and as far removed from coarseness, 
 ignorance, and vulgarity ; men inspired with a sense 
 of the dignity and responsibility of their office, well- 
 informed on the great subjects of which they are to 
 speak, abounding in genuine delicacy and refinement, 
 and yet able to tolerate, appreciate, and in some 
 measure supply, the intellectual, moral, and spiritual 
 wants of all their hearers. I despise arrogance, fas- 
 tidiousness, and pedantry as cordially as I dislike 
 servility, vulgarity, and ignorance. The middle class 
 has ever been the best in society ; and, desiring to 
 be one of its ministers, and believing that Meadville 
 affords the necessary means of preparation for such 
 a station, I shall attend the school gladly.
 
 1 6 Thovias J. ]\Inniford. 
 
 My friends, the Rev. Messrs. and , are 
 
 very polite to me, but not quite as friendly as of old. 
 
 Within a few months, Mr. has ceased to call me 
 
 by the familiar title of "Thomas," substituting there- 
 for " Mr. Mumford." Why the old gentleman has 
 made this change, I cannot divine. He may mean to 
 pay respect to " the cloth " ; or he may think that in 
 wandering from his flock and becoming a Unitarian 
 I ha\'e lost my Christian name. 
 
 Mr. and I had a pleasant though spirited dis- 
 cussion of the doctrine of the Trinity, a few evenings 
 since. He repeated the story about Dr. Channing's 
 repentance and recantation, and, in reply to some of 
 my remarks, impatiently exclaimed, " If the giant 
 mind of Newton could implicitly receive this doctrine, 
 it does not become ns to talk about its reasonable- 
 ness." Now, passing by his argument, which if valid 
 is very weak, I wish to ask you if it was possible that 
 I was in error when I replied that his example was 
 extremely unfortunate, for Newton's Unitarianism 
 is well-known. He very flatly, yet politely, contra- 
 dicted this assertion. Since the conversation, I have 
 noticed that Dr. Channing repeatedly claims Newton 
 as a Unitarian; and in the "Encyclopaedia Ameri- 
 cana" and the "Cyclopaedia of English Literature," I 
 find statements which imply the same fact. Is there 
 any doubt about Newton's faith .-'... 
 
 The books you mention — De Wettc, Herder, and 
 the "Philosophical Miscellanies" — are very attrac- 
 tive. I long to read them, but dare not gratify my 
 inclination at this time. I have reviewed almost
 
 Life and Letters. 
 
 every text-book which I liave read, and have no 
 great desire to go over them again at present ; but my 
 pride and dread of mortification prompt me to deny 
 myself the reading of the books of my choice, and to 
 apply myself for the next three weeks almost exclu- 
 sively to the books upon which I am to be examined. 
 I am confident that I now have a good knowledge of 
 them ; but, to avoid all slips of the memory, I su|)pose 
 a general review is necessary.
 
 IV. 
 
 IN THE THEOLOGICAL SCHOOL. 
 
 Opinion of the School. — Fidelity to its Rules. — Hopes to 
 be a Good Pastor. — Views of Non-Resistance. — First 
 Attempt at Preaching. — Philanthropic Zeal. — Ill- 
 Health. — Longs for Spiritual Culture. — Regard for 
 Sca/idlin. 
 
 Meadville, March 28, 1850. 
 
 My dear Friend, — You cannot imagine how much 
 I have been benefited by your simple words of 
 kindness and affection. I trust that I am moved 
 to the discharge of duty by higher considerations; 
 but words of cTieer from a friend to whom I am so 
 strongly attached incite mc to renewed exertions, 
 while they cause my heart to leap and sing for joy. 
 I need not assure you that your feelings of kind re- 
 gard are reciprocated. 
 
 I have now been in Meadville about twenty-nine 
 weeks. I am satisfied that my sojourn has been, 
 upon the whole, a pleasant and profitable one, and I 
 trust I shall never repent it. My health has been 
 uncommonly vigorous. I liave won the confidence 
 of several excellent friends, and I have pursued my 
 studies with diligence. For several years before I 
 left liome I was accustomed to spend almost the 
 whole day in uninterrupted study, and I apprehended
 
 Life and Letters. 19 
 
 some difficulty in adaptin-; ni)-self to the regular 
 recitations of a school ; but I have been agreeably 
 disappointed. When I entered the institution, I re- 
 solved to discharge every known duty, and I confi- 
 dently believe that that resolution has been kept most 
 faithfully. Out of three hundred recitations which 
 it has been my duty to attend, I have been absent 
 from only one, and then I was unwell. I have never 
 been late at any recitation. Out of one hundred and 
 thirty chapel exercises, I have missed only one, and 
 at that time a notice of a change in the hour had 
 been misunderstood by me. Out of one hundred 
 social meetings, debates, preachings by seniors, and 
 lectures, I have missed but one, and at that time I 
 was not well. 
 
 I was very glad to find the tone of the students, in 
 respect to the great humanitary reforms which are 
 the glory of our age, so healthy and active. 
 
 The school is really a moral oasis in the desert of 
 a conservative community. In all his arduous and 
 painful, yet heroic efforts for the sacred cause of 
 humanity, Mr. Stebbins has the pleasing satisfaction 
 of knowing that his pupils are, almost to a man, his 
 devoted friends, admirers, and coadjutors. 
 
 My dear friend, I hope you will pardon me for 
 yielding to the promptings of a full heart, and 
 repeating expressions of affection and gratitude. 
 Not a day passes in which I do not remember your 
 kindness ; and I fondly trust that when you become 
 fully acquainted with me, you will find me not un- 
 worthy of your confidence and regard.
 
 20 Thomas J. Minnford. 
 
 Hoping that God will bless you in all your rela- 
 tions and labors, and that you may be forever happy, 
 I am your grateful and affectionate friend, 
 
 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 Meadville, May iS, 1S50. 
 
 My dear Friend, — I know that you will be pleased 
 to learn that the standard of Reform still floats from 
 our school. Your remarks upon the duty of our 
 nation and the sad apostasy of Daniel Webster de- 
 lighted me. "You gave me my own thoughts." 
 
 Each day adds depth to the conviction that I shall 
 be more useful and happier in the Christian ministry 
 than I can be in any other sphere. I feel that I can 
 give my whole soul to the work. Ever since I was 
 a small boy, I aspired to be a public speaker, and all 
 my reading and observation have been made to bear 
 on the duties of such a vocation. But I think I 
 shall succeed best as a pastor. I do love to hold in- 
 timate communion with the spirits of my fellow-men. 
 I could find my highest joy in sympathizing with 
 the poor and the suffering. I scout the idea that 
 there is, or can be, any such being as an entirely 
 hopeless and totally depraved sinner ; and I think 
 nothing could dishearten me if I were laboring to 
 reclaim the abandoned. I have never found any 
 difficulty in gaining the confidence of those with 
 whom I have associated ; and I know that I have 
 aided a few of my unfortunate brethren by con- 
 vincing them of my love, and by assisting in the 
 resurrection of their self-respect.
 
 Life and Letters. 21 
 
 On some subjects, where my mind has been held 
 in suspense, I have come to decided opinions, since I 
 last saw you ; but I think that on only one important 
 question have I had occasion to chani^e. You may 
 remember that I once told you that, while I con- 
 demned all ordinary wars, etc., I thought I could take 
 life in defence of life, liberty, and chastity. I have 
 reviewed Dymond with Mr. Stebbins, and I have 
 been compelled to hold that nothing short of entire 
 non-resistance will satisfy the Christian law. Re- 
 sistance may sometimes appear to be clearly expe- 
 dient ; but I now hope that, should the hour of trial 
 ever come to me, I may be able to act up to my con- 
 viction of duty, obeying implicitly the Divine law, 
 and submitting cheerfully to every sacrifice, in the 
 calm, firm trust that all will be well in the end, — 
 that God will vindicate his own truth. 
 
 Of late I have had much pleasant intercourse 
 with Mr. Stebbins. I think a con\-ersation with him 
 would be of great service to you, when you come to 
 advise me about my future course. 
 
 We are great admirers of Horace Mann. How 
 nobh' has he rebuked Webster ! Mr. Mann's style 
 is apt to be too intense and over-emphatic ; but his 
 loyalty to truth and freedom is most refreshing in 
 these degenerate days. I have predicted that he 
 is soon to be Governor of Massachusetts, or to 
 supersede the arch apostate in the Senate of the 
 United States. I have been interested in the pro- 
 ceedings at the Anniversaries of the American Anti- 
 Slavery Society. I was suri)rised, and deeply pained,
 
 22 Thomas J. Ahuiiford. 
 
 to hear of the success of the mob. I blush for the 
 great city of our Empire State. The Brooklynites 
 behaved nobly. I think they were a little indiscreet 
 in befriending Wendell Phillips. In one respect they 
 may find that, in their generosity, they have got 
 the Trojan horse within their walls. He must be 
 rather a dangerous man for orthodox and conserva- 
 tive, but candid and virtuous, young men and women 
 to listen to. 
 
 Waterloo, N.Y., July 3, 1850. 
 
 I have been urged to preach here, and some of my 
 .acquaintances at Seneca Falls told me yesterday that 
 they would get up a meeting as soon as possible. I 
 had made so many warm friends in Meadville that, 
 when I left on my vacation, it seemed almost like 
 going away from home. I am very sorry to think 
 that Mr, Stebbins is to leave the school. He is the 
 prince of professors and the idol of every student. 
 
 If I do not attend the convention, shall I come to 
 Syracuse the third Sunday in July .■' 
 
 Aug. 9, 1850. 
 
 I am glad to know that my services were accept- 
 able to your people, I preached in Seneca Falls, last 
 Sunday afternoon. The other churches had ser- 
 vices at the same hour, but I had from one hundred 
 to one hundred and fifty hearers. All seemed atten- 
 tive, and several good Methodist brethren tarried to 
 thank me, and bid me Godspeed. Next Sunday 
 evening, I shall preach here in the court-house. 
 We did not apply for any of the churches, thinking 
 it not best to trouble them to refuse.
 
 Life and Letters. 23 
 
 Meadville, Dec. 10, 1850. 
 My dear Friend, — Let me write to you on a sub- 
 ject which has occupied my thoughts much of late. 
 Love to God and love to man are the great precepts 
 of religion ; and they are generally said to be of 
 equal importance, to claim cciual attention from the 
 minds and pens and tongues of true Christians. But, 
 to employ a figure of doubtful dignity, how few men, 
 how very few ministers, drive Piety and Philanthropy 
 abreast ! Almost all drive them tandem. Most min- 
 isters put Piety " on the lead " ; but a large and rap- 
 idly increasing class put Philanthropy first. I am 
 a little troubled because my own mind is so wont to 
 dwell on "moral" rather than "religious" subjects. 
 I cherish a sense of dependence on God, and a 
 cheerful trust in his providence. I feel the impor- 
 tance of always remembering that his eye is ever 
 upon us, that his "inclining ear" is ever ready to 
 hear our petitions ; but I must confess that my 
 thoughts are devoted chiefly to mankind, to their 
 natures, duties, destinies. I felt called to the work 
 of the ministry by the pressing demand for more 
 abundant and faithful preaching of " peace on earth, 
 good-will to men." During the last fortnight, I have 
 often examined myself concerning my fitness for the 
 Christian ministry. I have faith in God. I love and 
 reverence Christ. The Christian religion is inex- 
 pressibly dear to me. My heart burns within me 
 when I read the memoirs of Channing and Follen, 
 and the Wares and Peabodys. I love my fellow-men. 
 I have no unkind feeling's towards anv human beins:.
 
 24 Thomas J. Mmnford. 
 
 I know that I am deeply concerned for the weak, the 
 oppressed, the tempted, and the fallen. I long to lay 
 bare the wrong which sin does to the soul, and to por- 
 tray the beauties and joys of holiness. I am almost 
 sure that neither wealth nor fame nor friendship 
 •could tempt me to sacrifice my integrity. I cherish a 
 kind of spirit of martyrdom. I have a deep, earnest 
 longing to spend and be spent in some good work, 
 however unpromising and odious. I would rather go 
 through this land in rags, "a hatless prophet," 
 preaching needed truth kindly but boldly, than to be 
 the well-paid pet of the most aristocratic society. 
 My day-dreams and my visions of the night are of 
 ■doing good to my fellow-men, especially to those 
 whom the world despises and dreads. And when I 
 sit down to write, "justification by faith," etc., etc., 
 do not present themselves as candidates for my 
 attention. And what is perhaps worst of all, while 
 I know that I do not conform to the standard which 
 so many erect for the Christian minister, my heart 
 won't condemn me. I cannot persuade myself that 
 I have mistaken the wants of the age, my own mis- 
 sion, and that of Liberal Christians generally. I 
 cannot bring myself to believe that my position is at 
 all deplorable. Do not misunderstand me. I would 
 not slight devotion. I expect to preach a great 
 many sermons on subjects strictly "religious." I 
 only say that I feel called chiefly to another work, — 
 to that of redeeming mankind from ignorance, sin, 
 and misery. In short, I am probably too much in- 
 clined to be "nothing, if not practical."
 
 Life and Letters. 25 
 
 March 6, 1851. 
 
 Our second term commenced about four weeks 
 ago. During the winter vacation, I was quite un- 
 well, having a very severe cold, and an increased 
 noise in my head. I was confined to the house, and 
 unable to read the simplest book with any satisfac- 
 tion. My cold is gone, but my head is still the scene 
 of a terrible commotion. I have attended all the ex- 
 ercises of my class, and applied myself to study more 
 diligently than ever before, but I can accomplish 
 little. In all my life, I have never suffered half so 
 much in mind as during the last month. Sometimes 
 my total defeat in repeated attempts to study has 
 made me almost frantic. I suppose that even in my 
 disabled condition, I can manage to drag through the 
 exercises here and graduate next summer with the 
 commendation of my teachers ; but I fear that in that 
 event I shall not feel qualified to commence preach- 
 ing regularly. I am at a loss what to do. My gen- 
 eral health is not at all robust. The work of the 
 ministry has grown upon me during the past year. 
 I now see and feel that when I commenced my 
 studies I had no adequate conception of its responsi- 
 bilities, toils, and rewards. I have been gradually 
 opening my eyes upon the sad religious insensibility 
 of my own heart, and the hearts of the companions of 
 my youth. I trust I now begin to realize the nature 
 and importance of spiritual things and the interior 
 life. On two accounts, therefore, — first, the state of 
 my health ; second, to increase my heart preparation 
 for the ministry, — I feel that it is better for me
 
 26 TJwvias J. Mnvifoi-d. 
 
 not to enter the field this summer. I know that if 
 God blesses me with a return of health and strength, 
 in another year I can accomplish far more than I 
 have yet done. Can you give me any advice .-' The 
 state of my head makes me very sad. I am very 
 anxious to determine upon some plan for the future. 
 My mind is now in a state of painful uncertainty. 
 
 March 21, 1S51. 
 
 Since I wrote my last letter, my health has im- 
 proved somewhat, although the sounds in my head 
 continue to torment me. I have resolved to remain 
 here, studying as well as I can, and graduate with 
 my class, in June. Mr, Stebbins thinks I had better 
 preach during the summer ; and in the fall, if I feel 
 unable to undertake the work regularly without 
 further preparation, I can spend another year here, 
 or take some small society where I can have leisure 
 for study. 
 
 Within six months, I have had my eyes opened to 
 the greatness and glory of the work of a Christian 
 minister. It was with deep shame and sorrow that I 
 became convinced that my own standard had been 
 too low. I had been charmed by the ethics of the 
 gospel. I am earnestly seeking to know and feel 
 more of its spiritual power. James Freeman Clarke's 
 sermons have been of great service to me. I now 
 hope that I have commenced a truly religious life, 
 believing not only with the intellect, but with the 
 heart. However, I feel as if I needed to gain more 
 light and strength before I undertake to lead the
 
 Life mid Letters. 27 
 
 people. ... I was glad to see that glorious George 
 Thompson received so glorious a welcome to Syra- 
 cuse. It must have been a time of great satisfaction 
 and joy for you all. How different from some of the 
 scenes in which you were actors sixteen years ago ! 
 Such comparisons are more than mile-stones on the 
 road to Truth. 
 
 April 6, 1851. 
 
 My very dear Friend and Father, — The reading 
 of a letter from you did " cheer a gloomy moment, " 
 I can assure you. I wish I could half express the 
 thrill of joy occasioned by the sight of your well- 
 known superscription, and the lively pleasure I ex- 
 perienced in reading the words of kindness and 
 sympathy which I knew your heart had promptly 
 dictated, whether your pen had had leisure to record 
 them or not. I thank you for them. They have done 
 me much good, besides strengthening and deepening 
 my affection for their author. 
 
 My health continues to improve steadily. The 
 noises in my head are very loud, but since my mind 
 has been more at ease I have suffered far less. 
 
 About a fortnight ago, Mr. Stebbins addressed me 
 in the kindest manner, and told me not to permit 
 fears of having to enter the ministry without suffi- 
 cient preparation to make me unhappy. He said, 
 " Go on with your studies as well as you can, grad- 
 uate, and preach two or three months. Then, if 
 your health is restored, and you feel as if you could 
 not get along without a better preparation, come 
 back and spend another year with us, renewing your
 
 28 Thomas J. l\Iiwiford. 
 
 studies, and reading whatever may seem useful to 
 you." I thanked him, and have since felt much 
 relieved. 
 
 As I have written to you before, I have just had 
 my spiritual eyes couched, and begin to realize that 
 there is an "inner life," the glories of which I had 
 never imagined. But it will take me a long time to 
 change the current of my thoughts. Instead of 
 thinking of giving up the ministry, I have now a 
 desire to enter it far stronger than any I ever felt 
 before. I do feel that it is absolutely necessary for 
 me to devote more time to preparation than I had at 
 first intended. I must have more time to become 
 familiar with the Bible, and more time for spiritual 
 culture. I have no doubt I could begin to preach 
 this summer, and write two tilings which I might call 
 sermons ; but they would consume all my time, and 
 utterly fail of making me contented. I fear that I 
 could not live "from hand to mouth" long, without 
 suffering from self-contempt and despondency. I 
 shall be very glad to preach a few months this 
 summer, if I have an opportunity ; but I must post- 
 pone entering the regular service. 
 
 There are now in this school several young men 
 of the most unquestionable piety, with whom it is my 
 good fortune to be intimate. I must mention one in 
 particular, William Scandlin, a young Englishman, 
 lately of the United States ship "Ohio." He is pre- 
 paring to be Father Taylor's successor, and, if I am 
 not mistaken, he will almost make the noble old 
 man's place good. Mr. Scandlin has been a sailor
 
 Life and Letters. 29 
 
 ev'cr since he was eight years old. You may have 
 heard of his efforts on l)oard the "Ohio" at the time 
 so many of her crew died of yellow fever. He has 
 a rich, deep voice, and a delivery which is almost 
 unexceptionable. Then, too, he is so brave and 
 active, yet gentle as a woman. His education is, 
 of course, very limited ; but he is a most diligent 
 student, and learns rapidly. He is already a non- 
 resistant, and much interested in the anti-slavery 
 movement. 
 
 I am, as ever, your grateful and affectionate friend, 
 
 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 Samuel J. May.
 
 V. 
 
 LIFE IN DETROIT. 
 
 Leaves Meadville. — Character and Prospects of the Detroit 
 Movement. — Frankness and Fidelity. — Extracts from 
 First Sermons. — Anti-Siavery Sentiments. — Devotion 
 to Mr. May. — Call and Ordination. — Remarks on 
 Boston Ministers. — Missionary JVork. — Building the 
 New Church. — Unexpected Disaster. — Trip to Boston. 
 Marriage. — Bereavement. 
 
 Detroit, July lo, 1851. 
 My dear Friend, — On W^ednesday of last week, j 
 started for this place. Leaving Meadville was like 
 leaving home. I had no idea that the beautiful vil- 
 lage and its inhabitants had become so very dear to 
 me, until the stage bore me up College Hill and I 
 looked back upon the place. Notwithstanding my 
 illness, and the misery occasioned by doubts of my 
 fitness for my calling, I can now look back upon the 
 scenes of the last two years with almost unalloyed 
 pleasure. It is true that I have not made the prog- 
 ress in study which I had fondly hoped to make, but 
 I know where to find knowledge, and that is some- 
 thing. I cannot tell you how happy all my social 
 relations have been ! Not an unkind thought, not 
 an ungentle action, have I known. I never met a 
 person who did not contribute to my happiness ; and 
 the manner of my teachers, fellow-students, and ac-
 
 Life and Letters. 3 1 
 
 quaintances assured me that their remembrance of 
 me would be pleasant. 
 
 Our friends here meet in a very pleasant place, but 
 it is an "upper room," in the third story, and rather 
 long and narrow. Sunday morning, I had between 
 seventy and eighty hearers ; in the afternoon, about 
 forty, — the usual attendance. 
 
 I am now at the house of the Treasurer of the 
 Central Railroad Company. He is a very fine man, 
 cultivated, cheerful, clear-minded, and large-hearted. 
 Nine of the gentlemen connected with the society 
 are employed in the railroad ofifice. They all appear 
 to be good men ; they certainly are very busy. 1 
 find a great many old acquaintances here. Three 
 or four families in the Unitarian Society are from 
 Waterloo. Besides these, I have met a dozen gen- 
 tlemen of other persuasions, whom I have known be- 
 fore. Several of them came to hear me, last Sunday. 
 
 I am endeavoring to cultivate my religious feelings 
 more, but my interest in the great philanthropic 
 movements is unabated. I fear that the people here 
 are in favor of obeying the laws, howev^er infernal 
 they may be. Of course I shall not broach such 
 subjects immediately; but before I accept an invita- 
 tion to remain for any considerable length of time, I 
 shall feel that simple honesty requires me to define 
 my position. I do not want to be imprudent ; I 
 cannot be dumb, I feel pretty confident that a man 
 like my host would despise a time-server. Indeed, 
 all men would. All men do despise the poor con- 
 tcmptibles. At the same time I feel my own wants :
 
 32 TJionias J. Miimford. 
 
 I need a more spiritual mind, and I must struggle to 
 obtain it. That must be my chief concern at present. 
 
 July 21, 1851. 
 
 As I was coming up-stairs, just now, I remembered 
 an old rule of health which I have heard you advo- 
 cate : " Relax mind and body for an hour after 
 dinner." There is no one near me with whom I 
 care to be cosey, and I feel inclined to reply to your 
 letter, even if my promptitude should seem amazing. 
 
 I need not repeat what I have so often said about 
 your letters. They have, in times past, "made a 
 sunshine in a shady place"; and now, when I am 
 comparatively happy, they are doubly cheering. 
 
 I feel the force of your remark, that I shall only 
 learn to minister by ministering, and I have duly 
 pondered your other counsels. My health, and with 
 it my spirits, continue to improve. I have been very 
 agreeably disappointed in Detroit. It is a far hand- 
 somer place than I had supposed. I have seldom 
 enjoyed a walk more than I did one to the cemetery, 
 last evening. I think the people are interested in 
 my services. They give me excellent attention, and 
 I am frequently urged to make up my mind to settle 
 here. The prospects of the society are quite encour- 
 aging. They tell me that between fifty and sixty 
 gentlemen subscribe toward the support of the mi-n- 
 ister, and that others promise to do so as soon as it 
 ceases to be an experiment. Very few persons have 
 called on me, but they say it is not the fashion to 
 visit the minister in this section. Wherever I go I
 
 Life and Letters. 33 
 
 receive the most cordial welcome. Everybody is 
 very kind. And now that I have set forth the bright 
 side, let me say something about the dark. 
 
 I find that they have never celebrated the Lord's 
 Supper, and they seem disposed to postpone doing so 
 until they shall have a place of their own. This is a 
 cause of regret to me ; for I covet the opportunity to 
 impress others, — which the occasion affords, — and 
 I need its influence myself. 
 
 There is very little interest in the reforms mani- 
 fested in Detroit. The orthodo.x ministers advocate 
 obedience to tJie law, and capital punishment. The 
 press here is notoriously time-serving. Abuse of the 
 abolitionists and sneers at the "Higher Law" are 
 its favorite topics. In our society, I have discovered 
 quite a number of iiien whose political views are of 
 the Seward school. One of our trustees, however, 
 made a handsome property while proprietor of a 
 Cass organ, postmaster, etc. Thus far, I have had no 
 occasion to allude to slavery, save in general terms ; 
 but, of course, with my convictions, I cannot be 
 always dumb. My organ of caution is a very large 
 one, and I am not afraid of doing anything really 
 rash; but I am puzzled to know just what I ought 
 to do. I am young, and so is the society ; and that 
 fact ought to make us both modest. But, on the 
 other hand, I cannot preserve my self-respect if I 
 keep back needed truth, nor can any society be free 
 from rottenness which is unwilling to bear it. 
 
 Again, I meet with wine and brandy whenever I 
 enter society. The president of our society, a fine
 
 34 Thomas J. Miimford. 
 
 man, zvith a family of boys, has wine at dinner, and 
 seemed a little surprised because I would not partake. 
 The other evening, I was the only water-drinker in a 
 circle of very clever people, — Episcopalians, Presby- 
 terians, and Unitarians. Even the ladies seemed 
 to fancy brandy and water ! If I stay, they may 
 depend upon it I shall " speak the truth in love." 
 P.S. — I have opened this letter, to tell you how in- 
 terested I have been in considering your remark, that 
 all that a Christian minister has to do is to preach 
 what Christ preached, and live what Christ lived. 
 For an hour past, I have not been able to think of 
 anything else. I am satisfied that I can never become 
 truly eloquent until I become as ardently attached to 
 Jesus as Paul was. No ! I don't mean that : I mean 
 that my power to move men will be just in proportion 
 to the depth of my love of jesus, and my ability to 
 manifest it. I feel that I ought to be as passionately 
 fond of his teachings as some of my music-loving 
 friends are of Jenny Lind's voice. 
 
 July 29, 1S51. 
 
 I cannot help being filled with " righteous indigna- 
 tion" by the contemptible fliing at you contained in 
 this morning's Advertiser. The Advertiser is the 
 leading Whig paper of this State. Of course you 
 will laugh at it, and at me, perhaps, for sending it 
 to you ; but I wish to give you a faint idea of the 
 meanness of the press hereabouts. I have never 
 known such rotten concerns. The way in which 
 they "come down" upon those "false teachers" who
 
 Life and Letters. 35 
 
 preach that "religion is higher than the State and 
 the Constitution" is a caution to young ministers. 
 
 Thus far, I have avoided all allusions to the excit- 
 ing topics of the day. My last text was, " Let us do 
 good, as we ha\'e opportunity, unto all men." Among 
 the ways of doing good in the State, I mentioned, 
 "By helping to discountenance the demagogue and 
 the political gambler ; by aiding the election of good 
 men of broad views and pure lives, who, instead of 
 being mere partisans, will ever cast their vote and 
 their influence into the scale of Justice, Truth, Peace, 
 and r'reedom. We may do good by elevating the 
 standard of public morality, by seeing that religion 
 is carried into politics, where it is so much needed, 
 and kept there." While touching on "doing good 
 in the Church," I said, " By endeavoring to have a 
 Christian church an assembly of immortal souls, 
 anxious to hear needed truth freely uttered, — not a 
 society of pew-owners, gathered to have their ears 
 pleased and their nerves composed by a ' chloroform 
 gospel,' preached with elegance and 'decent debility'; 
 not an association of men who are contented with 
 formally professing, on a Sunday, to love their neigh- 
 bor as themselves ; but a real band of brothers, who 
 are pious, in plain clothes, and whose week-days 
 abound in deeds of self-sacrificing kindness." 
 
 I suffer much for the lack of society, but I wel- 
 come every trial in the way of discipline. 
 
 Mr. H.'s sister, from Cambridge, has just arrived. 
 She is redolent of anti-slavery, and the ^iight of her 
 is refreshing.
 
 36 Thomas J. Mmnford. 
 
 I was much amused, on Sunday. A shabbily- 
 dressed man, who had listened eagerly to my sermon, 
 called me aside as I was going "out of church," 
 and complimenting the discourse, — the first he had 
 ever heard from a Unitarian pulpit, etc., — finally 
 gave me an "opportunity to do good" by paying for 
 his dinner and supper. That was practice follow- 
 ing pretty closely upon the heels of preacJiing; was 
 it not .? 
 
 In the evening, I was called upon to conduct 
 funeral services at the house of a gentleman with 
 whom I was unacquainted. The deceased was a 
 lovely boy, eleven months old, — an only child. I 
 spent several hours in careful preparation, and, when 
 the time arrived, I obeyed Mr. Hosmer's injunction 
 to "let the heart lead." A number of strangers 
 were present. I was assured that my exertions had 
 been blessed. 
 
 I am not acquainted with all the people yet. I 
 hope I shall find my way to their hearts. I do not 
 know what to think about being ordained an evan- 
 gelist. If I determine upon that, I am at a loss to 
 decide whether I shall visit Syracuse for that pur- 
 pose, or try to have you come here. If you cannot 
 come to me, I shall go to you ; for I would rather 
 wait a year than to have you absent. 
 
 Aug. 22, 185I. 
 
 For several weeks past my health has improved. 
 Since I wrote last, I have visited Ann Arbor. I was 
 frequently called upon to explain our views, and have
 
 Life and Letters. 37 
 
 been urged to return and give a public reply to the 
 question, " What is Unitarianism ? " I shall speak 
 there next Sunday evening in the court-house. I am 
 promised a large audience. I wish I had some tracts. 
 
 I think they will invite me to settle here, and I 
 now feel inclined to accept, if my health holds out. 
 If you are aware " of any just cause or impediment," 
 I wish you would let me know immediately. I have 
 not concealed my sympathy with the reforms of the 
 day, nor my ideas of the independence of the pulpit. 
 On that account a few may hesitate ; but I am told 
 that, so far as has been ascertained, there is an 
 almost universal wish that I should stay. 
 
 I cannot tell you all the kindness of the H.'s to 
 me. Mr. H. has treated me like a brother, beloved 
 from the beginning. I spend many delightful hours 
 in his house. It is my Detroit home. I am slowly 
 getting acquainted with my people. I find that the 
 minister is the bridge across many a social gulf. The 
 people do not know each other, and I have no one to 
 introduce me. I hunt them down singly. 
 
 On the first of August, I accompanied my colored 
 brethren to Canada, crossing in a boat with about 
 a hundred of them. " My heart leaped up when I 
 beheld " several schools of the finest children the 
 sun ever shone upon. Everything was done de- 
 cently and in order, with no more parade than the 
 whites make on their sham Fourth of July. I wit- 
 nessed the laying of the corner-stone of a church. 
 The ministers were all " colored," and to me the 
 services were solemn in the extreme. They de- 
 
 448867
 
 3B Thomas J. Miimford. 
 
 posited copies of the Liberator, etc., in the box. I 
 was thrilled when I heard, " We consecrate this spot 
 to the worship of God our Father ; we consecrate 
 it to the defence of the rights and liberties of all men, 
 our brethren." I had no opportunity to tell them 
 publicly of my sympathy, but my heart and my eyes 
 were overflowing. 
 
 The recent kidnapping and murder in Buffalo ! 
 Does not Christianity sometimes seem almost "a 
 failure".'' I thank God it is not. My faith stands 
 the trial. Patience and earnest effort will yet cause 
 the right to triumph. When I see you, I must tell 
 you of a romantic idea of a new " company of Jesus," 
 devoted to the overthrow of slavery, of which I 
 often dream 
 
 Sept. 3, 1S51. 
 
 About ten days ago, the trustees of the society re- 
 solved to recommend me to the congregation. The 
 President and several others told me the vote was 
 unanimous and hearty. " Nobody thought of any- 
 thing else." Last Sunday, I had about one hundred 
 and ten hearers, — the largest audience thus far. The 
 society then gave me a call by a vote as unanimous 
 and hearty as that of the trustees. They offered a 
 salary of ^600. Besides that sum, their expenses are 
 at least ^200 for rent, music, etc. The society has 
 been self-sustaining from the start, and they seem 
 to be in downright earnest. I shall accept, and 
 serve them to the utmost extent of the ability God 
 has criven me.
 
 Life and Letters. 39 
 
 As to " the practical reformatory tendencies of my 
 faith," my conscience tells me I have done right. 
 In private conversation with most of the leading 
 men, and repeatedly from the pulpit, I have " defined 
 my position" most distinctly. I have preached my 
 sermon on "Speaking the Truth in Love," which you 
 may remember. To be sure, I have not preached a 
 sermon entirely devoted to any particular topic of 
 reform, but my tendencies have been manifested 
 abundantly. Many have assured me that no one can 
 mistake my feelings and principles ; they have ap- 
 peared in almost every sermon and prayer. It may 
 be that some will squirm yet when I preach directly 
 at some partisan measure ; but, from the moment 
 I came here, I insisted that they should know my 
 principles, and know also that they do not admit of 
 compromise. I told them frankly that their society 
 might suffer by their promulgation, urged them to 
 remember that, when they should think of calling 
 me, etc. Hereafter, no man can say he did not know 
 that he was "catching a Tartar." 
 
 Waterloo, Oct. i, 1851. 
 I thank you for your suggestions concerning the 
 place, etc., of the ordination. I, too, think that 
 Detroit is the best place, even if we have to wait 
 until next spring. I am becoming very fond of the 
 pulpit. Every time I utter a noble sentiment, I seem 
 to grow spiritually ; for I preach to myself as well as 
 to the audience.
 
 40 Thomas J. Aluinford. 
 
 I wished you to give me the charge, because I sup- 
 posed that to be the most direct personal part of the 
 services, — because I felt that injunctions from your 
 lips would sink most deeply into my heart. If I 
 have mistaken the nature of the services, if the 
 sermon can be made as personal, I have no choice. 
 
 As I was leaving the pulpit, last Sunday evening, a 
 former parishioner of yours came forward and told 
 me she could not help expressing her delight, etc., 
 and said it was in part owing to the fact that I re- 
 minded her of her old pastor every moment. Half- 
 a-dozen people in Buffalo said, " How constantly you 
 remind i}s of Mr. May! " Is it not singular.'' I have 
 heard you only twice. 
 
 Detroit, Oct. 17, 1851. 
 My dear Friend and Father, — Your kind, mag- 
 nanimous letters came together, Saturday evening. 
 I went to Mr. H. and Mr. W., and said, " I learn that 
 the Eastern papers are abusing Mr. May, charging 
 him with countenancing and assisting the rescue at 
 Syracuse. I have just received a confidential letter 
 to that effect. What shall I do .'' I want him to 
 come. He has been more than a friend to me. He 
 has ever manifested almost more than a father's 
 interest in me, and I cannot reconcile myself to the 
 thought of his absence. If he has become tempora- 
 rily odious, never mind. I can cheerfully share his 
 fate. If his coming would injure the prospects of 
 our society, — oh ! I will labor diligently to atone for 
 it all. If the damages can be liquidated, take them
 
 Life and Letters. 41 
 
 out of the salary. I cannot give him up. Just think 
 of Timothy's writing to Paul, telling him it was in- 
 expedient for him to attend his ordination, as the 
 chief priests and rulers in those parts called him a 
 pestilent fellow and a mover of sedition!" 
 
