LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIC60 9 r- -s I^TEODTJOTIOE' O the Friends and Patrons who upheld me in my "Life-Struggles," I dedicate "Shadowy Hand." Also my new Lecture, "Hidden Hand; Pulpit and The Stage" Both the book and the lecture are the fruit of a lifetime. My life-study has been the "Hiding of God's Power" in eloquence, the moving of soul-forces. I present not only incidents and events in " Life-Struggles," but also excerpts from my sermons and lectures. " Fast Young Men " is the lecture that bought a church, yet " Bach- elors and Their Follies," and " Old Maids and Their Accusers," have attracted larger audiences, and met with greater favor. It remains to be seen whether " Hidden Hand ; Pulpit and The Stage," shall eclipse them all. My friends predict that " Shadowy Hand " will surpass "Ned Nevins," 20,000 copies of which were sold the first year. Be that as it may, I here submit the first edition. PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. As the first edition was exhausted in a few hours, I make my bow, express my gratitude, and issue forth the second edition. According to present indications, " Shadowy Hand " will reach twice the circulation of ** Ned Nevins." Thanks to the success of " Ned," for preparing the way, thanks, a thousand thanks, to all my old friends. PEEFACE TO THE FIFTH THOUSAND. "SHADOWY HAND," through storms of adverse criticisms, has reached its fifth thousand. In this edition I devote an extra chapter to my critics. If this warfare continues, I may be compelled to make a greater expose of the heartless preaching and editorial sacrilege of those " clothed with the fleece, yet leaving the sheep to starve." Hitherto I have wo: ked in harmony with all religious denominations, even Catholics and Jews have sanctioned my philanthropic labors among the outcasts, and they have given me aid. I fear that some of the high-salaried divines who have assailed me may live in glass houses. To them be the consequences of throwing the first stone. I feel, more than ever, that a great work is com mitted to me; and, God helping me, I will try to fulfil my high commis- sion. // ^/ZM ale a w iemove & (p/ucaaa auietirt. Me cccee/iattcu cjf n - ' fee f ate, /-, * ' takcth away the sins of the world ! n 42 SHADOWY HAND: OR. CHAPTER V. Leaving Home. "Shadowy Hand." Going to Lawyer Belden's. Home-spun verstts Broadcloth. First Saluta- tion of Students. "Boots ! Boots ! " Kick from Student. First Declamation. The Horse more sympathizing than the Critics. First Failure. Success at Last. Inspiration of a Mother's Hand. HE hour arrived for me to leave home. I must go out from under the " Shadowy Hand," and contend in "Life-Struggles," alone. The thoughts of leaving the " old store," with its sweet associations, almost over- whelmed me. I was about to embark upon a dark, untried sea, with no star for a guide, no hand at the helm. The mother that had led me to the shore of youthful responsibility was now to part from me upon the strand, and give a fond fare- well. My mother had gathered together my scanty wardrobe, a little box of buttons, needles and thread, for mending, a few books, and a small Bible with its marked passages. Placing them in a satchel, she drew me to her side and gave her parting blessing: "Never too poor to pray,' 'Never too weak to win,'' my boy," she said, as she printed the warm kiss upon my check, her eyes LIFE-STRUGGLES. 43 suffused with tears. Then placing her hand upon my head, she continued : "May a mother's ' Shad- owy Hand' be over thee, as the wing of the Al- mighty ! " As I went out of that door with all my earthly possessions, clad in my home-spun suit and cow- hide boots, satchel in hand, I cast one long, linger- ing look at the spot where I passed the happiest days of my life. In the doorway stood my mother, waving a sweet good-by. As I passed over the hill, I saw her " Shadowy Hand" extended towards me. Her benediction inspired mo with hope, and nerved me on. I. went to Lawyer Belden, in the Centre, who employed me in doing odd jobs about his office, house and farm, and I at once got into the Acad- emy. Here I was brought into society altogether new to me. Here, for the first time, I realized the difference between broadcloth and home-span, pat- ent leather and cow-hide. I confess that my clothes were rough in appearance, a little too large for me, being made to fit me next year. My boots were coarse and stout, and never were embellished with blacking ; yet, as my mother had spun the yarn, wove the cloth, and made the suit from black sheep's wool, and as my boots kept the water out, I prized them highly. I was perfectly contented ; I envied no man his broadcloth. 44 SHADOWY HANT>; OK, A number of the students were sons of ricli planters from Virginia, who at once took umbrage at my rough home-spun and unpolished manners. Many a bitter fling I received at their hands. My first salute, when joining their sports on the village green, was anything but complimentary. As I took up the bat, one of the students cried, " Boots ! Boots ! " and gave me a kick. Nearly all the stu- dents followed suit in calling me " Boots ! Boots ! " In this I saw a contrived plan to nickname me and disgrace me. I dropped the bat, left the field, and from that day to this I have never joined in a game of ball, or any other game save one. In after years, while teaching school, a worthy lady re- buked me for playing checkers. She said : "If I had the talent you have for doing good, I would spend my hours better than wasting them at the checker-board." That was my last indulgence ; I resolved to fore- go my own pleasure for the good of others. My life has been one of continued struggle and self- denial, a lonely bachelor-life, without even the luxury of a cigar. The kick from that Academy student came near making a lawyer of me. Every spare moment at Lawyer Beldeu's office was spent in study. I had only one weapon of retaliation : that was to excel in recitations, to beat them. By hard labor I did LIFE-STRUGGLES. 45 it. It was home-spun versus broadcloth. One thing I failed in that was the very art I was destined to pursue through life that of public speaking. The assistant teacher in the Academy, Miss Foote, selected for me to declaim an extract from Blair's sermon on the " Slippery Paths of Youth." I committed it, and began to rehearse it in the sta- ble, before the horse. I took for my rostrum the box which held his feed, and commenced. The horse at once took a deep interest, and directed his attention to the box ; he watched every move and gesture, and manifested his approval by frequent whinnyings and whisks of his tail. He rolled his large intelligent eye, stamped his foot, and seemed as if he wanted to say, " Good ! Good ! Bravo I That's first-rate ! " The first rule of oratory is attention. This time, if but a horse, I had his attention. As my first auditor, I felt he had taken an unparalleled interest in my performance, and these demonstra- tions were his style of expressing his satisfaction. When I became enthusiastic, and stamped on the box where his food was, the horse would neigh in approbation, and I was encouraged to proceed. The climax of applause, however, was reached at the close of the piece, as I came down from the box. I was greeted with the loudest and heartiest of iQ SHADOWY HAND; OR, whinny ings. I was in ecstasy at my success. Alas ! the bubble burst when I found that the horse had been only neighing for his oats. If I had fed the horse at first, I should have had no ap- plause. Too much elated by my success before the horse, I went too confidently upon the platform. This was my first public declamation ; I should have been doubly perfect in the piece ; I knew not the terrible ordeal. Critics are not horses. The crit- ical, upturned faces of the students and spectators scared me. All eyes seemed daggers. I started to say, "The slippery paths of youth," but could only articulate, " The slip the slip the slip," and I let it slip. I forgot the very first line. The room seemed to turn and whirl round and round ; the students tittered and laughed ; I thought they were crying "Boots ! Boots ! " I burst into tears, left the stage, and sat down and sobbed bitterly in shame and mortification. Miss Foote pitied me and caressed me, and said, ! " Never too weak to win, my boy;' 'Try. try again." Her words of cheer were more to me than gold. Once in after-life, when I had become a preacher, I experienced a similar sensation. My text was, "Ephraim is joined to his idols. Let him alone." And I did let him alone. Those inspiring words of Miss Foote, "Try, try, again," LIFE-STRUGGLES. 47 rang in my ears. Lawyer Belden said, when I arrived from school, "Well, my boy, you made a failure of it ; are you going to give up ? ' " No, sir ! Like Sheridan, it's in me, and it's got to come out." " Well said, my boy ; ' JVil desperandum.'' Press on ; at the next exhibition you will excel ; I will be there to aid you." I studied hard, and recited frequently before my employer, who gave me many valuable sugges- tions. At the closing exhibition of the school, my mother came up to encourage me and take me home. Hard study had attenuated my frame ; my clothing, which had been made too large, was now doubly so. My mother said : " My poor boy, you are a mere shadow of your former self. Hard study and hard work have reduced you almost to a skeleton. Your clothes seem falling off from you. I know you must have struggled hard, and suffered dread- fully. Your health is broken ; you need a little rest. Mother and you will be together again, in the happy scenes and passing sweet hours of enjoy- ment in the dear ' old store.' " " But, mother, I can't remain idle. I am resolved to earn a livelihood, and leave my mark in the world." "That is noble, my boy. May God grant that 48 SHADOWY HAND; OR, you may become a. preacher of the gospel, and carry tidings of joy and gladness to many a broken- hearted soul ! But you must be carr ful of your health, my precious child. Oh, how could I see you pine away and die ! It would break your poor mother's heart, it would send her to her grave. I would not wish to live if my dear boy should b^ taken from me. May God forgive me if I make an idol of you ! but you are the apple of my eye ; my whole being is wrapt up in you." "Dear mother, your 'Shadowy Hand' has ever been over me and sustained me. I will remember your mottoes to the end of life ; they shall be my guiding-star through all my 'Life-Struggles.'" As the bell rang for me to go into the Academy, she clasped me in her arms, kissed rne, and said : "'Never too weak to win, my boy;' mother will pray for your success." The dreaded moment arrived when I was again o to face an audience. Now came the decisive hour ; if I failed this time there was no hope for me. No one would assist me in reaching the goal of my ambition. " O God, care Thou for the fatherless child ! " was my inward prayer. Miss Foote had often said to me, " With God to speed the right, There's no such word as fail." And I took hope. LIFE-STRUGGLES. 