 They seemed both amused and touched by my 
 emotion, and said, " Tell him to come, by all means ; 
 we don't believe he can do us any harm ; and what if 
 he does .-'" 
 
 When the telegraph ofifice-doors were opened, Mon- 
 day morning, I entered with a message, urging you 
 to come. I was assured that it would be sent imme- 
 diately. I received no reply, — not even a letter. I 
 have not heard from you since. I do hope nothing 
 serious has occurred. When the "Mayflower" ar- 
 rived, late Wednesday evening, I felt sure you w^ere 
 on board. I saw a man with a white hat. It was 
 dark, and I rushed into his arms ; but it was not 
 you ! Imagine my disappointment when I learned 
 you were not on board ! But I soon concluded that 
 you had endeavored to act for the best. 
 
 The ordination was postponed to Thursday even- 
 ing. Mr. Hosmer preached to the congregation 
 which had collected. Last evening, the services 
 were all eloquent, excellent. J. F. Clarke's sermon 
 was glorious, — true to God, true to humanity, as he 
 always is. May God bless his dear soul ! 
 
 Everything was excellent. But when, after the 
 charge, I sat down and thought that you might be in 
 prison, my emotions struggled hard for an expression 
 which would have unfitted me for the remaininii ser-
 
 42 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 vices ; but God gave me strength to retain my self- 
 possession. 
 
 I was touched by your son's unexpected kindness. 
 I shall prize that mark of his affection most highly. 
 God knows I love you all dearly. I have a thousand 
 thoughts I cannot utter now. 
 
 Your friend and son, 
 
 T. J. M. 
 
 Nov. 6, 1S51. 
 
 My very dear Friend and Father, — Your favor of 
 the 2d inst. has just reached me. I was delighted 
 to get it. I read it in the street, and became so 
 absorbed as to narrowly escape capsizing several 
 fellow-citizens, who did not observe that I was en- 
 gaged. I knew how you must have felt concerning 
 the ordination ; still, I could not help being sorely 
 disappointed. You can scarcely imagine how my 
 heart yearned for the charge ; and you would be as- 
 tonished, could you realize how many ardent friends 
 you have among my little flock. I am proud of my 
 people because they were so willing to have you 
 come, in spite of the popular prejudice. With almost 
 maternal partiality, I almost believe there never were 
 such parishioners. 
 
 I cannot think that the administration are so blind 
 and mad as to hasten their destruction by arresting 
 you. I confess, I wish they would. I don't want 
 to hear that you are hanged, and I don't expect to ; 
 but I think exceptions may be taken to the old 
 maxim, " You can put a man to no worse use than
 
 Life ami Letters. 45 
 
 to hang him." It depends upon what you hang him 
 for. I have great faith in the utility of martyrs. 
 Is not their blood the seed of the Church .'' If I 
 know my own heart, I would most joyfully meet 
 imprisonment, and death itself, rather than obey 
 the Fugitive Slave Law, or even refrain from pro- 
 nouncing it damnable. 
 
 I shall suffer, if you suffer ; indeed, it would be 
 wrong for me, young, without a family, son of a 
 slave-holder, too, to stand by, preaching the gospel 
 generally, while one in your relations is losing all the 
 things of time for the sake of the slave. 
 
 I thank you for your suggestion respecting con- 
 nected serm.ons. My plan is to have one discourse 
 of eacli Sunday a "regular," — the other of the 
 " Guerilla " stamp. I never write a sermon without 
 wishing I could read it to you. I have just finished 
 one on the True Church. I speak first of the Church 
 of God, of which the Church of Christ is a branch. 
 In it I find the good Samaritan, Pontiac the great 
 Indian, and other worthies. 
 
 "This Church of God is the only universal one. 
 To the human eye it seems unorganized. It exists 
 everywhere. Its origin may be dated back before 
 the time of righteous Abel. Its end will never come ; 
 for, like all things truly good and great, it is eternal. 
 Who are members of this Church } All who, in any 
 age, in any country, under any form of faith, have 
 loved truth and reverenced right, doing good and 
 living beautiful and holy lives, whether they called 
 the Deity ' Jehovah, Jove, or Lord ' ; whether they
 
 44 TJiovias J. ATuniford. 
 
 worshipped under roofs of man's erection, in the 
 great church of Nature, that — 
 
 " ' Cathedral, boundless as our wonder, 
 Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply; 
 Its choir, the winds and waves ; its organ, thunder ; 
 Its dome the sky,' 
 
 or in that best of oratories, on the most sacred of 
 altars, the inmost recesses of a pure heart." 
 
 Nov. i8, 1S51. 
 
 Last Sunday forenoon, my text was, Our Father ; 
 in the afternoon. Our Father, — my best sermons 
 thus far, I think. At all events, they elicited much 
 feeling and many hearty thanks from my best 
 hearers. In the evening, I was a little frightened. 
 They seemed about to applaud audibly. Let me 
 copy a passage or two, to show you on what food I try 
 to keep alive the spirits of my people. I will select 
 passages good in sentiment rather than rhetoric. 
 
 " Christianity does not consist in a proud priest- 
 hood, a costly church, an irnposing ritual, a fashion- 
 able throng, a pealing organ, loud responses to the 
 creed, and reiterated expressions of reverence for the 
 name of Christ, but in the spirit that was in Jesus, 
 the spirit of filial trust in God, and ardent, impartial, 
 overflowing love to man. If there is in the whole 
 universe of God a human being whose wrongs wc re- 
 gard with indifference, whose failings or deformities 
 or degradation wc view with cruel scorn, whom in 
 any way we neglect and despise, wc are not truly
 
 Life ami Letters. 45 
 
 Christians ; nor are wc even pious. I care not how 
 frequent may be our devotions, nor how sound our 
 faith, nor how profuse our offerings to God ; though 
 we spend our days in prayer, and our nightly visions 
 are of heaven ; though our belief is free from the 
 slightest taint of heresy ; though every church in 
 the land is vocal with praises of our generosity, and 
 every religious paper filled with tributes to our 
 piety, — if we can look with criminal coldness upon 
 the wrongs of even the least of Christ's brethren, we 
 are not lovers of God. . . . 
 
 '• There is another way of slighting humanity, of 
 which I wish to speak, — in the common, almost 
 universal belief that some professions are of superior 
 dignity; that the seat of honor or reverence lies, not 
 in the man, but in his calling. This error cannot be 
 rebuked too frequently or too pointedly. It is the 
 parent of much of human pride and jealousy. Alany 
 of our titles are absurd, and it requires some patience 
 not to be restive under them. There are scores of 
 memljcrs of Parliament, Congress, and Assembly to 
 whom as little honor is due as to any being born of 
 woman. There are many clergymen who should be 
 treated with irreverence, if their abused humanity 
 did not exempt them from the indignity ; and, on the 
 other hand, are there not obscure men and women 
 who deserve our profoundest esteem and homage } 
 Who has not known 'Most Honorable' farmers, 
 'Right Reverend' mechanics.'' Let every man rise 
 or fall with his own individual character. A man is 
 a nobler title than that of hero, priest, or king. . . .
 
 46 TJiomas J. Mnmford. 
 
 " It seems eminently the duty of an American 
 to be philanthropic, — to cherish human rights, to 
 denounce earnestly and eloquently human wrongs- 
 Our country professes to be the chosen home, the 
 peculiar abode, of humanity and equality. To our 
 shores hundreds of thousands of the natives of 
 Europe come every year. At this moment, from the 
 President to the poorest vagrant in our streets, we 
 are all anxiously awaiting the arrival of the greatest 
 of modern martial heroes, with whose noble defence 
 of the liberties of his country 'all Europe rings 
 from side to side.' But are we truly consistent.'* Is 
 not our reverence for humanity partial.? Does it 
 not depend upon accidents rather than essentials .-' 
 Do we not ourselves tolerate wrongs which shame 
 the friends of freedom throughout the world.-*" 
 
 Jan. 26, 1852. 
 
 It is just three years, this week, perhaps this day, 
 since I got into the cars at Waterloo and rode with 
 you to Auburn ; and now here I am, busy and happy, 
 with a rapidly increasing society, and rich in my 
 first fifty sermons ! My society comes on nicely, the 
 morning audiences having increased from seventy 
 to a hundred, and the evening from thirty-five to 
 seventy-five. My people are not rich, but honest 
 and generous. My salary is paid promptly ; and the 
 treasurer assures me that the people pay it most 
 cheerfully, with many kind words by way of accom- 
 paniment. I have continued to utter my sentiments 
 on every subject in a frank, manly way, and have
 
 Life and Letters. 47 
 
 given no offence even when I anticipated it. All my 
 relations arc delightful, and I am very happy. The 
 only drawback to my bliss is the fear that I have 
 entered the field prematurely, without taking time 
 enough for preparatory studies. I hope to exchange 
 with Shippen, in March. One exchange in five 
 months is not too much for one who has hardly 
 covered the bottom of his barrel with sermons. 
 
 I am much delighted with Kossuth. His reply to 
 Chancellor Walworth was prompt and noble. 
 
 I expect to attend the Boston Anniversaries. You 
 know I have not seen half-a-dozen of my New Eng- 
 land brethren. I wish to hear Parker, King, Gannett, 
 Huntington, and Pierpont. I want to see Federal 
 Street Church and Faneuil Hall. I wish also to go 
 on a pilgrimage to iVmesbury. Mr. Whitticr's poems 
 wrought my "change of heart" on the subject of 
 slavery. 
 
 I wish I could see you once a week. It is very 
 hard to be so isolated in the first year of one's minis- 
 try. I am often lonely. But I am well aware of the 
 numerous and pressing demands which are made 
 upon your time, and therefore your silence never 
 pains me. Whenever you are able to write, I am 
 the most grateful of Timothys. 
 
 Your grateful and affectionate son, 
 
 T. J. MUMFORD. 
 June 17, 1852. 
 
 We have not commenced our church, but it will go 
 up very soon. Our lot is a fine one, high, central, yet
 
 48 TJiovias J. ]\himford. 
 
 retired. We hope to pay for the church ourselves. 
 Our society has never received a cent from abroad, 
 and I think we shall not solicit anything here- 
 after. 
 
 From what I saw of New England ministers, at 
 Cincinnati, I must say that my desire to visit 
 Boston has greatly abated, and I do not know what 
 would tempt me to go there asking funds for our 
 church. 
 
 Dr. spent a night here, last week, leaving on 
 
 Saturday morning for the East. I did not see him. 
 
 Mr. asked him to stay and preach for us, but 
 
 he did not seem at all inclined to do so. He went 
 to Buffalo, where there is a strong society needing 
 no help, a regular church, an organ, a gown, and all 
 the other essentials of the Christian ministry. 
 
 In Cincinnati, Dr. and ]\Ir. made me 
 
 very indignant by their anecdotes, calculated, and 
 apparently designed, to ridicule Dr. Channing's tone 
 and manner and his complaints of ill-health. 
 
 Our politicians are looking anxiously towards Bal- 
 timore for the Whig nominations. I hope Fillmore 
 will be the man ; not because I admire him, — heaven 
 deliver me from that! — but because, supported as he 
 is by the whole South, his nomination will hasten 
 that glorious day when present political organiza- 
 tions shall be blown to atoms, and the great party of 
 freedom shall rally and triumph ! 
 
 Is it true that Wm. Henry Channing is coming to 
 Rochester.'' I hope it is, for I long to meet him. 
 He is one of my idols.
 
 Life and Letters. 49 
 
 May 3[, 1S52. 
 
 From Cincinnati, I went to Mcadville. I found 
 that I could not afford to attend the Boston anniver- 
 saries. I am sorry you could not attend the Western 
 Convention. You were missed, I can assure you. 
 The anti-slavery folks could hardly be reconciled to 
 your absence. James Freeman Clarke is coming 
 to inquire about the condition of the fugitives here. 
 I hope you will meet him. He is very much inter- 
 ested in their cause. 
 
 I am glad the prospects of your church are so 
 good. Our friends here think of building, this 
 summer. They have purchased a fine lot. 
 
 June 17, 1852. 
 I wish I could be here to go into Canada with you. 
 It does not cost much to visit the land of the fugi- 
 tives. If you wish to visit Amherstburgh, or Maiden, 
 as it is called, the place where " George " and " Eliza " 
 landed, the "Arrow," probably the very boat which 
 transported Mrs. Stowe's heroine, will take you there, 
 in about an hour, for a few shillings. I am told that 
 the officers of this fine little boat never fail to land 
 on the Canada shore, business or no business, if 
 there are promising-looking colored men on board. 
 
 July 5, 1S52. 
 
 It is noon, and they are firing cannon almost under 
 my window. This fact must excuse some of my 
 hieroglyphics. 
 
 Yesterday was the "Glorious Fourth ! " My texts 
 were, " If I forget thee, O Jerusalem ! " etc., and.
 
 50 TJwinas J. Mumford. 
 
 " Righteousness exalteth a nation." I do love my 
 country most fondly, and I have never been con- 
 vinced that the Union is not a great blessing. I was 
 pretty patriotic in the first half of the discourse, and 
 when I came to slavery, I spoke ten minutes as dis- 
 tinctly and emphatically as possible, yet with kind- 
 ness. I had a full house, one-third strangers. After 
 service, the trustees had a meeting. We have only 
 $7,000. Our lot cost $3,000. If we had only to pro- 
 vide for ourselves, we could get along nicely ; but it 
 will never do to build a small or shabby house in 
 this beautiful, growing city. We have a fine plan 
 for a house, but it will cost $8,000 or $9,000. The 
 trustees feel determined to build, and to build accord- 
 ing to the plan. No one ever dreams of foreign aid. 
 I cannot help thanking God for that. I have no 
 doubt the money will be raised and the building 
 begun by the time you come. I do not believe that 
 any man ever spoke to a more kind, considerate, 
 generous assembly than the one that gathers in 
 the Hall. Oh, how I love them ! I am interested 
 in their business, their families, their souls, their 
 everything. 
 
 But I must go away from this tremendous firing. 
 Give unto all thine household the warmest love of 
 thy son, Timothy. 
 
 P.S. — My most intimate friend, U. Tracy Howe, 
 <vill deliver the address before the literary societies 
 of our State University, on the 20th inst. I am very, 
 very sorry to l^c absent. You must go with liim.
 
 Life and Letters. 5 1 
 
 Ann Arbor is a beautiful village. I spoke there, last 
 evening ; court-house full. I never had a more 
 attentive audience, and the stock of tracts did not 
 begin to supply the demand. I am very anxious that 
 you should know Mr. Howe. He is one of Nature's 
 noblemen, and my love for him almost passes that of 
 woman. Again, farewell. 
 
 The " Mayflower," Sept. 26, 1852. 
 
 I am now on my way to Meadville, to make my 
 last visit for the year 1852. I expect to have a very 
 pleasant time ; indeed, I am going " on purpose." I 
 shall return, in about ten days. 
 
 Sunday before last, Mr. Howe read aloud Parker's 
 grand sermon at the Simms anniversary. He did 
 it justice, and I was frequently reminded of your 
 remark of Parker, " In morals he is tremendous. " 
 That's the word. 
 
 I have been much gratified and entertained by the 
 impression which you made upon different members 
 of my flock. All who heard you seem to have been 
 highly pleased. Some were surprised to see so quiet 
 a fanatic, so cool an incendiary. Mrs. S. has become 
 an admirer of yours. I do not suppose she ever 
 encountered a genuine ultra-reformer before, and 
 you have relieved her mind of some painful dread of 
 the class. . . . 
 
 Until about a month ago, I felt a little impatient 
 because our church did not begin to go up ; but 
 now I am perfectly satisfied. It is ascending briskly, 
 and will be enclosed in very good season. As the
 
 52 Thomas J. Mamford. 
 
 winter approaches, the attendance begins to increase. 
 Within a short time, I have learned several facts 
 about members of my flock which have encouraged 
 me greatly. 
 
 Last evening, I completed my engagement at Ann 
 Arbor. I have spoken there eight times to audi- 
 ences ranging from thirty to three hundred. I must 
 confess, however, that the smallest congregations 
 have been the last two ; but I attribute this in part 
 to a satisfied curiosity, the efforts of the Orthodox, 
 and rival meetings at the same hour, and in part 
 to the nights being dark and stormy, and the cars 
 keeping me an hour behind my usual time. 
 
 Oct. II, 1S52. 
 When will your church be dedicated } I hope to 
 see ours enclosed in a few weeks. They commence 
 the brick-work to-day. 
 
 Nov. 6, 1852. 
 Our church will be ready for the roof next week. 
 Mrs. S. was here last Sunday, and heard me speak of 
 Daniel Webster. I spoke kindly, yet most distinctly, 
 of his private and public iniquities. Poor man, how 
 I pitied him ! Retribution is seldom so prompt ! 
 
 P.S. — Monday morning. I have just time to add 
 that we had a \-ery high wind before daylight, yes- 
 terday morning, which blew down the west wall of 
 our church, breaking the beams for the floors, etc., 
 etc. It is quite a blow to us. The church was just
 
 Life ami Letters. 53 
 
 ready for the roof, and the season is ahnost gone. 
 Wc are not cast down. 
 
 Boston, Dec. 17, 1S52. 
 
 This is my fifth week in Boston. They have been 
 weeks of mingled enjoyment and suffering. The 
 latter, however, has greatly predominated. Begging 
 is not my forte, and never was a poor fellow in a 
 state of greater agony. I cannot tell you of the 
 coldness and rebuffs which I have received, nor of 
 the kindness which some have manifested. Perhaps 
 after it is all over I shall feel better and more grateful. 
 
 I have now secured $600 in Boston, and $100 in 
 Concord. I hope to increase the sum obtained here 
 to $1,000. Then I shall go to New Bedford, Salem, 
 Providence, Worcester, and New York, hoijing to 
 pick up a few hundreds on my way home. 
 
 I look forward to several years of self-denial, hard 
 work, and single-wretchedness with a struggling 
 society. It will take a thousand dollars to put us 
 where we were before the calamity overtook us. 
 But I am a little too much prone to overrate the 
 difficulties in my way. If I am disappointed, I gen- 
 erally manage to be pleasantly disappointed. Our 
 church has gone up again, and I suppose the roof is 
 on again by this time. 
 
 DETRorr, July 29, 1S53. 
 Since my return, I have been overwhelmed with 
 duties and calls of business and congratulation.* 
 
 * Married in Meadville, Pa., June 23, 1S53, Thomas James Mumford and Sarah 
 Yates Shippen.
 
 54 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 Our church will be dedicated on Thursday, the 8th 
 of September, and we shall be very happy to see 
 you at the services. Mr. Stebbins is to preach the 
 sermon, and we hope for quite a goodly attendance 
 of the brethren from abroad. Everything continues 
 to go on smoothly. Our church is much admired, 
 and I hear many flattering predictions of a large con- 
 gregation in a few years. 
 
 The sentiment of filial affection and gratitude, as 
 I am assured, is shared by Sarah, the wife of your 
 son, Timothy. 
 
 May 31, 1854. 
 
 Monday was a day of terrible suspense to us. . . . 
 Yesterday afternoon, I buried the little boy, whom 
 we had named for our Chicago brother, in our beau- 
 tiful cemetery at Elmwood. At the grave, I recited 
 these lines : — 
 
 " To the Father's love we trust 
 That which was enshrined in dust ; 
 While we give the earth to earth. 
 Finds the soul its heavenly birth ; 
 Angels wait the angel-child, 
 Gentle, young, and undefiled. 
 
 " Give the spirit, then, to God, 
 And its vesture to the sod; 
 Life, henceforth, shall have a ray 
 Kindled ne'er to pass away, 
 And a light from angel eyes 
 Draws us upward to the skies." 
 
 My grief at the loss of the cliild was almost swal- 
 lowed up in joy for its mother's safety. . . .
 
 Life at id Letters. 55 
 
 Wc had a fine time at Louisville. Judge Pirtle's 
 report came up, and I made a pretty earnest spcecli, 
 I said that the reason giv^en for defining our position 
 with respect to the miracles, vi::.: "Whereas there 
 is a misunderstanding of the views of Unitarians," 
 etc., etc., proved altogether too much ; for our views 
 are misunderstood on every subject. After threat- 
 ening to move that the report be referred back to 
 the committee, with instructions to amend by de- 
 fining our position on all the subjects in systematic 
 theology and practical Christianity, with particular 
 attention to inspiration and retribution and war and 
 intemperance and slavery, I said something like this : 
 
 " While I am willing to admit that my religious 
 sensibilities have been deeply wounded by some of 
 the words of Mr. Parker, I am unwilling to have it 
 appear that we consider his the most dangerous 
 infidelity. The worst scepticism in America has not 
 been heard in the Music Hall, at Boston, but in these 
 Christian churches, many of them unquestionably 
 orthodox, whose ministers have preached that an 
 infamous human law, which commands us to increase 
 heavy burdens, and not to let the oppressed go 
 free, — a law commanding injustice and hating mercy, 
 — is binding upon our consciences. Mr. Parker may 
 reject Christ. These men certainly dethrone God." 
 
 Judge Pirtle's report is to be printed, accom- 
 panied by a disclaimer of all indorserpcnts by the 
 Conference. 
 
 I found mmy Kentucky women who responded 
 warmly to my anti-slavery talk. Some of them over-
 
 56 Thomas J. Miunford. 
 
 whelmed me with sympathy. I am arxxious to hear 
 the end of the Boston slave case. Syracuse seems 
 to keep the old fires burning. 
 
 Dec. 22, 1854. 
 
 The infant church at Detroit is now able to walk 
 alone nicely. We have about sixty members of the 
 church proper. Nearly eighty of our pews are occu- 
 pied, yielding an income of about $1,600. The min- 
 ister's salary is now a thousand dollars, and, during 
 the year that is closing, he has received presents 
 amounting to half as much more. Our Thanks- 
 giving collection for the poor was much larger than 
 that of any of the wea.lthy societies of the city. 
 Believing in the concentration of effort, I am aiming 
 at the establishment of a ministry-at-large, to b^ 
 started next year, if possible. To this work, I shall 
 give my best energies for some time. 
 
 Each year greater importance is conceded to our 
 society, and I am treated with increasing courtesy. 
 I do not, however, purchase peace by concealment of 
 differences. While I aim to be truly evangelical, I 
 give no quarter to Calvinism, in any of its more or 
 less horrible forms. We are trimming our church 
 for Christmas, and hope to have a good celebration. 
 
 Oct. 19, 1855. 
 Your favor of the 17th inst. has just been received, 
 and I thank you with a full heart for its words of 
 sympathy and cheer. I wish we could sit side by 
 side for a few hours ; for, in this season of loneliness, 
 I often turn with new interest to the friends whom I
 
 Life and Letters. 57 
 
 have long known and loved. You will be glad to 
 know that I am generally calm and cheerful. Of 
 course there are days when I am very sad ; but the 
 last hours of my wife were beautiful beyond descrip- 
 tion, and by new devotion to the work given me to do 
 I hope to shorten the time of separation and heighten 
 the bliss of reunion. The day is dark and cloudy, 
 but, in the universe of a good Father, " At the 
 evening-time it shall be light."* 
 
 April 7, 1S56. 
 
 I am c^uitc well, and busy according to my spirits 
 and strength. My pulpit has never been cared for 
 so faithfully as during the last si.x months. In 
 December, January, and February my church was 
 literally full ; but with the approach of warm weather 
 the congregation diminishes somewhat. Yesterday 
 morning my sermon was on "The Attractions of the 
 Ministry." I feel that no preacher discharges the 
 debt due to his profession until he has confirmed the 
 choice of some youth whose voice shall be lifted up 
 for practical righteousness, when that of his elder 
 brother in the ministry shall be hushed in death. By 
 the way, I suspect that my love for you has always 
 had a great deal to do with my love for the ministe- 
 rial calling. Very few men could have impressed me 
 so favorably on a first acquaintance. I shall never 
 forget how ardently I have longed for the time when 
 I should be a co-worker with Jesus and with you in 
 the redemption of mankind from ignorance, sin, and 
 misery. 
 
 •Died in Meadville, P.i., Sept. 24, 1S55, Sarah, wife of Thomas J. Mumford.
 
 58 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 June 5, 1856. 
 
 I was delighted to learn that your illness had been 
 exaggerated. May you still have many years of 
 strength and hope, to befriend the noble causes to 
 which you are devoted, and to cheer the legion of 
 friends who love you ! 
 
 Of course I have been very much excited by the 
 outrage at Washington and in Kansas. The assault 
 upon Sumner came right home to my own heart ; for 
 if I have any idol among our public men it is Charles 
 Sumner. For the last nine years I have read every- 
 thing that he has published with exceeding satisfac- 
 tion and delight. My sermon on " The Reign of 
 Ruffianism in the United States," was well received. 
 There are a few Hunkers in my congregation, but 
 I rejoice to know that a large majority wish to hear 
 the great gospel of human freedom distinctly and 
 earnestly preached. 
 
 I hope you will get to Chicago. You have hardly 
 had an opportunity to learn the spirit of our Western 
 brethren. We have our alloy of conservatism, but 
 Conant, Shippen, Murray, Staples, Moulton, Kelsey, 
 and several others, are of the advance party in the- 
 ology and reforms. Huntingtonism would be the 
 death of Liberal Christianity in the West, and I am 
 glad to see that even in New England the reaction 
 has apparently commenced. 
 
 Nov. 4, 1856. 
 
 At last the great day has come, and I am hoping 
 and praying that it will prove to be " the day of the 
 Lord."
 
 Life and Letters. 59 
 
 While at the polls, I overheard a good remark. A 
 master blacksmith, six feet four inches in height, 
 famous for his great physical strength" and his big, 
 kind heart, but by no means "hopefully pious," was 
 talking to a Republican who belongs to a Presbyte- 
 rian church whose minister denounces Sumner and 
 
 Beecher. I heard him say, " Mr. , if there is 
 
 anything that makes me sick of religion, it's that 
 
 Border Ruffian pulpit of yourn ! ! " Of course 
 
 that's profane language ; but it does not grate on my 
 ears half so harshly as the prayers of a Rev. Cream 
 Cheese. 
 
 Thanks for the Liberators containing your letter 
 to H. C. Wright. I liked it exceedingly, just as I 
 do everything that you say and do, my dear father. 
 
 I " shrieked for freedom " again, last Sunday. One 
 man has left my church, and a few more are troubled 
 by my words ; but I thank God that the most of my 
 .people like to hear their watchman blow the trumpet 
 of Righteousness and Truth. I have reason to know 
 that my words disturb the greatest pro-slavery mag- 
 nates in the State, and I rejoice to know that they 
 are disturbe;! thereby. Out of thirty ministers, there 
 
 are only four who speak for liberty. Dr. is de 
 
 fending the Mosaic account of the Creation, in a 
 
 course of lectures ; and Mr. is interpreting the 
 
 book of Revelations : but, between this Alpha and 
 this Omega, there are some good words uttered foi 
 the weightier matters of the law by Congregationalist, 
 Baptist, and Covenanter.
 
 6o TJiomas J. Uliiinford. 
 
 For the sake of Kansas, I hope Fremont will be 
 elected; but I am not sure that the choice of Bu- 
 chanan would not hasten the "good time coming" 
 when, in peace or war, by vote or sword, the oli- 
 garchy of Satan will be utterly overthrown. 
 
 Aug. 6, 1S57. 
 The time fixed for the meeting of our Ministerial 
 Association is the week before the autumnal Con- 
 vention. It seems, therefore, that, unless you care 
 to take two Western excursions, you will be obliged 
 to choose between the Jerry rescue and the meeting 
 at Jefferson. Without intending the least disrespect 
 for the memory of Jerry, or the slightest indiffer- 
 ence to the merits of his saviours, I think you will be 
 wise to prefer the gathering in the Western Reserve. 
 It is a noble region, because it is inhabited by noble 
 men. Indeed, if there is any "Holy Land" on this 
 hemisphere, it is North-eastern Ohio, where there is 
 no occasion for rescuing a man from the hands of his 
 oppressors ; for no man-stealer ever dares on that soil 
 to claim God's children as property. You cannot 
 help being perfectly delighted with the love of uni- 
 versal freedom which animates the souls of Giddings' 
 constituents, and I hope you will not lose this oppor- 
 tunity to speak to them. 
 
 Feb. 13, 1S60. 
 
 To-morrow is St. Valentine's day ; but, as I do not 
 feel disposed to wait any longer, I shall send you my 
 love-letter noio. Perhaps it will reach Syracuse at 
 the appropriate time.
 
 Life and Letters. 6 1 
 
 Your concern about my health is not altogether 
 unreasonable, and still I feel bound to continue to do 
 pretty much as I have done since I came home. Out 
 of twenty sermons that I have preached, nineteen 
 have been new ones ; but the labor of preparing 
 them has not been so exhausting as anxiety lest they 
 should fail to interest the people after they were 
 ready. Thus far, however, there has been no lack of 
 encouragement. The great majority of the people, 
 including all the "old guard" who have been here 
 for years, are firm friends of mine, and as willing to 
 have me spare myself as you yourself can be. Many 
 of my very best parishioners, however, have moved 
 away, and those who are in their places "know not 
 Joseph." 
 
 Although I received not a dollar from my society 
 the year that I was absent, the current expenses ex- 
 ceeded the income between seven and nine hundred 
 dollars ; so that this year we must raise nearly three 
 times as much as was raised last, if we are to escape 
 indebtedness. While I was away, one of our largest 
 contributors lost his interest in the services, and 
 moved a little way out of town ; and now it is difficult 
 to revive his willingness to do and give. The other 
 churches of the city are provided with abler preachers 
 than they ever had before, and they are more cordial 
 to strangers than I can induce my people to be. 
 Still, there is a disposition to be more active, our 
 congregations are good, and more than half of the 
 debt has been paid by subscriptions and extra assess- 
 ments of the pews. If I had a little more strength
 
 62 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 and hope, I could fight it through ; and I am disposed 
 to try it, as it is. 
 
 My family have never seemed so dear to me, and 
 there are at least a few friends in Detroit to whom I 
 am most devotedly attached. If I die first, I shall 
 wish them near me at the last of earth ; and, if they 
 go before me, I wish to pay the tribute to their worth 
 that cannot be as well said by any other lips. 
 
 The constant hurry and drain of this outpost have 
 prevented my acquiring that scholastic style which is 
 preferred in New England, and it would be as easy 
 to work on after the old fashion here as to learn new 
 modes of thinking and writing elsewhere. 
 
 Your playful proposition of a barter of churches 
 is decidedly complimentary to me ; but I should not 
 dare to undertake to fill your place for any length 
 of time, and your people will not allow you to leave 
 them again. 
 
 I go to the gymnasium, and my strength increases. 
 If I could get rid of dissatisfaction with myself, and 
 be contented with doing what I can, I should get 
 along very well ; but I am too much beset by concern 
 lest my duties to God and men are imperfectly 
 performed. I need to be "justified by faith," for- 
 getting the works of the law. 
 
 Meadville, July 7, 1S60. 
 
 I ought to have written to you some time ago, to 
 
 relieve some of the fears naturally excited by my 
 
 lugubrious communication. The troubles in my head 
 
 probably remain about the same ; but the rest of the
 
 Life and Letters. 63 
 
 last month, the pleasing excitements at Ouincy and 
 this dear place have caused me to feel temporarily 
 better. When I resume my labors, I intend to try a 
 vesper service, with extemporaneous remarks; and, if 
 that does not prove satisfactory, I must quit my post. 
 I came away from Detroit leaving my people in the 
 best of spirits on account of the success of our first 
 " Festival and Fair." Although hastily prepared for, 
 it yielded more than five hundred dollars clear profit. 
 This finishes wiping out the debt which I found 
 awaiting me when I got back from New England. 
 
 Meadville, Oct. 27, 1S60. 
 
 I am glad you approve the step that I have felt 
 obliged to take. Already I begin to breathe " freer 
 and deeper." A year or two at Marietta will prob- 
 ably restore me to my full vigor, and I shall not be 
 astonished to find myself stronger than I have ever 
 been before. 
 
 I felt drawn to this place to see Edgar Huide- 
 koper, who is to spend the winter at the South, and 
 may never return. He is one of my truest and most 
 devoted friends. How I do thank God for the love 
 of the noble that he has vouchsafed to give me ! It 
 makes me feel richer than Astor to count over the 
 heavenly treasures that can be taken out of this 
 world. 
 
 Detroit, Nov. 19, i860. 
 It is very hard leaving Detroit. I had full confi- 
 dence in the general affection of my people, but I 
 did not realize that all of them loved me so much.
 
 64 TJionias J. Mumford. 
 
 nor that I had so many friends outside of my church. 
 I leave the society in very fair condition, and go 
 away without an enemy, I believe, and hardly a 
 lukewarm friend. How can I be sufficiently grateful 
 for all this affection !
 
 VI. 
 
 AT MARIETTA. 
 
 Letters on the War. — Forecast of the Future. — Interesting 
 Reminiscences of Early Life in the South. — A Scare at 
 Marietta. — Second Marriage. 
 
 Marietta, Jan. 25, 1S62. 
 
 How the war drags ! Sometimes I have grave 
 fears arising out of the timidity of the Administra- 
 tion, and the inevitable complaints that will attend 
 the first attempt to enforce direct taxation. You 
 know the Constitution distributes such taxes accord- 
 ing to population. Already the Western papers are 
 raising the cry that in fairness it must be according 
 to wealtJi. 
 
 There are a few promising omens. War with 
 England is at least postponed. There is reason to 
 hope for a general pressure upon the rebels, from all 
 quarters, if McClellan ever recovers from his slow 
 fever. The new Secretary begins well. Burnside is 
 trustworthy. The country is cheered by news of a 
 victory in Kentucky, Cheever is tolerated at Wash- 
 ington, and Charles Sumner has become the leader 
 of the American Senate ! I extract comfort from 
 this dilemma : If we have an early and easy success, 
 the war will be over, and in the national pillion the 
 Slave Power will hereafter ride behind ; if the strife 
 is prolonged and desperate, there will be no Slave 
 Power left at the end of the struggle.
 