49 As I went upon the platform, I saw Lawyer Belden with encouraging smile, and there, right in front of me, sat my mother. As I made my bow, she waved that "Shadowy Hand," which inspired me with confidence. . Oh, what in- spiration I felt from that mother's hand ! Now my whole mind was upon my piece. I was lost in my theme ; all else was a blank. When I came down from the platform I saw many that were bathed in tears. The warm recognition of those spectators was more to me, than the loudest applause of after years. My mother congratulated me upon my success, and took me home. She urged me to persevere, and perfect my education. If thought I if I should become a school- master, then I could grasp the keys of knowledge and unlock the temple of fame itself. If thought I if I can only get the first chance ! The idea of teaching became almost a mania with me. A school-master ! Never did the office of Governor, Senator, or President appear so inviting to the politician as did that of school-master to me. All my relatives and friends were opposed to the experiment, except my mother. They said " I wasn't big enough ; didn't know enough ; wasn't yet sixteen ; was three inches shorter than other boys of the same age." 4 50 SHADOWY HAND; OR, My mother's motto was, "'Hope against hope ; ' 'There is no such word as fail P my boy." I resolved to exert every effort to become a school-master; then, if I didn't succeed, Heaven help me 1 LIFE-STRUGGLES. 51 CHAPTER VI. Anxious io become a School-master. Discouragements. Travelling on. Foot and travelling on Horseback. Female Teachers. "If I had only been a Girl." Appeal on the Ox Cart. Mr. Goodscll yields to the poor Boy's Plea. Authority for teaching in Hopewell. Small Pay and "Boarding Hound." Y sixteenth birthday found me travelling on foot through the various towns of Fairfield County, mud almost knee-deep, seeking for a chance to teach. Many were the rebuffs I met. Day after day I went without the slighcst shadow of encouragement. Upon returning home, exhausted, foot-weary, head-whirling, still thinking of the sneering allu- sions to my clothes, "they are too big for you," ringing in my ears, almost prostrated me. I feared I must give up in despair. My mother would meet me with a sweet smile, and say, "'Hope against Hope,' my boy. * "What though on homely fare we dine, "Wear hoddin gray, and a' that ; Give fools their silks, and knaves their wine, ' A man's a man for a' that, for a' that.' "It's not the coat," she said, "but the man it covers, my child. Make the coat honorable 52 SHADOWY HAND; OR, by your conduct. Take courage, my boy ; pray to God for help ; you are ' Never too weak to win,' 'Never too poor to pray.'" This encouraged me, and kept me from despond- ing. I tried again and again. At last I hired a horse, one that was rather lean and lank, and poorly caparisoned, to carry me through the deep mire. I had no credentials, nothing to reccommend me but my diminutive size and boyish appearance. "Who is. committee-man of this district?" I inquired of an old woman, as I rode up to the gate of a house some six miles from home. "What's that to you?" said she, eyeing me with contempt. "If you want to be a school-master, you'd better wait and grow ; you hain't big enough ; you can't half fill out your clothes." This rather nonplussed me. I rode two miles further on, and asked at another house, "Who is the committee-man of this district ? " "I don't know, and I don't care ; you hain't big enough for a teacher, anyhow, your saddle is bigger than you be ; your feet don't come down to the stirrups." Here was another poser. When I called at the next house, I fared no better. "What are you round here for? What are you LIFE-STRUGGLES. 53 after? "Want to be a teacher, don't you? You'd better go home ; our Jemima would beat you all hollow. She knows more than you do, two to one." I remarked, W I guess your Jemima is a candi- date, ain't she?" " Who told you that ? You'd better leave theso parts ; there's no use in your being round here." Here I found additional difficulties : not only my forbidding appearance, but a local female rival. I started for the next district. Here they told me that they always employed female teachers in sum- mer. And at the next place, and the next place, I received the same reply, "We always hire female teachers in summer." Plague on it ! If I had only been a girl , thought I, I could have obtained a situation easy enough. If I had only been a girl, wore silks, carried a par- asol, I could have been a school-teacher ; but, pshaw! I wasn't a girl I couldn't be a girl, wasn't like to be all my mother's children had been boys. " If I had only been a girl," I repeated, as I drew up the reins, jerked at the bit, and applied the whip vigorously to my horse. The horse seemed astonished at this sudden change of treatment; shook his head, and gazed round, as much as to say, "What sup?" 54 SHADOWY HAND; OR, "If I had only been a girl ! " said I, aloud, as I gave the horse another cut ; he finally took the hint, stalled on a trot, then a gallop, and made the water splash and the mud fly as he cantered away. Two weeks of unsuccessful effort had driven me to despair. There was but one chance left, that was in the district of Hopewell, a small district two miles from home ; so small, they had always hired female teachers, both winter and summer. Therefore the chances of a male teacher for sum- mer, would be about as promising as skating in July. I met Mr. Goodsell, the committee-man, return- ing home on his ox-cart. Mr. Goodsell had " full powers " ; a very fcfrtunate circumstance for me. I got on the cart with him ; the night was dark ; the oxen travelled slowly, zig-zag along. I com- menced at once on the subject of my mission ; such an opportunity would not probably happen again in a lifetime. I must make the most of it. It was now or never with me. Teach I would, teach for nothing, if need be, and keep myself; only let me teach, and, if possible, teach under the authority of the State of Connecticut. He was that authority to me. "Now, Mr. Goodsell," said I, "you can set up a poor boy, and put him on his feet, by giving me this situation. Your boy may some time want similar aid." LIFE-STRUGGLES. 55 W I am afraid you're too small, my lad. I am afraid the feeling will be too strong against you," replied Mr. Goodsell. "But give me a chance, only a chance, sir! I will overcome the prejudice and gain the good-will of all. I hav% set my heart on becoming a teacher." " But you may not pass examination." "I have no fear of that. ^Just try me, sir I I have a certificate from Judge Blackman ; give me the chance, and you shall never be the loser." " Well, I will see about it ; we have always had female teachers, but I will ask my wife, and see the neighbors." This was crushing to me. I knew there was no hope in that quarter, none outside of his sus- ceptible bosom. " But," said I, "I must know to-night." " Ah ! you are hurrying up matters, you can- not know to-night ; " becoming a little nervous, and crying out, " Gee lip there. Whoa I hoy 1 come along Brindle, hurry up, old buckl" using his whip quite freely. w Now, Mr. Goodsell, you know I have no father ; perhaps your boy may be in a like condition some time ; God grant that he may not ! My lot has been a hard one, my privileges of education small. I could not supply a large school, and have no 56 SHADOWY HAND; OK, means for further advancement in my studies. Assist me, and you will never be sorry for help- ing a poor fatherless boy." "But we pay next to nothing," he said, as he touched up his oxen, and seemed a little moved. "I don't care for the pay. I don't want to go back to the farm. I shall lose all my winters knowledge. Do help me ! " "Ah, my lad, as much as I would like it, I dare not risk it ! I am afraid of the proprietors." "But, Mr. Goodsell, you have full powers, and have been committee-man several times before. Oh, let me have the situation, and I will show you how I can please the parents of all, and how I will aid your two little girls in their education ; and that boy John the idol of your heart I will make a man of him. Do aid me, sir, and Heaven will reward you ! " "I should, like to, my boy," said he, scratching his head, " but but " "But you will aid me. Oh, aid me, sir, and the blessings of a poor fatherless boy shall be upon you, and his prayers shall follow you, and the prayers of a poor widowed mother shall in- tercede for you and for your darling children ! " "Ahem! ahem!" said Mr. Goodsell, clearing his throat, as he jumped from the cart and walked nervouslj beside the yoke, keeping pace with the LIFE-STRUGGLES. 57 oxen, and quite agitated. I was in deep suspense. My fate was about to be decided. I watched his every motion with intense anxiety. Would he give me the school? At last ho canit> back, and taking me by tho hand, said, with choking voice, "It isn't in tho heart of Bradley Goodsell to deny you. Say what they may, you shall have the school. There can't be but one to have it, and you shall bo that one. I have said it, and I will stick to it." Patting me on the shoulder, "You arc the boy that shall make your mark in tho world." "Oh, I thank you, Mr. Goodsell, from the bottom of my heart I thank .you ! I assure you I will prove myself capable of teaching the school." Great was the joy of my mother when she learned of my success. The Bible was read in softer tones that night, and tho prayer that went up was that of gratitude. When it became generally known that I had been hired as teacher, there was great aston- ishment in Hopewell, and no little opposition. Many said "the widow's sou" should never lord it over their children. Some sneered, and said, "How does he happen to know so much? Where did he get his learning? He won't pass examination." 