 66 TJiornas J. Miimford. 
 
 Feb. 20, 1S62 
 
 I have just seen Parker Pillsbiiry's letter in the last 
 Anti-Slavery Standard, which tells of your severe ill- 
 ness at Albany. From his mention of your illness, 
 I am encouraged to believe that, if violent, it may 
 have been a brief attack. 
 
 You wrote before our recent victories, and still 
 your tone was very hopeful. You appeared to be 
 confident that the Slave Power is soon to be crushed, 
 and thousands of the slave-holders banished from 
 the country. I am writing just after much cheering 
 news, and yet I cannot rid myself of the appre- 
 hension that the anti-slavery cause may not have 
 seen its worst days in our land. I dread the conse- 
 quences of the easy triumph that seems to be at 
 hand. If we continue to prevail, the end of strife 
 must be near. Suppose the Southerners are shrewd 
 enough to surrender the moment their cause be- 
 comes hopeless, and, professing regret for past 
 errors, offer to return to the old Constitution and 
 Union. In the reign of "good feeling" that will 
 come with peace they will not receive very harsh 
 treatment at the hands of such men as Lincoln and 
 Seward. Then may come a war with England, in 
 which our present division may be forgotten for 
 several years. Then will come the next Presi- 
 dential election. Let the restored South unite as of 
 old with Northern Democrats who can charge the 
 corruptions of the war upon the Administration, and 
 thus win many votes from a heavily-taxed people, 
 an:i once more the Slave Power leaps into the saddle.
 
 Life and Letters. 67 
 
 with sharpened spurs on its heels and a new cracker 
 on the lash that has scourged all opponents of the 
 Fugitive Slave Law. The pro-slavery Democrats 
 have at least their share of the heroes of this war. 
 The first Congress after our peace will be full of 
 them. God knows that in spite of my love for a few 
 individuals at the South, I would not murmur if the 
 fate of Tories should be visited on slave-holders ; 
 but I think the heavy hand of the United States 
 Government is just as likely to strike down Garrison 
 and lock up Phillips. Of course, the final doom of 
 slavery is certain ; but it may yet be powerful enough 
 to control this generation of Englishmen and Amer- 
 icans. This is a dark, damp day. I ba\"e been much 
 elated by the success at Fort Donelson. Perhaps I 
 am writing under the influence of the reaction of 
 feeling that follows intense excitement. I shall 
 be glad to find that you are by far the better 
 prophet. . . . 
 
 You may be interested in the fact that the scene 
 of the bombardment at Port Royal is not far from 
 my native place. I was born at Gillisonville, about 
 thirty miles from Beaufort. During his stay at the 
 South, my father was postmaster at Coosawhatchie 
 and at Pocataligo. His store was at Coosawhatchie, 
 and he became intimately acquainted with many lead- 
 ing men, including Mr. Rhett, then named Barnwell, 
 Mr. Petigru, the best lawyer in the State and almost 
 the only consistent Unionist, and Henry Bailey, who 
 was the Attorney-General who warned Mr. Hoar to 
 leave Charleston. Mr. Bailey died before my father,
 
 68 TJiomas J. ^Iiunford. 
 
 I think, and I remember destroying a large bundle 
 of his letters which I had read with intense interest. 
 I am quite sure that the Goddard Bailey who stole 
 the respectable sum of ^800 worth of bonds from 
 the United States Government was his son, and 
 sometimes my playmate. Mr. Colcock, Collector 
 of the Port of Charleston, and formerly member of 
 Congress, was my father's lawyer ; and once, ten or 
 twelve years ago, when mot;her was in want of ready 
 money, he sent her a large draft to pay a very old 
 claim that he had chanced to collect. He refused 
 all compensation for his services in the matter. 
 Father was once toasted at a dinner in Beaufort 
 District as " Mumford — the honest Yankee." It 
 was intended for a compliment, but he felt the blow 
 at the North that it implied. Anticipating a col- 
 lision at an earlier day than it has occurred, he dis- 
 posed of his property after the Nullification troubles, 
 and returned to Rhode Island. Mother left the 
 South with great reluctance. Indeed, it almost broke 
 her heart. Now, however, she is glad that we came. 
 About eight years since, she spent a winter with 
 some of our cousins in the old neighborhood, but she 
 had no desire to remain permanently. 
 
 While I appreciate their follies and sins, my heart 
 persists in tender memories of the kindnesses of some 
 of those planters, and I often wonder how they are 
 faring in these terrible days. On one plantation 
 where they love us still, a mother and two unmarried 
 daughters live with sixty or seventy slaves, and only 
 an overseer for their guardian. My father never
 
 Life and Letters. 69 
 
 owned more than six slaves at a time, keeping just 
 enough for house servants. When we were there, 
 Coosawhatchie had the Court House, but now it is at 
 Gillisonvillc. Those towns gjre all villages of the 
 slenderest populations. 
 
 July 8, 1862. 
 
 You saw our watchword at the Detroit Confer- 
 ence, "Mercy for the South; Death to Slavery!" 
 I wish you could have been there. Every voice was 
 cordially for freedom. 
 
 I am to leave Marietta in a few weeks. My stay 
 here has been delightful to me. My relations to the 
 society of Unitarians have been as agreeable as pos- 
 sible, and all denominations, including the Catholics, 
 have treated me with great kindness. But the cli- 
 mate is too enervating. If I am ever to be strong, I 
 must sj^end some time in a more bracing air. So I 
 am going to live at Groton, Mass., for a year, at the 
 home of my wife's * mother. Of course you will 
 come to see us. We will give you a room from 
 which you may see Wachusett and Monadnock at 
 one look. 
 
 Sometimes the war weighs heavily on my heart, 
 but God is so evidently dealing with us that I have 
 few permanent fears. Our weather is terribly hot. 
 I pity the wounded who cannot get air and ice. 
 
 •Married in Groton, Mass., Aug. 27, 1S61, Thomas James Mumford and Eliza- 
 beth Goodrich Warren.
 
 VII. 
 
 REMOVAL TO NEW ENGLAND. 
 
 Birth of his Son. — At Concord, Yonkers, Groton, and Green- 
 field. — Death of his Mother. — Call to Dorchester. 
 
 Marietta, July 30, 1862. 
 Yesterday noon we heard that the rebels were 
 attacking Parkersburg in strong force. The Mayor 
 of Parkersburg sent for help to our mayor. Mari- 
 etta was aroused. Companies were formed, — one 
 to go to Parkersburg immediately. Horsemen were 
 sent to alarm the country towns. Reinforcements 
 were asked from Athens, Then came another mes- 
 sage from Parkersburg: "You need not come. Gov. 
 Pierpont has sent us four hundred soldiers from 
 Clarksburg." But at half-past ten, last night, there 
 was a great panic again. It was announced that the 
 rebels were near Marietta, and every one turned out. 
 At every step you met an armed man. Eighty had 
 come from Athens to help us, and they were mar- 
 shalled with the rest. The night wore away, but 
 the enemy did not come. General result: Nobody 
 killed, nobody wounded, nobody missing, but every- 
 body, almost, severely scared. Finding Mrs. W. 
 uneasy, I slept there. Had a good bed, a good 
 breakfast, and now I am ready for another panic. . . . 
 The rebels are in Indiana. They may be here yet.
 
 Life and Letters. • 71 
 
 If they are not spry, I shall be gone ; and what a 
 prize they will lose! It looks now as if Lincoln 
 must put his foot down harder. If there must be 
 war, I believe in having it as infernal as possible, so 
 that the world will never want another. 
 
 Yours, as always, 
 
 T. J. MUMFORD. 
 
 A few days after these words were written he left Marietta, 
 where he had passed nearly two pleasant years. He wrote, 
 " There is a great deal that is depressing to me in this leaving 
 a parish. It is hard to part from those who love you." But 
 circumstances made it seem best for him to seek a home in 
 the more bracing climate of New England. 
 
 Groton, Sept. 21, 1862. 
 
 Dear Father May, — You ought to be informed of 
 the arrival of all your grandchildren. Yesterday 
 there came to us a child whose naming did not take 
 much time, for we were ready for either sex. A boy 
 was to be Edgar Huidekoper; a girl was to be May, 
 in memory of somebody at Syracuse. It was a boy ! 
 Still I feel like telling you of our good intentions, 
 even if they were contingent ones, and not to prove 
 even a nominal expression of gratitude and love. 
 
 If ]\lr. Moors, of Greenfield, goes to the war, I am 
 to take his pulpit for nine months. If he does not 
 go, I am to take care of Deerfield, James Hosmer 
 having enlisted as a private. 
 
 Greenfield, March 2, 1S63. 
 
 Walter Scott tells us that, when Ivanhoe rode into 
 
 the lists at the famous tournament, "the device on his
 
 72 Thomas J. Mmnford. 
 
 shield was a young oak-tree pulled up by the roots, 
 with the Spanish word DcsdicJiado, signifying Disin- 
 herited" ; and I write to ask if it can be true that you 
 intend to doom me to appear in similar guise when I 
 go forth to my future encounters with the world, the 
 flesh, and the devil ? It is about five months since 
 I told you that while we were expecting our child, 
 guessing that it would prove a girl, we had decided 
 to name her May Mumford, — when behold it was 
 a boy, and had to be called Edgar Huidekoper ! 
 This, with other things supposed to be dipped in 
 honey, and not flavored in the least with the most 
 diluted gall, was duly mailed, and I suppose it reached 
 the saline city. Probably you have been too busy, 
 or too anxious, or too sad to reply ; but please to be 
 reminded that there is a blessed urchin nearly six 
 months old who is still ignorant whether or not you 
 have found it in your heart to forgive his masculine 
 gender. He is so bright and merry that sometimes 
 he charms us into transient forgetfulness that there 
 is any war in the land. 
 
 I am not a bit disheartened about the war. My 
 chief wonder is that we have not done worse. It 
 would not shake my faith in the result if the most 
 shameful compromise should be made. Even if Jef- 
 ferson Davis should be the next President of a recon- 
 structed Union, it might be the best way to prevent 
 our wounds from being lightly healed. 
 
 " Oh, blessed is he to whom is given 
 • The instinct that can tell 
 
 That God is on the field, when he 
 Is most invisible I " 
 
 J
 
 Life and Letters. J I 
 
 Greenfield is a very pleasant place to preach in. 
 The congregations are large, and the music is 
 capital. 
 
 Concord, N. H., Nov. 30, 1863. 
 
 While I wait for a train to take me home from 
 this pleasant town where Parker Pillsbury atones for 
 Frank Pierce, I will borrow a pen, and wield it as 
 briskly as possible. 
 
 The cause of the country is getting stronger every 
 day. What changes for the better you have wit- 
 nessed in your lifetime ! How clear and strong 
 must be your testimony in favor of the expediency 
 of principle and the power of the truth ! 
 
 I have opportunities to go to Northampton and 
 another place. It is not decided yet whether I shall 
 have a call to the Dorchester parish or not. I hope 
 to preach at Yonkers before I settle down. ... I 
 have not seen the " Life of Parker," but a friend 
 who has seen it keeps tantalizing me with crumbs 
 from the tempting feast. 
 
 Yonkers, Sunday Evening, Jan. 3, 1864. 
 
 My dear Z., — There is half an hour before the 
 vesper service, and I must give it to you. 
 
 On my way from Meadville I came near making 
 that $4,000 out of the life-insurance offices. Coming 
 down hill at the rate of thirty miles an hour, three 
 cars got off the track, and two of them were badly 
 smashed, bruising some of the passengers. Our car 
 was less injured; but we were off the track for nearly 
 a mile, and we stopped on an embankment near
 
 74 TJiovias J. Mmnford. 
 
 a bridge over a small stream. I never had such a 
 jolting before, but I confess that I was so wicked as 
 to be amused at seeing the stove dance itself to 
 pieces; and you would have been shocked to see 
 that, in picking up my baggage, I went back to get 
 the lunch that F.'s dear hands had prepared for me. 
 I am at Mr. E. C.'s palace. It is on a hillside, and 
 you can look up and down the noble Hudson for 
 miles. The Palisades are right across the river. It 
 seems almost wrong to be here without you. The 
 church is the most exquisite little affair that I ever 
 saw or dreamed of. Music perfectly " divine," as 
 good as the best in the New York churches. To- 
 night I am to extemporize. 
 
 Tuesday, lo a.m. 
 
 I am invited to spend the week here. You would 
 like the C.'s. Mr. C. is president of the village and 
 of a bank, is at the head of a large forwarding house 
 in New York City, and the controlling spirit of a 
 factory here, which employs six hundred and fifty 
 men. With all his cares, he is genial and even 
 seems to have leisure for his family. He is a fear- 
 less fellow, likes Wendell Phillips, takes the Liber- 
 ator, and is about to close the two hundred liquor 
 shops of the place, — on Sunday, at least. At the 
 time of the New York riots, the mob threatened to 
 come here and burn this splendid house over his 
 head, but he was too well prepared to defend it. 
 His wife shares his spirit. She says all false con- 
 formities and weak silences in the presence of folly 
 and sin arc to be abhorred and despised. L. W*
 
 Life and Letters. 75 
 
 would clap her hands and say grace over both of 
 them. 
 
 I am a good deal perplexed about the parishes.* 
 Dorchester is not the most attractive place on many 
 accounts, but I really feel called of God to under- 
 take a work there. If I thought that we could live 
 on the salary offered, I should feel like saying "Yes" 
 at once ; not because I might not get a more prom- 
 inent place, but because I feel sure I can be most 
 permanently useful there. 
 
 Do make your plans to meet me in Worcester, 
 and come prepared to go to Boston and Dorchester, 
 that we may "look around." I am still inclined to 
 go there. Staples, of Brooklyn, is breaking down 
 utterly in health, just when his success is complete 
 in the pulpit. I must live more slowly, and last 
 longer, if I care for you and the boy Edgar ; and I 
 reckon I do a trifle. 
 
 I am writing in Mr. C.'s beautiful library, where 
 I can look down the Hudson for at least ten miles. 
 After a long and severe storm it is clearing away, 
 and the sunlight relieves the severity of the frowning 
 Palisades. Still I am a little sad, because I hoped to 
 be at home to-day. A thousand kisses for the baby. 
 
 Groton, Feb. 13, 1S64. 
 
 Dear Father May, — Your cordial letter followed 
 
 me to Brooklyn, where I was staying with a family 
 
 of true-hearted Germans, whose friendship will be 
 
 one of my immortal joys. 
 
 •He was invited to take charge of the pulpit in Yonkers, Concord, N.H., and 
 Northampton about the same time that he was called to Dorchester.
 
 y6 TJiomas J. Mumford. 
 
 You were right in supposing that it was my 
 mother's departure which you saw announced in the 
 papers. She was very ill only a week or ten days. 
 I was with her the last forty-eight hours of her 
 earthly life, and my coming seemed to be all that she 
 waited for. If you have read the paper on " The 
 Episcopal Church " in the last Unitarian MontJily, 
 you may have noticed how I was impressed at her 
 funeral. 
 
 The death of Staples is a great loss to us. His 
 going away reminds me of the duty of asking you, 
 in view of life's uncertainties, if you have ever com- 
 menced in earnest those autobiographical letters 
 which I have so often urged you to begin to write to 
 somebody. By preparing one a month with scrupu- 
 lous regularity, and sending it where it will be care- 
 fully preserved, you will make a needed preparation 
 for the influence which should live after you are 
 called away. I am not so selfish as to ask that these 
 letters should be addressed to me. Write them to 
 any of your tried and true ones, and I shall be con- 
 tented. 
 
 Parker's life was largely in his correspondence ; 
 but there are many of the best incidents of your 
 career of which your letters contain nothing. 
 
 I am to be installed over the Dorchester parish on 
 the 2d day of March. If the time had not been so 
 short, the distance so great, and the season so in- 
 clement, I should have tried to have you come on 
 and take some part ; but these considerations pre-
 
 Life and Letters. yj 
 
 vented my attempting it. J. F. Clarke is to preach 
 the sermon, and Brother Tilden is to represent you in 
 an address to the people. 
 
 Our boy is a superb fellow, and he sits in the sun- 
 shine singing as I write. He has dark hazel eyes, a 
 voice of ravishing sweetness, and a " smile that cheers 
 Jike dawn of dav."
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH* 
 
 There are hours in every man's life when he feels, 
 with peculiar depth and liveliness of emotion, the 
 power of the past. At such a season, I have been 
 drawn, quite recently, in that direction in which so 
 many persons are nowadays attracted, — I mean 
 towards the Episcopal Church. 
 
 My first and best friend had ended her long earthly 
 life of most affectionate self-renunciation, and her 
 freed spirit had gone to God who gave it. Although 
 she had no theology that might not be summed up 
 in half a verse of one of John's epistles, — "God is 
 love ; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, 
 and God in him," — it was fitting that her body 
 should be buried according to the rites of the church 
 of which she had been for many years a member. 
 We carried the precious dust to a beautiful edifice, 
 where a clergyman whom she had honored and loved, 
 not so much for his doctrinal accuracy as for his 
 generous fidelity to the poor, read the service so emi- 
 nently appropriate for those who go to their fathers 
 in peace and are buried in a good old age, — adding 
 some words of his own that were freighted with all 
 
 •Part of the paper with this caption, to wliich allusion is made in the pre- 
 ceding letter.
 
 Life and Le Iters. 79 
 
 the tenderness and beauty of the Christian faith. 
 As I sat there in that stately house of prayer, lis- 
 tening to expressions that awakened memories of 
 other departures, and softened by the plaintive, yet 
 far from hopeless strains of a noble organ, I confess 
 that it was with a feeling somewhat akin to the 
 longings of homesickness. My eyes rested on the 
 tablets behind the altar, which resembled those 
 from which I learned my earliest scriptural lessons 
 when a child at church. The reading-desk reminded 
 me of my father's pale and earnest face, when, as 
 one of the wardens, he used to read the services in 
 the absence or illness of the minister. As we bowed 
 our heads in prayer, I could almost fancy that he 
 was again beside me at the head of the pew ; and 
 I caught myself listening for his low, yet clear 
 responses. The intervening years of my heretical 
 ministry were all forgotten ; and, for the hour, I felt 
 that my truant feet were once more treading within 
 the sacred precincts of the homestead for my soul. 
 Thus it continued as long as mere emotion reigned; 
 and I could hear in my sadness only the sweet voices 
 of the past, which seemed to bid me return. As 
 soon, however, as reason and conscience reasserted 
 that there are principles as well as sentiments, I saw 
 how impassable is the chasm which separates me 
 from the church of my youth. 
 
 No bishopric, even in an Empire State, not all the 
 treasures of Trinity Church, could tempt me from 
 the place where I sit, at the feet of John G. Whittier, 
 as he writes these colden lines : " I cannot be suffi-
 
 8o Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 ciently thankful to the Divine Providence which 
 turned me so early away from what Roger Williams 
 calls 'the world's great trinity, pleasure, profit, and 
 honor,' to take side with the poor and oppressed. I 
 set a higher value on my name as appended to the 
 anti-slavery declaration of 1833 than on the title- 
 page of any book. Looking over a life marked by 
 many errors and shortcomings, I rejoice that I have 
 been able to maintain the pledge of that signature ; 
 and that, in the long intervening years, — 
 
 "'My voice, though not the loudest, has been heard 
 Wherever Freedom raised her cry of pain.' "
 
 IX. 
 
 LIFE IN DORCHESTER. 
 
 Pastoral and Friendly Letters. — Interest in his Parish. — 
 Gratitude to Cliannijig. — Anecdote of Robert Collyer. — 
 Confidence in the Truth. — Help to a Needy Soul. — Lit- 
 erary Work. — Helps the Monthly Journal ajid Sunday 
 School Gazette. — Proposes the Theological Club. — As- 
 sistant Editor of The Christian Register. — The May 
 Memorial. 
 
 For glimpses into the closing years of his ministerial life, ex- 
 tending from March 2, 1864, to March 2, 1872, we clip not only 
 from the remaining letters to Samuel J. May, but also from 
 those addressed to some of his parishioners, and others who 
 were his intimate personal friends: — 
 
 Dorchester, April 28, 1S64. 
 My dear Mrs. W., — You need not fear that I shall 
 be running off from my parish very soon. So long as 
 I can interest the people, I shall not seek any other 
 field. It seems to me there is something to be done 
 here. If I can gather some of these young men and 
 women into the fold of the Good Shepherd, I shall 
 be a far happier man ; not so much because of any 
 visible success on my part as on account of the 
 strength and peace and joy secured for them. It 
 is so devoutly to be desired that they may under- 
 stand that an earnest life is not necessarily a dull 
 one, but that the better we are, the more truly genial 
 shall we become !
 
 82 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 Groton, Mass., Aug. 19, 1S64. 
 
 We are all sorry to lea\'e Groton, but very glad to 
 look forward to our new home. If I cannot be use- 
 ful there, I shall be very much disappointed. I hope 
 they will not persist in putting me on the school 
 committee, however; for, although I mean to visit 
 the schools frequently, I prefer to do so in an unoffi- 
 cial capacity. Indeed, I know of several friends who 
 have had serious trouble in their parishes on account 
 of committee affairs. Few parents are reasonable 
 when a child's interest and reputation are at stake; 
 and a faithful ministry has enough trials and col- 
 lisions of its own, particularly in a village. . . . 
 
 Master Edgar seems to be in fine health. Yes- 
 terday he spent an hour at the railroad station, 
 where he manifested the liveliest appreciation of 
 the beauty of the locomotive. I do not think he 
 will see anything so lovely again until he gets a 
 fortunate glimpse of Mr. C.'s mule. 
 
 Oct. 27, 1S64. 
 
 Dear Father May, — At the eleventh hour, I send 
 you by express, charges prepaid, two hundred and 
 fifty excellent campaign documents, for circulation in 
 Onondaga County. Do sec that they are given to 
 men who will take pains to use them wisely and well. 
 
 Last Sunday I preached at King's Chapel, dining 
 with the senior warden, — your friend Mr. George 
 B. Emerson. We had some sweet talk of you, and 
 your ears ought to have been burned to cinders. 
 He is a noble man, and I thank him for valuable 
 hints concerning my delivery.
 
 Life and Letters. 83 
 
 Dorchester, Jan. 3, 1S67. 
 
 My dear JMiss C, — It is a vast comfort and en- 
 couragement to be assured that I have done anybody 
 the least good. But \v!i:it Shakspeare says of jests 
 is equally true of sermons, — that their prosperity 
 depends more on the ears that hear than on the 
 tongues that speak. ... It is always pleasant to see 
 you at church. It encourages me to have you say 
 that any service of mine interests and helps you, 
 for my ministerial misgivings have always been 
 numerous, and often painful. ]\Iy humblest hours 
 have been spent in the pulpit. . . . 
 
 You need not fear that I shall leave my parish 
 for a larger one if I can get it. My ambition is 
 satisfied. Samuel J. May defines success in life as 
 "loving and being loved," and I accept the defini- 
 tion. When I am sounded about being satisfied 
 with my position, I always answer, "Yes"; and that 
 ends it. Still, I dwell in a tent, and if the Lord tells 
 me, to-morrow, to go to Oregon, I trust I shall have 
 grace given me to start. . . . 
 
 The name of Channing is very sacred to me. Some- 
 times it has seemed next in sanctity and blessing 
 to the name of Christ. Certainly no human teacher 
 has done more for my mind and heart than your 
 uncle. I seldom read his works now; but it is on 
 account of the intense delight with which my soul 
 almost lived upon them when I was breaking the 
 shackles of my pro-slavery and Episcopal education. 
 I scarcely need the books to remind me of what he 
 said and did for his race.
 
 84 Thomas J. Miimford. 
 
 Milton, Mass., June 4, 1867. 
 
 Dear X., — I dare not look at the date of your 
 good letter, which made me very happy when it 
 came ; but my chief consolation is, that it told of the 
 arrival of wife and child, and so I know you have 
 been independent of communication from foreigners. 
 I have thought of you ever so many thousand times. 
 Whenever a grand word is said at any of our gather- 
 ings, I catch myself thinking, "I wish X. could hear 
 that." Last week, at the Music Hall, one Judge N., 
 who evidently belongs to the itinerant laity, and 
 now from Knoxville, Tenn., told us in a very simple 
 and touching way how Samuel J. May converted 
 him, and that he (the judge) was instrumental in 
 converting you, somewhere near St. Paul, and how 
 last year he made way for you to preach somewhere 
 on the Pacific coast. Did your ears burn when 
 we applauded his recruit.^ 
 
 The Anniversary meetings have really been good, 
 this year. They were heralded by preaching to 
 crowds in the Boston Theatre, where Robert Collyer 
 got his share of the glory. I followed him to Lynn, 
 etc., just to listen to his voice, and to look upon 
 his manly face, — for, after all, the charm is in the 
 man. I am reading his volume, "Nature and Life"; 
 but I should not half-enjoy it, if I could not inter- 
 polate the tones and smiles, and now and then the 
 tears, too. 
 
 The morning after he preached for the first time 
 in the theatre, I was with C. and T. We heard that
 
 Life and Letters. 85 
 
 Collyer was qnartered at the Tremont House (he was 
 at Bartol's), so wc went to call on him. 
 
 Inquiring Minister. — Is Mr. Collyer here .'' 
 
 Clerk. — Yes. 
 
 /. M. — Can we sec him } 
 
 C. — Yes, by going to the Howard. He is there 
 rehearsing, 
 
 /. M. — It cannot be. It is the Rev. Mr. Collyer, 
 of Chicago, that we are after. 
 
 C. — Oh, you mean the gentleman who appeared 
 at the Boston, last night! He has not been here. 
 
 Thus we learned that there is an actor named 
 Collyer. This story is true, and I hope it is not bad, 
 
 Robert told me that an ex-Christian, now agent of 
 the American Unitarian Association, at a m.eeting 
 in Indiana, told the folks that he had all sorts of 
 Unitarian tracts, some of which he could indorse 
 heartily, but others he could not. A fine old Quaker 
 came forward and asked Brother E, to put aside the 
 tracts which he did not like, and then said, " Thank 
 thee. I think I will take theseT . . . 
 
 We had Music Hall crammed for three days in 
 succession. The i^rettiest sight of all was the three 
 thousand children, Wednesday afternoon, 
 
 . . . There are a few bigoted conservatives and a 
 few mischievous radicals who are determined to be 
 persecuted ; but the great mass of our people mean 
 to be broad and fair and free. If any votes at all are 
 taken, somebody is liable to be in the majority, and 
 somebody in the minority ; but the truth will triumph 
 in the end, if its advocates are patient and believing.
 
 86 T/wmas J. Minnford. 
 
 June c6, iS68. 
 
 My dear Mrs. S., — Your welcome flowers and still 
 more precious note were a delight, but not a surprise 
 to me, this morning ; for you have already taught 
 me to depend upon the constancy of your friendship 
 and its timely and thoughtful expressions. I respond 
 most heartily to all your cordial good-will. It is very 
 gratifying to know that I am associated in your mind 
 with one so near and dear as your eldest son. 
 
 Some of my friends are a little impatient with me 
 for refusing to " candidate " in several larger parishes, 
 where I am supposed to have a " chance " ; but the 
 truth is, I am thoroughly satisfied where I am. The 
 society is not altogether what I would like to see it, 
 but it is better than I deserve ; and I am sure that 
 the whole world cannot give me warmer or truer 
 friends than many to whom I now minister. While 
 they are spared to bless me. with their love, the 
 thought of going away is too painful to be enter- 
 tained. 
 
 Aug. 27, 1868. 
 
 You have shown an almost startling knowledge 
 of my wants in sending me a neck-tie of your own 
 making. It was precisely my most immediate and 
 pressing need; for my little "bow," like some really 
 interesting visitors, often refuses to " stay on." 
 
 Oct. 12, 1868. 
 
 My dear Mrs. — — , Most heartily do I thank you 
 
 for every assurance that I am able to help you 
 
 in any way. I am truly sorry that you sometimes
 
 Life and Letters. 8/ 
 
 lack courage, and perhaps feel overawed, even when 
 you are drawn nearest to the Lord by your longings 
 and your needs. For my own part, I am grateful 
 for the confidence in his welcome which I share 
 with the publicans and the sinners of old ; and the 
 sight of his love attracts me so powerfully that the 
 weight of sin and the hindrances of unworthiness 
 are overcome at once. I cannot wrong Jesus l^y 
 the least distrust. I know it is his supreme delight 
 to lift us up, and to lead us home, I am conscious 
 of his response to every imploring word and every 
 appealing look. Indeed, he is most near when most 
 needed ; and there is no barrier so fatal as self- 
 complacency or self-righteousness. If we would not 
 grieve him, we should feel boldest when humblest, 
 and most abounding in his love when most in need 
 of it. He was "lifted up" that we might look above 
 ourselves, and away from ourselves, and remember 
 only the inviting voice and the open arms. . . . 
 
 You wish to do more than you have bodily strength 
 to accomplish ; but remember that God can accom- 
 plish his own purposes ; and, if you do all you can, 
 he will count it enough. We cannot earn our full 
 salvation. We must be willing to be " forgiven 
 much," and to be forgiven freely. You do not ask 
 your children to repay everything. It is the chief 
 bliss of the relation, that some "obligations" are to 
 be forever uncancelled, — that, indeed, they are not 
 obligations at all, but gifts of generous love. 
 
 Do not fear that I shall deem you so much better 
 than you really are. I have no doubt that you are
 
 88 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 human, — that you have sometimes cried, and have 
 had reason to cry, "God be merciful to me a sinner ! " 
 I, too, have a reciprocal fear that you may mistake 
 my aspirations for my attainments. Any confidence 
 that is ever granted me comes, not from self-con- 
 templation, but from the temporary absence of it. 
 I am as utterly sick of myself as you can possibly 
 be ; but I do believe there is not only pardon, but 
 peace for the penitent, and that God is never so 
 happy as when he beholds our homeward faces "a 
 great way off," and runs to meet us. I should feel 
 so, and I should ask you 'to feel so, whatever sins we 
 might have committed, and however far and long we 
 might have wandered. If we are only truly sorry, 
 and really wish to do better, unless the gospel is 
 all a delusion and Jesus the worst of deceivers, the 
 past should be forgotten ; for it is forgiven. Per- 
 haps this will not tell you anything you do not 
 know better than I do by far; but I think Jesus 
 encouraged us to grant absolution upon his condi- 
 tions, so strangely generous, so almost incredibly 
 merciful. I beg you to approach him boldly ; not 
 to fear to have him know everything, not to doubt 
 that he loves you as truly as he ever loved, and 
 still loves, Mary and Martha and Lazarus, and all 
 the rest who saw liis face and heard his tones. 
 
 Nov. 24, 1S68. 
 
 My dear Mrs. W., — My health has not been so 
 good for many years. I find I can take good care 
 of my parish, and have some strength left for outside
 
 Life and Letters. 89 
 
 work, including some assistance given to Brother 
 Bush, every week, at the Register office. I make up 
 the " Spirit of the Press," and write the short edi- 
 torial paragraphs. 
 
 March 12, 1S69. 
 
 I hope you are right in your estimate of my 
 preaching. Once in a great while I feel half-per- 
 suaded that it is so myself. But few can imagine 
 with what a sense of unfitness for the pulpit I have 
 had to struggle, for nearly eighteen years. It is not 
 always so, of course^ Some Sundays I feel sure that 
 I have the right word, and that I shall be helped to 
 utter it ; but, at other times, a very stubborn doubt 
 thrusts itself in my way. Still, past deliverances 
 ought to make me hopeful of future ones. 
 
 Certainly I cannot complain of a want of appre- 
 ciation, far beyond my deserts, outside of my parish 
 as well as in it. 
 
 Catskill Mountain House, Sept. 13, 1S69. 
 
 Dear Edgar, — I hope I shall get a letter from 
 your mamma to-night, and that it will tell me you 
 are all well. I am quite well myself. I eat two 
 chickens every day, and when I get home I may 
 crow instead of speaking to you. 
 
 Grant House, Sept. 19. 
 
 To-morrow is your birthday,* and I am sorry I 
 cannot spend it with you. This is my last Sunday 
 away from home ; and I shall be all ready to return 
 when the time comes, for I want to see you all 
 very much. 
 
 •Aged six years.
 
 90 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 After keeping cool upon the mountain, it seems 
 very hot down here. This morning I walked to the 
 village, and went to church. The walk back was 
 warm and dusty, but the mountains were right be- 
 fore me, r.nd they were so beautiful that I forgot 
 everything else. 
 
 I suppose you will have a great deal to tell me 
 about the storm when I get home. I hope you are 
 going to school. I went as soon as I was five years 
 old, and had to be taken on horseback in front of 
 a colored man named Romeo, who was my father's 
 slave. Give kisses to mamma and grandma. 
 
 Your loving father. 
 
 April 6, 1S70. 
 
 Dear Father May, — If I had charge of \h.Q Register, 
 I should print your excellent note, so far as relates 
 to the threatened division. It is my hope and belief 
 that not more than a tenth of us will go off into 
 Free Religion, and not more than another tenth 
 into Evangelicalism, if our leaders are wise and 
 broad like James F. Clarke. 
 
 After visiting his favorite spot in the Milton Cemetery, 
 where " under the pines " his body now rests, he wrote to 
 his friend Mrs. W., — 
 
 Sept. 28, 1S70. 
 
 The sacred place was reached while there was 
 plenty of light to see the decorations. I could have 
 found the spot in the dark, guided by the fragrance 
 of the flowers. I think that next to the thought that 
 M.'s body lies there, I like that vicinity because you
 
 Life and Letters. 91 
 
 seem to pass through the dark valley to the light 
 and warmth of the hill beyond. 
 
 At the date of Mr. Mumford's settlement in Dorchester, the 
 war had not ended. Instant in season and out of season, his 
 humble word was spoken for the soldier and the cause he rep- 
 resented. He encouraged the hands of faithful women who 
 were busy feeding and clothing the sick and wounded ; and 
 when Abraham Lincoln, in the single-sightedness of his vision 
 of truth and right, spoke the immortal words which broke the 
 shackles of the slave, he gave of his zeal and his resources to 
 the cause of freedom and the education of the people so long 
 bound in helpless ignorance. The warmth and breadth of his 
 sympathies made him the friend of that grand army of soldiers 
 who came home from the battle-field to live once more with 
 kindred in renewed bonds of love, and that other army who in 
 the spirit of heroic sacrifice had marched to the undiscovered 
 country. 
 
 Occasionally short articles and letters of his appeared in the 
 Inquirer and Register. About this time he also prepared a 
 series of articles for the Monthly yournat, which, the Assistant 
 Secretary of the American Unitarian Association was eager to 
 convert into a literary as well as a news journal. With James 
 Freeman Clarke, and a few others, he helped to brighten its 
 sunset glow, and prove to the denomination that such a Journal 
 could be made a welcome magazine of valuable reading matter, 
 as well as of statistics. Here appeared "Stray Hints to Par- 
 ishes," " Sunday-Schools Again," " What shall we do with 
 our Second Service?" "The Minister we do not Want," 
 "Fruit in Old Age," "The Southern Need of Dr. Noyes," 
 " Tlie Episcopal Church," and the serial called " The Journal 
 of a Candidate," which he was often urged to publish as a book. 
 
 The brilliancy and wit of his pen attracted some notice. He 
 afterwards wrote "Funereal Follies," for Old and Neiv. 
 
 In the latter part of the year 1865, the Sunday School Society 
 had become almost a forlorn hope, and the little Gazette w.is at 
 death's door. He was urged, if possib'e, to breathe into both
 
 92 Thomas J. Muuiford. 
 
 the breath of life. By first setting the example of generosity 
 and devotion, and then calling upon others to help him, he put 
 the Society once more on its financial feet. Receiving as a min- 
 ister a salary inadequate to the support of his family, he could 
 not give a bank check for a thousand dollars. Its equivalent 
 he gave in his services for one year, making the Gazette what 
 it had never been before, and leaving in the treasury a larger 
 balance with which to begin the next year's work. But, above 
 all, he restored the Society to the confidence of the people, and 
 awakened a wider interest in it. 
 
 His relations with churches of differing faiths about him 
 were warm and fraternal. No deeper mark of affection and 
 respect could have been paid to him than was given when he 
 was asked to offer the consecrating prayer at the laying of the 
 corner-stone of the new Methodist church in his neighborhood. 
 As an additional mark of respect, a copy of the paper he edited 
 was placed beneath the stone. With bishops and elders he 
 stood as a recognized brother in Christ. It was one of the joys 
 of his heart that he was so beloved. 
 
 The interest which he took in the young preachers, who 
 came to him by the eternal law in which sympathy begets sym- 
 pathy, led him to the measures which resulted in the formation 
 of the Theological Club, — an institution which still exists, and 
 which has been valuable for exactly the purposes for which he 
 suggested it. 
 
 He felt that the young ministers of the Unitarian Church had 
 no simple way of meeting familiarly with their older brethren, 
 and that there was also, in many instances, none of that stim- 
 ulus for theological study which is given when men meet 
 easily together, to compare their views and their studies. 
 Where there happened to be a ministerial association which 
 kept up any theological work, this last difficulty was met; but 
 a good many of the younger men belonged to no such asso- 
 ciation, and he was afraid that some of them felt "left out in 
 the cold." This led him to propose a club, to be open to the 
 older and the younger men alike, with the simple purpose of 
 conversation on theological subjects of interest, — with the
 
 Life and Letters. 93 
 
 understanding that it should always elect young ministers, if 
 it could be made out that they wanted to study. 
 
 The proposal was cordially met by several of the settled 
 ministers in and near Boston to whom he submitted it. From 
 it the "Theological Club" grew; and all the members of that 
 Club are grateful to him as its founder. It is specially interest- 
 ing that he should have undertaken its formation, for he, of 
 all men in our ministry, did not need it. He was never in want 
 of sympathetic professional associations ; but he saw the need 
 for others, and this was enough to start him on the plan. 
 
 There is something pleasing in his own modesty about his 
 membership of this Club, when he was notified of its first 
 meeting. He writes: — 
 
 Milton, Dec. 29, 1868. 
 Dear LLale, — I hope you will think favorably of 
 my suggestion about giving the young ministers of 
 this region a chance to meet you and each other in 
 a social way. ... I think there might be a very good 
 time. I do not propose anything formal or frequent, 
 nor do I think you should burden yourself with any 
 thought of material "refreshments." I only know 
 that these men have few opportunities to meet each 
 other in private, and all of them will be grateful for 
 the slightest manifestation of your interest and sym- 
 pathy. There are very few of the Boston ministers 
 who seem to know anything or to care anything 
 about their younger brethren. I am not sure that 
 my plan would result in anything at all satisfactory, 
 but the men would appreciate such an invitation, 
 even if they could not conveniently come. 
 Yours most cordially, 
 
 T. J. MUMFORD.
 
 94 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 P. S. — I was quite disinterested in proposing what 
 I thought would be a good thing for our younger 
 men. It did not occur to me that I was to be 
 counted in ; but I will go to Mr. Clarke's, as you 
 kindly suggest. 
 
 The fiftieth anniversary of the publication of the Christian 
 Register \va.s held April 20, 1871. Mr. Mumford had been for 
 nearly three years the assistant editor. At the dinner given to 
 the friends of the paper, Mr. Haskell, the editor of the Tran- 
 script, paid a marked compliment to his ability, in the following 
 words : " I should not do justice to my own feelings on this 
 occasion were I to keep 7nujn in regard to our Friend Mum- 
 ford, of the Register. He has introduced a feature which the 
 best and most prosperous papers are copying all over the coun- 
 try. I never read one of those columns of ' Brevities ' that I 
 do not think of what the California miner said of our dear 
 friend, Starr King. He came down from the mines, and went 
 to the crowded church, stood up in the entry and heard the 
 sermon, not knowing who the preacher was, and as he turned 
 he said, ' That man takes a trick every time.' So our Friend 
 Mumford makes a point every time. I think that column com- 
 bines the most popular element and the best taste ; and the 
 man who writes those paragraphs, — his inkstand is worth a 
 mine of gold to any organization." 
 
 Rev. Nathaniel Hall, of Dorchester, the loved and revered 
 friend of Mr. Mumford, once wrote to him: "You are a fort- 
 unate man to hold such a pen, with such a mind and heart 
 behind it." 
 
 We copy the following letter, written by one who, like Mr. 
 Haskell and Mr. Hall, has passed on to life in a higher sphere : 
 
 Rooms of the American Unitarian Association, 
 42 Chauncy Street, April 17, 1871. 
 
 My dear Mr. Mumford, — I know that you dislike 
 compliments, and perhaps to your face I should not
 
 Life and Letters. 95 
 
 venture to say what, even now, I shall put as moder- 
 ately as I can. 
 
 But the occasion of the anniversary of the Regis- 
 ter makes it appropriate that we should think about 
 the paper, and, if we have any feeling about it, that 
 we should give it expression. 
 
 And, as I have been recalling the course and 
 management of the Register the last year or two, 
 I recognize so gratefully what you have done that I 
 cannot help writing to thank you for it with all my 
 heart. I have a double reason : first, because of your 
 brave and strong and effective advocacy of the right 
 cause ; and second, because of your more than kind 
 words and action in reference to me. I have never 
 said anything about this, because I never knew ex- 
 actly how to ; but you may be sure I have felt it, 
 and remember it with gratitude. 
 
 I do often wish that your articles were in larger 
 type, especially such admirable ones as that in yes- 
 terday's paper about Mr. Burleigh and the New York 
 Conference, and others just as good in every week's 
 issue ; but we are all learning to get used to the type, 
 and think only of the value of the thought. 
 
 And now, hoping that your modesty will forgive 
 what is, after all, only the merest hint of what I feel, 
 I am ever truly yours, 
 
 Charles Lowe. 
 
 May I, 1S71. 
 Dear FatJier May, — Do go on with your autobiog- 
 raphy. If Joseph and I outlive you, we will see that
 
 g6 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 nothing indiscreet is published ; and therefore you 
 can write as freely as you please for your children 
 and grandchildren. Remember that if you do not 
 go on with this autobiography you will grieve me 
 very much, and disappoint a great many whom you 
 would be glad to gratify. 
 
 Always yours fondly, 
 
 T. J. Mumford. 
 
 Two months from the date of this last letter, Samuel J. May 
 was called to his heavenly home. The autobiography was left 
 unfinished. It became the sad pleasure of his family and his 
 nearest friends to gather up the memorials of his life, and com- 
 mit their arrangement to him who was always his "dear, duti- 
 ful " or his " beloved son" in the kinship of spirit, as Timothy 
 was the spiritual son of Paul. The work of planning and col- 
 lecting was assigned to Mr. George B. Emerson, Mr. Samuel 
 May, and Thomas J. Mumford. To the latter,, by vote of the 
 older members of the committee, was intrusted the pleasing 
 task of editing the memoir. Actual work upon it began in the 
 fall of 1871. It was ready for the press one year from this time. 
 
 June 27, 1S71. 
 
 My dear Mrs. W., — I received the " North Wind " 
 on Saturday, and the south wind yesterday. For 
 both I thank you. Your good wishes are balmy and 
 genial indeed, and I always breathe freely and deeply 
 when such "spicy gales" are blowing. They are so 
 exhilarating that I feel that I must do my very best 
 in and for the world, if I would be worthy of such 
 friendship. 
 
 This last birthday has made mc feel as never before 
 that I am no longer the young man that I have in- 
 sisted upon remaining. My father's hair was entirely
 
 Life and Letters. 97 
 
 white at forty-five, and mine is fast becoming so. I 
 am grateful for what has gone, and for what is 
 coming, 
 
 Oct. 26, 187 1. 
 
 I intend to tell my people that I shall cease to be 
 their pastor on the 2d of March, eight years from 
 the time of my settlement. I am to be sole editor of 
 the Register ^itcr the ist of January. The work is 
 very attractive to me, and I feel surer of my call 
 to it than I have ever felt about preaching. I was 
 called to be a pastor, and I mean to retain something 
 of this relation to many of my old flocks, especially 
 to stray sheep who have no new brand on them. I 
 have not been able to call on my people as much 
 since I have had the paper to care for, but I had to 
 piece out my salary somehow. 
 
 One of Mr. Mumford'.s favorite texts was, " Owe no man any- 
 thing." Unwilling to be personally in debt to any one, he was 
 as reluctant to serve a parish whose books were not clear of any 
 such incumbrance. Soon after his settlement he became active 
 in persuading the people to provide a suitable place for the 
 Sunday-school, and for the Young People's Christian Union, 
 which he organized, as well as for tlie social and charitable 
 meetings of the society. But, discovering a debt of nearly 
 a thousand dollars, he said, " Let us suspend the raising of 
 money for better accommodations until the debt is cancelled." 
 In answer to his request, the amount was raised on the spot, and 
 the adjourned meeting left the parish free of debt. The con- 
 tribution of money for a parish hall went on at intervals during 
 his ministry. At the time of his resignation, the requisite 
 amount had been raised and a plan of building adopted. 
 
 On the walls of this hall the grateful people have hung the 
 life-size crayon* of their beloved pastor. 
 
 •See frontispiece.
 
 X. 
 
 EDITORIAL LIFE. 
 
 Letters of Welcome. — Completion of the May Memorial. — 
 Its Reception. — Mr. Mumford's Relatiofi to the Fi'ee 
 Religionists. — His Catholicity of Spirit. — Death of his 
 Sister. — Last Letters to his Son. 
 
 The year 1872 opened with bright prospects. While the 
 heart of the minister turned back with fond memories to the 
 flock he had watched over for eight years, he was looking for- 
 ward to the satisfactions which the editorial life had ever 
 offered him, and to the carrying out of the long-cherished wish 
 of his heart, the preparation of the Life of his dear friend, 
 Samuel J. May. So the year found him busy, as well as full 
 of hope. 
 
 The invitation to become editor of The Christian Register 
 was received October 25, 1871. His duties were to begin with 
 the new year. The ist of December his letter of resignation 
 was read to his parish by his friend and neighbor. Rev. PVancis 
 T. Washburn. The announcement fell like a thunderbolt on 
 the ears of his people. He had not told them of his in- 
 tentions, — not even those who were in many respects his 
 intimate friends, — because he thought that in his relations to 
 them as pastor all his people had equal claims upon his con- 
 fidence. According to the conditions of settlement he was 
 to give three months' notice to his parish of any intention to 
 dissolve his official relations with them ; so he remained their 
 pastor till March, taking entire charge of the paper, and con- 
 tinuing work upon the May Memoir, 
 
 The perfect satisfaction that he found in his editorial work, 
 in spite of its heavy responsibilities and its many trying and 
 harassing cares, mny be known from his own testimony: "I
 
 Life and Letters. 99 
 
 have lived to be forty-five years old without ever finding out 
 what I was made for till now." This satisfaction was quite as 
 evident to his friends and readers as to himself. It revealed 
 itself in his work, which was seen to be that of a lover, not 
 that of a drudge. His position as assistant editor had already 
 given the readers of the Register a taste of his quality, and the 
 satisfaction with which his appointment as editor-in-chief was 
 received may be learned from the following extracts from a 
 few of the many letters he received : — 
 
 Boston, Dec. 13, 1871. 
 
 Dear Mmnford, — I am glad of your being editor 
 of the Register, and applaud your resignation of your 
 parish to devote yourself to a more important task. 
 
 I delight in the prospect which your intellectual, 
 moral, spiritual, and Christian qualifications for this 
 particular function open. 
 
 Beware of the universal temptations to hyper- 
 criticism, combativeness, conceit, smartness, and 
 sardonic contempt of personal or doctrinal foes, and 
 of the proud irresponsibleness of a public pen ; and 
 believe you have a friend and well-wisher and large 
 hoper for you in Yours, C. A. B.artol. 
 
 P. S. — Don't (eschewing vitriol) leave out the 
 spice. c. A. B. 
 
 San Jose, Cal., Jan. 12, 1871. 
 
 Dear Man and Brother, — I do think there are few 
 brighter papers in the land than the Register ; and 
 'tis the only paper which I much miss, if it doesn't 
 come when it ought. Yon I don't miss, feeling that 
 I have you in happy earnesi. 
 
 Salute the household, and may your hearts all be 
 full of quiet songs ! Serenely, C. G. Ames.
 
 100 Thomas J. Aliimford. 
 
 Office of The Index, Toledo, Ohio, April 20, 1872. 
 
 My dear Mr. Miimford, — Although it is late 
 Saturday night, I must send a hurried line to thank 
 you for the noble and generous spirit of your late 
 articles. 
 
 I want just to take your hand for a hearty shake, 
 because I fear you were wounded by my silence 
 regarding the beautiful letter you sent me a few 
 months ago. I felt it deeply, however, and feel 
 troubled because I have left it so long unanswered. 
 
 While we must still "exchange shots," etc., for 
 our causes, let us ever be the sincere friends we 
 are to-day. "Squib" away — I shall, too; but no 
 malice shall poison the arrow's point. 
 Yours unreservedly, 
 
 Francis E. Abbot. 
 
 The following letter is from Mr. Mumford to his friend 
 Mrs. S.: — 
 
 Oct. 20, 1872. 
 
 My editorial duties require nearly all my time ; 
 and of late all available leisure has been needed for 
 the May Memoir. This is now nearly done, and I 
 hope that nothing but the proof-reading will remain. 
 
 If it were not for a fresh cold, 1 should come over, 
 
 this evening, to tell you about our interview with 
 
 George MacDonald. Mrs. W. looked unusually well 
 
 and happy, and of course she made her little party 
 
 a most delightful one. 
 
 Dec. 24, 1872. 
 
 My dear Mrs. IV., — My book has gone to the 
 press, after costing me more wear and tear of feel-
 
 J^ifc and Letters. lOl 
 
 ing on account of the sensibilities of others than 
 actual work. By and by, I hope you will glance at 
 the story of my Father May's life. 
 
 The publication of the May Memoir brought forth, among 
 others, the letters from which we make the following extracts : — 
 
 April 30, 1873. 
 
 Rev. Mk. Mumford: 
 
 My dear Sh, — I have your highly esteemed note 
 of the 25th instant. I did not before know that you 
 were born in .South Carolina, and were the son of a 
 slave-holder. You certainly had a poor start in aboli- 
 tionism. "All's well that ends well." You have 
 come out right, and it gives me pleasure to know 
 that one of my anti-slavery speeches is entitled to a 
 little of the credit of it. 
 
 I hope your life of our dear May sells well. The 
 charm of your book is, that it allows its dear subject 
 to speak for himself, and does not bury him in the 
 words of its author. 
 
 I am an old man (seventy-six), but I should be 
 
 right glad to receive a visit from you, should you 
 
 ever be journeying this way. I hope I may yet have 
 
 the pleasure of taking you by the hand. I value you 
 
 all the more, because you were the friend of my 
 
 dear May. 
 
 Cordially yours, Gerrit Smith. 
 
 Bridport, Eng., Aug. i, 1S73. 
 Dear Sir, — I have been reading the memoir of 
 S. J. May with deep interest. Of all the anti- 
 slavery advocates, he was the one with whose 
 spirit I felt the greatest sympathy ; and I feel like
 
 102 Thomas J. Mmnford. 
 
 Mr. Whittier, who said that every one loved him 
 at first sight. 
 
 I have reviewed your Memoir in the Inquirer, 
 where it will appear, I suppose, to-morrow. I have 
 also sent an article to the Herald. Last Sunday 
 week, I made him the subject of a biographical dis- 
 course from the pulpit. 
 
 You will not be surprised, therefore, that I wish 
 the book to be more widely diffused in this country. 
 Is the book stereotyped } If so, might it not be 
 well to send over five hundred copies to England, in 
 sheets, at a lower price than it could be reprinted 
 for here .'' I know no book better worth reprinting. 
 
 Mr. May, perhaps, did as much good as Dr. 
 Channing; but his works were those which chiefly 
 influenced his own countrymen, who were the eye- 
 witnesses of his ministry. Believe me. 
 
 Yours faithfully, R. L. Carpenter. 
 
 Tribune Office, New York, Dec. ii, 187 1. 
 
 My dear Friend, — I am glad that the work of 
 writing the life of our beloved friend has fallen, in 
 part, to your hands ; for I know how deep was your 
 reverence for him, and how well you arc qualified to 
 tell what you know. 
 
 I, too, remember the days when we first met under 
 the roof of Thomas and Mary Anne M'Clintock, at 
 Waterlcjo. The interest in you, awakened then, has 
 continued without abatement to this day, and I have 
 rejoiced in view of your work and your success 
 therein. Yours truly, Oliver Johnson.
 
 Life and Letters. 1 03 
 
 A few years later, the same warm friend wrote Mr. Mumforcl 
 tlie following frank and generous lines in regard to his conduct 
 of the Register : — 
 
 Office Christian Union, New York, Feb. 24, 1874. 
 Dear old Friend, — I owe you thanks for your kind 
 allusion in the Register to my "Anti-Slavery Remin- 
 iscences," and to myself personally. You make the 
 Register a very bright paper, and I. congratulate you 
 most heartily upon your success. I do not always 
 relish your sarcasm, and I sometimes think you are 
 not quite fair in your jibes at the Free Religionists: 
 but it would be very foolish in you to try to please 
 me in all things. To make a good paper, you must 
 be independent. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 Oliver Johnson. 
 
 Perhaps the best commentary on these candid and good- 
 natured criticisms maybe found in the two letters of Mr. Mum- 
 ford which follow. Though not addressed to Mr. Jolinson, 
 they were written to a brother minister, also a member of 
 the Free Religious Association, for whom, as will be seen, he 
 entertained a strong and abiding friendship. They show that, 
 if his pen sometimes erred, his heart was not at fault. His 
 convictions were strong, but his sympathies were warm and 
 broad; and no one was more prompt to admit an error of his 
 own, or to recognize and applaud the merit of an antagonist. 
 
 Dec. 26, 187 1. 
 Dear X., — You are good. If they ever intrust 
 the making up of the list of saints to me, — I am 
 dreadfully afraid they won't, — your name shall go 
 in sure. . . . The address is rather longer than I 
 expected, and on this account I shall have to defer
 
 104 Thomas J. Muniford. 
 
 it until my second number ; but it shall have the 
 place of honor in that, and not one jot or tittle shall 
 be omitted. I have just read it with almost too 
 much emotion for a public place, jumping *up now 
 and then, and insisting that Sister W., who keeps 
 the Register s books, shall hear a few good rings of 
 the notes of life that are in it. It is my creed, my 
 statement of faith. . . . Y. is bitter. He writes to 
 blame me frankly for my sharpness in dealing with 
 the Free Religionists. They evidently think it is 
 more blessed to give than to receive — criticism! 
 And I may tell them so. My ill-nature and poi- 
 soned arrows are all gammon. I love all these 
 fellows a great deal more than I do some of the 
 fossils whom I have criticised just as freely. . . . 
 Yours very fondly, 
 
 T. J. MUMFORD. 
 
 Boston, April ii, 1S74. 
 Dear X,, — . . . I shall be heartily glad if you will 
 write an article from your old text, " Sirs, ye are 
 brethren," and show, as frequently as you please, 
 that, at the bottoms of their hearts, Orthodox, Uni- 
 tarians, and Free Religionists are at peace instead 
 of at war. ... Of course I have no prejudice against 
 freedom or religion in the abstract ; but when the 
 imperfect Register gets to dealing with the imperfect 
 Index, I presume that an impartial judge can see a 
 plenty of partisanship on both sides, I do not mean 
 to be mean and unfair, but I can hardly get out of 
 the prize-fight without striking; and, whether A., F., 
 etc., come up smiling or frowning, they seem to say.
 
 Life and Lc tiers. 105 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself about any concern for our 
 skulls, but look out, or yours will get cracked." Of 
 late I have tried hard to curb my combativencss, and 
 I hope there has been a little less of it. My dear 
 fellow, when you have been stumping for the Repub- 
 lican party as it was, have you always kept wholly 
 free from the rage of battle .■' Perhaps you did ; for 
 you are more of a Quaker than I am, or ever will be, 
 I fear. 
 
 I am not so very malignant, however. Having 
 begun as a pro-slavery Episcopalian, I was con- 
 verted by Quaker women of the most radical type. 
 I am catholic in my friendships, keep my old Epis- 
 copal High-Church pastor's picture in my study, 
 and if A. is half as fond of me as I am of him, we 
 cannot quarrel. 
 
 You must remember that it is not here as it is 
 in England. There is no anti-Unitarian and anti- 
 Christian organ there. Here there is an able and 
 aggressive - one, and with it has come some inevi- 
 table sparring. I have never written a word in an 
 ugly spirit ; and I hope that, if any bad blood gets 
 into my veins, some faithful surgeon will bleed 
 me freely and promptly. . . . To ray api^rehension, 
 the Christian religion, in its simplicity and purity, is 
 free and broad and inclusive. That is the reason I 
 like it, and don't want to have it defamed and 
 abandoned. . . . 
 
 With love for your dear self, 
 
 T. J. M.
 
 io6 Thomas J. Mitmford. 
 
 Milton, Sept. 29, 1873. 
 
 Dear Mrs. IV., — This month is full of precious 
 anniversaries. It is a little more than three weeks 
 since L. and I visited the Milton " God's Acre," 
 and brought away the leaves which I enclose to you. 
 It was a beautiful afternoon, and the place was so 
 lovely that we felt inclined to linger for hours. 
 
 If I am an editor when I go to Mrs. 's, I 
 
 alvvavs feel like a minister when I come away; for 
 she knows how to transform me by the renewing of 
 my mind, and my soul too. Well, the ministerial 
 satisfactions are higher and deeper, and I may 
 return to them, once in a while, to re-form my char- 
 acter. So many poor parsons are about that I do 
 not preach unless some friend is sick or absent from 
 his post. 
 
 Sunday Noon, July, 1S74. 
 
 Dca7' Edgar, — When I got home, last night, the 
 first thing I saw was your old cap left on my study- 
 table. I was very glad indeed to see it, for I love 
 my boy, with all his faults ; and whatever reminds me 
 of him is therefore welcome. Still I should not love 
 him any less ii he overcame his carelessness, and I 
 should feel easier about his future. He may think 
 that father and mother arc sometimes impatient, 
 but he will never find anybody who is really more 
 patient, although some may indulge liim more for a 
 time, not caring much whether he becomes a good 
 and useful man or not. 
 
 If I was glad to see your cap on the table, I was
 
 Life and Letters. 10/ 
 
 rejoiced when I opened the barn-door and saw 
 that you had really done something towards leaving 
 a supply of kindling-wood. That looked thoughtful 
 and kind. To be sure, I may have to add to the 
 pile ; for, in your generous desire that I shall not 
 suffer in my health from lack of exercise, you did 
 •not leave an excessive supply; but it will be much 
 pleasanter to add than it would have been to find 
 nothing to add to. 
 
 I hope you aro having a delightful day at the sea- 
 shore, and tint you do all you can to make your 
 mother happy. The weather is about right, and if 
 all is peaceful within, you can hardly fail to be 
 happy. 
 
 Give your mother a kiss for me, and ask her to 
 give you one on my account. 
 
 Philadelphi.a., May 12, 1875. 
 Dear Edgar, — Your mother is on her way to you. 
 The "Sa.xon" started just before eleven o'clock, and 
 we waved our handkerchiefs to each other as long as 
 they could be seen. She has a delightful room, and 
 will receive every attention. I hope she will get to 
 Boston safely. The wind is blowing hard, but it 
 may not be very rough at sea. I hope you are well 
 and good and happy. Your mother said a great 
 many fond things of you before the boat started. 
 God bless you, darling ! 
 
 Milton, May i, 1S76. 
 
 Dear X., — I got up early this morning, to read 
 the proof of the first sixty pages of a volume of
 
 io8 ' Thomas J. Miimford. 
 
 sermons and essays by F. T. Washburn. They are 
 as clear, bright, pure, and sweet as the morning 
 itself. I should be tempted to think that heaven 
 grieved and earth lost much by his removal, if I did 
 not hope that these printed words will reach and 
 help many human hearts. Of course there will not 
 be much chance to sell such a book, but the quality 
 of the influence will be rich and high. . . . 
 
 Ever yours, T. J. Mumford. 
 
 Boston, Ai^ril 7, 1S77. 
 Dear X., — If you knew how much good your letter 
 did me, you would be glad you wrote it, even if it 
 did cost an effort in the lassitude of spring, after the 
 hard work of winter. All my thoughts of you are 
 refreshing and inspiring, and hearing from you is 
 one of my chief pleasures. You are one of the men 
 that I trust absolutely ; and I think I should do so 
 even if you sometimes felt bound by your lov.e for 
 me, and the truth and the right, to give me blows 
 that draw blood When you can be encouraging, it 
 helps me to overcome a morbid self-distrust which 
 has dogged me through life, sometimes nearly 
 ruining me. ... I winced a little, to have it known 
 that good M. G. thought I deserved a public whip- 
 ping for my sins ; but, after all, she has not made 
 me see that what I said of Mr. P. is not substan- 
 tially true. An old abolitionist is rather better 
 than ordinary men, if he behaves himself ; but, if 
 he doesn't, he is amenable to the laws of truth and 
 decency, and there is not much harm in telling him
 
 Life and Letters. 1 09 
 
 so with some of his own plainness of speech. ... I 
 hope X. and Y. will get over their bad attack of 
 "statement of belief" on the brain. The spiritual 
 leadership of Jesus, and the promotion of pure 
 Christianity, are basis enough for me. Agitation 
 for anything more will be mischievous and abor- 
 tive. . , . Yours heartily, 
 
 T. J. MUMFORD. 
 
 Though Mr. Mumford gave up his parish, he never ceased 
 to be a minister. He was born to help and to console. He 
 made haste to serve brother ministers in their need. He was 
 often in the house of mourning, investing the solemn rites of 
 burial with the illuminating faith and hope of the Dayspring 
 from on high. He was unwearied in bearing messages of good 
 cheer, of sympathy, of comfort, and of counsel. Taking little 
 or no rest himself, he was untiring in serving others. Into the 
 last summer of his life were crowded such labors of love. 
 While in the midst of a remonstrance from his friend and 
 co-worker at the office, and a half-uttered promise to refuse 
 all solicitations to conduct funeral services in the absence of 
 pastors, he was called upon to go to a distant city for this pur- 
 pose. Turning to his friend, he said, "You must let me go 
 this time. This is a particular service which I cannot refuse. 
 I promise to do better in future." It was his last service of 
 love for the living in memory of the dead. One week later the 
 floral cross lay upon his own casket. 
 
 In addition to the letters already introduced from Mr. Mum 
 ford to his dear friend, Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney, we copy from 
 one or two written to her during the last summer of his life : — 
 
 Lan'CASTER, N.H., July 3, 1877. 
 
 Dear Mrs. JV., — I am well rested, and I long for 
 my regular work, which is a large part of my hap-
 
 1 1 o Thomas J. Miimford. 
 
 piness. Pleasant occupation that goes " with the 
 grain," and not too much of it, is a blessed boon 
 for a man or a woman. 
 
 Already we had many prized tokens of your friend- 
 ship, which we never see without lively pleasure ; and 
 such symbols help me when I am sad, by at once 
 reproving and cheering a self-distrustful fellow who 
 needs indirect assurances that he is not "a cumberer 
 of the ground." I am very grateful for my friend- 
 ships, only wishing that I could give as much as I 
 get for them. 
 
 I am glacj you find so many lovers of your brain 
 children in the West, although I knew it would be 
 so. The West is full of bright people, who have a 
 hearty welcome for every good thing, and the sec- 
 tional jealousies, both ways, are pitiable. I am often 
 asked, " Which do you like best. East or West .-' " 
 and my answer is uniformly sincere, if evasive : 
 "One star differeth from another star in glory." 
 
 Detroit, July 19, 1877. 
 
 Dear Mrs. W., — My sister Annie died on Monday, 
 and I came to the funeral service. The burial took 
 place yesterday, not long before sunset. She was 
 a person of great intelligence and refinement, who 
 loved much and was much beloved. Thirty years 
 of suffering and privation did not spoil her sweet- 
 ness or shake her faith. 
 
 I was at the Milton cemetery, last Friday, with 
 Lizzie and Mr. T., to look at our half-lot, which is
 
 Life and Letters. Ill 
 
 only about fifty feet from yours. It was very beau- 
 tiful there. Your lot never seemed more lovely. I 
 read the mottoes on the stone at Minnie's grave, 
 although I know them " by heart " indeed. 
 
 Peterp.oro, N.H., Sunday Morning, Aug. 12, 1877. 
 
 Dear Mrs. IV., — I am staying with the Morisons, 
 at George's farm-house, about three miles from the 
 village, and overlooking most of the region round 
 about, excepting old Monadnock and a few other 
 mountains, to which we look up reverently. I am 
 to preach here to-day, as a "labor of love" to the 
 parish, — the minister being off on his vacation. 
 Nature preaches so eloquently now that I almost 
 wonder at their caring to submit to the intrusion of 
 human voices upon their attention. 
 
 We like our new house more and more. It is at 
 least as pleasant and convenient as persons in our 
 circumstances can reasonably ask for, and I hope 
 Vv^e shall be very happy in it. It was always pleasant 
 at the old place, but I am thoroughly converted to 
 the new one. Edgar is nearly as large as I am now, 
 and carries his musket manfully in the Highland 
 Battalion. We are great friends, as we ought to be. 
 
 To his son, who was spending the week in East Gloucester, 
 he wrote : — 
 
 Boston, Wednesday, Aug. 22, 1S77. 
 
 Dear Edgar, — Your card to your mother has just 
 come, although it was written on Sunday ! 
 
 Slow mails, or males, periiaps, aged nearly fifteen J
 
 112 TJiovias J. Miimford. 
 
 I was at Cohasset, Sunday, where I could see Cape 
 Ann through a glass ; but I could not distinguish 
 Mr. R.'s house nor any of its inmates. 
 
 Aug. 23. 
 
 Probably you will come back to-morrow or Sat- 
 urday. It will be hard to leave the sea-shore and 
 pleasant friends, but we all have to do such things 
 now and then. It must have been beautiful on the 
 rocks, last evening. 
 
 Aug. 25. 
 
 I have just telegraphed that you may stay until 
 the Monday boat. We shall be very glad to have 
 you at home again. It will be sixteen years; Monday, 
 since your mother and I were married, and you ought 
 to be willing to spend a part of the day with us. I 
 have no doubt that you are, and that you will come 
 back "like a man." 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 T. J. MUMFORD.
 
 XI. 
 
 LAST HOURS. 
 
 Sunday morning, Aug. 26, found him early sitting on the 
 piazza, enjoying the freshness of the hour and the gradual 
 lighting up of the western hills. For the first time for many 
 Sundays he did not attend public worship, but threw himself 
 on the lounge for a morning nap, having as yet made no allu- 
 sion to any pain. Several friends came to lunch, and some 
 later to dine, so that the house was filled with guests till 
 evening. Always of very genial manner, his hospitality as- 
 sumed a playful mood, as he welcomed his friends, and showed 
 them ovir the house, and took them out on the house-top, 
 which commands a view of the surrounding country. At four 
 o'clock he asked to be excused from table, and ascended the 
 .stairs for the last time. He was then suffering considerable 
 pain, which did not cease till death released him. When, the 
 next morning, the doctor told him he was a much sicker man 
 than he had expected to find, he said, "If you will do all you 
 can for me, doctor, I will be very grateful to you." To all who 
 ministered to his wants he gave the gracious smile and the 
 cordial " Thank you." He was never more considerate of the 
 comfort of others than when they were bending over him to 
 relieve him, being as submissive to their wishes as a little child. 
 
 His " boy," as he loved to call him, came back full of 
 vigor and joyousness, to find his father on his bed of pain. 
 Throwing his arms around his neck, he said, "Well, my dear 
 boy, I am glad you've got home. There was a time, last night, 
 when I thought I should never see my little boy again, but 
 I am not suffering so much now. You don't know how I 
 love you ! " 
 
 The next morning a consultation of physicians was held, and
 
 114 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 telegraphic messages were sent to his brothers and sister, and 
 the friends whom he designated. He said to an attendant, " I 
 must be very ill, if it is necessary to call another physician. 
 I should like to live to see my boy grow up." 
 
 His mind was clear, and his thoughts busy, except for a few 
 hours at the last. 
 
 The coming campaign and the coming issue of his paper 
 were discussed by him in the intervals of comparative ease, 
 and many recent interviews with friends were repeated, espe- 
 cially a conversation on immortality he had had with a friend, 
 the week before, at Cohasset, where he last preached. 
 
 No direct reference to the impending change, no parting 
 word, as such, was said; for to the last there was hope of 
 recovery, and his loved ones did not wish to hinder it by the 
 least exciting thought. His feelings and convictions about 
 death and the immortal life were so well known, and so freely 
 had he been accustomed to talk with his family in regard to 
 them, that it would have seemed like an intrusion to disturb 
 the quiet slumber into which he had fallen with any words of 
 farewell, or to arouse him to the agony of parting. No one 
 could feel more surely that in the midst of life we are in death. 
 
 From infancy he had been taught by his mother to regard 
 life as a precious but passing gift. He would have been 
 pleased to remain on earth a little longer, if it had been 
 his Father's will ; yet he was ready at any moment to go at his 
 Father's call. 
 
 At five minutes past eight o'clock, Wednesday morning, 
 August 29, just as the train which was accustomed to take 
 him to town left the station, he passed "beyond the sighing 
 and the weeping " into the " love, rest, and home " that awaited 
 him on the other side.
 