58 SHADOWY HAND; OB, A neighbor told me Mr. Goodsell would never dare to let me have the key for opening the school, there was such prejudice against me. I thought he would, however, and waited my time. I was examined by the authorities, and pronounced competent to teach in Hopewell. The first of April came, the key was given me ; I commenced with seven pupils in the forenoon, and had eleven in the afternoon. The number soon increased to thirteen. My salary was one dollar a week, and board. The first two weeks I boarded with the Committee. LITE-STRUGGLES. 59 CHAPTER VII. * School-master at Last. Hopewell District. Dollar a week and Board. Success. Grammar Mania. Reengaged. "Wages Advanced. Exhibition closes School. Mother's "Shadowy Hand." Banks District. Enthusiasm. " Wood-bees." Revival. Joined the Methodists. Charm of the Itinerancy. Taught at Weston. |T last I had reached the goaj of my ambi- tion, the "ultima Thule." I was actually a school-master. "Eureka!" I had found the road to success and distinction ! I was no more to be a " hewer of wood and drawer of water," no more to be designated as " clod-hop- per," "counter-jumper," "pettifogger." That was in the old world of the past. Here was a new field for practising eloquence ; a field for moving children's hearts, and studying the passions. If I move the youth I may move men. Win these children, and I win the parents. I had been reaVed among flowers. My mother had almost worshipped them ; the house and the garden were covered with them. They were my mother's holy solace. But flowers exhibit only sentiment ; children, more, their hearts beat with passion. Flowers are transient ; souls are immor- tal. Children have great possibilities; flowers 60 . SHADOWY HAND; OR, have not. Children can respond to love and kind- ness ; flowers cannot. These children maybe, in embryo, the future governors, judges, statesmen, ministers, and yet something more; industri- ous, upright, honest citizens. Here, then, was a field for heart-study. Heart- force is Heaven's force. If I could draw these children towards me as to a magnet, then the world would follow. My success was equal to my antici- pation. Every child was to me sacred; every soul a gem from the Almighty, committed to my care. They loved me, they ran to meet me, and embraced me with the sweetest endearments. Their parents loved me ; they would do anything for me ; they took my part in every controversy. Things went on swimmingly. All parents were anxious for their children to excel, and each to excel the other. Children were found with books everywhere. There was a perfect mania for learn- ing in Hope well. Already parents could see, in their children, candidates for many a high oifice ; spinning, weaving, and farming were soon to bo at a discount. There was one drawback, however : it was sud- denly discovered that the people of Hopewell didn't talk "grammar" A consternation seized those parents reaching almost to a panic. All their life long they hadn't talked grammar! They LIFE-STRUGGLES. 61 had grown up, made love, courted, married, had children, paid their debts, held office, paid their pew tax, and washed their children's faces on Sun- day, but, alas ! alas ! they didn't talk grammar. How different would have been their condition if they had cnly talked "grammatically." But there was to be a change. The Young Idea had discovered that the oft-repeated phrases, " Them's urn ! " " His'n ! " or " Her'n 1 " were not high-toned. The mother who remarked to her lit- tle girl, "That 'ere book of your'n is nicely kiv- ered," would bo informed that her remarks were not quite grammatical, and that it would sound better if " that book of yours is- nicely covered." AVhen father asserted " that his bosses ain't ter be beat in the hull town, they're the goodest pair us there be in Hope well," he was respectfully informed that Grammar required the sentence to read thus : " My horses can't be beaten in the whole town ; they are the best pair in Hope well." And when punishment came, and the stern voice of the parent gave judgment, "I'll lick you, boy !" he was cheerfully answered, " Lick you ! Tather, what an expression I That's not correct ; that's not good grammar." And the whip and the auger alike fell from the paternal grasp when he found it not grammatical to " lick " his boy. Thus grammar became a humanizing power. 62 S&A.DOWY HAND; OK, As to the rod, I never, during all the years of my teaching, used it at school, depending entirely on moral suasion in gaining the sympathies and love of the children. And I succeeded. September came. The proprietors of Hope well District were "Hereby notified that a meeting would be held for choosing a teacher the coming winter, per order of Bradley Goodsell, School Committee." They convened in solemn conclave, and voted to re-engage the "boy teacher" for the winter term, at an advance of fifty cents per week, one dollar and a half, all told. One proprietor demurred at the fifty cents advance. He thought as that district had always been used as a cart for breaking in colts, the young colt should pay for his breaking, and work for nothing. The winter term opened auspiciously. The scholars came in from adjoining districts ; every seat was filled ; benches and camp-stools were in requisition. The "boy teacher" was not so large as several of his pupils, but what was wanting in size was made up in spirit. I was "Muster"; that is, master of their hearts. I had gained their affection. School closed with an exhibition, examination, declamations and readings. Judge, squire, preacho LIFE-STRUGGLES. 63 aiid school committee were in attendance. "Wagons came from all directions. Never was there such a gala day in Hopewell. Every mother was proud of her child, and each child was decked in its best. Every fattier thought his boy the smartest. There was more than one candidate in that school for Governor and President. This was a proud hour for me ! My fame would extend to other districts, and my reputation as a teacher of eloquence be established. My scholars gathered around me at the close of the exercises, for a last farewell. Such weeping, at the sepa- ration, never was seen ! They said, upon learning that I was to go to another district next season, "We will never forgive you; there will be a vacant place in Hopewell." Parents were anxious to say, " They had made a man of me ; if it hadn't been for them and their children, I should not have succeeded." It was true. No man can work without tools. Napoleon said, " Men are tools to those who can use them." My mother was in the audience. She wept with joy at my success, and received the congratulations of all Hopewell with pride and satisfaction. Her w Shadowy Hand " had done it all. The first Temperance Lecture I ever delivered was in that school-house. I was inspired by being surrounded by warm and long-tried friends. 64 SHADOWY HAND; OK, Their encouragements were fountains of inspira- tion. My first religious meeting was also, in after years, held in that grand old school-house. I next went to Banks district, town of Fairfield, to teach, at a salary of two dollars a week and "board." Eli Sherwood was "Committee," brother-in-law to Bradley Goodsell, of Hope well. Here was no aristocracy ; none were very poor ; all were farmers, and on a common level. The enthusiasm aroused by my efforts was even greater than at Hopewell. Here was the crowning of my hopes. Such friends I had never seen. Such devoted hearts and cheering countenances were the inspiration of a lifetime. All contributed to encourage me, all were anxious to have their children excel. " Wisdom flowed in the streets and knowledge was increased." It was study at play, study at work, study at the road-side, study at breakfast, dinner, supper, and study in children's dreams. Declamation was placed at a high figure. Boys were found reciting in the garret, and in every vacant lot. The school term closed with a rousing exhibition. , One drawback to Banks district 'Swas this: almost everybody drank, more or less. Gather- ings called " Wood-bees" for cutting each other's "vood, and "Stone-bees" for building stone wall, LIFE-STRUGGLES. 65 were numerous, with large suppers and plenty to drink. Influences like these were demoralizing to me. One thing saved me and the neighborhood : the Methodists held protracted meetings near by, and many were the converts. The tide at last swept into this neighborhood ; the Congregationalists took up the work. Meetings were held every night for nearly six months. Never had there been known such a sweeping revival. Then I first made a public profession of religion, and exer- cised my gift in speaking upon religious subjects. What church to join, was the question. I knew the Congregationalists would be cool towards me if I left them, but my sympathies were with the Methodists, because of my mother's early teach- ings. I had read the histories of Jesse Lee, Washburn, Bangs, Lorenzo Dow, and Maffitt, wandering through the country, on their circuits, on horseback, with saddle-bags and light hearts. The opposition they met with, the sufferings they endured, and the victories they achieved, fired me for the " Itinerancy." Methodist " Itinerants " were my ideal of God's holy Evangelists. My mother had her walls covered with pictures of circuit-riders, presiding elders, and bishops. The story of their sacrifices, faith, and prayers, charmed my youthful spirit, 5 66 SHADOWY HAND; OB, and whiled away many a happy hour at the w old store." Perhaps some day I might traVel, and do good, as they had done. So I joined the new Methodist Church at Centre Street, Weston, and engaged to teach. Here I improved much in my studies, especially in Botany, Algebra and Chem- istry. LIFE-STRUGGLES. 