 MEMORIAL TRIBUTES.
 
 MEMORIAL TRIBUTES. 
 
 XII. 
 
 FUNERAL SERVICES. 
 
 The announcement of Mr. Mumford's sudden death came 
 like a thunderbolt to his multitude of friends. It found 
 many of them, especially his clerical brethren, away from 
 home, spending their summer vacation ; yet the large number 
 of ministers and laymen from near and far who hastened to 
 pay the last honors to the deceased showed how widely he 
 was known, and how deeply and tenderly he was loved. 
 
 At the new house on Alban Street, Dorchester, into which, 
 with his family, he had so lately moved, and which promised 
 them such an enjoyable home, the relatives of the family, the 
 pall-bearers, and a few of the more intimate friends gathered, 
 at ten o'clock, on Saturday morning, Sept. i. The services, 
 conducted by Rev. Rush R. Shippen, were fittingly brief and 
 simple, consisting of the 23d Psalm, a prayer, and one of 
 Mr. Mumford's favorite poems: — 
 
 Our beloved have departed, 
 While we tarry, heavy-hearted, 
 
 In the dreary, empty house. 
 They have ended life's brief story, 
 They have reached the home of glory ; 
 
 Over death victorious. 
 
 On we haste, to home invited, • 
 
 There with friends to be united 
 
 In a surer bond than here. 
 Meeting soon, and met forever : 
 Glorious hope, forsake us never, 
 
 For thy glimmering light is dear I
 
 1 1 6 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 Ah ! the way is shining clearer, 
 As we journey ever nearer 
 
 To the everlasting home. 
 Comrades, who await our landing, 
 Friends, who round the throne are standing, 
 
 We salute you, and we come. 
 
 By request of the members of the Third Religious Society, 
 who wished to testify in some appropriate manner to the great 
 love they bore their former pastor, public funeral services were 
 held at their church on Richmond Street. Thither the casket 
 was removed, where it was placed under the pulpit, on a dais 
 surrounded with ferns and lilies, and covered with a wreath of 
 ivy and forget-me-nots. The pulpit and organ w^ere wreathed 
 with flowers by loving friends. 
 
 The large congregation in the church embraced not only 
 many ministers and laymen well known to the religious body 
 of which Mr. Mumford was such a faithful representative, but 
 many of different churches and faiths, who honored him for his 
 catholicity of spirit, and for his eminent qualities as a citizen 
 and a man ; and there were many there who had known him 
 as pastor and as friend, who had listened often to the devout 
 and earnest words which fell from his lips as he stood in the 
 sacred desk, or who, in the hour of bereavement, had known 
 his rare power to counsel and console. 
 
 The solemn funeral march on the organ was followed by 
 the sweet minor, " Come unto me, all ye that are heavy laden." 
 
 Rev. Henry G. Spaulding, his friend, and successor to the 
 pastorate of the church, read a selection from the Scriptures ; 
 after which the choir, composed of nine young ladies, some 
 of whom had the tenderest memories of his pastoral care, 
 then sang the following hymn : — 
 
 We will not weep ; for God is standing by us, 
 And tears will blind us to the blessed sight. 
 
 We will not doubt ; if darkness still doth try us, 
 Our souls have promise of serenest light.
 
 Life and Letters. II7 
 
 We will not faint ; if heavy burdens bind us, 
 They press no harder than our souls can bear. 
 
 The thorniest way is lying still behind us; 
 We shall be braver for the past despair. 
 
 Oh, not in doubt shall be our journey's ending ! 
 
 Sin, with its fears, shall leave us at the last ; 
 All its best hopes in glad fulfilment blending, 
 
 Life shall be with us when the death is past. 
 
 Help us, O Father! when the world is pressing 
 On our frail hearts, that faint without their friend; 
 
 Help us, O Father I let thy constant blessing 
 Strengthen our weakness, till the joyful end. 
 
 Rev. James Freeman Clarke, on the occasion of Mr. Mum- 
 ford's settlement at Detroit, preached the ordination sermon, 
 and had ever since remained his close and warm friend. It 
 was fitting that h^ who had ushered him into the ministry 
 should mark its close with a memorial word. 
 
 ADDRESS OF REV. JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE, B.C. 
 
 The large number who have been brought together, 
 this morning, from places nearer or more remote, 
 shows how deeply and how widely-felt is the sudden, 
 sad bereavement which calls us here. Very many 
 here, this morning, feci that they have lost a friend 
 and a brother so near to them, on whom they have 
 been so dependent, that this loss can never be re- 
 placed on earth. And many of us also, looking at 
 the important place which our friend occupied in 
 the community, his remarkable usefulness and his 
 special adaptation to his work, must think that the 
 place which he last filled can never be occupied 
 again by any one so competent to that work. And
 
 1 1 8 Tliomas J. Mumford. 
 
 then in our hearts, as so often, we look up and say, 
 Why he! why he! Why not some of the rest of us, 
 less useful, less needed, on whom fewer rely ? Why 
 are those taken that we can so ill-spare ? We can 
 answer nothing to that. There is only one answer 
 to it. Faith only can answer it, which knows that 
 these events do not come by any blind chance, or 
 by any iron-clad law of destiny, but that they come 
 according to the will, knowledge, and love of an 
 Infinite Tenderness ; and therefore, if we could see 
 through it all, as God and the angels to-day see it, 
 we should gladly and willingly accept it, and say it 
 is all right, all good, and all for the best. I suppose 
 that in the other v/orld, as here, good and true and 
 useful men are wanted, and that when they are 
 taken from us in the midst of such great activity, 
 leaving us in the prime of their life and in the full 
 measure of their power, when they are accomplishing 
 so much, they go not to rest, except to that rest 
 which comes from fuller work and greater activity. 
 Our dear brother goes on, but not to any idleness. 
 There is a place waiting for him, ready for him, in 
 some one of the many mansions of the house of the 
 universal Father ; and there he will once more put 
 that untiring mind, that perfect affection and tender- 
 ness, and that determined will to a new work in 
 that higher world ; but to us it is a loss, and a 
 great one. He appeared to have found his place, 
 where he could be so well-occupied during the 
 many years that seemed to lie before him, full of 
 fruit to be gathered by his untiring hand. Able
 
 Life and Letters. 119 
 
 and worthy men have occupied the position which 
 he occupied ; and yet, somehow, he seemed to put 
 into that work, into the journal of which he was 
 chief, a power, a vitality, and a spirit which caused 
 tliat journal to become, during his time, better than 
 it ever was before. We all went in haste to get 
 each new number when it appeared, wondering what 
 new brightness and what new variety of thought and 
 appreciation we should find in it. 
 
 We cannot help thinking, to-day, of how much 
 there was in our dear brother. The passages of 
 Scripture just read, full of description of every 
 variety of human perfection, do not seem wholly 
 unsuited to this hour ; for with all our brother's 
 ready intelligence, all his ripe, keen wit, all his 
 sharp insight, his promptness of judgment, there 
 was also combined how much, as you know, of ten- 
 derness and the sweetness of a heart which loved 
 like a woman, joined with a strength of will which 
 made him one of the manliest of men! Not only 
 did he follow his great Master in all this, but he 
 also seemed to follow exactly in the footsteps of 
 that earthly master w'hom he so much loved and 
 esteemed. He was like Samuel J. May in uniting 
 with a woman's tenderness a man's unflinching 
 courage ; and therefore he was so dear to us all. 
 There may have been those who, seeing that active, 
 asserting power and insight, that sharp, discrimi- 
 nating wit. have thought that he spoke recklessly 
 sometimes, and was willing to wound his oppo- 
 nents; but those who knew him well knew it was
 
 1 20 Thomas J. Miimford. 
 
 not in the least so. He said what he saw, and 
 could not help saying it ; but there never was one 
 touch of bitterness or of unkindness in anything that 
 came from the pen of our brother. Those who knew 
 his heart knew that to be the truth. 
 
 And so, to-day, we say we have lost one of the 
 bravest of men and the tenderest of friends. Not 
 lost; no, not lost. Such powers, so exerted, remain 
 with us always. Long as any of you shall live, you 
 will never cease to have him with you. His love 
 and his intelligence, — they will go with you always. 
 But there is something more which we must not 
 omit saying, now, in this church, where so many 
 knew the deep religious feeling of our brother, — 
 we must not omit saying that, joined with these 
 other powers, there was a faith in God like that of 
 a little child. I recollect one little incident which 
 he spoke of more than once to me. One night we 
 were walking together. It was a dark night, and 
 we were going along a path which I knew very well, 
 but which was unknown to him ; and we came to 
 .several places where I said, " Take my hand now. I 
 will lead you. This is a difficult place. Now, here, 
 jump. It is all right ; jump." And so he jumped, 
 and so he would follow. And afterward he said 
 that it seemed to him an emblem of the childlike 
 faith we ought always to have: not only that he 
 followed willingly, but that he followed gladly ; and 
 that there was a certain joy which he felt in leaping 
 into the darkness, knowing that his friend was 
 there, and could not make a mistake. And so, on
 
 Life and Letters. 121 
 
 a higher platform, he has repeated that httle story 
 when standing by the table of his Master, and ♦ 
 urging upon you to trust God, and to trust his 
 grace. In this spirit, too, with an ampler belief 
 and reliance, he has gone to take what some 
 doubters call another leap into the dark. But we 
 know that there was no darkness to him there, and 
 that when he found himself in that other world, 
 with those new surroundings, he felt that it was all 
 right and all good, — nothing dark, nothing uncer- 
 tain. He was ready to go forward, holding the 
 hand always of the Divinest of Friends, and trust- 
 ing that he could be led nowhere that would not 
 be for his highest good. He was ready to leap 
 into any darkness, while holding the hand of his 
 heavenly Father. 
 
 Rev. R. P. Stebbins, D.D., of Ithaca, who was President of 
 Meadville Theological School when Mr. Mumford entered, 
 followed with a warm tribute to his former pupil. 
 
 ADDRESS OF REV. RUFUS P. STEBBINS, D.D. 
 
 It is finished. The work of this active spirit 
 here is done. I remember perfectly, as if it were 
 but yesterday, when he came to Meadville a quarter 
 of a century ago — having caught new views of the 
 mercifulness of God and the brotherhood of man, 
 to prepare himself for the Christian ministry — the 
 brightness of that face, the ardor of that heart,
 
 122 TJiomas J. Miimford. 
 
 the warmth of that hand. From that hour to this, 
 and from this on, if God helps me to be as faithful 
 to the great work as he, forever on will our hearts 
 beat in sympathy of love. His name was always 
 spoken with warmest affection in my home ; and 
 when I learned that one who was so precious to 
 me during so many years had passed on, — so full 
 of spirit, so full of vigor, so full of all the brightest 
 hopes and prospects here, — I could but wonder at 
 that divine Providence that had left me behind, the 
 shadows lengthening, the hands hanging down, the 
 feet faltering, and taken him, the strong, the vig- 
 orous, whose field was continually widening, whose 
 opportunities for usefulness were constantly in- 
 creasing, and to whom we were all looking as a 
 great helper and a great supporter. I feel, friends, 
 that this is not an occasion for words. I have no 
 words in which I could express the strength of my 
 affection and the height of my admiration for our 
 departed brother and Christian friend in the min- 
 istry. I knew him well, and I knew him long; and 
 a more loving heart, a sweeter spirit, a more instan- 
 taneous judgment, I liave never been acquainted 
 with. From the beginning of his studies, he con- 
 tinued to grow and grow and grow into everything 
 that is best and purest and strongest. And when 
 he used his pen instead of his tongue, how bright 
 was the stream that flowed! How clear, how pure! 
 I know there was no bitterness in that heart. It 
 was open to my inspection always. Folly and sham 
 could not pass the point of his sparkling spear with-
 
 Life and Letters. 1 23 
 
 out being punctured ; and folly and sham arc always 
 sensitive ; but he never had any bitterness in his 
 heart. 
 
 Within the last week he spoke to me something in 
 regard to his work on the paper, and said it is best 
 to have large freedom. It does us all good, he said, 
 when we feel uneasy, to speak of it ; and it does us 
 all good, when we think we have something very 
 important for the world to know, to be able to let 
 the world know it : we feel better. " I do not fear," 
 he said. " The good common sense and common, 
 practical judgment, the warm love and charity of 
 the people, will understand all this. And I do not 
 think it is worth while for us to set ourselves up 
 as popish and arbitrary; but let the word have 
 free course as it comes to each." That was the 
 spirit of our brother all the time. And yet, when 
 a foolish thing was said, he could not let it pass 
 without touching it with his Ithuriel spear ; and if 
 he did so, it was to show how exceedingly foolish it 
 was, for he was wisdom, — practical wisdom. From 
 the first day that he entered the Theological School 
 at Meadville, all through his life, he was eminent 
 for his practical wisdom. In nothing was he more 
 noted, except for his loving, all-embracing sympathy 
 and kindness. 
 
 But why do I speak } As the fragrance of these 
 flowers fills the church, so the fragrance of his 
 memory is in every heart, and is fresh in all our 
 thoughts. Brethren, may God help us to be as 
 faithful as our departed brother, so that w^hen we
 
 1 24 Thomas J. Mitmford. 
 
 shall pass on, others will cherish our memory, and 
 honor and imitate our faithfulness! 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 " Oh for the peace that floweth as a river, 
 
 Making life's desert-places bloom and smile ! 
 Oh for that faith to grasp the glad Forever, 
 Amid the shadows of earth's Little While I 
 
 " A little while, 'mid shadow and illusion, 
 To strive by faith love's mysteries to spell. 
 Then read each dark enigma's bright solution, 
 
 Then hail sight's verdict, — He doth all things well. 
 
 " And He who is Himself the Gift and Giver, 
 The future glory and the present smile, 
 "With the bright promise of the glad Forever, 
 Will light the shadows of earth's Little While." 
 
 Rev. J. H, Morison, his near neighbor and friend at Milton, 
 for whom Mr. Mumford always entertained the warmest love, 
 added his testimony to the sweetness and worth of his 
 character. 
 
 ADDRESS OF REV. J. H. MORISON, D.D. 
 
 My friends, the friends of Christian liberty and 
 Christian truth, have lost a most able and intrepid 
 champion of their cause. Almost every generous 
 philanthropical enterprise has lost a faithful, able, 
 generous supporter. As the chief of our principal 
 religious paper here in New England, our friend 
 was brought weekly into personal relations with a 
 far larger audience than any other man in our
 
 Life and Letters. 125 
 
 denomination. It has been a matter of wonder to 
 me to see how, week after week, he has met the 
 severe requirements of this situation. We do not 
 all of us know how great these responsibilities are. 
 As the banker in his office, in trying times, is called 
 upon at the instant to give his judgment on which 
 other fortunes than his own depend, — as the general 
 on the field of battle is obliged in an instant to issue 
 orders on which the lives of thousands, and perhaps 
 the liberty of the country, depend, — so the editor of a 
 paper, in trying times, is often obliged at the moment 
 to make up his mind, and issue his opinions, on sub- 
 jects of vast interest to the whole community which 
 he represents. It has been to me a matter of sur- 
 prise, knowing the previous life of our friend, that 
 he should understand so well as he did all the cir- 
 cumstances which must enter into such a judgment, 
 so as to be able, week after week, to issue those 
 extemporary opinions, so many of them, and very 
 seldom one which did not commend itself to our 
 judgment. Thus we have met with a great public 
 loss, and we cannot tell how that loss may be sup- 
 plied. But, in a time like this, we who have lived 
 near him, we who have known him in the closer 
 and dearer relations of life, look inward, and think 
 of him as he was in himself, and as he was to us, 
 — our neighbor, our brother, our friend. It seems 
 but a little while since we gathered here in this 
 church, to welcome him as a minister of Christ. It 
 seems but a little while. He came heralded by no 
 sounding of trumpets, — only by that very modest
 
 1 26 Thomas J. Miimford. 
 
 bearing of his ; but year by year, and week by week, 
 he was winning his way into the hearts of those 
 who were around him, until at last it seemed to us 
 as if our homes were worth more to us than they 
 had been, because he sometimes came to us. The 
 tenderness, the sweetness, the child-like trust in 
 him, endeared him very much to those of us who 
 lived near him. In looking forward to the possible 
 trials that might fall upon us, the heavy cares which 
 must in process of time come, it was something to 
 feel that his tender sympathies would come in to 
 soften the hardness of the stroke; it was some- 
 thing to feel that his genial and mighty faith would 
 come there, to light up the darkness of the hour. 
 And when these trials came, and this dear brother 
 entered our homes so unobtrusively, we felt that his 
 presence was a comfort, even more than we had 
 anticipated. Sweet and pleasant and precious to 
 many of us, to you and to me, are the memories of 
 his kindly sympathy, at the trying moment, in times 
 past. Dear and precious to us was our friend and 
 brother. That is what I love to dwell upon now. 
 Sudden, terribly sudden, we might say, was his 
 death. I do not remember ever hearing an an- 
 nouncement of the kind that came more suddenly. 
 But recently, in my native place, he had been to 
 give a labor of love, as his custom was. Only three 
 weeks ago he was there. Everybody was pleased 
 to hear him; and suddenly, by telegraph, the news 
 came that he had passed away. "Is it true.-*" asked 
 our minister there, with tears in his eyes, — "is it
 
 Life and Letters. 12/ 
 
 true that Mr. Mumford is dead? Can it be so?" 
 And yet, sudden as it has been to us, it was not, I 
 believe, entirely so to him. Hardly more than a 
 month ago a sweet sister of his, the feminine, 
 softened image of what was gentlest, strongest, and 
 best in him, was suddenly taken away, and he was 
 called to Detroit, the place where her life on earth 
 had ended ; and there, with his heart subdued and 
 open to the influence of all tender associations, he 
 was brought into connection with those among 
 whom his earliest ministry had been passed ; and, 
 on his way home, he visited other places where dear 
 friends were whom he delighted to meet. Under 
 these afflicting circumstances, it may seem to us as 
 if he had been making a valedictory journey, — a 
 farewell visit to those who had been very dear to 
 him in former years. He came back to resume his 
 labors and to enter into his home, — a new and 
 beautiful home, which had just been prepared for 
 him. In all this, may we not see the hand of a 
 loving Providence gently leading and preparing him 
 for the last change on earth, — the change from an 
 earthly to a heavenly home ? 
 
 A few weeks ago, as he and those dearest to him 
 entered into their new Home, they said, " We have 
 here a home for life : may wc not also secure for 
 ourselves a home for death?" And in the quiet 
 Milton graveyard they secured a lot, — almost, one 
 might say, with a prevision of what was to come I 
 and in making this choice, he was led by the tender 
 affections of his nature. In that quiet cemetery
 
 128 TJiomas J. Mum ford. 
 
 were buried some of his old parishioners who were 
 very dear to him. There especially was one, a 
 young wife and mother, cut off in the blossoming 
 and promise of life, — one of the dearest lambs of 
 his flock. And there, too, were buried a few of his 
 brother ministers who were dear to him : one 
 of his predecessors in this church, — a thoughtful 
 scholar, a kind neighbor, a courteous, Christian 
 gentleman, Francis Cunningham. And there was 
 another friend of his, Joseph Angier, who by his 
 social gifts and his gift of song had endeared him- 
 self very much to his brethren. And there, with 
 these older friends, was he to have his ashes rest 
 near those of our dearly-honored younger brother, 
 Francis Washburn, — that profound and reverent 
 theologian, that gifted, saintly man, who seemed 
 only to have begun to live here upon the earth 
 when his life was transferred to higher spheres. 
 These associations, I think, were what led our 
 brother to choose that spot as a final resting-place, 
 that the ashes of himself and his family might be 
 placed there. 
 
 Dear, sainted memories gather around me. This 
 place where he ministered calls up the form of his 
 immediate predecessor, a devoted, faithful. Christian 
 man, who, greatly beloved and lamented, was called 
 away from his earthly labors. But not with the 
 dead are we to dwell here. Not in that cemetery, 
 beautiful as it is, and hallowed as are the associa- 
 tions connected with it, — not there does the thought 
 of our dear brother lead us. A man so full of life,
 
 Life and LcttcTS. 129 
 
 so full of intelligence, so full of spiritual power, — it 
 is hard to associate the thought of him with the 
 grave. He has nothing to do with that. It is the 
 dust that mingles with its kindred dust. Such a life 
 is the strongest visible assurance that we can have 
 of the immortal world ; and it requires no effort of 
 the imagination to transfer him there, but rather an 
 effort to prevent it. No effort of the imagination is 
 called for, to see him there, with the sweet and beau- 
 tiful spirit of the sister who only a few weeks ago 
 passed^rom earth to heaven, — to see him mingling 
 with the many with whom he has been connected 
 here, and carrying on with them, in higher forms of 
 life, the work which was begun here. For, as has 
 been said, all his friends were dear friends. Those 
 who, by one of a less generous and a less loving 
 nature, might have been looked upon as instruments 
 for work were all his personal friends, — dear friends. 
 We cannot but think of him now as joining dear 
 friends in that higher world, to rejoice with them, 
 to work with them under the same blessed Father, 
 under the guidance of the same beloved and re- 
 vered Lord and Saviour to whom he had looked 
 here with so much reverence and love. Yes, the 
 limitations of this world are broken asunder; the 
 separations which differences of opinion make here 
 pass away. Even here, with all his severity of judg- 
 ment on what seemed to him wrong, and with all 
 the firmness with which he held to what he thought 
 was the truth, he was very tolerant, — no, not toler- 
 ant, for tolerance implies some assumption of supe-
 
 1 30 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 riority, and he looked upon those who differed from 
 him with a most catholic spirit, just as he looked on 
 those who agreed with him, so far as they were per- 
 sonally concerned. They were his brethren, they 
 were his friends, all the same. He was united to 
 them by the same ties of confidence, affection, and 
 love. And now, where I trust they all see more 
 clearly than ever before, he has gone to unite with 
 Christians of every name, — with the pure and the 
 good of every name, — to unite with them, and rejoice 
 with them, in "joy unspeakable and full of glory." 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 God giveth quietness at last ! 
 The common way once more is passed, 
 From pleading tears and lingerings fond 
 To fuller life and love beyond. 
 
 Fold the wrapt soul in your embrace. 
 Dear ones familiar with the place I 
 While to the gentle greetings there 
 We answer here with murmured prayer. 
 
 O pure soul 1 from that far-off shore 
 Float some sweet song the waters o'er I 
 Our faith confirm, our fears dispel, 
 With the dear voice we loved so welll 
 
 The Rev. George W. Hosmer, of Newton, the first Unitarian 
 preacher that Mr. Mumford ever heard, who gave him the 
 charge at his ordination in Detroit, and who held a place in his 
 affections second only to those in his own household, closed 
 the service with a fervent, uplifting prayer. 
 
 The body was then removed to the cemetery in Milton, 
 where, after a brief prayer by the Rev. Dr. Morison, it was 
 committed to its final resting-place beneath the pines.
 
 XIII. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 For the number of The Christian Register next following 
 Mr. Mumford's death, his friend, Rev. Rush R. Shippen, 
 contributed as editorial, in substance, the following brief 
 biographical sketch: — 
 
 Thomas James Mumford was born in Gillisonville, 
 Beaufort District, South Carolina, June 26, 1826. 
 His father had gone thither not long before, from 
 Newport, R.I., but soon returned to the North, 
 and died in early manhood. His mother, a South- 
 erner, we remember as of quiet, refined, and gentle 
 presence. Thomas, who, as he came to manhood, 
 became, from principle, a foe to slavery, always clicr- 
 ished a certain romantic pride of his Southern birth, 
 and a tender memory of the scenes and people of 
 his Southern home. His later boyhood was spent 
 in Waterloo, N.Y. Here he attended an excellent 
 academy, studying Latin ; at seventeen delivering 
 an oration on Ireland ; graduating at eighteen, noted 
 for his bright promise ; and the same year giving 
 the Fourth of July oration for the town. He then 
 studied law ; but, following the natural bent of his 
 best talent, soon turned editor of the county paper. 
 After the nomination of Cass and Taylor as candi- 
 dates for the Presidency, when the t\v(j great leading
 
 132 Thomas J. Miimford. 
 
 parties of the country seemed to him committed to 
 the support of slavery, he promptly turned it into 
 an organ of the new party of freedom. He thereby 
 steadily, but with unflinching heroism and loyalty 
 to the cause he had with all his soul espoused, 
 in financial respects, ruined his paper; but he had 
 thrown himself into the forward movement of the 
 age, and its flooding tide bore him on to his best 
 experience and destiny. Coming to the Worcester 
 Free-soil Convention of 1848, he heard Charles 
 Sumner, and became acquainted with Judge Charles 
 Allen, whose friendship he ever after enjoyed. At 
 Waterloo was a little company of Progressive 
 Friends. Of this company was the family of 
 Thomas McClintock, who gave him liberal books, 
 and among them the works of Channing. Reading 
 these with avidity, he soon found himself outgrowing 
 the creed of the Episcopal Church, in which he had 
 been baptized and brought up ; but, before he left 
 it, he applied himself to the study of the various 
 faiths of the different leading sects : and in leaving 
 the beliefs of his early years he broke no friend- 
 ship, nor lost his loving regard for the church 
 from which he sorrowfully went out. Through his 
 Quaker friends he soon met Samuel J. May, of 
 the neighboring city of Syracuse. Congenial spirits, 
 with a wonderful spiritual likeness, they instantly 
 went to each other's hearts. Mr. May always play- 
 fully called him his son Timothy. They were like 
 boys together, with a warm intimacy closer than 
 that of brothers, lasting through life. And the
 
 Life and Letters. 135 
 
 beautiful memoir of May is but a copy of impres- 
 sions photographed on his young friend's heart. 
 Under Mr. May's guidance, Mr. Mumford went, in 
 the fall of 1849, to the Theological School at Mead- 
 ville. Here he remained two years, having Scandlin 
 and the Staples brothers among his companions ;. 
 and as teachers, besides Dr. Stebbins and the other 
 professors. Rev. James Freeman Clarke, who for 
 recruiting health was resting for a year from his 
 ministerial labors in Boston. There Thomas, as %ve 
 must still call him, — for he always preferred this 
 Quaker custom, — with his rosy face, fair as that of a 
 young girl, his fresh, frank manner, his bubbling fun 
 and flashing wit and fascinating sympathy, speedily 
 captivated all hearts. It was beautiful to witness 
 how, with superior culture, his quick sympathy saw, 
 under the uncouth exterior of the sailor boy, just 
 from the ship's deck and from Father Taylor's 
 Bethel, the inner worth and nobility of Scandlin. 
 Unlike as they were in training and experience,, 
 their hearts were kindred. The gracious spirit of 
 Mumford was to Scandlin like sunshine to a flower. 
 At Meadville, as through life, he cared little for 
 abstract studies of history, philosophy, or theology. 
 Whatever he did in this direction was done from a 
 sense of duty. But biography and poetry were his 
 delight. From personal memoirs and diaries and 
 correspondence, incident and anecdote and the lofty 
 inspirations of song, he gathered spiritual food as a 
 bee gathers honey. His memory was quick, accu- 
 rate, and tenacious. He had also, from the first, the
 
 1 34 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 precision of expression, the grace and finish, that 
 always characterized his writing. His prayers and 
 extempore speeches manifested it. His sentences, 
 whether in sermon, correspondence, or editorial, 
 always fell at once from his pen just as they 
 remained, — clear-cut and finished in expression. 
 
 His fondness for poetry and his enthusiasm for 
 freedom became a new inspiration to the school. 
 His fellow-students and boys in the Sunday-school 
 were charmed with the kindling influence of his 
 example, as from the ample stores already in his 
 memory he delighted to repeat long passages from 
 Coleridge, Wordsworth, and Shelley, the stirring 
 strains for freedom of Lowell and Whittier, and the 
 spirited hymns of Samuel Longfellow's new hymn- 
 book. There still rings in our memory one of his 
 favorite mottoes : — 
 
 " It is the heart, and not the brain, 
 That to the highest doth attain." 
 
 Into the debates of the school, too, he introduced 
 a topic then comparatively new. With romantic 
 ardor he became the champion of woman's equal 
 right to education, to chance for work with just 
 wages, to equitable tenure of property, and to repre- 
 sentation by the ballot. This was the theme of one 
 of his first and best essays. 
 
 Like his father May, he cared little for the techni- 
 calities of dogmatic theology, but desired then and 
 always, with unreserved devotion, to consecrate him- 
 self an earnest apostle of human rights and brother-
 
 Life and Letters. 135 
 
 hood, of the fatherly love of God, and of all practical 
 religion. Following the guidance of Furness, he 
 was an appreciative student of the Gospels, and 
 recognized Jesus as humanity's divinest leader. His 
 essay at graduation was on " Christ the Light of the 
 World. " 
 
 In July, 185 1, he preached as candidate in Detroit. 
 No Unitarian society had yet been gathered there, 
 though a few earnest Unitarians were eagerly await- 
 ing it, and a few sermons had been preached by the 
 ministers of Buffalo and Chicago. After two or 
 three Sundays he received a hearty call, with entire 
 unanimity of the people, immediately accepted, and 
 organized the church to whose ministry he was 
 ordained. Rev. James Freeman Clarke preached 
 the sermon, on the Unitarian belief ; Dr. Hosmer, of 
 Buffalo, gave the charge ; and Rev. Rush R. Shippen, 
 of Chicago, the right hand of fellowship. In the 
 spring-time he took to Detroit, as his young wife, 
 Sarah Shippen, of Meadville. Though she con- 
 tinned but two years longer on earth, the years were 
 ever after rich with memories of their pleasant home. 
 
 In attempting to build a new church, the little 
 band had subscribed their utmost, and were proud 
 and happy in their independence, with the prospect 
 of building for themselves, unaided, a new house 
 of worship ; but, as the walls were ready for the 
 roof, a sudden storm prostrated them, and compelled 
 the young minister, without Eastern reputation or 
 acquaintance, to make his first visit among his 
 brother-ministers on a begging expedition. Through
 
 136 Thomas J. Miunford. 
 
 this trying ordeal he passed so bravely, yet so mod- 
 estly, that, while he accomplished his purpose, he 
 won golden opinions as well as contributions. He 
 never ceased to remember with gratitude his gra- 
 cious reception by Ephraim Peabody, Starr King, 
 Calvin Lincoln, then Secretary of the American 
 Unitarian Association, and others. He at first felt 
 hurt by one brother accusing him of "speculating 
 upon Providence"; but, soon perceiving Mumford's 
 genuine quality, the same brother, with his accus- 
 tomed self-accusing penitence, begged forgiveness, 
 and ended by helping him as generously as any. 
 
 In Detroit he remained about nine years, in a 
 successful ministry of unbroken affection with his 
 people, leaving only by the necessity of change for 
 renewed health. For a year he ministered to the 
 Unitarian church at Marietta, Ohio. Thence coming 
 to New England, he married Elizabeth G. Warren, 
 of Groton, who, with a son, named for Edgar Huide- 
 koper, survives him, to whom go forth the abounding 
 gratitude and sympathy of a multitude of friends, 
 praying for the best consolations of Heaven to 
 sustain and bless. During the larger part of a year 
 he supplied the pulpit at Greenfield, while its patri- 
 otic minister, Rev. J. F. Moors, went as chaplain in 
 the army near New Orleans. While candidating for 
 a brief period, he had a glimpse of that trying expe- 
 rience, which he so graphically portrayed in a series 
 of articles in the Montlily Joiwjial. Soon he settled 
 as pastor of the Third Church of Dorchester, and in 
 his new home at the Lower Mills village speedily
 
 Life and Letters. 137 
 
 surrounded himself with a host of new friends. 
 While here, he did good service as Secretary of the 
 Sunday School Society, being immediate predecessor 
 of James P. Walker. He became, at this time, a 
 frequent contributor to the Register ; then assistant 
 editor; and nearly six years since he took entire 
 charge of the paper, which till his death he con- 
 tinued with signal and increasing success. 
 
 It was a return to his first love, — a renewal of the 
 boyish enthusiasm and joy of his first venture of 
 manly work as editor. He always felt that in this 
 direction lay his special gift. His style was terse, 
 sententious, epigrammatic. His thought was too 
 quick for lengthened, logical discourse. He dis- 
 liked abstractions. He never fired into the air. He 
 always wanted to see his mark, and to hit it at the 
 first shot. His genius was as paragraphist, best seen 
 in his "Brevities." To those who did not know 
 him, his arrows sometimes seemed barbed ; but no 
 rankling wound could ever have been felt by any 
 who knew the merry good humor with which his 
 most pointed and pungent pleasantry was always 
 sent forth. His fountain of fun and wit, perpet- 
 ually bubbling and sparkling, was repressed by the 
 proprieties of pulpit decorum. Therefore, though 
 interested in pulpit themes, though reverent and 
 devout, though attractive and effective in the pulpit, 
 enjoying and never wholly leaving it, in the editor's 
 chair he could more amply indulge his irrepressible 
 vivacity, and in its opportunity he revelled with 
 more abounding delight. He delighted in every-
 
 138 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 thing pertaining to the paper, enjoyed every number 
 as a fresh flower, perpetually aspiring to make the 
 next one better than the last. Nothing connected 
 with it ever degenerated into mechanical routine. 
 He was proud of the success of his contributors 
 and of the skill of his publisher, and counted every 
 correspondent and every compositor of type as a 
 personal friend. It was throughout a labor of love. 
 His work was a perpetual joy; yet few knew how 
 laboriously he toiled. During the passing summer, 
 many a morning found him at five o'clock writing 
 his editorials. Many contributions he declined 
 gracefully as he could, yet with courageous firm- 
 ness. Meanwhile, he was casting his lines on 
 every side, busy as a fisherman to catch the best. 
 Through a wilderness of papers, dailies, and literary 
 and religious weeklies, he wandered, to find the 
 fresh flowers that made his fragrant and brilliant 
 weekly bouquet. 
 
 With signal and increasing success, he made it the 
 crowning work of his life. He was rapidly winning 
 for it a front rank among the religious papers of 
 the time, compelling for it the favor and respect of 
 editors and readers of widely divergent faith. All 
 readers discerned between its lines a manly strength 
 and sweetness worth more than eloquent argument 
 or brilliant wit. Behind its columns they recog- 
 nized a Christian manhood that has rendered the 
 paper less the organ of a sect than the expression 
 of an earnest, consecrated soul. As the editorial 
 chair became vacant, the liberal faith lost an accom-
 
 Life a7id Letters. 139 
 
 plished advocate, and a great multitude tenderly 
 mourned the departure of a most genial and loving 
 personal friend. 
 