67 CHAPTER VIII. Taught at Flat Rock. Jealous School-master. Taught at Dwight's Old Academy and at Fairfield. Studied with Colonel Perry. First Impression of Gough. Anxious to Travel. Visits to Almshouses and Prisons. School of Passion. Two Objects : My own Improvement, and to adrp'nister to the Afflicted. I NEXT taught in Flat Rock, Easton, which' was old Methodist ground. Here, however, opposition was made by a jealous school- master. ** He was not going to be converted while I was allowed to speak in the meetings " ; so the minister sang and prayed me down. I did not understand this at the time, but hi later years, when I applied for a license at that church, the school-master's conduct was revealed. This wiil appear in the sequel. I next tanght in Dwight's Old Academy, Green- field Hill, and concluded my seven years of teaching at Mill Plain, Fairfield, with a grand exhibition. The crowd from adjoining towns was immense. The school-house had been enlarged for my use, and yet was not sufficient ; so we erected a tent, and had the exhibition on the common. I often met my scholars at night to 68 SHADOWY HAND; OR, study Astronomy with me, to locate the stars, and to draw out a map of the heavens. I also studied with Colonel Perry, first at Bridgeport, and then at Southport, and made some progress in English composition and the Classics. I never was, however, a very apt scholar in the dead languages. Colonel Perry was a graduate of West Point, and was with General Sam Houston in Texas. He left the Army after the battle of San Jaciuto, and then became a Methodist preacher. At Stepney camp meeting, he said, "I have sought for rest in the smoke of battle ; I have sought it at the cannon's mouth ; but I never found it till I found it in Jesus ! " General Houston, coming to Bridgeport soon after, threw discredit on the "cannon's mouth" business. The Colonel never repeated the ex- pression afterwards. Colonel Perry was a great help to me in my ministerial studies, and showed me the minister's inner life. I furnished him with the use of a horse and carriage, in return for his services. He had the cool, logical, and military bearing of a soldier, stately and unsympathetic. He displayed but little of holy emotion. His were the "dry bones" of the ministry ; he flung but little passion into his work. LIFE-STRUGGLES. 69 I had seen John B. Gough at Bridgeport, and thought him one of Nature's noblemen. No ono had previously come up to my idea of oratory. This power could never have been acquired under ecclesiastical rules ; the pulpit would only hamper him. The Colonel was just the opposite of Gough ; he looked down upon him with a sneer. I had no freedom here. Oh ! how I wept when I saw his cool chills and checks upon the poor, honest, strug- gling faithful ones of his church, striving, with all their might and main, to win souls and build up the cause ! Could a man take a salary, be called a minister, go indifferently into his pulpit fresh from the last novel, and recite his piece, and retire for the week and say his work was done ? Yet that man repre- sents hundreds in the pulpit to-day ! Oh, for men of heart ! men of soul ! men of godly power ! If the great need of the age were advertised, the advertisement would read," Wanted a Live Man!" a man of sacrifice, of prayer, of heart-force, of heavenly unction, and holy zeal ! A man for the times ! My labors, thus far, had been with children. Children are all heart, all confidence. I had played upon their feelings, studied their passions, saw the quivering lip, the tearful eye, and felt their le- Bpouse to my tender appeal. I now yearned, however, for a wider field. I 70 SHADOWY HAND; OK, felt that men are but children of a larger growth, and moved by the same passions. In endeavor- ing to reach men's hearts, I would try my talent in speaking upon temperance. My first efforts, how- ever, were complete failures. I had borrowed the language of the learned, and endeavored to deliver it with my hot, fiery temperament. I had not learned, until now, that the lofty rhetoric and rounded periods of Blair and Johnson might be thundered with the vehemence of a Demosthenes. A few failures convinced me of the necessity of a language of my own, and a knowledge of men and nature rather than of books. I therefore resolved to travel ; not to visit foreign courts and palaces, and not to measure the grades of roy- alty, but to frequent the almshouses, the prisons and hospitals of my own country. I would go on a pilgrimage of charity, walk down the decliv- ities of sorrow and grief to the abodes of despair, carrying the gospel of Hope as an Angel of Mercy to spirits in prison ; and there, with an ear tuned to the voice of their wailings, take a lesson from sor- row, and learn the language of grief. I had two objects, one to obtain statistics, and "lecturing, and the other to administer spiritual comfort to the- afiiicted. On foot, and with only an Exhorter's license, I commenced my travels. The Sabbaths were gen- LIFE-STRUGGLES. 71 orally spent in prisons or poor-houses, and during the week I lectured in the intervening villages, drawing my arguments from my Sabbath obser rations. Several years were spent in this mission, and with no small advantage to myself. Now in the prison, taking notes of sympathy and sorrow in Nature's own language ; now reading her lettered pages upon the hills, the rivers and the sky ; now upon the plantation, familiarizing myself with Slavery, and now with the vociferous acclamations of Freedom ; now communing with the spirits of the caves, and tuning my harp in the silence of their subterranean abodes, and now battling alone with the storm-fiend on Mount "Washington, meet- ing its sunshine and its storms, and narrowly escap- ing death ; now conversing with the roar of Niag- ara, and now with my own spirit, while a lone night wanderer, losing my way amid the darkness, cold, and snow of the wilderness, and despairing even of life. Here, amid such scenes in the classics of Nature, I became familiar with her smiles and frowns, found a key to the hidden treasures of her affections, and opened the well-spring of her tears. I loved Nature, I seemed her favorite child. I was cradled in her bosom, rocked by her murmur- iugs, and charmed by her sunny smiles. The high rock near my home, the mountain wilds and water- 72 SHADOWY HAND; OR, falls, yet present to me many a sacred spot whore I spent the livelong day in harmonizing the beauty of the poets, and the passions of the Psalmist, with the voice of Nature. In my pedestrian travels over hill and dale, I had Homer, Virgil, Milton and Shakespeare for my constant companions. Their heroes were nry study and admiration. It is related of Patrick Henry, that he neglected the business of trading to study nature from the countenances of his customers ; and, though his business went to ruin, his talents soon became the most brilliant in America. I also made all things subservient to my favorite study, books, faces, scenery. All hours, whether of labor or recrea- tion, were laid at the shrine of Eloquence. I was ambitious, and spent all I had of tkne, talent, and wealth, upon its altar ; but mine was not the ambi- tion of a military leader thirsting for blood, nor that of the millionaire for hoards of gold, nor that of the statesman for political renown ; nor was my fame to be at the expense of others' ruin, but for the good of all mankind. The height of my ambition was to ameliorate the condition of suffering humanity, to comfort the mourning, to bind up the broken-hearted, to reclaim the backslidden, and " vindicate the ways of God to man." LIFE-STRUGGLES. 7 3 CHAPTER IX. Avldress to Fallen Women in the New "fork Penitentiary. First Freedom in Original Expression. Effect of my Speech. Sobs, Sighs and Wailings. Address to Slaves in African Church, Richmond. Bras.s Ring. How to find Jesus. " Hallelujah." Contrast at Philadelphia. Speaking to Naked Walls. Solitary Confinement. Buried Alive. Visit to Sing Sing. "Resisting the Spirit." " My Mother, oh, my Mother." |T the New York Penitentiary for Fallen Women, I experienced my first freedom in passionate expression. I said, "I have come, in the name of Christ, to weep with those who weep, to mourn with those who mourn, to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound." The first sentence awakened their attention, and brought tears. Women of this class have great animal passion. Stir the springs of passion, and you reach the heart. I said, " Do not despair, there is hope for the hopeless ; Christ has died for all. He died for you." Then, midst loud sobbings, I continued: "Sin is the mother of affliction, and all her progeny are children of suffering. The way of the. trans- 74 SHADOWY HAND; OR, gressor is hard ; where sin is, there is sorrow, and sorrow fills the world. From every lacerated heart, from the palace to the prison, from temp- tations and transgressions, the world echoes one loud, continued, universal wail of woe." Here their sobs were renewed, and their tears flowed afresh. When I came to Christ's sufferings, and pictured the terrible agony of Gethsemane, and the death on Calvary, I said, "Christ was touched with the feelings of our infirmities ; He placed His finger on every beating pulse, and drank in all our agony, carrying our sorrows and bearing our griefs. He could save to the utter- most; there was hope for all who trusted in Him." At this the flood-gates of these poor women's tears burst forth ; they trembled like a forest shaken by the wind. In the fulness of their emotion they swayed backwards and forwards, they burst into sighs and groans. Here I was compelled to stop. I could not go on because of their passionate wailings. Many cried out, "Lord, have mercy, have mercy ! " And the tumult of their groanings was as the waves of the sea. Never before had I seen such impassioned out- bursts of grief. Even the keepers were melted to tears. I said, "Your incarceration may be over- ruled for good. No chastening seemeth joyous, MFE-STRUGGLES. 75 but grievous. As gold is purified by the lire, as silver is refined by the furnace, so affliction may be the fire to purify your hearts and lead you to God. The Psalmist said, ' Before I was afflicted I went astray. But now have I kept Thy word.' Affliction is a deep mine, dark and dismal ; the passages to its depths are dire, but there are hid treasures at the bottom. We must submit to the chastening rod. As the lamb submits to the knife, without a word of complaint, as the ox led to the slaughter can only lick the hand, we must kiss the rod, knowing that it is held by a loving Father's hand. As the silkworm dies to give up its silken treasure, the grape is bruised to extract its juice, as the crushed flower gushes with sweetest odor, so we must submit, and take hope. Christ will save, Christ will be all, and in all, and help us to dive into affliction's deep sea, fathom its coral recesses, and pluck gems of hope from the depths of despair." As I closed, and they were compelled to march out, they cast their longing eyes upon me, as if I had been a messenger of revelation from the spirit world. Sighs and sobs were heard as they passed down stairs. Once only did I witness a like manifestation of sympathy; it was at Richmond, Virginia. I had spoken to the prisoners in the penitentiary, and was 76 SHADOWY HAND; OK, invited to speak to the slaves in the African church This church is the largest colored church iu America . The bonds of the prisoners were to me similar to the bonds of the slave, and the bonds of sin were stronger than either. How to break the bonds? was the question. None but Jesus could do it. Look to Jesus, was my theme. When I por- trayed Jesus saving the poorest, weakest, the dying thief saving the poor slave as quick as he would the master hallelujahs ! resounded from every pew, the house shook with a burst of pent-up pas- sion ! One poor slave woman sprang out from her seat, walked up and down the aisle, and cried, w Oh, massa ! how can I'se find Jesus, how can gib up all for Jesus? What hab I got to gib? My clothes ar' not my own, dey belong to my inassa ; my body is not nay own, dese poor old bones belong to my massa. What hab I to gib up for Jesus ? " Suddenly she bethought her of an old brass ring upon her finger, the only property she pos- sessed. She took it from her hand, and said : "I gib up all for Jesus ! " She clapped her hands in her ecstasy of joy. No sooner was this said than the victory was won. She shouted, " Oh I I hab found Jesus. Glory ! LITE-STRUGGLES. 77 HalMujah ! " And all the multitude shouted, K Hallelujah." And when the invitation was given them to come forward, the altar was full three or four deep, and all the aisles were filled with weep- ing, mourning, shouting slaves. In contrast to this excitement, what a chill I received at the Penitentiary in Philadelphia. This prison was conducted on the solitary confinement plan ; the prisoners not being allowed to see any- body, nor to speak a word. Oh, how cold, inan- imate, lifeless ! I could almost feel the damp chill of the grave as I stood within those walls. Here the cheerless prisoner broods over his wretched condition until the mind whirls and turns within itself, and dies of self-attrition. A mouse, a fly, anything that could breathe, move, or respond, would afford comfort to those entombed men ! They seemed buried alive. As I took my text, and stood in the centre of the dome, the cells radiating like the spokes of a wheel, I prayed, agonized, and gesticulated, but met with no response, heard not even a sob. It was the silence of the tomb. I went away chilled and disheartened ; I had been preaching to naked walls. After addressing the convicts in Sing Sing State Prison, I informed them that such as were anxious for me to visit their cells, as they passed out, could 78 SHADOWY HAND; OR, leave their number with the warden. One per- son was so anxious, that he seemed almost dis- tracted. When I approached his cell, he thrust his fingers as far through the grates as he could, to meet my hand ; then falling upon his knees, the first words he uttered were : " My mother ! Oh, my mother ! what wil 1 she say ? " He sobbed and cried for some time before I could hear anything more. "Ah!" said he, " that unbelief that you spoke of to-day has been my ruin. What might I have been if I had embraced religion ? It was at a pro- tracted meeting in a town in Maine, that I was upon the point of deciding my religious course for life. By the request and tears of my mother, I was almost persuaded to go to the anxious seat. I promised her that after one more jolly hour I would seek religion. My convictions were distress- ing ; I feared the meetings, and a mother's face, as I did the grave. From such an agony of mind I would have chosen relief in death ; but I was not prepared to die. I resolved to seek relief in travel ; and without apprising my mother, or any of my friends, I went to the savings bank and got all the money I had some fifteen hundred dollars and started for Boston. I resorted to drinking and to gaming. I became delirious, and lost almost all my money. At times I would think of home, LIFE-STRUGGLES.' 79 and resolve to go back and confess my guilt ; then 1 thought there could be no mercy for one who nad done such despite to tho Spirit of Grace, so I wandered still further away. I spent all the money I had in getting to Worcester ; then pawned my valise, and part of my clothing, to carry me still further on. At Springfield, I let go what clothing I could possibly spare, and went on foot. Finally, my wardrobe became 30 shabby that people would not receive me into their houses. Oh, how low I had fallen 1 I began to think of returning to Maine, but had no means and no friends. Still onward I went, without a purpose or a pla'ce, only to forget the past, until I arrived at the banks of the Hudson ; and here, as I stood, cold, hungry, and almost naked, I formed the desperate resolu- tion to steal. I thought, by breaking into a store at Poughkeepsie, I would steal enough to bear my ex- penses home, then ask my mother's forgiveness, and strive to lead a different life ; and rather than be caught, I would kill the first man that opposed me. Yet, oh, what a coward I I broke in, but was no sooner in than taken, and taken without the least resistance. I felt so bad when I was enter- ing the building, my conscience troubled me so, and I trembled so, that I was glad to be taken, and the officers seemed friends to me. And, afterwards, I was thankful that I was discovered ; for if I had 80 SHADOWY HAND; OR, succeeded in my first attempt, there is no knowing where it might have ended. In this prison I have had time to read and reflect. I have examined the truth of divine revelation, and have found it to bo just the thing needful to my soul. In it I have seen the reasons for a mother's anxiety for my conversion ; and, while praying in this cell, her shadow has many times appeared before me. Though it be in imagination, yet it has been a com- fort to me, and I believe it has been through her prayers that I have found peace in believing. I am thankful for the prison ; this punishment has been the means of saving my soul. For, ' before I was afflicted I went astray, but now I have kept Thy word.' Now, in parting, I wish a favor of you ; and that is, that you will write to my mother, and not mail the letter at this place, lest some may suspect where I am. My mother has not heard from me since that night that she asked me to go forward for prayers. Tell her that at such a time I shall laud at New York, a Christian man, and will immediately repair for home." I mailed the letter at New York, according to directions ; and many times have I reflected upon that young man's career, and the danger of resist- ing the convictions of God's Spirit. LIFE-STROGGLES. 83 CHAPTEE X. A former Pupil in Prison. Mary, the Drunkard's Daughter. Drink the cause of Home-ruin. A Mother's Confession. Power of Appetite. Confession of % a Convict. Mis- placed Confidence. Return to Jail. President Nott'a Kindness to me. Giving up a Child for Christ JJRSUING my journey, I explored the Connecticut State Prison, and having paid a visit to the male division, proceeded to inspect the inmates of the female depart- ment. As they entered the room with eyes down- cast, the prison regulations not permitting them to look up, I perceived, by the dim light which passed through the gratings, a countenance which struck me with unusual interest. I at once recognized in the prison garb one of my old pupils, who used to join me in the school prayer and praise. The emaciation of the prison confinement could not quite destroy her rare beauty, nor did the uucouthncss of her costume disguise the attractions of "her form. How well I remembered her bright blue eyes, her rosy cheeks, and the innocent smiles that were wont to light up her lovely features ! Her natural amiability manifested its sweet traits in her kind- 6 82 SHADOWY HAisno; OR, ness to those younger than herself. How she hurried, in the cold winter mornings, to meet them at the door, to brush the snow from theii frozen feet, and to thaw them by her pretty- caresses ; and how she shared her ineals between them ! Her kindness won all hearts. Alas ! that the prison should receive her ! I know not if she recognized, by the sound of my voice, who the stranger was, but I used the same form of prayer we had been accustomed to in the school- room. I hastened to visit her mother. At my appear- ance, she burst into a flood of tears, and the first word she ejaculated was " Mary ! " Her voice faltered. "Mary," she said, after recovering a little, "is gone. She is not here, and she has not gone to the grave. Had she died in innocence, what a consolation ! But she is worse than dead she is disgraced and bringing down her mother's gray hairs with sorrow to the grave ! Oh ! Mary, my own dear Mary, was too good a child to be lost ! Seldom did I hear an unkind word from her until a short time before she left home. And then, how kind to me ! how attentive to her dying father ! But oh, how cruel to herself." She then told me the sad causes of Mary's fall, and how ahe had drifted into crime. Unquestiou- LIFE-STRUGGLES. 83 ably the commencement of their misery was the intemperance of her late husband, which had resulted in his own premature decease, the ruin of their business, the dispersion of their patrimony, and the necessary leaving of their ancient home, the reduction of the mother to poverty, and the incarceration of her daughter. K Oh, rum ! rum ! " raved the distracted woman, "what has it not done? It has murdered my husband, ruined my family, robbed me of my home, and turned me out upon the cold charities of the world ! " I attempted to console the poor mourner, and bade her look forward to seeing her daughter return soon. How blissful would be that meet- ing ! I left her more than ever determined to devote my life to the cause of suffering humanity. Her narration had deeply impressed me ; and that I might learn how many suffered imprisonment on account of the crimes of their parents, I commenced to inspect the prisons and reform- atory schools of Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and various others throughout the United States and Canada, presenting my observations in lectures to the public. Maine Laws are enacted, temper- ance jubilees and celebrations inaugurated, but, alas ! the evil continues. "How long? O Lord ! How Ion"?" 