 Invitations to preach he often declined, lest he 
 should stand in the way of some candidate, or of 
 some brother who needed the stipend more than he. 
 Though laborious Mondays demanded his utmost 
 strength, whenever call came from a brother sick 
 or disabled, for a pulpit service on Sunday, his labor 
 of love was always ready. In time of sorrow to any 
 of his friends, his swift sympathy was instantly at 
 their side. His services in the sick chamber or at 
 the funeral were unusually helpful and welcome, by 
 his rare tenderness of sympathy, and by his quick 
 perception of the fitting word for the hour. His 
 affection willingly rendered them, however severe 
 the cost to his strength, which his exacting editorial 
 duties could ill spare. 
 
 His personal friendships were wonderful in their 
 number, their variety, and their warmth. Gener- 
 osity and kindliness sometimes hide unsuspected 
 behind silent reserve, shrinking through delicacy 
 from possible intrusiveness. Never intrusive, but 
 with a gift for the expression of sympathy, and for 
 establishing mutual confidence, he was welcomed 
 into the most sacred privacy, — into the very holy 
 of holies of many homes and hearts. The letters 
 he wrote were like those of a lover. He remem- 
 bered the birthdays, wedding-days, red-letter days of 
 every sort, on the calendars of many a household. 
 When not present in person, some gift of flower,.
 
 140 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 book, picture, or love-letter was sure to represent 
 him. As his lavish outpouring of sympathy never 
 failed to bring loving response, we never entered a 
 home so filled as his with the unnumbered memen- 
 toes of personal affection. 
 
 None more sensitive to criticism than he ; yet it 
 never swerved him, when the true course seemed 
 clear. Nobody could use his columns for the pur- 
 poses of personal advantage. The generous appre- 
 ciation so largely given his paper brought him deep 
 satisfaction ; but in hours of criticism or of weari- 
 ness that sometimes came, would that he might have 
 heard the chorus of gratitude that sings his requiem ! 
 Perhaps it cheers him now, as he already begins 
 some new service in the better world. 
 
 How suddenly he left us ! Yet how happy his 
 life's ending ! On Saturday at his post of duty, he 
 was busily discussing plans for the autumn's denom- 
 inational campaign, and preparing material in advance 
 for the paper which was issued upon the morning 
 when we tenderly laid him in his grave. On Sunday, 
 rejoicing in the rest and companionship of his 
 charming new home, he joyfully welcomed to it the 
 nearest companions of his daily toil, glad to show 
 them its countless tokens of loving remembrance, 
 and its lovely outlook on land and sea. Then, as by 
 swift transition, he passed on to other loved com- 
 panions and higher service in the house of many 
 mansions, the new home proving to be his beautiful 
 gate to heaven. 
 
 Farewell, O valiant soldier! our knight without
 
 Life and Letters. 141 
 
 fear and without reproach. Farewell, O faithful, 
 loving soul, so gentle, yet so strong; so thoughtless 
 of self ; so generous to every human being ; so 
 earnest for truth ; so loyal to the right, to duty, and 
 to God ! This world is richer and better for your 
 having lived in it. How can we spare you from it ? 
 Yet God knows best, and heaven is more attractive 
 by your presence.
 
 XIV. 
 
 A MEMORIAL SERMON. 
 
 For more than a month it had been known that Rev. 
 John W. Chadwick, of Brooklyn, N.Y., would preach to the 
 Third Church of Dorchester, on Sunday, September 2; but 
 none knew what his topic would be. How fitting it was that 
 Mr. Chadwick should deliver, on that occasion, this faithful 
 tribute to the memory of his friend will be seen from the 
 peculiar circumstances which the address relates. Providence 
 chose his theme for him. If he had searched throughout the 
 pages of the written Word, he could not have found a more 
 suitable text than he found in that noble life. 
 
 Mr, Chadwick prefaced his address by reading the fol- 
 lowing poem, by Henry Septimus Sutton: — 
 
 How beautiful it is to be alive I — 
 To wake each morn, as if the Maker's grace 
 Did us afresh from nothingness derive. 
 That we might sing, How happy is our case. 
 How beautiful it is to be alive ! 
 
 To read in some good book, until we feel 
 Love for the one who wrote it ; then to kneel 
 Close unto Him whose love our soul will shrive, 
 While every moment's joy doth more reveal 
 How beautiful it is to be alive. 
 
 Rather to go without what might increase 
 Our worldly standing than our souls deprive 
 Of frequent speech with God, or than to cease 
 To feel, through having lost our health and peace, 
 How beautiful it is to be alive.
 
 Life and Letters. 143 
 
 Not to forget, when pain and grief draw nigh, 
 Into the ocean of time past to dive 
 For memories of God's mtrcies; or to try 
 To bear all nobly, hoping still to cry, 
 How beautiful it is to be alive. 
 
 Thus ever, towards man's height of nobleness 
 Striving, some new progression to contrive, 
 Till, just as any other friend's, we press 
 Deaths hand ; and, having died, feel, none the less, 
 How beautiful it is to be alive. 
 
 Dear friends, for many weeks I have been looking 
 forward to this day with joyfullest anticipations. It 
 was to be the crown of my vacation's happiness. I 
 was to spend it with my dear friend Mumford, in his 
 beautiful new home. How merrily we should have 
 sped the hours ! What pleasant talk we should have 
 had of nature, men, and books ! How pleasant, too, 
 the thought of speaking to his people, — his none the 
 less because the official tie was sundered long ago. 
 Once his, in any deep and earnest way, was to be his 
 forever. He was to choose what I should preach to 
 you. And has he not chosen .-' Living, he might 
 have hesitated between this and that. Dying, he 
 leaves to me no choice. All themes but one would 
 be impertinent, lictter be silent than to speak of 
 anything but that which marshals every thought 
 and feeling to its side. Better perhaps be silent 
 than to speak of that. Better to sit in silence, and 
 listen for the inward voice of memory and hope. 
 
 But we are under bonds of custom and utfection 
 to speak of our departed friend. The outer will not
 
 144 Thomas J. Mmnford. 
 
 quench the inward voice. This will go sounding 
 softly on, like music through a solemn ritual. This 
 will have other days and weeks and years to hallow 
 with his "real presence." Perhaps, if he could do so, 
 he would lay a hushing finger on my lips. But from 
 his interdict, might I not appeal to his example .-^ 
 How glad he always was to sound abroad the praise 
 of noble men ! It was a duty and a privilege which 
 he had neither right nor disposition to forego. Shall 
 we not try to deal with him as justly as he dealt with 
 those who have, I think, forgiven him already for so 
 frankly publishing their worth "t 
 
 The story of his life has been already briefly told 
 in the daily journals, and will be in his own with 
 greater fulness by a loving hand ; but you will 
 gladly bear with me while I recount its principal 
 events. 
 
 Thomas James Mumford was born in South Caro- 
 lina, June 26, 1826, his father being Northern and 
 his mother Southern born. In search of health, the 
 man had found a wife into the bargain. Did the 
 Palmetto State anticipate the recreancy of her son 
 to her peculiar institution, that while yet a boy she 
 drove him forth, like Abraham, not knowing whither 
 he went.-* We might permit ourselves to fancy so; 
 but a more rational explanation is at hand. The 
 nullification days had found the father stanch and 
 strong for "liberty and union, one and inseparable," 
 and had convinced him that his growing family 
 could be reared elsewhere more advantageously. 
 The family life for some years now was more or
 
 Life and Letters. 145 
 
 less nomadic ; but the boy was gathering strength 
 and sweetness all the time. .At length the roof-tree 
 was set up at Waterloo, in central New York; 
 and here, ere Thomas was yet twenty-one, he had 
 studied law, and pleaded his first case, and lost it. 
 Hence infinite disgust with the whole business, fort- 
 unately for him and all the rest of us. Behold him 
 ne.xt an editor of the county paper, and cutting it 
 away from its allegiance to the Whigs, to hoist the 
 flag of the Free-soilers ; going to Worcester to 
 attend the first Free-soil Convention, and hearing 
 there for the first time the voice of Sumner, — the 
 voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye 
 the way of the Lord, make his paths straight! If 
 he was proud of anything, it was that then and there 
 he gave himself, with utter consecration, to the 
 cause of the down-trodden slave. How glad he 
 was, only a few weeks ago, to celebrate the anni- 
 versary of that fateful day on which the nation's 
 conscience took a new departure, — a small begin- 
 ning of so many vast and wonderful conclusions ! 
 But while pro-slavery partisans were writing, " Stop 
 my paper," another liberty than that of negro slaves 
 was beginning to engage his thought, and other 
 bonds than theirs. One of his anti-slavery friends 
 was an equal enemy of theological and negro 
 sla\ery. His earnestness was catching. The 
 young man read his liberal books, and deeply pon- 
 dered them. And pretty soon he made another 
 great discovery : a star of the first magnitude, albeit
 
 146 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 of softest radiance, in anti-slavery and liberal 
 Christian skies, — Samuel J. May, whom ever after 
 he regarded with a reverence second alone to that 
 he yielded to the Man of Nazareth. And when this 
 good man died, it was an easy thing for Mumford to 
 write his life ; for he had only to transcribe it from 
 the most secret tablets of his heart. Anointed by 
 this prophet Samuel for a more than regal dignity, 
 the young man went to Meadville, — in what spirit his 
 honored teacher, Dr. Stebbins, told you yesterday. 
 Two years of earnest work and joy, and then — the 
 harvest being white, the laborers few, in the far 
 West of five-and-twenty years ago — he began his 
 ministry at Detroit. There, for ten years, he did a 
 work of quite unusual spiritual significance. His 
 outspoken anti-slavery gospel eliminated some of 
 his parishioners, but others liked it well ; and 
 even among those who liked it least were some who 
 liked his courage, and could not resist the fascina- 
 tion of his gracious personality. Very beautiful was 
 the influence that he exerted in those days. For the 
 first time, young men and maidens found a preacher 
 who convinced them that the religious life is the 
 only life worth living, — the only life that has in it 
 any real poetry or beauty or romance. Then, too, 
 the sorrow that had come into his own life made 
 him more fit to deal with kindred sorrows in the 
 lives of other men. The gentle wife who came to 
 share his toil soon faded from his side, and left him 
 to pursue for many years a sorrowful and lonely way.
 
 Life and Letters. ' 147 
 
 The Detroit ministry bravely ended, he went to 
 Marietta for a year, jDreaching with good success, and 
 adding many to his list of friends. 
 
 Again the lamp of love burned brightly in his 
 home, and there was a little child set in the midst, — 
 a fountain of perpetual solace and delight. 
 
 And then, one day, he came and preached to you. 
 You heard him, and were glad, and he became your 
 minister ; and all his happiness he shared with you, 
 and all your sorrows and bereavements he made his 
 own. How good it was to have him in your homes, 
 illuminating them with his persistent cheerfulness 
 and with his beautiful ideals of social and domestic 
 life ! You know much better than you can be told 
 what manner of life he lived among you for eight 
 happy, blessed years. You have the record of them 
 graven on your hearts. He remained your minister 
 until his death, though formally he ended his rela- 
 tion with you several years ago, in 1872, and though 
 another came to carry on his work with ample con- 
 secration. 
 
 But there came to him what seemed a wider 
 opportunity. Had that early year of editorial expe- 
 rience bewitched him for all time.'' Possibly so. 
 At any rate, you lost (from his official place) your 
 minister, and The Christian Register found the 
 editor for whom it had been waiting almost fift}- 
 years. 
 
 To those who knew him best, this abdication of 
 the pulpit for the editorial chair must have appeared 
 at least a doubtful venture. Not that they doubted
 
 148 Thomas J. Miimford. 
 
 his ability to do the work appropriate to his new 
 position with sufficient skill ; he had given proof 
 enough of this already, and of his liking for the 
 work ; but here was a man who had a very special 
 fitness for the ministry, not only for its public offices, 
 but also for its more sacred and secluded trusts 
 of pastoral sympathy and consolation. It was as a 
 pastor, rather than as a preacher, that he made full 
 proof of his ministry ; and herein there was no 
 cause of grief or shame to him. The necessity of 
 his nature corresponded with his sense of ideal fit- 
 ness. He was what he would be. Setting as high 
 a value as any other man upon the ministrations of 
 the pulpit, he set a yet higher value on the friend- 
 ship of the pastor with his people, his personal rela- 
 tions with them in their various joys and sorrows. 
 Who so glad as he before the marriage altar, so sym- 
 pathetic with the joy of young hearts openly pledged 
 to mutual fidelities, or thrilling over the baptismal 
 font with the first joy of parentage.^ Who more in 
 awe than he of those " blithe go-betweens " who 
 wed anew our hearts with tenderer and yet stronger 
 bonds than those we weave at first } And who more 
 tender and consoling with the bereaved and broken- 
 hearted .-* Oh for such tenderness as his to soothe 
 us in our present sorrow ! But in less formal and 
 more private ways than any of these sacraments of 
 love or birth or death " he went about doing good " 
 among his people. His genial presence radiated 
 hope and cheer. Well, then, might those who knew 
 him best, and knew the purity and sweetness of his
 
 Life and Letters. 149 
 
 personal relations with his people, fear for him, lest 
 his new position should oblige him to forego the use 
 of some of his best gifts ; and no doubt to some 
 extent their fears were justified; but not entirely. 
 "Once a bishop, always a bishop," say our Episcopa- 
 lian friends. Once a minister, always a minister, 
 was very true of him. There was never any abate- 
 ment of his joy in pulpit preaching. As opportuni- 
 ties offered, he accepted them with manifest delight, 
 the happier if, doing so, he could help some sick 
 or jaded fellow-minister over a hard place. But the 
 offices of pastoral service and of personal friendship 
 were much less diminished by his new position 
 than those of public preaching. His old parishioners 
 and their children turned to him as naturally in 
 their joy and sorrow as flowers turn to the sun ; 
 and he was always ready to respond. No doubt 
 there was considerable abridgment of his imme- 
 diate personal contact with his former people, for 
 the new cares were terribly engrossing ; but there 
 was ample compensation for the loss in the awak- 
 ening and use of other energies which had been long 
 suppressed. All that was best in the old life was 
 carried on into the new. No real friendship was 
 allowed to languish ; and for the new work he dis- 
 covered a surprising fitness. Journalism is a sort 
 of pitch which it is hard to touch without being 
 defiled. But for him there was no defilement. The 
 dishonest tricks by which many others seek to boost 
 their journals into successful notoriety had for him 
 no attractions. lie never forgot to credit what he
 
 150 Thomas J. Mitinford. 
 
 borrowed from his neighbors. He never promised 
 pubHshers that their books would be favorably 
 noticed. He never wrote an editorial with one 
 eye to the truth, the other to his subscribers. His 
 seed was conscience, and he reaped the fruit of joy. 
 He seldom rested from his work ; but no man ever 
 rested in his work more perfectly. His labors never 
 grew monotonous. Ever}' fresh number of his paper 
 was a fresh experience to him, to be made richer, if 
 possible, than any of its predecessors. And how 
 pleasant his relations were with all his various 
 assistants ! How proud he was of his publisher, 
 his clerks, his forewoman, and his compositors, — 
 living examples of his faith in women's wider use- 
 fulness! His sensibility was wonderful. Often the 
 children's stories written or selected for the last 
 page of the paper went to the printer moistened a 
 little with his tears. I became one of his undcr- 
 workmen immediately on his accession to the edito- 
 rial chair, and never many days went by without 
 some word from him, so warm, so bright, so full of 
 health and cheer, that I cannot bear the thought 
 of never getting another message from his hand. 
 
 I should convey a very wrong impression if I left 
 you to suppose that there was no adulteration of 
 his joy. Going his own way, he could not please 
 everybody; but it was always hard for him to wound 
 another. The fear of having been or seemed unjust 
 would keep him from his rest until the morning 
 broke. That incisive wit of his was, as he knew, 
 a dangerous weapon. Often he thrust it back, half-
 
 Life and Letters. 151 
 
 drawn, into its sheath. lUit how well it served us 
 in the day when some, who did not know in whom 
 they had believed, wanted a creed to flaunt at ortho- 
 dox and infidel! His latest editorials were sugu;ested 
 by some new appearance of this old denominational 
 ghost ; only he shrank from the necessity of striking 
 at it through those for whom he had the tendercst 
 personal regard. " But I shall do it, all the same," 
 he said to me, only a week ago. Small fear that 
 he would put their love for him in jeoj^ardy; for 
 I have never found him so loving and so lovable 
 in all j^ersonal relations as when I have been placed 
 in frankest opposition to his editorial convictions. 
 There he stood. So help him God, he could no 
 otherwise. Rut his affections overleaped the line 
 of his convictions, and laughed a friendly challenge 
 in the face of men whom he opposed with all the 
 weapons of his wit and argument. 
 
 The essential quality of his work as editor of TJie 
 CJiristian Register was just what it had been as a 
 preacher of liberal Christianity. He was a preacher 
 still, — only he preached, like the first preacher of 
 Christianity, sitting instead of standing, and to an 
 audience of many thousands instead of to a few hun- 
 dreds ; and the sermons were his own earnest edi- 
 torials, and the best essays, letters, and discussions 
 he could get his busiest friends to write. How 
 magnetic he was to the best things of contemporary- 
 literature, secular or religious, sermons or hymns or 
 stories, — whatever had the step of progress or the 
 ring of health ! He never tried to make his paper
 
 1 5 2 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 more popular by making it less religious. The more 
 religious the better, so that it was living and human. 
 Who can estimate the good that came, and will 
 yet come, of so much faithfulness and earnestness .'' 
 "How far that little candle throws its beams!" 
 His sweetest comfort was to think that what he 
 wrote and brought together was read in hundreds 
 of homes where there was little else to read. We 
 who are gathered here are not a tithe of all his 
 people. They are scattered East and West, all over 
 this whole land. Thousands of men and women, and 
 of little children, if they knew to what extent the 
 paper was the coinage of his heart and brain, would 
 feel with us to-day that they have lost a friend of 
 rarest worth. 
 
 A week ago, all this, and promise of indefinite 
 continuance, and now a silence and a void ! Vacant 
 the office-chair! Idle the busy pen which 
 
 . . . "never wrote a flattery, 
 Nor signed the page that registered a lie." 
 
 The last editorial is written ; the last breezy para- 
 graph ; the last sparkling "Brevity." So soon he 
 follows the beloved sister, that it is as if she lin- 
 gered on the threshold of the heavenly house, and 
 held the door ajar, dreading to go alone into the 
 ineffable mystery. I cannot make him dead. He 
 was so full of life that it is quite impossible to think 
 of him and death together. I have never thought of 
 him as dying, but I have thought a hundred times 
 of his old age, — how beautiful it would be ; what a
 
 Life and Letters. 153 
 
 store of precious memories he was laying up for it ; 
 how he would tell the children yet unborn ( f the 
 great anti-slavery struggle, — "all of which he saw, 
 and part of which he was " ; of Garrison and May, 
 and of the heroes of religious liberty whom he had 
 known and loved ; of Furness and Lucretia Mott, 
 Bartol and Clarke, and many another, — for our 
 friend had an abounding faith in persons as the 
 forces by which ideas are embodied in society. He 
 had great capacity for hero-worship, and thought he 
 knew some heroes in the flesh. It was his faith in 
 persons that made the personality of Jesus such a 
 vital factor in his personal experience. Except 
 Dr. Furness, I have never known another person 
 to whom Jesus was so real, — and I might add, per- 
 haps, or so ideal. Historical or not, the Jesus of his 
 thoughts was altogether human, merciful and loving, 
 strong and just ; and, cherishing this gracious image, 
 he grew more and more into its likeness. 
 
 Hard as it is to have him go so soon, this sudden 
 loss is not without its compensations. Who knows 
 but that the sure decay of age would have so blurred 
 his mental aspect that we should have forgotten what 
 he was when at the top of his condition } Now, when 
 we think of him, it will be always at his best. This 
 is the privilege of those who perish with their nat 
 ural force yet unabated. Moreover, in this sudden, 
 swift transition of a life equipped for every noblest 
 exercise of good, is there not hint and prophecy, 
 if not convincing argument, of the immortal life I 
 That God can spare our friend from this earth-mote
 
 154 Thomas J. Mnmford. 
 
 that floats across his sky I can conceive, although 
 I cannot think of any man to fill his place; but I 
 cannot conceive that God can spare so good a work- 
 man from his universe. Somewhere in that I think, 
 and seem to know, that our dear friend will gird him- 
 self ere long for service in the one great battle that 
 in all worlds is always going on between the darkness 
 and the light, the evil and the good. 
 
 I have been told that on a gravestone in Mount 
 Auburn it is written, " She was so pleasant," " He 
 was so pleasant" might be graven upon his, and be 
 a better epitaph than the majority. Many a time 
 have I been up his winding stair for nothing but to 
 see his kindly face and get his happy greeting. But 
 for all his pleasantness, there was no lack in him 
 of sterling manliness. He was no genial optimist, 
 dulled by his own security to all the sin and sorrow 
 of the world. Only he knew he did not fight a 
 losing battle, and that he was enrolled with all the 
 best of all the ages. In many ways, I know the 
 world is better for his life. I also know that it is 
 happier and better upon this account, if on no other. 
 Who could resist the fine contagion of his cheer- 
 fulness .'' 
 
 A lover of all truth, a friend of all good causes, 
 there was one thing more characteristic of our friend 
 than any other : he had a genius for friendship. 
 Friends, — men and women, young and old, black 
 and white, orthodox and heterodox, — he had them 
 by the dozen. He knew their birthdays, and remem- 
 bered them with simple gifts and letters, sweet and
 
 Life and Letters. 155 
 
 wise. How loyal he was to them, — once, I know, 
 blazin-; right out at some fine lady's table when 
 one of them was lightly spoken of ! Nursed in the 
 anti-slavery cradle, he knew the art of righteous 
 indignation. For all his sunny foliage, there was 
 no lack of toughness in his grain. 
 
 There is a presence into which I may not follow 
 him. If he had a genius for friendship, I think he 
 had a rarer genius for domestic love. Parents, wife, 
 brothers, sisters, child, — these were the chords of 
 his experience that gave out the sweetest music. 
 He used to write their birthdays, and the days of 
 their re-birth into the life to come, upon his letters 
 to me, as saints' days quite as good as any that the 
 calendar can show. He used to speak of them with 
 glistening eyes and accents softly hushed. And so 
 it was, although I knew him well, I came to feel that 
 I had never got beyond the outer temple of his 
 spirit, and that there was an inner temple very calm 
 and holy, sacred to the most close and ])cautiful 
 affections of his heart. 
 
 So much engrossed in his official cares, wc might 
 have pardoned him if he had been forgetful of a 
 hundred little things on which the pleasantness of 
 life depends. But of these things he was not for- 
 getful ; he attended to them as if he were a man 
 of leisure. God does not always spoil his tools in 
 using them. Here was one with which he cut off 
 many a parasitic growth, and hewed a broader path 
 through theological obstructions, where two, though 
 not agreed, might walk together and abreast. But
 
 156 TJiomas J. Miimford. 
 
 in the process it lost nothing of the keenness of 
 its edge, the temper of its metal. The man — the 
 father, husband, brother, friend — was never swamped 
 by the official minister or editor. A purely business 
 relation with others, or of employer and employed, 
 was never to his taste. As soon as possible he con- 
 verted it into something better, — something less 
 mechanical and more human. If it be true that a 
 great business is a great machine, he never could 
 have run a great business. Clerks and assistants 
 without individuality } — mere cogs in a wheel 1 He 
 never could have suffered any such relation between 
 himself and others. 
 
 There are many would-be religious people who 
 have a good deal of piety but no morality, and others 
 who have much morality and very little piety. But 
 in him the poles of piety and morality both appeared. 
 A righteous man, he did not save his conscience up 
 for great occasions, but put it into every least detail 
 of his habitual work. For every item in his paper, 
 due credit must be given. Not a word must be 
 changed in a contributor's article without his con- 
 sent. He ventured upon no improvements, either 
 of theology or style. He was a righteous man, and 
 he was a constant worshipper. He did not save 
 his worship up for great occasions, any more than 
 his conscience ; it was the natural pulsation of his 
 heart, responding to the daily beauty of the world, 
 the tenderness of flowers, the green of grass and 
 trees, the splendors of the mountains and the stars, 
 the faces of the men and women whom he loved.
 
 Life and Letters. 157 
 
 I trust that I have named aright some of the more 
 salient characteristics of our friend. But salient is 
 not the word. Nothing stuck out. His various 
 traits were all harmoniously blended into a living 
 unity. A certain falseness naturally attaches to any 
 analysis of such a character as his : the whole is 
 greater than the sum of all its parts. All our analy- 
 sis is made ashamed, as wc recall the vital synthesis 
 which was the man who loved us, — whom wc knew 
 and loved so well. 
 
 If any one should say, " Yes, but he had his faults, 
 like all the rest of us," I surely should not con- 
 tradict him. Doubtless he had, and some of them 
 I could perhaps enumerate. Now and then, his 
 lively wit got the better of his discretion. The 
 wonder was, it didn't do it oftener. Considering 
 the metal of the beast, he kept her well in hand ; 
 she didn't often run away with him. Many a witty 
 brevity was sacrificed, lest it should hurt the victim 
 more than it would help the truth. The last time I 
 saw him, two or three days before his death, it was 
 with the gleam of one of these suppressed brevities 
 in his merry eye. But sometimes his righteous in- 
 dignation left him no resource but, like his Master 
 in the desecrated temple, to peel the culprit's 
 shoulders with the toughest whip that he could 
 braid of all his sinewy gifts of ridicule and scorn. 
 Should any say, " But his judgments were often 
 erroneous," I should answer, No, not often; very 
 seldom, when we consider of how many things he 
 had to judge. And where it seemed to me his
 
 158 Thomas J. Miunford. 
 
 judgment faltered most, it was because the ineffable 
 joy, which his spiritual emancipation up to a certain 
 point awakened in his heart, held him forever in 
 that first estate of freedom, and did not permit him 
 to achieve a freedom more complete. 
 
 But why should I apologize for him who was so 
 good and true, so brave and sweet, and whom a 
 friendly word could turn at once from any course 
 where conscience did not drive him on ? Let us 
 thank God, dear friends, that we have known and 
 loved so good and great a friend, and that he gave 
 us of his love so largely in return. Sorrowing most 
 of all that we shall see his face no more, let us 
 remember well the gracious beauty of his life, and 
 try to win a kindred beauty for our own. And let 
 us show our gratitude to him by doing kindly offices 
 for those he loved the most, — in comforting each 
 other by recalling all his pleasant ways and his 
 "hope full of immortality " ; by new fidelity to every 
 cause that makes for human good. O friends ! it 
 will be better with us till the very end, if any end 
 there be, that we have had this dear companion, 
 
 " O days and hours I your work is this : 
 To hold us in our proper place, 
 A little while from his embrace, 
 For fuller gain of after bliss. 
 
 "That out of distance may ensue 
 Desire of nearness doubly sweet ; 
 And unto meeting, when we meet, 
 Delight a hundred-fold accrue."
 
 XV. 
 
 PERSONAL TRIBUTES. 
 
 The poem and papers which follow were printed in The 
 Christian Register shortly after Mr. Mumford's death, and 
 are reproduced without material change: — 
 
 LIFTED UP. 
 
 O spirit so gentle and strong, 
 
 And fair with an honor unpriced ! 
 So swerveless to shadow of wrong, 
 
 Yet kind with the kindness of Christ! 
 
 O heart great with brotherly love I 
 
 O thought swift with help and with cheer f 
 
 O life hidden holy above, 
 Yet lowly and diligent here I 
 
 O friend whom no moment did miss, 
 Of need, where thy comfort could be I 
 
 What hand shall uphold us in this, 
 And who shall console us for thee? 
 
 We follow. We follow, and go 
 Where the Saviour went up with the three. 
 
 And the glory of heaven did show 
 On the mountain in Galilee.
 
 l6o TJionias J. Mumford. 
 
 And, living, we see thee stand, 
 
 As Elijah and Moses stood, 
 At the living Lord's right hand. 
 
 In the shining of angelhood. 
 
 And we know that the hills of God 
 
 Slope down from their uppermost height. 
 
 With the pathways, messenger-trod. 
 Into our sorrow and night. 
 
 O spirit most gentle and strong, 
 
 Most ready with service unpriced ! 
 Brave for us against our own wrong, 
 
 And kind with the kindness of Christ ! 
 
 Great heart, and pure life, and swift thought I 
 
 Ye do kindle and move for us yet ! 
 The friendship that earth hath so wrought 
 
 Eternity will not forget 1 
 
 No moment thy comfort shall miss, — 
 
 No need, where thy comfort can be ! 
 Thy love holdeth steadfast through this, — 
 
 Thyself shall console us for thee ! 
 
 A. D. T. Whitney. 
 
 It hints the immortality of character, that we first, 
 over one's mortal remains, try to figure completely to 
 ourselves what sort of a man he was. As his body 
 lies in its coffin, his soul sits for its photograph. We 
 are Instructed by any distinct impression of a fellow- 
 creature; but no human being in life can confer
 
 Life and Letters. i6r 
 
 benefit beyond making the stamp of virtue and 
 honor after he is gone. Our Brother Mumford will 
 be remembered, by all who knew him, as a Christian 
 without ecjuix'ocation, and in whatever good meaning, 
 above the articles of any creed that term may bear. 
 He seemed to me always keeping himself clean 
 from any taint in act or thought. His moral sense 
 was ever in motion, sweeping the chambers of his 
 heart of the dust which others, of conscience less 
 nice, neither saw in him, nor might be conscious of 
 in themselves. How humane he was, appeared, not 
 only in his witness against slavery, but in his advo- 
 cacy of what seemed to him the rights, and his 
 indignation at all the wrongs, of mankind. I admired 
 his earnestness, and the ethical heat which passes 
 with sinners for ill-blood, but is only a spark of the 
 wrath of God. He had a humor sometimes grim, 
 almost, as that of Rabelais ; but a heart of love 
 throbbed under every stroke of arch banter and 
 occasional touch of even biting wit. One's daily 
 companions find him out ; and, beside the house he 
 has left full, not of shadow, but of light, no official 
 director was ever by his co-workers more liked. 
 Indeed, his combined good-temper and prompt organ- 
 izing facility would have fitted him for any station 
 of chief importance in the duties of that supreme 
 modern estate of the press. My testimony will not 
 lose, if it have any worth, from the fact that on some 
 vital matters of denominational wisdom and eccle- 
 siastical dignity and discipline he differed with me 
 in opinion, resisted my counsel, and went the way
 
 1 62 Thomas J. ]\Iumford. 
 
 which I have no question was pure and right to him, 
 his personal qualities always mightily backing his 
 editorial weight. If his conviction, however, on any 
 point changed, I always in conversation found him 
 ready to confess it frankly and simply as a child. 
 There is no greater test of intellectual honesty and 
 a sweet disposition than to conduct a paper and 
 address a divided constituency about all partisan 
 and public affairs. He is noble who can justly face 
 that vast audience commanded by the silent pen, 
 which is louder, to-day, than any gun. Ingenuous 
 and unsoured in every word, he, that summoned us 
 so fairly, goes to his own account. 
 
 Cyrus A. Bartol. 
 
 The ancient Scots, when they passed the grave 
 of one honored and beloved, laid a stone upon the 
 grave; and so arose those cairns that make a touch- 
 ing feature of Scotland. It is a sorrowful satisfaction 
 to bring my word of loving memory, and lay it upon 
 the grave of our dear Mr. Mumford. 
 
 He has been so rich a blessing to me that I love 
 to think of the circumstances, and the hand of Prov- 
 idence in them, which brought him to us. He was 
 born in South Carolina. Between thirty and forty 
 years ago, his family came and made their home in 
 Central New York. The father's health was broken, 
 I suppose by the Southern climate, and he died 
 some thirty years ago. Thomas was the eldest of
 
 Life and Letters. 165 
 
 the little band of brothers and sisters, and in beau- 
 tiful fidelity he stood by his mother when his youth 
 was opening into manhood. She was a sweety 
 saintly woman ; and Thomas, at twenty-one, was 
 husband and son to her, and father and brother to 
 the little ones. He was helpful in every way ; and 
 interesting it is to know that his rare genius as 
 an editor broke out thus early, and he became the 
 editor of the county paper published in Seneca 
 Falls, N.Y. 
 
 Worshipping with his mother in the Episcopal 
 church, he was very intimate in the family of the 
 rector, — the venerable Mr. Wheeler. His mind was 
 awake, and in his search for light he obtained some 
 of Dr. Channing's writings on slavery. He read 
 and pondered, and rose up an anti-slavery man. 
 And then he read more of Channing's writings, and 
 began to doubt about what he had supposed to be 
 the pillar and ground of faith ; and at this time, 
 meeting with our saintly Samuel J. May, he was 
 brought into new life, and at once began to leave the 
 old, and seek the new. And now we see him at 
 Buffalo, one Sunday morning, worshipping God for 
 the first time with a Unitarian congregation, and 
 listening to a Unitarian minister. Then he went to 
 the Meadvillc Theological School, and then to 
 Detroit as the minister of a new Unitarian church: 
 and there he made his home ; and there he lost his 
 young wife ; and there his mother and brothers and 
 sisters came to him ; and that sweet home of Detroit,, 
 there are many who will never forget.
 
 164 TJiomas J. Mumford. 
 
 The young parish grew in strength and grace, 
 loving their minister with rare devotedness. But 
 he labored too hard ; his health suffered. He was 
 obliged to leave Detroit after eight years of apos- 
 tolic fidelity ; and then he went to Marietta, Ohio, in 
 hope that a more southern climate would favor him : 
 but there, too, strength failed, and he came to New 
 England, to Dorchester, and then to the chair of The 
 Chris tia7i Register. His work is done. 
 
 " Servant of God, well-done ; 
 Rest from thy loved employ." 
 
 Oh, how we shall miss this dear friend ! He was so 
 loving, so sympathetic ! With a rare tact he came 
 right into our hearts, with a sweet presence of cheer, 
 comfort, and inspiration. No other man I have ever 
 known gave himself to others as he did. When I 
 went to his house, after he was gone, I found that 
 the conductor of the car and laborers at the wayside 
 counted him their friend, and were all mourning his 
 departure. Said a poor man who had felt his good- 
 ness : " He was next to God and the Master." 
 
 How we all shall miss his weekly visit in The 
 Christian Register, coming with wise, cheery words, 
 witty brilliancies, loyalty to truth, knightly courage, 
 and generous, loving conciliation ! 
 
 In all our churches, along the valleys and upon 
 the hills of New England, there will be a sense of 
 great loss. He moved among us with such unosten- 
 tatious simplicity that now we are surprised to find 
 how much we have lost. He was so earnest and
 
 Life and Letters. 165 
 
 loving that men of all shades of opinion loved 
 and trusted liim. 
 