84 SHADOWY HAND; OK, Nothing can be more appalling to the Christiau philanthropist, as he passes from jail to peniten- tiary, than the vast number of prisoners who admit, and at the same time bear evident proofs of their veracity, that their downfall has been the result of intemperance. A victim to this hydra-headed monster related this sad history to me in Albany jail, New York. He seemed as deeply bound by the chains of appetite as by the iron bolts and bars that held him. He was an old man of sixty years, and had graduated from more institutions of this kind than most men of his age. But, as he related his trials, and wept and begged so hard for me to assist him in his release, I could but pity him, notwithstanding his crimes. Said he : " I am an old man of three-score years, and have spent most of those years in sorrow, and many of them in prison. Several times have I been sen- tenced to Sing Sing, and several times to the pen- itentiary on the hill of this city, and all through strong drink. When in liquor I had no regard for human life, and felt as if I wanted to kill every man I saw. Yet, once I had a home, and wife and child, who were all loveliness to me, and in my sober moments I loved them better than myself, and would make any sacrifice for their welfare. The ouiy times when I was severely punished in prison were when transgressing the rules to inquire concerning mv family. LIFE-STRUGGLES. 85 "There was a person who came to the prison from my own neigborhood, and I was anxious to hear from him about my home. Did my wife still remember me ? and would my child still call me 'father?' I found that they had not cast me off, that they were still mine ; but my transgression against the rules of the prison could not go unpunished, and I was brought up to the lash. Five times was I lashed for speaking of home, and five-aud-twenty times would I have been, if my wife could have looked on and seen me suffer, and then have for- given me. Oh ! I felt that the lash was too easy for such a hardened wretch as I had been, and came with too mild a hand. I cried to the adminis- trator, * Strike harder, sir! Strike harder! you cannot reach the flinty hardness of my heart.' It needs an iron rod, with sinews of steel, to pierce me to the quick ! "That night I dreamed of home, and the dream paid me for all- my suffering. I dreamed that I was a reformed man ; I was pardoned by the Governor and by the public, and was clothed, and in my right mind, and was journeying towards home. I was fearful that I should not be received, and trembled. Carefully I approached the door ; tremblingly I raised the latch ; and what was my joy, when my wife welcomed me as if all were forgiven and all forgotten I Her first look was 86 SHADOWY HAND; OR, kindness and love; and as she embraced me> 1 reached forth my hand to grasp my little Nelly ; she climbed up into my lap, and printed the pure, lovely kiss upon my pale, prison-worn cheek, and put her little tender arms around my unworthy neck so sweetly, so innocently, so tenderly, that with the excitement I awoke, reaching forth my hands ; but I found it was all a dream, a phantom ! I embraced nothing but empty air, and struck my arms only against iron bars and rocky walls. I rolled on my hard pallet, goaded by despair, and the smarting of the cutting, festering flesh made sore by the lash. "Five years passed before that dream was ful- filled; and when fill tilled, I came home only to break that woman's heart, and send her to the grave. Oh, that drink ! that death-dooming drink ! Oh, the appetite that cries, ' Give ! give ! ' And yet an ocean would not slake its thirst. Again I was enraged with rum in a mad fight, and again was sent to prison. Oh, sir, my life has been made up of prison-life and sorrow ! And now, sir, I thank you for hearing me so patiently ; and if I may trespass further, I will make one request : my health is now broken, I am old and decrepit, and I want once more to breathe the free country air. If you will intercede for me at the court, that I may not be sent to the penitentiary again, UFE.-STIIUGGLES. 87 you will do me a great favor, and, I hope, God service. I know my failing ; I know I cannot resist temptation when exposed ; but I pledge you that, if I shall be released, I will not stay one hour in Albany, but will repair immediately to the country, where, with a temperate family, I hope I may spend the quiet of my days. Then, sir, if you are a friend of humanity, do not let this opportunity fail you of blessing an old man, whose days at the longest are but few, whose locks are already white for the grave, and whoso feet have trod long enough the thorny paths of sorrow and crime ! " I presented the case before the judge, and asked his leniency to the victim, as a favor to myself as well as to him. The judge informed me that ho was willing to show me a favor, considering my mission. "But," said he, "to see how little good you can do in such a case, I wish you to watch the jail for the same person again." And, sure enough, when the man went out he had three cents, and as he must walk some dis- tance, and his nerves were all unstrung, he thought to get a little tobacco ; and when he came near the shop, the insatiate appetite gnawed as a canker upon his vitals, and perhaps a little beer might steady his nerves and not injure him. But, upon entering, his power of resistance was insufficient ; 88 SHADOWY HAND; OK, he had hold of the decanter before he knew hardly what he was about ; and when once he had tasted, he knew not when to stop ; in a moment he be- came delirious, and the keeper was obliged to force the bottle from his hand, and call in an officer. Oh, how shamed that man looked next day, when I saw him in the same cell again ! He made no apology. Said he : ' "I am a doomed man ; for me there is no hope. Go and warn the young ! Tell them that the first draught is the guilty draught. I thank you for your kindness, but all is of no avail to me. The few days that I have to spend on earth will be as the days that are past, fraught with sorrow, and full of trouble. Let the prison be my home ; let its damps bleach these white locks ; let its walls echo my groans ; let my ear hear nothing but the creaking bolts ; and let my eye grow dim with the darkness of my cell. I am not fit to live ; and, oh, I fear that I am not fit to die ! " I prayed with the old man, and strove to con- sole him. He wept, and kissed my hand, and blessed me with a thousand thanks, and bade me go and warn the young, and never to spend my breath in striving to save one so degraded as he. A pleasant reminiscence shines out about this time. I was invited to make my home at the house of President Nott, of Union College, Scheuectady. LIFE-STRUGGLES. 89 He was exceedingly kind to me, gave me advice like a father, and also several valuable presents. Oh, how feelingly that venerable old man prayed for me ! Too old to kneel, yet, with his hands over me in prayer, I felt like the sous of Jacob receiv- ing their blessing. He sent me in his carriage to the almshouse, and would have gone with me but for preaching in his own church at that hour. At six o'clock, by his direction, I had assembled for me, in the Methodist church, the largest audience that I thus far had ever addressed. President, professors, stu- dents and ministers, all hung spell-bound upon my lips ; and when I contrasted the education of those students with the subjects of my mission the drunkards' children, schooled in vice and trained for prison I found response in many a countenance that told me my words were not in vain. My address was listened to with marked attention, and many friendly greetings were prof- fered to me. In Troy, New York, I met with a very interesting case. I found my way to the poor-house there, and was shown a poor woman dying. She had once experienced religion, but had lost the evidence. I prayed with her, but failed to assist her in making God's promises her own. She doubted, and even despaired. 1 read, and prayed, and sung, but all 90 SHADOWY HAND; OR, to no purpose. The wing of her faith would not mount upward, it was tied below. I stated that she must have some idol that she would not give up for Christ, something that she loved more than him. She replied : " What can I have ? I am poor. I have nothing in this world. Even this bed, and the clothes I have on, are not my own. I have nothing that I can call my own. Why, then, am I not blessed ? " At this moment a little child came prattling into the room, with string and stick and hobby-horse. He was just beginning to lisp the name of "mother." A flash came over her countenance as she gazed iipon the dear object of her love. There was her idol. She had one object to live for, and she could not be resigned to die. That child was fatherless, and soon must be deprived of its only friend. Could that mother leave it ? And now it dropped its playthings, and climbed upon the bed, and laid its little head upon the same pillow, and flung its little tender arms around her neck, and printed the pure, warm kiss upon her cheek, and prattled gently, "Mamma be so sick ! mamma die ! " The poor pale, dying mother threw her attenu- ated arms around it, and sobbing, cried, "No, my little Johnny, mamma cannot die ! you would have no mother." Then, exhausted, she laid it upon LIFE-STRUGGLES. 91 the pillow, and gazed into its bright blue eyes, as they were looking back into hers, and there sho gazed, and gazed, as if she would drink in its spirit by looking. She seemed unwilling even lo move her eyes from the eyes of her darling, fear- ing to break the spell. There, gleaming from those little orbs, was the image of the father, the father that had been suddenly carried to his grave ; and there were the features of purity and innocence, and, as to actual transgression, pure as a snow-flake just from heaven. And could she leave that child to the cold charities of the world? to the stranger, Avho would abuse it, starve it, whip it, with no mother to take its part? She could not die ; she must not die. No ! no I she could not give up all for Christ. She turned her face to the wall, and prayed. She prayed silently, but long ; and, judging by the quivering of the lip and the flashes and shad- ows that came over her features, she was excited to no common emotion. Her eyes were closed, and, in the dark gloom of God's mysterious providence, she was looking for a ray of hope. She prayed that she might give up all for Christ; and bless the rod that smote her. She uttered no sound save whispering sighs, for the Spirit was interceding with groanings that could not be uttered. 