 At fifty-one, in the high noon of his beautiful 
 ministry, he has gone from earth ; but his sunset 
 here is sunrise in blessed immortality. Death is 
 swallowed up in life ! 
 
 " O spirit, freed from earth, 
 Rejoice: thy work is done! 
 The weary world's beneath thy feet, 
 Thou brighter than the sun 1 " 
 
 George W. Hosmer. 
 
 In the year 1854, the Western Conference met at 
 Louisville. The session was one of intense interest. 
 Nearly all of the churches of the Conference were 
 represented, some of them by large numbers. Many 
 brethren from the East were also present; and 
 seldom, if ever, was there a more delightful reunion 
 of Unitarian Christians, — one marked by greater ear- 
 nestness, profoundcr reverence, warmer love, heartier 
 good-will. Our dear Brother Mumford was one of 
 the delegates to the Conference. He was the guest 
 of a true and noble Kentucky woman, who was more 
 than delighted to welcome him to her home ; for 
 she was a lover of freedom, and she had learned 
 with admiration of his whole-souled devotion to the 
 great cause. Like him, too, she had been led by 
 deep personal conviction from another church into 
 the Unitarian communion. They were thus well-pre- 
 pared, religiously as well as humanely, for thorough
 
 1 66 Thomas J. Mwnford. 
 
 sympathy; and the first grasp of hands revealed each 
 to the other as a true and enduring friend. Their 
 friendsliip was at once marked and hallowed by 
 fragrance, as of precious spikenard, through their 
 union in a work of practical beneficence. She had 
 recently emancipated and sent to Detroit a young 
 man and woman, in whose welfare she requested 
 him to be interested. 
 
 None that knew our brother need to be told how 
 prompt his heart's response was to such a request, 
 and how faithful he proved to the sacred trust. In 
 such service his great, warm heart delighted ; for he 
 was not one of the kind who make ever so much of 
 freedom and humanity in the abstract, and are quite 
 indifferent to the freedom and happiness of indi- 
 vidual men, but he rejoiced in making the ideal 
 personally concrete and real. 
 
 How true he was to his high ideal, — how obedient, 
 in little things, no less than in great, to the heavenly 
 vision ! How beautiful the union in him of sweet- 
 ness and strength ! " Strength and beauty are in 
 thy sanctuary, O Lord ! " How brave he was, and 
 how gentle and tender, — firm as the firmest, and so 
 loving! And how wise a man he was, — clear, keen, 
 yet broad in thought, quick in insight, sound and 
 well-balanced in judgment, just and catholic in 
 spirit ! Personally how magnetic, drawing to him- 
 self men of most varied temperaments and of widely- 
 differing thought, — often drawing them close to 
 himself at first meeting, and keeping them ever 
 after near in fond and warm friendship.
 
 Life and Letters. 167 
 
 It is the aim and boast of much of modern jour- 
 nalism that it is completely impersonal. The great 
 charm of the Register was that it was thoroughly 
 personal, — that it was pervaded, permeated in all 
 its departments, by a personality so living and so 
 genial that it made itself felt wherever manifested, 
 — whether in terse and pithy brevities, in keen com- 
 ments, in witty rejoinders, in humorous pleasantries* 
 or in compact, thought-laden, weighty, but never 
 heavy editorials, — as the presence of a bright, strong, 
 helpful friend. It was the permeation of the paper 
 by this winning personality which made it, not only 
 interesting, but also dear, to so many of its readers. 
 
 " Oh for the touch of a vanished hand I 
 And the sound of a voice that is still." 
 
 To go one day to that editorial room, and see there 
 the radiant face and receive the warm grasp, and 
 on the next visit to find funereal crape on the closed 
 and locked door ! — this is one of earth's saddest, 
 most startling experiences. It tells us, and most 
 impressively, of death ; but, thanks to the ever-living 
 God and his great revealings, it does not tell us of 
 our friend's death. Such a friend, so overflowing 
 with life, like Milton's angels, " vital in every part," 
 cannot die. He cannot but live, and live forever, 
 and be forever earnestly and lovingly employed in 
 beneficent activity in some part of our Father's 
 house of many mansions. 
 
 John H. Hevwood. 
 
 September 4, 1S77.
 
 1 6S Thomas J. JMiimford. 
 
 It is not yet four days since his body was laid in 
 the grave, where it must return to the dust as it 
 was ; and for those who intimately knew Thomas J. 
 Mumford, and who fondly loved him, it cannot now 
 l)e easy to do anything but sigh forth the ancient 
 lament, Alas, my brother ! in the tender privacy of 
 a grief unspoken and unspeakable. 
 
 But it seems fitting indeed that a memorial ser- 
 vice should be held in the columns of The Christian 
 Register, so lately and so long the scene of his wise 
 and faithful work. Among his twenty thousand 
 readers, a vast and widely-scattered multitude will 
 count his death a personal bereavement, as well as 
 a public loss, and will accept this number of the 
 paper as permitting them to share, in some sort, the 
 mournful privilege of being present at his funeral. 
 This public testimonial to the dead becomes a most 
 truly religious service to the living, since it enforces 
 the lessons and consecrates the memory of a beau- 
 tiful and useful life. Let us unite in glorifying God 
 who hath given such power unto men. 
 
 Now, too, the man — hitherto somewhat hidden 
 behind the editor — comes out in full view, and we 
 realize the personal qualities which made an imper- 
 sonal work so rare and excellent ; for there was a 
 subtle aroma in his spirit which constantly exhaled 
 through these columns, and made the paper a wel- 
 come visitor to thousands of households, over and 
 above its high value as a medium of intelligence, 
 a messenger of truth, and a champion of right- 
 eousness.
 
 Life and Letters. 169 
 
 It was the wish of Samuel J. May — whose biog- 
 raphy by Mr. Mumford is one of our fountains of 
 refreshment — that journalists mi_i;ht be ordained to 
 their work like ministers of religion ; and surely, in 
 our friend's case, the substance of such ordination 
 was not wanting : for he was born to the work, and 
 prepared for it by the whole succession of his expe- 
 riences. He loved it, and was happy in it. In it he 
 lived and moved and had his being ; yet without 
 being narrowed thereby, since his sympathies ever 
 grew more expansive, his vision more wide and 
 clear, and his judgment of large world-affairs less 
 and less limited by function and profession. 
 
 His weakest side was in over-appreciating his 
 friends, and undervaluing himself. He once wrote 
 to a friend, " I think I should trust you absolutely, 
 even if you sometimes felt bound, by your love for 
 me and for the truth and the right, to give me blows 
 that draw blood. But when you can be encouraging, 
 it helps me to overcome a morbid self-distrust which 
 has dogged me through life, — sometimes nearly 
 ruining me." 
 
 But he might well have gloried in his infirmities, 
 for a divine strength was made perfect in weakness : 
 his moral nature was like an immovable pillar at the 
 centre of his being ; his hatred of cowardice, im- 
 purity, falsehood, and dishonesty was the only hatred 
 of which he was capable. If he sometimes hesitated 
 to trust the verdict of his own faculties, he never 
 hesitated to obey his conscience, regardless of cost ;
 
 1 70 Thomas J. Mimiford. 
 
 and I never met a man who seemed more free from 
 every sort of guile. 
 
 He was a good fighter against what he deemed to 
 be evil, and he kept his weapons bright ; but every 
 blow was for the good old cause of God and the 
 right. His paragraphs were sometimes thought 
 prickly or severe ; but there was not a drop of 
 venom or corrosive acid in his composition. His 
 sense of the ludicrous kept such close company with 
 his love of truth and disgust at shams that he could 
 never refrain from puncturing any bubble of pre- 
 tence in literature or in society, in statesman or in 
 churchman. His wit sparkled like that of the dia- 
 mond, because it must ; and it cut sharply like the 
 diamond, for the same reason. And who of us could 
 now wish that these fine angles had been ground off 
 to make him blandly commonplace, or smoothly 
 round as a glass bead } Now that his day's work is 
 done, it looks large and handsome. He wrought for 
 us all, and we are all his debtors. 
 
 Ah well! our brave comrade-in-arms — a loyal 
 soldier who knew but one Commander — has fallen 
 on the field ; and what remains but that we close up 
 the ranks and push on the battle, building his best 
 monument in our hearts by our fresh vows of fidelity 
 to the holy cause for which he gave his life.'^ 
 
 But he did not much believe in dying. With 
 almost womanly sensibility to every form of human 
 sorrow, he had an inspired faculty of giving comfort, 
 and looked straight through the transparent phan-
 
 Life and Letters. 171 
 
 torn we call Death, and saw beyond only Life, 
 lengthening out and stretching away into an ever- 
 lasting future. His passionate yearning for human 
 love and spiritual fellowship seemed to find its 
 highest satisfaction in looking to the time when he 
 should go over to the majority, and find in the land 
 immortal the gathering-place of friends. 
 
 He had no difficulty in calling God a person. He 
 confidingly took the hand of Jesus as a noble elder 
 brother, who could lead him to better acquaintance 
 with the Father ; and he was a devoted believer in 
 what he called Unitarian Christianity, because it 
 stood to him as the God-given charter of human 
 freedom, the God-given revelation of pure reason, 
 and the God-given pledge of everlasting, all- 
 including, all-victorious love. For the final deliv- 
 erance of humanity into the glorious liberty of the 
 sons of God, and for the safety of his own soul, he 
 had no misgiving ; and we may be sure he has vent- 
 ured away into the boundless mystery with the 
 living faith of Christ in his heart, — " I am not alone, 
 for the Father is with me." 
 
 Charles G. Ames. 
 
 Gekmantown, Pa., Sept. 3, 1S77. 
 
 It is in no spirit of eulogy that I speak of my 
 friend, for I would not offend his modest spirit 
 in death more than in life ; yet the spontaneous 
 incense of love that bursts forth at the mention of 
 his name would have been so grateful to his affec- 
 tionate heart that it cannot be wholly withheld.
 
 172 TJiomas J. Mumford. 
 
 Admirable as were the pungency of his wit, his 
 clear good-sense, his command of language, he will 
 be most fondly remembered for his ample, tender, 
 human heart, which took to its sheltering folds the 
 obscure, despised, and self-forsaken. 
 
 Of so high-tone and pure a nature that some one 
 has said, " He has not left on the earth so good a 
 man as himself" ; so little self-asserting that, though 
 "he never did the wrong thing, he was always as 
 meek and gentle as if he had " ; stern in j-^r^-demand, 
 full of melting charity to others' weakness, boiling 
 with indignation at injustice to the helpless, forgiv- 
 ing of personal offence, the peer of all who were 
 manly, yet permeated with such sympathetic chiv- 
 alry that every woman was his friend, with his 
 genius for friendship, — one cannot think of him as 
 enjoying solitary bliss, or, by a change of worlds, 
 being separated from what was his native clime 
 here, — the loving, needing, human heart. 
 
 At times it seemed as if the wide-spread craving 
 for his sympathy in affliction was too severe a 
 drain on his tasked brain and busy life ; but his 
 feet were always swift and his tender voice ready 
 for the mourner's call. Who that ever heard will 
 ever forget the appropriate hymn of his faithful 
 memory, or the rapt prayer in which time and sense 
 and woe vanished, and only the dutifulness of the 
 child and the Fatherliness of God remained ? 
 
 Never satisfied with himself as a preacher, even 
 Ids humility was not proof against the happy retro- 
 spect of his devoted pastoral service.
 
 Life and Letters. 173 
 
 His loss to our denomination as a journalist seems 
 irremediable ; for, witli a sound Christian faith, he 
 had a most catholic spirit, and was respected and 
 beloved alike by radical and conservative. But his 
 healthy, wholesome nature would be the first to 
 rebuke our faint-heartedness, and to reverently sa\', 
 "My Father's cup, — shall I not drink it ? And, 
 dear human friends, if there was any virtue in my 
 life, let it blossom afresh from the dust in yours." 
 
 Elizabeth P. Channing. 
 
 ... It was a sad shock to learn of our Brother 
 Mumford's death, that I have scarcely £,^ot over yet. 
 He was so genuinely honest, so fair-minded, and so 
 sweet in spirit ! Strange that some misinterpreted 
 his playful wit as having more gall than honey in it. 
 It must hav^e been because they only read him, and 
 that occasionally. Those who were with him more 
 knew better. Even I was with him enough to knoiv 
 it was a mistake. He was as lovely a man, of as 
 modest a disposition, as gentle a spirit, and yet of as 
 brave a heart, as ever I met. He was too merciful 
 to be unjust, and too just to be unmerciful. The 
 first time I ever saw him he was standing up in the 
 Western Conference at Detroit, fifteen years ago, 
 pleading in his quiet way for "death to slavery and 
 mercy to the South"; and in that speech, while 
 pleading for the poor slave, he spoke so kindly of 
 the slaveholder as a victim of circumstances — to 
 be pitied, rather than as a man to be hated — that
 
 1 74 Thomas J. Minnford. 
 
 one brother was provoked to criticise him in no very 
 kind spirit or manner, as I thought. I expected that 
 Mr. Mumford would rise, at the conclusion of this 
 attack, and retort rather severely ; but was surprised 
 to find that he said not a word, only shghtly bowing 
 his head and smiling genially, while the Conference 
 proceeded as if everybody were happy. It was a 
 novel experience to a Southern Illinoisan, who had 
 been accustomed to the bitterest harangues for or 
 against slaveholders as a class ; but it was an expe- 
 rience that has helped me to be a wiser and less 
 harmful advocate of reform. Brother Mumford was 
 looking much more pale and careworn then than 
 when, a little over a year since, I bade him farewell 
 at his office in Boston. It seems but a little while 
 ago that we met for the first time in conference ; it 
 was when Dr. Hosmer prayed, and Charles G. Ames 
 gave me the charge, and Mumford gave me that 
 warm right hand of fellowship to the Christian min- 
 istry, in the Unitarian church at Detroit, Sunday 
 evening, June 22, 1862; and now, of the men that 
 were in that Conference, as I recollect, Ichabod 
 Codding, another noble fellow, and Thomas J. Mum- 
 ford are gone ; and many more friends have since 
 then joined the innumerable throng. It makes one 
 feel lonely to think of it. But we will not say 
 good-night, hoping in some brighter clime to say 
 good-morning. 
 
 I have read the Register more regularly than any 
 other periodical for a dozen years, and in looking 
 over my scrap-books find that they are almost filled
 
 Life and Letters. 175 
 
 with it. I have one book of the " Pleasantries," 
 
 labelled " Medieine for Low Spirits," because they 
 
 have been this to me very often. 
 
 Jasper L. Douthit. 
 Shf.lbyvili-e, III., Nov. 8, 1S77. 
 
 The character-portraits of Mr. Mumford in the 
 Register, drawn by so many loving hands, have left 
 little to be added by other friends, save perhaps to 
 deepen some color here and there, or add some faint 
 lines which may help to bring out the well-known 
 features. Very fitly has our brother's wonderful 
 ''genius fvr friendship" been spoken of as the 
 peculiar key to his character. A more faithful 
 or truer friend I nc\er knew. 
 
 " Kind with the kindness of Christ," he had the 
 love which is greater than faith, stronger than hope, 
 and more excellent than the best of " gifts." In my 
 remembrance of him, I cannot separate this Chris- 
 tian love from the swift thought, the sound judg- 
 ment, and the keen wit which were the marked 
 traits of his intellect. Loving truth supremely, he 
 saw the truth with the clear vision of love-anointed 
 eyes. His penetrating analysis went almost unerr- 
 ingly to the heart of every subject on which he 
 wrote, or of which he talked ; while, with the ease 
 of a skilful house-keeper, he swept away those un- 
 sightly cobwebs of sophistry that gather in most 
 minds as profusely as their material emblems col-
 
 I jS Thomas J. ATwnford. 
 
 lect in our best rooms, when the air and the light 
 have been even for a little while shut out. 
 
 And what other leader of our ranks has shown 
 us as he has done how to reconcile those commonly 
 conflicting elements of a steadfast devotion to one's 
 sect or party on the one hand, and on the other that 
 catholicity of judgment which is but another name 
 for the sympathy of the intellect with truth in all its 
 widest and farthest reaches ? But here, also, his 
 Christian love was the double magnet which kept 
 him, like Wordsworth's "Skylark," — 
 
 '■ True to the kindred points of heaven and home." 
 
 No other force but this can hold the mind in that 
 admirable poise wherein our friend always stood, — 
 never drawn aside by chance suggestions from his 
 chosen line of thought, and never forgetting that 
 truth is looked at from many points of view, and 
 action may often be approved of by us when we 
 ourselves are restrained from engaging in it. 
 
 As truly as wittily did his friend Chadwick say 
 of him that he had hewn a path through theological 
 obstructions, where two, though not agreed, might 
 walk together and abreast. Yet this skill had come 
 to him from no looseness or vagueness of belief, and 
 trom no preference of an unchartered freedom over 
 the truth that maketh free. The principle which 
 he stood for, and which in him was so wonderfully 
 incarnated that it gave us all a new revelation of that 
 principle's worth, was that of Unitarian Christianity 
 in its simplest and purest form. To him, as to Chan-
 
 Life and Letters. 1 77 
 
 ning, Christianity was Christ. To be Christlike was 
 to be Christian. Christian faith meant Christian 
 discipleship; and Christian fellowship signified the 
 large and growing brotherhood of those whom in 
 his tenderest tones he was wont to call the "fol- 
 lowers of Jesus." And the Jesus whom he followed 
 was to him, not a human ideal, but a divine reality. 
 Had he been one of the twelve with the Master in 
 the flesh, he could have been none other than that 
 disciple whom Jesus loved ; and the love would have 
 been mutually strong and deep. 
 
 I dwell upon this because it was my high privilege 
 as his successor in the ministry, and so his pastor, to 
 know our brother in some of the finest manifesta- 
 tions of this his inner life of Christian discipleship. 
 It made him the beloved pastor in his own active 
 ministry, and the sympathetic comforter in times of 
 trouble which be never ceased to be. It gave to his 
 utterance of the unique invocation so often used by 
 him, '^ Dear Father in heaven," a power to uplift and 
 console, such as only one in fullest sympathy with 
 the well-beloved Son could have exercised. It made 
 what are so often nothing but the formal observ- 
 ances of baptism and the Lord's supper, levers in 
 his hands to raise the heart to the highest planes 
 of Christian thought and feeling. Fully to portray 
 this rare and inspiring saintliness of soul, is a task 
 that even those who knew it best may well shrink 
 from attempting. Enough that it has blossomed to 
 sweeten the common air that human spirits breathe,
 
 1/8 Thomas J. Mtimford. 
 
 leaving behind its undying fragrance, while the 
 bright consummate flower is transplanted to ever- 
 lasting gardens. 
 
 Henry G. Spaulding. 
 
 No analysis of Mr. Mumford's quality as an editor 
 or as a man is adequate which does not take in his 
 intense hold on persons. He had almost a genius 
 for fine appreciation of noble characters, and for 
 loyalty to them. Virtue, truth, religion, were always 
 incarnate in his thought, never abstract. He cared, 
 perhaps, too little for logical processes and general 
 speculations. His appeal was always to life, to spir- 
 itual experience, to the tests of character and result. 
 He knew better than many of us how perilous it is 
 in religion to run out the parallel of thought very 
 far beyond that of life ; how surely religious specu- 
 lations unbalanced by spiritual experience become 
 involved in vagueness, confusion, and contradiction. 
 It was his constant habit to hold up a disputed view 
 or practice to be tested in the light of the conviction 
 or character of eminent and saintly men and women. 
 He studied theology as it incarnated itself in noble 
 lives. Not following authority blindly, he sought for 
 truth where it seemed to him to have embodied itself 
 most completely. Without believing in the infalli- 
 bility of the Church, or of any body in the Church, 
 the consensus of rational and reverent minds had 
 great weight with him ; and his intellectual humility
 
 Life and Letters. 179 
 
 in the presence of religious genius, especially before 
 the wisdom of high Christian experience, was as 
 childlike as his hold on his own religious convic- 
 tions was stalwart and manly. Presumption, brill- 
 iant and erratic guessing in religion, found little 
 favor with him, and met, sometimes, the puncturing 
 javelins of the same keen wit he kept also in hand 
 for perverse and stupid bigotry in his own religious 
 body or outside, and which he more especially re- 
 served for what seemed to liim to be charlatanry 
 or moral crookedness, — if in religious transactions 
 or religious men, so much the more certain not to be 
 spared. He simply could not help having a keen 
 sense of what was sophistical, vaporous, and absurd ; 
 and it was hard for him to forbear the shafts of his 
 playful but thoroughly sincere rebuke: though none 
 but those in constant intercourse with him knew 
 how often he forbore them. And when sophistry 
 seemed to him to cover moral defect or dereliction, 
 his sallies had a ring of indignant earnestness that 
 was positive and sometimes startling. Neither dig- 
 nities nor denominationalism stood in the way then 
 of his scathing bolt ; nor could recognized position 
 nor ability persuade him to assent, or atone with 
 him for what he felt to be loose or morally oblique 
 methods or conduct. He bore persuasion manfully, 
 and stood his ground. 
 
 He never struck for the median line of religious 
 sentiment or influence. Under his conduct, the 
 Register never was a denominational organ, save as 
 the Unitarian public found and rejoiced to utilise a
 
 1 80 Thomas J. Mtimford. 
 
 sjoirit so sincerely and warmly in accord with its 
 best traditions, tendencies, and aspirations. His 
 hearty loyalty to Unitarian Christianity was per- 
 sonal, not professional ; the genuine product of his 
 faith and sober judgment, not the accident or neces- 
 sity of his position. He could never be made to 
 comprehend the necessity of any denominational 
 strategy that was not also the dictate of his genuine 
 Christian manhood. You could be sure that what 
 he advocated he believed in, and that, what he 
 rebuked he personally dissented from. 
 
 Few among us were level-headed enough to escape 
 his open or implied correction sometimes ; and they 
 were happy who soon learned that the argument he 
 conveyed in a witty "Brevity" left him unembittered 
 by the sally, and with as much intellectual respect 
 and cordial good-feeling towards an opponent as 
 though he had discharged a quarto at him. His 
 method of argument was by epigram and instance. 
 In relation to this, he once described himself as a 
 "one-barrelled man." He loved to load and fire at 
 will, without waitmg for the whole intellectual line. 
 
 That Mr. Mumford's distrust of mere speculation 
 and abstract reasoning, and his close-clinging hold on 
 personalities and practical tests, limited his thought, 
 — limited, sometimes, his intellectual sympathies, — 
 is very likely. He sometimes did not understand 
 the intellectual processes, the logical necessities, 
 that drove good men, on one side or the other, to 
 extremes where he could not follow them. His 
 Christian faith was as firmly grounded in practical
 
 Life and Letters. l8r 
 
 conviction as was his Unitarian distrust of pre- 
 scribed methods and authoritative standards in re- 
 ligion. To say that he was sometimes unjust to 
 those who advocated what he opposed, is simply 
 to say that he was human ; since no intellectual 
 position has been found so broad as to obliterate, 
 or greatly obscure, the fundamental limitations of 
 a man's intellect and character. 
 
 But he never failed to appreciate and rejoice in 
 downright earnestness, intellectual and moral, gen- 
 uine religious sentiment, and manl}^ character. His 
 loyalty to noble friendship was entire, amounting, 
 in some instances, to discipjeship. Nor did this 
 make him narrow or inhospitable to any claimant 
 upon his esteem and affection. Neither tradition 
 nor intellectual conviction kept the key of his affec- 
 tions and spiritual sympathies. His pantheon was 
 always open, and new shrines were continually 
 appearing in it. All worthy causes, all saintly 
 characters, all heroic lives, had a place, and there 
 was no challenge of intellectual shibboleths. His 
 success as an editor was in large part the result of 
 his genuineness and whole-heartedness as a man. 
 
 Henry H. Barber. 
 
 Many have been the tributes to the memory of 
 T. J. Mumford, forming a garland woven by friendly 
 and tender hands. Amid its evergreen I would place 
 one leaf, — a leaf of gratitude to him as editor. This 
 shall be my simple offering. To critical judgment.
 
 1 82 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 he united such kindly feeling that when the former 
 laid on the shelf an article intended for his paper, 
 the latter made some pleasant suggestion with re- 
 gard to the future. His rejection was no rebuff, his 
 denial had no brusqueness, his refusal held no dis- 
 couragement. Added to delicate consideration, was 
 a practical promptness which clothed even small 
 matters with certainty. Joined with very pleasant 
 personal recollections of one whose sudden with- 
 drawal from our visible sphere leaves there a per- 
 manent void, are these memories of his uniform 
 kindness, — memories which ever recall the faithful, 
 the courteous editor. Mary Bartol. 
 
 As I was away from the city and the State the 
 week Brother Mumford died, I did not hear a lisp of 
 his sickness even, until, returning Saturday evening, 
 I learned that he was dead and buried. It did not 
 seem possible. He was the last man to think of as 
 dying, — so full of superabundant life and joyousness. 
 But it was even so ; and as I had missed the funeral 
 services, and the tender tributes which I knew were 
 paid to him then, I went to the cemetery in Milton, 
 the Tuesday after, to visit his grave. 
 
 The place was already sacred. I knew the way. 
 It is a charming spot, unspoiled by art as yet. 
 There, in a little clump of pines, secluded and quiet, 
 I found the place of rest. I could not mistake it ; 
 for, while there were no marks of fresh earth, there 
 were unmistakable marks of a fresh sorrow which
 
 Life and Letters. 183 
 
 had touched many hearts. The grave had been 
 covered first with a bed of evergreen. This soft 
 and fragrant bed was again covered with flowers, 
 rich and beautiful, which had not yet faded, though 
 it was the third day after the burial. Probably they 
 had been replenished from the memorial service, 
 conducted so tenderly by Brother Chadwick on 
 Sunday, and also by dear ones who "had gone to 
 the grave to weep there" alone, and to lay the best 
 symbol we have of "God's smile" on the buried 
 dust. Over his breast was laid a flower-piece, with 
 the inscription " In Memoriam " in small purple 
 flowers on a white background ; and at the head, 
 lifted above the rest, a rare bouquet, with a v/hite 
 lily in the centre, and calla lilies strewed around. 
 The whole was fringed with a white border of 
 Nature's own weaving. It was not a grave, but a 
 flower-bed ; not the work of the undertaker, but of 
 God and his angels in the ministry of human love. 
 Oh, how still it was as I sat there ! And yet it was 
 not the stillness of death, but of life, — quiet, calm, 
 sweet life. The still air was full of the sounds of 
 insect life. The cricket was chirping his happy 
 though monotonous content. Now and then a bird- 
 note was heard, subdued and low, as if not wishing 
 to disturb the sacred quiet. Away in the distance 
 the happy voices of children were heard, mingling 
 with the crowing of a cock, — telling of home-life and 
 home-joy still going on, just as if nothing sad had 
 happened. The gentle breeze playing on the twisted 
 chords of the pine-leaf harps, set in every branch-
 
 1 84 Thomas J. Mtimford. 
 
 window to catch it, made music as soft as the 
 murmur of the distant sea. It was not a dirge. It 
 was not funereal. It was low, peaceful, quieting, 
 like the lullaby of a mother humming her child to 
 rest. I looked up and saw the clear, blue sky 
 through the restful branches, looking as serene as 
 if conscious of nothing but life beneath its bound- 
 less dome. I looked down, and a large velvet- 
 winged butterfly, not long out of its chrysalis, flew 
 by between me and the flower-bed grave. I thought 
 of the angel at the tomb, and of that word which 
 changed sadness to gladness, " He is not here; he 
 is risen." Here was another angel at tiie tomb, 
 silently whispering the same sweet assurance, as he 
 flew by in his risen and glorified form. " Not here, 
 but risen," this soft-winged angel of a fresh resur- 
 rection said, in that mother-tongue of the heart 
 which needs no interpreter. 
 
 Why is it that everybody feels what so many have 
 said, that they cannot think of Brother Mumford as 
 dead .■' Why, but just because he is not dead .-* Why 
 could I not think of him as lying beneath that bed 
 of flowers .-" Simply because he did not lie there ; 
 only the chrysalis, out of which Jie had risen. I 
 could think of him as standing at my side. I could 
 see his smile, and almost feel the pressure of his 
 hand ; but I could not see him in the grave, though 
 loving hands had done all that affection and faith 
 could to take all the old gloom away, and make it 
 beautiful. He was not there, — only the " clothes 
 lying." The grave was empty. Thank God it is
 
 Life a)id Letters. 185 
 
 so ! Terrible indeed would it be to bury a friend. 
 Sometimes, in the burning fever of grief, the dear 
 one gone does seem to be buried. Indeed, it often 
 takes more than three days for the loved one to- 
 rise. But not till some angel rolls away the stone, 
 and sits upon it, saying to us, with the assurance 
 that only true angels of the resurrection, whether 
 natural or supernatural, can, "Not here, but risen," 
 do we get any real comfort, or gain any real under- 
 standing of what Jesus meant when he said, " I go 
 away, and come againy It is the coming again on 
 a higher plane that the soul craves. And is not 
 the craving answered ? Do they not come to us, 
 not just as of old, but transfigured.'' Do they not 
 at times appear in our midst, the doors being shut, 
 walk with us on our way to some Emmaus of fond 
 memory, and talk with us till our hearts burn with 
 the old flame which made our communion with 
 them, while in the body, a joy.-* Do they not come 
 to us sometimes on the sea-shore of our daily toil, 
 and kindle "a fire of coals," without wood, to warm 
 us when wet and weary with our nets, inviting us 
 to dine on the products of an invisible and fathom- 
 less sea, talking to us of the flocks we are called of 
 God to feed, and asking us if we love them, repeat- 
 ing the question as true love always does, not be- 
 cause it doubts, but because it loves to be assured 
 again and again ? Are not our "eyes opened" some- 
 times at the "breaking of bread" to see celestial 
 guests at the table .■* And though they may vanish 
 as quickly and mysteriously as they came, do they
 
 1 86 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 not leave their benediction with us, and help us at 
 least to look up, perchance to rise a little with them 
 as they ascend ? 
 
 Dear brother, we will not say farewell ; for thou art 
 not gone to stay. Thou wilt often "come again." 
 If we miss thee, we shall find thee, too. With 
 the inward sight we shall still see thee, and with the 
 inward ear we shall still hear thy voice. Thy sunny 
 face will still smile upon us as of old. Thy keen 
 wit and rich humor, cleared now from every mote 
 which, unconsciously to thyself, may have ever 
 floated in it, will still cheer and enkindle us. Thy 
 strong words for truth and right will help us to be 
 strong and true; and thy wonderful power to com- 
 fort the human heart in its deepest needs, and to 
 help bereaved ones feel that there is no death, will 
 still help us all to feel that thoit art not dead ; that 
 
 "The good and the true never die, never die; 
 Though gone, they are here ever nigh, ever nigh." 
 
 William P. Tilden.
 
 Life and Letters 187 
 
 T. J. M. 
 
 Lines read at the unveilins of Mr. Mumford's picture in the chapel of the Third 
 Religious Society of Dorchester, June 26, 1878. 
 
 In life an honored name, 
 
 Bright, without t-pot : 
 A memory revered, 
 
 And unforgot. 
 When touched by death's cold hand. 
 
 What better lot 
 Can man befall than this I 
 
 A friend sincere, 
 Glad with our gladness, — quick 
 
 With love to cheer 
 Our hearts when sad, and dry 
 
 The mourner's tear. 
 
 He sleeps the sleep of peace. * 
 
 A noble life, 
 Crowned with unselfishness. 
 
 Has ceased its strife ; 
 For him no more this world 
 
 With tumult rife. 
 He is at rest with God. 
 
 Mourn we not, then, 
 Our loss, to him a gain. 
 
 Rejoice we, when 
 We think of him who worked 
 " Good-will to men." 
 
 A pastor, brother, friend, 
 
 A Christian true. 
 The Master's steps he trod, 
 
 His work to do ; 
 And humbly followed Him 
 
 Life's journey through. 
 May we him imitate. 
 
 All evil shun ; 
 1 That when, upon this earth 
 
 Gur coarse is run. 
 
 Like him, we t,jo may hear 
 
 The words " Well done." 
 
 N. M. Safford.
 
 XVI. 
 
 RESOLUTIONS. 
 
 At a meeting of the Directors of the Christian Register 
 Association, held on Monday, Sept. 3, 1877, it was voted to 
 put the following upon the records : — 
 
 The Directors of the Christian Register Association put upon 
 record their deep feeling of personal grief at the death of Rev. 
 Thomas J. Mumford, late editor of The Christian Register, and ex- 
 press their high appreciation of his fidelity in the discharge of his 
 editorial duties, of his intellectual vigor and brightness, the versatility 
 of his powers, his moral courage, fine perception of truth, and devout 
 religious faith. During his connection with The Christian Register 
 he has woa the esteem and friendship of his associates by his uni- 
 form kindness and consideration, and rendered, both to the paper and 
 the denomination, invaluable service. The universal sorrow at his 
 death is a testimony on the part of the public of their appreciation 
 of his editorial services and the worth of his personal character. 
 
 While thus feeling a personal sorrow at the death of our friend 
 and associate, we also extend to his family our heart-felt sympathy in 
 their anguish ; and, while we would not intrude upon the sanctity of 
 domestic grief, we with them find alleviation for our sorrow in the 
 rich and sweet memories which cluster around his life, and the conso- 
 lation and strengthening influences which come from that beautiful 
 faith which he cherished and exemplified. 
 
 At a meeting of the Third Religious Society of Dorchester, 
 held in Parish Hall, Wednesday, Aug. 29, 1877, the following 
 resolutions were adopted : — • 
 
 The members of this society, mindful of the fidelity with which 
 our lamented friend fulfilled the high trusts committed to him in his 
 pastoral and clerical relations, and also in the various and promi- 
 nent positions to which he has been called, desire to express their
 
 Life and Letters. 189 
 
 marked recognition and appreciation of his worth ; and they mourn 
 his departure as that of a dear personal friend, and concur in the 
 adoption of the following resolutions : — 
 
 Resolved, That the decease of Rev. Thomas J. Mumford, holding 
 the pastorate of this parish for the period of eight years, and more 
 recently engaged in the editorial charge of The Christian Register, in 
 the full maturity of his powers and in the active discharge of clerical 
 and literary duties, is an event which will be long and deeply mourned 
 in this community; that the pre-eminence of his intellectual, moral, 
 and social culture, his conscientious and unfailing devotion to Chris- 
 tian duty, the gentleness, kindness, and courtesy of his manners, the 
 generous emotions of his heart, and the purity and virtues of his 
 daily life have justly endeared him to us all. 
 