92 SHADOWY HAND; OB, At last, with her eyes and hands extended towards heaven, she cried, " I yield ! I yield ! " and in a moment her countenance lit up with joy, and she clapped her hands, and said, "Oh, the joys of believing ! Oh, the love of Jesus ! If I had a score of children I would give them all for Jesus !" She died very happy, trusting her only earthly care in the hands of her Jesus. Leaving Schenectady, I vi tited the almshouses in the northern counties of New York, and also the State prison in Clinton County. At this prison I obtained much valuable information con- cerning the evils of intemperance and crime, aud heard several anecdotes of the most thrilling kind. While witnessing the culprits working out in the dark, damp mines the penalty of their crimes, their doleful look of despair at sight of a preacher of the gospel, aud their trembling at the name of the Bible, with their hard, rewardless labor in pecking at the ore and digging deeper their own dungeon, surrounded by armed guards marching to and fro with weapons of death, I thought of the place where "the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, He hath reserved in everlasting chains, under darkness, unto the judgment of the great day." The Balhton Journal, in referring to my efforts LIFE-STRUGGLES. 93 in this neighborhood, says : "Mr. Henry Morgan, of Connecticut, is now taking a tour in this county, and lecturing on temperance. . . . He does not do this for the purpose of gaining a livelihood, but he lectures without fee or reward. He devotes himself entirely to the mission and work of temperance, visiting the sick and in prison."' The Troy Family Journal adds : * His argu- ments were conclusive ; the manner and zeal showed a heart full of benevolence, and Christian philanthrophy and patriotism. No one can hear him without being aroused to a sense of duty." 94 SHADOWY HAND; OK, CHAPTEK XI. " Over the Rapids." Fate of lllchard Leedom. The Press on my "Ways and Means." My Dangerous Joke. A Drunkard's Conversion. A Wife's Pleading. A Child's Successful Eloquence. Accident on the White Mountains. Nashua Paper. The Lost Lamb. Charlie in Heaven. THEN made a pedestrian tour to Montreal and various parts of Canada. I visited Niagara and the Thousand Islands. I was intensely interested in the innumerable de- scriptions I received of the dangers of the Rapids. Amongst these none was more thrilling than the fate of poor Leedom, a Buffalo man, still a sub- ject of frequent discussion. On a bright, sunny morning, he started on Niag- ara River with his gun. Game was plentiful, and he was successful. A hunter's enchantment took full possession of his soul. He thought not of time, nor the speed of the tide, but was borne upon the heaving bosom of the silver stream, calmly as an infant upon its mother's breast. On, on, he was borne, thinking not of the future, but, all absorbed in the interest of the sport, was lost in forgetf ulness. Still on he was carried, and on, until, before ho thought of danger, he found him- O O ' LIFE-STRUGGLES. 95 self among the rapids above Niagara Falls ! Now lie saw how swiftly the distant shore and each pro- jecting rock were passing, and now he resolved to turn his course. But, when endeavoring to oppose the tide, for the first time did he feel its irresist- ible power. When turning his boat the waves shook him more violently than ever, and more swiftly was ho borne downward, until death ap- peared inevitable. But having before faced both danger and death, and being brave in the hour of peril, he was resolved not to die without a strug- gle. Swift as thought, he took his position, and braced his feet, and placed his oars, and headed the stream. And now for an effort, come life or death. Arms ! do your best ! Nerves ! string your strength ! Oar ! roll back the mighty tide ! Life ! life ! life ! is in the struggle. But all was in vain. Down ! down ! he flew, swifter than a weaver's shuttle, swifter than an arrow sped in air, and swifter than the swift-footed Asahel running to his own destruction. At length he saw a rock projecting above the wave, right in his course ; and just below him, upon the bridge extending from Goat Island to the American shore, two men were standing, and one of them started for a rope, but found there was no time. Richard saw them, and saw the rock just before him, and knew not what to do. Without a moment's delay he must 96 SHADOWY HAND; OR, leap, now or never, and he cried out, ''Tell me ! tell me ! Shall I jump out of the boat? Shall 1 leap for the rock? " But they dare not speak, lest they should tell him wrong ; and on he was car- ried, down by the rock, by the piers of the bridge, down ! down ! and now upon the brink. With the mists of death festooning his brow, and the thunderings of Niagara's roar ringing death's knell in his ears, he gazes for the last time upon that brilliant sun now shining, far up the stream, upon his happy home, his unsuspecting wife, and his two happy children at play, and he sinks I he sinks to rise no more ! My Labors. But small success attended my efforts in Canada, however, as the institutions were for the most part Roman Catholic, and many of the people spoke French ; so I turned my face homeward. The Burlington Courier, alluding to a speech, says : "Mr. Morgan, of Connecticut, a young man, who, unlike a large portion of temperance lecturers, goes about lecturing without levying contributions for his support, and whose benevolent labors among the inmates of jails, poor-houses, and State prisons, have earned him so extended and just a reputation for goodness, lectured here on Sunday evening. He is well qualified for his LIFE-STRUGGLES. 97 work, and has an earnest, sincere, and forcible mannor, which commends his appeals to the hearts of his hearers. We wish him abundant success in his career of unostentatious benevolence, and invoke for him the good offices of our brethren of the press, in whose vicinity he may chance to be." The Green Mountain Freeman, in like strain, pertinently remarks : " Have we not already relied on law too much, for remedying the evils of intemperance ? Here is a man who works with moral suasion, and not for money." I pursued my journey through Bradford % Mont- pelier, etc., and parts adjacent, lecturing, preach- ing, holding prayer-meetings, and visiting tho almshouses and prisons. The Claremont Eagle says : "Mr. Hemy Morgan, known in the public journals as one who visits prisons, almshouses, and hospitals throughout the country, is now taking a tour throughout the State ; and we would advise those who can, to secure his services. He goes to his Master's work without charge or collection. He has lectured here, and in the towns adjoining. In hearing him one can almost see the low, floorless hut, with its wreck of humanity, the di*urikard's wife, brooding over her smouldering 7 98 SHADOWY HAND ; OR, embers, while darkness and storm have no sympa- thy with her tears, and while the children's hungry cries are hushed by their own weariness. He pictured man whose inflamed passion has urged him on to deeds of the darkest dye. Mr. Morgan must produce an effect upon his hearers. We wish him success in his unselfish labors for the cause of humanity." The Vermont family Gazette reports a meeting held at Bradford, Oct. 4, 1850, as Resolving " That Henry Morgan, who has recently lectured before his friends in this place, is honorably endeavoring to do good ; and that we owe him a a debt of gratitude which we cannot repay, as he will receive no remuneration. That we recom- mend him to the confidence. of all good men, considering he is worthy of our highest commen- dation, and that he should be furnished with every encouragement "to fulfil his mission." At Windsor State Prison I perpetrated a most cruel joke. I wrote to my mother, "Don't cry, mother ! I'm in prison, locked up in a cell. I write you on a convict's bench. Don't cry ! I shall be out by-and-bye ! " Then I explained matters, that I had come to minister to the sorrowing. My mother, on receiv- ing the letter, read only the first line, and dropped it, falling into a hysterical fit. She had been read- LITE-STRUGGLES. 99 ing the " Life of Torrey,"' the martyr, in prison for aiding slaves to escape. She thought I had done the same, and was a ruined man ; besides, she had not received a letter from me since I went to Canada. That first line of the letter, " Don't cry, mother ! " was too much for her, and she had to take to her bed. The sport was too cruel for me ever to repeat. Child's Eloquence. It was on a cold wintry morning, while travelling in the northern pail of the State of New Hampshire, that I entered the dwelling of an intemperate man to solicit his name to the pledge. He treated me respectfully, appeared quite intelligent, and, in his sober moments, seemed very kindly disposed. Hew- ever, he was set against signing the pledge ; he had covenanted with his companions never to do it. He had recently been on a spree ; and the bruises on his wife told but too well what might be her anxiety for his salvation from rum. I pleaded with him earnestly to pledge himself upon the question ; and stated, that with his companions a bad promise had better be broken than kept. He said that he never intended to drink any more, but he should live according to his promise, and never sign the pledge. Now I knew that unless he got publicly com- mitted, and had his name go abroad upon the SHADOWY HAND; OR, pledge as a temperance man, he could not continue long in abstinence. I therefore, to awaken his feelings, began to talk of his family. Said I, "You must have a regard for your family, for your wife and child ; you must love those who appear before me so lovely." "Love them ! " said he, " God knows my heart. I do. If ever a man loved his family, I am the man ; and if ever there was a family worthy to be loved, it is mine ; yet, look ! look on that face of my wife, and see the bruises that I have made. See how meekly she bears all this, and without a murmur. Oh, sir, I shall never drink any more ! " ?Then," said the wife, taking advantage of his feelings as she came in suppliant tones before him, "then why not sign the pledge?" " I have told you," said he, " that I have already pledged myself not to sign, and I shall keep my word." The firm tone in which he spoke, showed but too plainly the strength of his decision. It was a trying moment for that wife, and while I was still conversing with him she retired behind him to the corner of the room, with much agitation of feeling. I saw her hands clasped, her eyes fixed on heaven, and her lips were moving ; yet I heard no sound. Oh, what a struggle was there in LIFE-STRUGGLES. 