 Resolved, That in his intercourse in this community while engaged 
 in the work of the ministry, and in the kindly charities of Christian 
 life, honored far beyond the usual lot in the loving tenderness of 
 friends and neighbors, we recall in more formal recognition his fer- 
 vent zeal in his evangelical labors, and in the promotion of religious 
 and moral improvement. Actuated by a devout and unselfish spirit, 
 it was the purpose of his life to accomplish a large amount of useful 
 labor, and his full share of that labor; and this mission of his life has 
 been signally fulfilled. Liberal in his views, candid in discourse, 
 compassionate in his feelings, his character was ennobled by a love 
 of social order. Possessed in a remarkable degree of those sterling 
 attributes of character which constitute a generous, courageous, high- 
 minded man, conforming his will in harmonious relations with the 
 will divine, and recognizing that will as the mandate of spiritual 
 obligation, — to these were added those graces of character and that 
 inspiring faith and fellowship which touched our hc.irts to holy issues 
 and give to his death its touching pathos. 
 
 Resolved, That his integrity of thought and action, his love of the 
 generous and true, his abiding sense of accountability to God, will 
 oft recur to our minds as his familiar presence, and recall the sacred 
 memory of his virtues and the hallowed influence of his example. 
 
 Resolved, That we tender our sympathy to the widow and family of 
 the d'jceased. We commend them to the consolations of that hope 
 in which the departed found assurance. There yet remains the 
 memory of one whose life was pure, whose character was unsullied, 
 whose end was peace, whose rest is hallowed in every heart in the
 
 190 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 consecration of the holiest love, and whose presence was to each 
 and all a perpetual benediction. 
 
 Resolved, That these resolutions be entered on record, and a copy 
 transmitted to the family of the deceased. 
 
 The following tribute of the First Congregational Unitarian 
 Society of Detroit was adopted Sept. 9, 1877, and printed on a 
 neat mourning card : — 
 
 Called upon to mourn the removal by death of the Rev. Thomas 
 J. Mumford from the scene of his earthly labors, we, the First Con- 
 gregational Unitarian Society of Detroit, bring, with saddened hearts, 
 our tribute to his memory. 
 
 He was our first pastor, a pioneer in the cause of liberal Chris- 
 tianity in the West ; and the good seed sown by him has brought 
 forth abundantly to testify of his worth. 
 
 As a pastor he was earnest, zealous, self-sacrificing ; an ever-ready 
 guide, counsellor, and friend ; ceaseless in his labors ; rejoicing with 
 those who rejoiced, and mourning with those who mourned; in all 
 things a faithful minister of Him whose cause he served. 
 
 With deep affection we cherish the memory of his many virtues, 
 his loving and unselfish spirit, which, in his life, so endeared him 
 to all whose privilege it was to know him; and we place on record 
 our high appreciation of the example he furnished of trusting faith, 
 unswerving fidelity to truth, and an unspotted life. 
 
 To his sorrowing family, borne down with a double weight of grief 
 in his removal when his presence as a comforter seemed peculiarly 
 needed, we extend our loving sympathy. 
 
 A beautiful marble tablet has since been placed 
 in the church to his memory, bearing the following 
 lines from Chaucer : — 
 
 " Rich he was in holy thought and work. 
 Christ's lore and his apostles' twelve he taught: 
 But first he followed it himself."
 
 Life and Letters. igi 
 
 The Norfolk Conference held at Milton, Oct. 31, 1S77, took 
 the following action : — 
 
 Resolved, That the Norfolk Conference hereby expresses its sense 
 of the high character and services of its departed friend and tnember, 
 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 That it tenders to his widow and family this testimony of affection 
 and respect, and its sympathy with them in their great bereavement ; 
 while thanking God with them for the noble tribute he gave to the 
 value and blessing of the faith we hold-
 
 XVII. 
 
 NOTICES OF THE PRESS. 
 
 By the sudden death of this most estimable and noble gentle- 
 man, The Chrtstiati Register, which he has edited for the last 
 five years, and the Unitarian body have met with an apparently 
 irreparable loss. The pathos of his death is deepened by the 
 fact that he had just completed and entered a beautiful new 
 home in Dorchester, and was anticipating a great deal of 
 pleasure from its high and lovely situation, commanding the 
 most varied and delightful view that Eastern Massachusetts 
 can afford. 
 
 Mr. Mumford became sole editor of The Christian Register 
 in 1872. For two or three years before, he had been assistant 
 editor, and in this capacity had done much to enliven the 
 intolerable heaviness with which it had long been afflicted ; 
 but his assumption of the entire control of the paper was a 
 signal for a complete renovation. From the start, his conduct 
 of the paper was successful and even brilliant. His editorials, 
 when they were nothing more, were short and sensible ; but at 
 their best they displayed a controversial skill, a moral energy, 
 a flame of indignation, a happy humor, or a lively wit that 
 made them a tremendous power for good. But Mr. Mumford's 
 leading articles were not the only nor the principal factors in 
 his editorial success. His column of Brevities was probably 
 read more faithfully than any other. No wittier column could 
 be found in any other paper, secular or religious. Moreover, 
 Mr. Mumford had a positive genius for selecting matter for the 
 different departments of his paper, and for calling to his assist- 
 ance writers and correspondents after his own heart, and for 
 assigning special tasks to those best fitted to perform them. 
 When we consider that, in addition to all this, the different 
 parts of tlie paper were always brought together into an
 
 Life and Letters. 1 93 
 
 artistic whole, it is no wonder that the subscription list steadily 
 lengthened and the financial success of the paper was secured. 
 
 The theological position occupied by Mr. Mumford was 
 about midway between the two extremes of the denomination. 
 If he often gave offence to the more radical men, he quite as 
 often gave offence to the more conservative. The general 
 influence of his paper was undoubtedly more favorable to the 
 rationalistic than to the supernatural Unitarians. The men he 
 drew about him to assist him were mainly of the latter sort. 
 He had no fault to find with anybody who remained inside the 
 Unitarian or Christian boundaries ; but never feeling these to 
 be any limitation of his own freedom, he could not see why 
 they should be to other men. The attempt to foist a creed 
 upon the Unitarian Association was made soon after his 
 accession to the editorial chair. It met with his determined 
 opposition, and elicited some of the most brilUant sallies of 
 his wit. Whenever this spectre has since reappeared, he has 
 given it a very warm reception. As good a stroke of work as 
 Mr. Mumford ever did was in attempting to set forth in its true 
 light the claims of Humboldt College, or rather its financial 
 manager, upon the sympathies of honest men. In the famous 
 " Year-Book Controversy," he took a course which we regretted 
 at the time, and see more reason to regret with every passing 
 day ; but we never doubted his entire sincerity, nor his devo- 
 tion to what seemed to him the highest truth and good. 
 
 Mr. Mumford had been an able and successful minister for 
 more than twenty years when he took charge of The Christian 
 Register in 1872. Brought up as an Episcopalian, when about 
 twenty years of age his anti-slavery sentiments introduced him 
 to Samuel J. May, whom ever after he regarded as his spiritual 
 father, cherishing for him a boundless reverence, and after his 
 death preparing his biognaphy with loving satisfaction. Study- 
 ing at iMeadville for two years, he left the school to take 
 immediate charge of a new society starting in Detroit. Here 
 he remained for ten years, building up a strong society, and 
 forming friendships that have never been outgrown. Next he 
 spent a year in Marietta, Ohio, and in 1S64 took charge of the
 
 194 Thomas J. Miimford. 
 
 Unitarian church at Dorchester Lower Mills. Always a clear, 
 straightforward, and convincing preacher, it was as the per- 
 sonal friend of his people that he attached himself to them 
 most deeply. He had a wonderful sympathy and gift of conso- 
 lation. Young people were strongly attracted to him. In all 
 his personal relations, he was one of the pleasantest of men. 
 No merrier companion could be found. Impatient of purely 
 business relations with men and women, he made himself 
 friends of all his various assistants in the publication of his 
 paper. Few men among us have such a host of friends. He 
 will be sadly missed by them, and hardly less so by the larger 
 company who knew him only in his editorial capacit}'. With a 
 singular gentleness and purity and feminine delicacy of char- 
 acter, he united the most vigorous and stalwart attribute of 
 manliness. The motto of the Chevalier Bayard might without 
 flattery be graven on his monument : " Without fear and 
 without reproach." — J. IV. C, in Inqtiirer. 
 
 The Christian Register of September 8 is mostly a memo- 
 rial of this wise and good man. It would be a vain thing for 
 us to seek to add anything to what is there said. And yet we 
 would fain set before our readers some slight portrait of him 
 as he lives in our thought. He was a substantial man. He 
 stood firmly on the ground. He walked with no wavering or 
 unsteady gait. Seen from any point of view, there was an air 
 of steadfastness about him. And this outward bearing did 
 not belie the inward character. He was brave in defence of 
 what he believed to be right ; but his bravery was no sudden 
 impulse. It was a part of the inherent strength and stead- 
 fastness of the man. He was a person of strong convictions, 
 and what he believed he steadfastly obeyed and followed. 
 Duty was the law of his life. By that, most of all, he was 
 brought into alliance with the infinite source of life. Hence 
 there was no faltering when great emergencies were to be met 
 and great responsibilities to be assumed. Though he was born 
 in South Carolina, neither the accident of his birth, nor the 
 endearing associations connected with it, nor his personal
 
 Life and Letters. 195 
 
 interests could make him for a moment hesitate to engage 
 early and with all his might on the side of freedom in the 
 great anti-slavery conflict. Born in the Episcopal Church, with 
 feelings of strong personal attachment to some of its members, 
 he yet gave it all up, and fearlessly cast in his lot with the 
 advocates of an unpopular faith, when the truth, as God had 
 enabled him to see it, demanded of him the sacrifice. 
 
 A stalwart, steadfast, brave man he was, quick to see and 
 strong to follow the standard of right. And this steadfast 
 strength was not confined to the demands of his moral nature. 
 It entered into his whole being. It characterized all his facul- 
 ties. He was a man of the most delicate sensibilities and 
 affections. But they were as strong and steadfast as they 
 were delicate and tender. " He had," one said, " a genius for 
 friendship." The circle of his friends was enlarged every 
 year. He seldom visited a new place without making new 
 friends. Men were drawn towards him and bound to him 
 sometimes by an attachment as vivid and romantic as that by 
 which young men and women are drawn together for life. He 
 was a public man. As a minister, and much more as an 
 editor, he was connected with multitudes of people. But this 
 larger life, which sometimes takes away the sense of personal 
 relationship and merges the individual in the mass, with him 
 never dulled the edge of his personal affections, but rather 
 extended and intensified his friendships. No press of public 
 duty made him forget the little attentions by which he could 
 show how alive and active his personal feelings were. If he 
 could not be with his friends to speak the word he wished to 
 say, he remembered them none the less, and had especially the 
 gift of writing just at the most important moment, and with 
 just the words that were most grateful. For want of these 
 timely and impromptu recognitions, how often are our most 
 dearly cherished friendships allowed to cool ! 
 
 And within a closer circle, the sweetness of his nature 
 showed itself even more affectingly, and added more richly to 
 his happiness. "If," says Mr. Chadwick, "he had a genius 
 for friendship, I think he had a rarer genius for domestic love.
 
 196 Thomas J. JMumford. 
 
 Parents, wife, brothers, sisters, child, — these were the chords 
 of his experience that gave out the sweetest music. He used 
 to write their birthdays, and the days of their re-birth into the 
 life to come, upon his letters to me as saints' days quite as 
 good as any that the calendar can show. He used to speak of 
 them with glistening eyes and accents softly hushed. And so 
 it was, although I knew him well, I came to feel that I had 
 never got beyond the outer temple of his spirit, and that there 
 was an inner temple very calm and holy, sacred to the most 
 close and beautiful affections of his heart." 
 
 This strong, faithful, tender-hearted man was, for nearly 
 six yearo, editor of The Christian Register, and no one has 
 ever better answered the many and varied requirements of 
 that difficult and important office. In addition to his greater 
 and finer qualities, he knew, as by instinct, everything that was 
 going on, and how to deal with new or old questions in the 
 light of reason and in the light that was thrown upon them by 
 passing events. His death is a serious loss to the Unitarian 
 denomination and to the whole Christian community, while it 
 has thrown a shadow on many a private home and heart. — 
 Unitarian Review. 
 
 What Paul would have said to young religious editors we 
 can only infer from what he said to young ministers. Whether 
 we consider the pulpit from which he speaks, the audience he 
 addresses, the influences he exerts, or the obligations laid upon 
 him by the nature of his work, we cannot see that the functions 
 of an ideal editor would be a whit behind those of the chief of 
 ministers. We have just been reading with extreme interest 
 the wise and discriminating words spoken at an editor's fu- 
 neral. However accurately they portrayed the characteristics 
 of the man whose sudden death all so much lamented, they 
 certainly outlined well some of the most essential traits of the 
 true editor. 
 
 The Christian Register, of Boston, notwithstanding its sharp 
 thrusts at doctrines we hold a thousand times more dear than 
 it is possible for a man to hold mere negations, has for seven
 
 Life and Lett as. 197 
 
 years manif'^sted increasing journalistic ability. In the treat- 
 ment of matters which must be brought, in the editorial room, 
 to the test of a cultivated taste, a sensitive conscience, sound 
 judgment, and a broad, generous spirit, we had learned to 
 admire it. The recent funeral of its editor, Rev. Thomas J. 
 Mumford, after making due allowances for the halo of personal 
 affection which encircled him, the denominational spirit, and 
 what we may not invidiously term the Unitarian genius for 
 eulogy, brought out in several of its utterances some things 
 which not only editors but readers generally may profitably 
 consider. According to the confession of all, we note that 
 what was admirable in the paper was preeminently the char- 
 acter of its editor. Some of the memorial utterances made 
 by his friends respecting him are worth repeating, if for no 
 otiier reason, as suggesting some of the distinctive qualities 
 of the true journalistic character. " One could discern," 
 remarks his successor, "between the lines a manly strength 
 and sweetness in the expression of an earnest, consecrated 
 soul. He gathered incidents, anecdotes, and songs as a bee 
 gathers honey. His memory was quick, accurate, tenacious. 
 His style was uniformly precise, graceful, finished. He was 
 conscious of his special gift for editing even while he was 
 a successful pastor." His style is again characterized as 
 "terse, sententious, epigrammatic." "He thought too quickly 
 for lengthy logical discussions. He disliked abstractions. He 
 aimed and hit. He put into his paper such vitality and spirit 
 as always kept curiosity alive, wondering what new brightness 
 or new variety of thought would ne.xt appear. Folly and sham 
 his sharp but never bitter spear inevitably punctured. His 
 work was his joy and his rest. He felt an enthusiasm for 
 everybody and everything connected with the paper, — contrib- 
 utors, fellow-editors, and printers." " Who could resist the 
 fine contagion of his cheerfulness ? Yet his pathetic little 
 children's stories, written or selected, often went to the 
 printer moistened with his tears. Every number was full of 
 his best self, his thought, his love, his life." "His editorial 
 judgment, in the quick and right e.xercise of which as much
 
 198 Thomas J. Muniford. 
 
 depends as on crises in a banking-room or on the battle-field, 
 seldom erred. He was uniformly firm in his editorial convic- 
 tions, unmoved except by new light. He did not try to make 
 his paper popular by making it less religious. His faith in 
 God was simple, childlike. He dared to give himself pain by 
 rigidly excluding what he deemed not best for the paper, no 
 matter who wrote it. He treated contributors with invariably 
 fine courtesy, but with unmistakable frankness and immutable 
 verdicts. When weary of criticism at times, how he would 
 have welcomed this flood of appreciation that his death opens. 
 His reward is, after all, not in our, but in the Master's, 'Well 
 done.' " 
 
 How much of this is exactly true, our entire want of per- 
 sonal acquaintance with Mr. Mumford makes it impossible 
 for us to judge. But that it ought to be true of all of us 
 editors of religious papers, there cannot be the shadow of a 
 doubt. The very perfection of a picture so nearly impos- 
 sible ought to make all readers charitable tov/ards editors. 
 It should afford to every one who aspires to the responsible 
 position a more lofty ideal. It is a great thing to be a good 
 editor. — Advance. 
 
 The Christian Register — the well-known organ of Boston 
 Unitarianism — has lost the most accomplished editor it has 
 had during the fifty-six years of its history. This is saying 
 much ; for the Register has never been conducted by a 
 second-rate man. But after according to each of the emi- 
 nent men who were Mr. Mumford's predecessors the full 
 honor due him, it remains true that no other man who ever 
 occupied that chair had such a genius for editing as he. From 
 the time he took full charge of the paper down to the week of 
 his death, he made it a model religious journal. His shining 
 qualities as an editor were a keen and ahnost unerring moral 
 sense, a fine literary discrimination, delicate, we had almost 
 written delicious, humor, and unflagging industry. With such 
 traits, he soon made for himself a unique reputation in relig- 
 ious journalism, and his paper became a favorite with all
 
 Life and Letters. 199 
 
 who admire cultivated Christian manliness, or relish graceful 
 wit. It was our pleasure to number Mr. Mumford among our 
 personal friends, and to know something of those character- 
 istics which endeared him to a large circle of acquaintances. 
 He was one of the most genial and gentle of men ; unobtru- 
 sive, but as well worth cultivating as any man we ever knew. 
 Religious journalism loses in him one of its most brilliant, at 
 the same time that he was one of its purest, models. The 
 Unitarian body suffers the loss of a man who, while he gave 
 it a literary service fully up to its best standards, contributed 
 to it the more needed support of unwavering adhesion to 
 sound Christian faith. His acquaintances will miss a culti- 
 vated, sincere, cordial friend; and his family will mourn a 
 husband and father of singular gentleness and devotion. For 
 ourselves, we feel that we shall miss him sorely, especially from 
 the columns of the Register, through which he infused such 
 a constant stream of '• sweetness and light"' that we dare not 
 hope any other man will succeed in doing more than make us 
 keenly conscious of his absence. — /. M. A., in Universalist. 
 
 We read with sincere sorrow, and hearty sympathy for a 
 deeply bereaved familj', of the quite sudden death of Rev. 
 Thomas J. JMumford, the able editor of The Christian Register. 
 He falls in the full maturity of his intellectual powers, — only 
 a little more than fifty-one years of age. Mr. Mumford was a 
 man of excellent spirit, genial in temper, endearing himself by 
 constant acts of thoughtful kindness to all that came within 
 the circle of his friendship. He won from our pastors in 
 Dorchester their hearty respect and love, both himself and his 
 now greatly afflicted w!fe often mingling in their public services. 
 A Unitarian Christian from conviction, the latter term, with 
 him, ever received the strongest emphasis. He had little per- 
 sonal accord with those whose liberalism dismissed Christ out 
 of their faith, and warmly atfiliated in Christian sympathy with 
 many of his brethren of the evangelic il churches. As an 
 editor, he had a remarkaMc skill in seizing and condensing
 
 200 Thomas J. ATiimford. 
 
 the thoughts and incidents of the week. His column of edi- 
 torial comments was unsurpassed by the work of any of the 
 editorial fraternity. Short, bright, apt, sometimes keen, and 
 occasionally, though rarely, having a sharp sting in them, these 
 comprehensive notes found often a wide circulation through 
 the press. We were very widely separated from each other 
 in our theological views and interpretations of Scripture ; but 
 we were drawn to our brother editor in our personal inter- 
 course by the irresistible force of his Christian temper. We 
 may not speak here of our appreciation of this loss to our 
 sadly afflicted friend who so suddenly finds herself alone in 
 life at a moment when its common enjoyment never was 
 richer, but prayerfully commend her "to God and the word 
 of his grace," whence alone can be found adequate support 
 and consolation in an hour of such utter earthly desolation. — 
 Zioii^s Herald. 
 
 The death of Mr. Mumford will be felt as a real loss by our 
 entire denomination; for outside of his wide circle of personal 
 friends, there are many hundreds of the readers of the Reg- 
 ister vi\iO have long since learned to love him as the unknown 
 Christian man who always said the right thing at the right 
 time in the ed'torial columns of that paper. An intelligent 
 man in Olympia said, more than a year ago, " I always road 
 the Register clear through, and I think it the most ably 
 edited of any paper in the United States." As we knew Mr. 
 Mumford personally, and thought of his unpretending ways, 
 we naturally thought the remark quite extravagant. But from 
 that time till now, we have not been able to think of a paper 
 that we could say was certainly more ably edited than The 
 Christian Register. The column headed '• Spirit of the 
 Press " showed a vast amount of wading through uninter- 
 esting matter, to select with a judgment well-nigh infallible 
 that which we would be glad to read. The column of " Brev- 
 ities " showed real genius, and we doubt not was read more 
 than any column in the paper, except, perhaps, the " Religious
 
 Life and Lexers. 201 
 
 Intelligence." Mr. Mumford's wit was of the order that does 
 not grow stale with time nor wear out with the using ; and, 
 better than all, it was ever used upon the side of humanity 
 and practical righteousness. Though so far away, we join 
 most sincerely in the mourning expressed in the Register just 
 received; for we shall miss the strong, helpful word of this 
 gifted brother every week for a long time. No one can fill 
 his place. — Unitarian Advocate. 
 
 It is with deep regret that we are called upon to record the 
 death of Rev. Thomas J. Mumford, editor of the Boston Chris- 
 tian Register, at his residence in Dorchester, on August 29. 
 Possessed of a very unusual aptitude for journalism, and gifted 
 especially with a brilliant wit (which its victims sometimes felt 
 to verge on injustice), he was most successful in his editorial 
 labors, and did much to increase the prosperity of the paper 
 with which he was connected. It will be hard indeed to find 
 a substitute so exceptionally skilled in the difficult art of 
 *'l3aragraphing." And it was his sunny, affectionate, and most 
 lovable disposition, his warm and faithful heart, his utter inno- 
 cence of any attempt to wound even when his love of fun 
 tempted him into sallies decidedly aggravating to their objects, 
 which endeared him to many, and will make him long and ten- 
 derly remembered. He was most constant and true in private 
 friendship, as we have excellent cause to know. At our ordi- 
 nation on August 31, 1864, Mr. Mumford made the "ordaining 
 prayer"; and we shall never forget the sweet fervor, sim- 
 plicity, and beauty of his words, or the touching religiousness 
 of his spirit. If the "laying-on of hands" by a true minister 
 of Christ could indeed bring the Holy Ghost, we see not how 
 we could ever have strayed so far from the fold. But no diver- 
 gence of religious views ever cooled our mutual good-will ; 
 and it is with deep sorrow that we say good-by to one of the 
 gentlest and best of humankind. — Index. 
 
 The announcement of the death, after a very brief illness, of 
 Rev. Thomas J. Mumford, editor of The Christian Register,
 
 202 Thomas J. Mwnford. 
 
 has been received with feelings of deep grief by a large circle 
 of friends. His career as a journalist has been highly suc- 
 cessful. He was a vigorous writer and a brilliant paragraphist. 
 Few have engaged in their editorial work with a higher aim or 
 more conscientious purpose to be faithful. He hated shams, 
 and his keen satire and sharp wit were often used to puncture 
 hypocrisy, pretence, and cant. Frank in the expression of his 
 own convictions, he maintained them \\ith unyielding tenacity, 
 having in view the simple end of truth. He was a man of 
 deep religious convictions, in the largest and best sense of that 
 term, and was steadfast as a friend. The denomination which 
 he so ably represented will meet with a severe loss in his 
 death, for he had, in an unusual degree, the qualities which 
 combine to make an efficient editor. This is not the place to 
 speak in full of his character and labors. As a cherished 
 friend to whom we were endeared by a long and close attach- 
 ment, we would here and now simply pay a passing tribute to 
 his memory and worth. He aimed to do his part worthily and 
 well. His heart was true, and his faith was strong. His was a 
 sincere, earnest, manly, and Christian life. — WomatCs Journal. 
 
 The decease of Rev. Thomas J. Mumford, the editor of 
 The Christian Register, which occurred on Wednesday, 
 August 29, affects us as a public calamity. He had made a 
 record of editorial tact and ability that may justly be pro- 
 nounced brilliant. As a paragraphist — in which character 
 much is expected of the editor in these days — he had few 
 equals. His '• Brevities " in the Register had given him a repu- 
 tation far outside of denominational lines, as expressions of 
 sparkling wit, and also — a quality which does not always 
 accompany — of generous humor. He gave occasion for the 
 complaint on the part of his more staid brethren, of at times 
 lowering the dignity of journalism; but those who felt the 
 glow of his humorous sallies judged that they worthily em- 
 bodied a m ral purpose. He loved truth not less than particu- 
 lar truths. He hated pretence, and with a facile pen always
 
 Life and Letters. 203 
 
 gave it a punctured wound. He was independent, with con- 
 victions of his own, which he asserted with resolute purpose. 
 His death was very sudden. On Saturday, August 25, he was 
 in his usual health. On the succeeding Wednesday, he had 
 passed away. We shall sadly miss his easily identified utter- 
 ances. Fortunate, indeed, will the Register be if it fills the 
 large vacancy. — Universalist. 
 
 The Inquirer will be deeply touched by the very wide-spread 
 sorrow caused by the sudden death of Mr. Mumford. One of 
 the keenest of pens ceased its work when this truest and 
 kindliest heart ceased to beat. That the noblest and fittest 
 workers so often fall out of the ranks is that which makes one 
 of the most impenetrable mysteries of death. It sometimes 
 seems as though a wise general would hardly manage his 
 forces so ; and yet we see only a part of the field across 
 which stretch the lines that are fighting the age-long cam- 
 paign of light and darkness, of good and evil. 
 
 "... We trust that somehow good 
 Will be the final goal of ill " ; 
 
 and if we believe that tears and evil and death are somehow 
 the raw materials of which the better and the best will at last 
 be made, sympathy for personal friends and relations, sorrow 
 for our denominational loss, and an unfaltering courage to pick 
 up and complete the work he loved and would have done, — 
 these are what are left for us. — Rev. M. jF. Savage, in 
 Inquirer. 
 
 The last number of The Christian Register is devoted 
 mainly to the reminiscences and memorial services of its late 
 editor, Rev. T. J. Mumford. If the half that is said of him 
 is true, he must have been a man of brilliant intellectual 
 endowments, and of a most charming and lovable nature. 
 He was certainly an excellent editor, and we can understand 
 how highly he must have been appreciated by those who
 
 204 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 look at life from a Unitarian point of view. We have always 
 found the Register to be one of the most interesting of our 
 exchanges. It was animated with a bold, free, but kind spirit, 
 and the Unitarians will not find it easy to replace him. — New 
 Jerusalem Messenger. 
 
 Mr. Mumford was a man of remarkably gentle, unselfish, 
 sympathetic temperament and winning manners. He had, as 
 Sir Walter Scott describes it, " a genius for friendship." Years 
 after his departure from Detroit, he was overwhelmed, on his 
 casual visits here, not only by his former parishioners, but by 
 old neighbors and acquaintances who remembered his kind 
 ways, and pleasing speech, and helpful counsel. He was ex- 
 ceedingly agreeable in conversation, full of interesting anec- 
 dotes and reminiscences. Mr. Mumford's editorial writing 
 was always courteous and dignified, and the column of brevities 
 in his paper was charged with both pungent and genial humor. 
 — Detroit Daily Post. 
 
 We regret to record the decease of Rev. T. J. Mumford, 
 editor of The Christian Register, which occurred quite unex- 
 pectedly last week. Mr. Mumford entered the Unitarian 
 ministry from the Episcopal Church, and his influence in his 
 late sphere was conservative of the claims of faith in revealed 
 religion. Widely as his views in religion differed from our 
 own, The Christian Register under his lead has been one of 
 the most enjoyable of our weekly exchanges. It may be as 
 ably conducted by another hand, but it will be fortunate indeed 
 if its readers do not for some time miss the shrewd sense and 
 the always kindly and often witty utterance of the late editor. — 
 The Watchtnan. 
 
 We have learned with profound regret that Mr. Mumford, 
 the editor of The Christian Register, of Boston, U.S., died at 
 the close of last month, suddenly, in the full prime of his life,
 
 Life and Letters. 205 
 
 dhd ni the midst of his inestimable service to the Unitarian 
 cause. We were hoping that we might have soon seen him 
 on this side of the Atlantic, that we might pay him the tribute 
 his ability, sincerity, and goodness richly deserved. Many of 
 us know how invaluable have been his labors as editor for a 
 series of years. His full sympathy with and defence of the 
 Christian position of our denomination are well known. He 
 now rests from his anxieties and labors. — The Christian Life. 
 
 He was a man of talent, bright, cheery, and genial, with the 
 best of hearts and the purest and noblest of thoughts. Mr. 
 Mumford edited the life of his early friend, Rev. Samuel J. 
 May, and he was a zealous abolitionist. As an editor, Mr. 
 Mumford was a success, and he loved his work and faced his 
 responsibilities with much spirit and public devotion. Although 
 Unitarian, he was not a one-idea man in religious matters, and 
 recognized the good in all. He was a pure Christian, and he 
 carried his professions into practice. His circle of friends 
 was very extensive, and the sorrow at his sudden death is 
 extremely great. — Boston yotirnal of Commerce. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Mumford, of Boston, whose sudden death was an- 
 nounced last week, was originally an Episcopalian. He studied 
 theology at the Meadville Seminary, and preached for a few 
 years, when he went into journalism, becoming first a contrib- 
 utor to and afterward editor of The Christian Register, the 
 leading Unitarian paper of New England. Under his manage- 
 ment, the Register became one of the best and ablest religious 
 papers of the country ; and his personal character was so high 
 as to win from the most "evangelical" papers the phrase 
 ''Unitarian Christian" as applied to him. — The Alliance. 
 
 It is with surprise and great sorrow that we learn of the 
 sudden death of the editor of The Christian Register, Rev.
 
 2o6 Thomas J. Mumford. 
 
 Thomas J. Mumford. Though frequently having occasion tc^ 
 differ from him on doctrinal points, we always considered him 
 one of the brightest, most courteous and accomplished of 
 journalists. Multitudes whom he never knew in person will 
 deeply mourn his loss. The Register, in his hands, has pos- 
 sessed a certain journalistic quality it will never quite have 
 again. — A dvance. 
 
 We were shocked to hear last week of the death of Rev. 
 T. J. Mumford, the editor of our Tremont Place neighbor, The 
 Christian Register. Mr. Mumford was at his desk on Satur- 
 day, the 25th ult. : on Saturday, the ist inst., his body was car- 
 ried to its burial. . . . Though his paper and ours were often 
 obliged to differ stoutly on theological points, they never, we 
 believe, quarrelled; and we always entertained the highest 
 opinion of his editorial abilities. — Congregationalist. 
 
 We are glad to notice that nearly all of our contemporaries 
 have paid well-deserved tributes to the memory of Rev. Thomas 
 J. Mumford, late editor of The Christian Register (Unitarian), 
 Boston. As an editor, Mr. Mumford won a well-deserved rep- 
 utation. The Register will hardly find a successor able to fill 
 his place, though such an event is much to be wished for, that 
 our Unitarian friends may continue to have a truly representa- 
 tive journal. — Christian Leader. 
 
 The late Rev. Thomas J. Mumford, editor of The Christian 
 Register, was a vigorous and able journalist, whose special 
 ability was in writing paragraph notes on the editorial page. 
 He worked on The Christian Register almost single-handed, 
 but made it one of the most readable and valuable of our 
 exchanges. The Unitarians will find it difficult to find an 
 equally good manager for their chief denominational paper. — 
 Independent.
 
 Life and Letters. 2,QJ 
 
 From his childhood up, all distinctions of caste and condi- 
 tion were overborne by his respect and love for humanity. 
 That last Sunday of his life, spent in his own home with its 
 wide outlook upon earth and sea and sky, surrounded by his 
 own household, and his friends and fellow-laborers of the 
 printing-office, was a fitting close of such a life, — a glorious 
 sunset. — Dorchester Beacon. 
 
 Rev. Thomas J, Mumford, editor of The Christian Register, 
 who died on Wednesday, was well known to the people of 
 the Unitarian denomination in this vicinity. During Rev. Mr. 
 Moors' absence when a chaplain in the army. Rev. Mr. Mum- 
 ford had charge of his parish, and endeared himself to all with 
 whom he came in contact. — Gazette and Courier {Greenfield^ 
 Mass.). 
 
 The Christian Register of last week is a memorial number, 
 devoted largely to a review of the life and character of its late 
 editor, Rev. Thomas J. Mumford, whose death was so great a 
 loss to that journal, and to the ministerial and editorial profes- 
 sions. The Register, under his management, was one of the 
 brightest and most readable weeklies in the country. — Golden 
 Rule. 
 
 The death of Thomas J. Mumford, editor of The Christian 
 Register, takes from the fraternity one who will be widely and 
 greatly missed. His geniality made the Register in spirit 
 thoroughly Christian; lively without being pert, and keen 
 without being sharp-edged. His death was sudden. It will 
 not be easy to find one to fill his place. — Chris tiati Union. 
 
 We announce with deep sorrow the very sudden death of 
 Rev. Thomas J. .Mumford, editor of The Christian Register, the 
 Boston Unitarian paper. He was a most genial writer, and for 
 years past we have regarded his paper as the best edited relig- 
 ious weekly of our acquaintance. — New Covenant.
 
 2o8 Thomas J. Mmnford. 
 
 He was an earnest anti-slavery worker during that contest, 
 always a friend of humanity and a man of integrity. During 
 his seven years' editorship of the Register, he made it a valua- 
 ble literary paper, and one whose moral influence was of a high 
 order. — Morni7i£ Star. 
 
 Under his auspices, the Register has been an exceedingly 
 interesting and readable paper. No one, however widely he 
 might differ from its views, could fail to recognize the vivacity 
 and ability with which they were maintained. — National Bap- 
 tist. 
 
 The death of the editor of The Christian Register is an- 
 nounced. He was originally an Episcopalian. The Register, 
 a Unitarian paper, was considered, under his management, one 
 of the best edited papers in the country. — Star in the West. 
 
 He always cherished a love for the press, contracted by some 
 editorial experience while yet uncertain as to his vocation. He 
 took charge of the Register seven or eight years ago, and has 
 made it an admirable paper. — Evangelist. 
 
 He was one of the best journalists in the land. — Methodist.
 
 " In the room 
 Of this grief-shadowed Present, there shall be 
 A Present in whose reign no grief shall gnaw 
 The heart, and never shall a tender tie 
 Be broken; in whose reign the eternal Change 
 That waits on growth and action shall proceed, 
 With everlasting Concord hand in hand." 
 
 Bryant, The Flood of Years.
 
 UNIVEKSn Y ot CALIFOitWiA 
 
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