101 prayer ! Thq happiness, and even the life of her- self and child, seemed to hang upon the moment. Now all broken down in spirit, and with the crys- tal pearls dropping from her eyes a wife's own eloquence she comes before him, and pleads again, but again is refused. He was only irritated by the appeal, and seemed more averse to the pledge than ever. But God had chosen a more eloquent voice than hers to do the work. The little girl came flitting by, with ringlets fly- ing, and countenance all beaming with innocence, with confidence and with hope, and climbing up into his lap, as if she had full command there, she threw her little tender arms around his neck, imprinted love's own kiss upon his pale cheek, and looking wistfully in his eye, as if she had something wonderful to tell him, and could not be resisted, "Father," said she, "the school-chil- dren say I am a drunkard's child, and they won't play with me. What does it mean? What is a drunkard's child? Is it because I be a naughty girl? Is it because mother has no other child? Is it because the baby died while you was gone so long, and mother was so sick, and I am left alone? What makes them call me so ? Is it because you drink rum? Oh, father, sign the pledge, mother cry so ! She be so lame ; she feel so bad. Then, oh, father, sign the pledge I Do sign! Mother 102 SHADOWY HAND; OR, sign, Jennie sign, and father sign : you will sign, won't you, father?" "Yes, yes!" cried the father; "you shall no more be called a drunkard's child. Leap to my arms, my innocent ! my darling ! my angel ! You have saved your father ! He can never see you ragged in the streets, with none to play with you, while he spends his earning? for rum. He can never see you turned out of school, and abused for my sake. No, I will not drink. No, never! never! never! will I drink any more." He then took down his Bible, and fastened a pledge in it, and recorded with his own hand the three names, a triune of happy persons. Oh, how winning is the eloquence of a child ! While traversing the White Mountains, in October, 1850, 1 heard of the sad fate of a son of a baronet, who perished on Mount Washington the year before. It was late in the season ; the guide refused to ascend, and advised him to desist, as snow-storms were frequent, and it was twelve miles from the Notch House. Still he persisted : alone, and on foot, he made the ascent. No sooner had he arrived at the top of the moun- tain, than a terrific snow-squall set in. The nar- row bridle-path was filled with snow, and entirely obliterated from view. He lost his way, was com- pletely bewildered, and wandered from point to y LIFE-STRUGGLES. 103 point, until he found a stream ; then following the rivulet down precipices and ledges, grasping brushwood and shrubbery, he cried, "Lost! lost ! " Drenched and exhausted, he threw away his satchel, then his coat, and pressed on, but all to 110 avail. His fate was sealed. Next morning a search was made for him ; neighbors gathered for miles around. They tracked him down the moun- tain, first found his garments, and finally, the unfortunate man. There he lay upon the cold snow, which was his winding-sheet, his gold watch still ticking upon his breast, while his heart had ceased to beat. I sympathized with his fate, because, one year after, I was alone, and in a similar storm, on the same mountain, but a "Shadowy Hand" was over me. His cries of "Lost ! lost ! " heard by a dis- tant hunter, have aided me in illustrating many an earnest appeal to the youthful wanderer on the dark mountains of sin and unbelief. * I visited the New Hampshire State Prison, Rev. Mr. Smith, Chaplain. He gave a notice of my labors to the papers. I was called the " Friend of Man." I lectured in Concord, and Manchester, and Nashua. The Oasis gave the following : "Mr. Henry Morgan lectured upon temperance 104 SHADOWY HAND ; OR, in the town hall in this place x on Sunday evening last, to a crowded audience, and to good accept- ance. His style of lecturing is such as stirs the hearts and moves the sympathies of the masses ; and thousands who are suffering in bondage to this vice, together with those who are made sharers in the miseries of a life of intemperance, will find in him a friend and sympathizer. We commend him to the friends of the cause wherever he may go-" I prayed in a family where a youthful mother was holding in her arms her first-born. She was proud of her treasure, and so engrossed with its attention that she could think of but little else. She had professed religion, and her husband was a praying man ; but now the object of her worship was dancing in her lap. In vain did she strive to look upward ; she could not disguise the fact, her idol was below. When we spoke of the love of Christ, she would look on little Charlie ; when we sung, her chief object was to see whether he noticed it; and when we prayed, her thoughts could not go above the earth. True, she could sing psalms, but it was for his amusement ; she could talk of love, but it was love to the child, not to God; and she could kneel, but it was at the cradle instead of the altar. And as to talking in meetings, she believed that St. Paul was right LIFE-STRUGGLES. 105 iu ordering the women to keep silent in the churches. In short, she could talk happily, ana laugh and sing, but she could not pray. There was no need of praying ; she seemed to have nothing to pray for ; all that she wanted she had, and all that she could have besides would be worth nothing. So she was very indifferent about religion, and could trifle a little, and indulge in a joke about professors. She thought that if all the professors in the world were as good and pure as her baby was, they would all be saved at last, and go right straight to heaven, and no mistake. After this I saw her in meeting. She was dressed in mourning ; and her little Charlie was no more. By a single stroke, without an hour's warning, he had " been taken, and was not, for God took him." What a change in that woman ! Ah ! she could speak in meeting now, she could not keep silent ; the crushed flower could give forth its odor, and the pine-tree could sing in the winter's wind. "I ana so unworthy," she cried. Then she closed her hands together, and sobbed and groaned, but she could speak no further. Again she cried, after recovering a little, "I had an idol that stood between me and my Saviour, and the Lord took it. I am so unworthy, unworthy to live. 'The 106 SHADOWY HAND; OB, Lord gave, and the Lord taketh away ; blessed be the name of the Lord.' I was not fit to have so choice a treasure. It was too pure for so sinful a mother. As I saw it, when dying, raise its little eyes and its little hands, and look so wistfully, as it was going, going far from me, I thought of the story you told about a lamb. A sheep had wan- dered with her lamb away from the fold, and the farmer could not drive her back. After much fruitless running, he succeeded in catching the lamb, but not the sheep. He seized the lamb, and held it in his bosom. The sheep ran away a few rods, but missing her lamb, she returned, bleat- ing. The farmer turned towards the fold, and the sheep followed. Nearer and nearer she came, looking up to him, and bleating desperately, until she followed him within the fold into the yard, and under the sheltering roof. This has been my case. While blessed with my little one I wandered from the fold. I grieved the Good Shepherd much by my wanderings. At last He took my little lamb to His bosom, to bring me back. When it was going, I thought how ungrateful I had been. I am now left desolate, and I want to follow ray little Charlie to heaven. I can almost see him standing O at the windows of heaven to beckon me home. There, he smiles as he used to do, and clasps his little hands when he sees me coming. Oh, m^ little Charlie ! I come ! I come I " UFE-STRUGGLES. 107 CHAPTER XII. Arrival in Boston. Spoke for Father Taylor. Spoke for Phineas Stowe. Spoke in Trcmont Temple A Mother's Love. Giving up Her Child. lion's Herald. Boston Bee. Bad Company. Truancy. Theft. Prison. Breaking a Father's Heart. THEN came to Boston, and boarded at Deacon Bumhain's sailor boarding-house, North End. I spoke in Father Taylor's Church. He patted me on the shoulder, and said : " Good ! you've got the fire in you ! " I spoke several times in llev. Phiueas Stowe's Bethel, and lectured once on temperance in the Tremont Temple. At the close of the lecture in the Temple, Deacon Grant came to me, congratu- lated me, gave me some money, and asked me to call at his house. There he gave me many valu- able books. I spoke in the City Hospital, and in the institutions at South Boston. I also spoke in thealmshouseatRoxbury. MissDixhad beenstir- riug up the people there ; many being of opinion that it was wrong for a woman to interfere with such things, others that it was right for a woman to lift up the fallen. She had also made a stir at Newton. While visiting the almshouse at South Boston, I 108 SHADOWY HAND; OR, saw a person in whom was exhibited the undying attachment of a mother's love. She was a young, beautiful, and accomplished widow, whose hus- band had died in California. Being poor, all his means were required for the expenses of the voy- age ; he had nothing to leave her, but a good name and the pledge of his affection. Fatigue, expos- ure, and the malaria of a hostile climate soon laid him in the grave ; and she, in her sickness, hav- ing nothing further to hope from him, was con- veyed to the almshouse. Upon the return of her health, which renewed the bloom of her cheek, and the inexpressible loveliness of her form and temper, it was intimated to her that if she could dispose of her child, by allowing some person who would care well for it to adopt it, she inigh* advance her position. She at first refused to lis- ten to the idea ; but the arguments were strong in its favor. She was young, beautiful, and peculi- arly attractive ; the melancholy which sorrow had pencilled upon her features, combined with her ardent temperament and amiable manners, and her unceasing devotion to the memory of her husband, rendered her doubly interesting. She could start anew in life, with a fairer prospect for a respect- able and comfortable station. Besides, she had no means bj r which she might comfortably support or educate her child. It might be well situated, and LIFE-STRUGGLES. 109 liberally educated, by leaving her. She therefore at length reluctantly allowed her child to be placed among others, as a candidate for adoption. The would-be sponsors arrived, and, as fate would have it, her child was chosen. The mother gazed with a jcalows eye upon the strangers, as they passed back and forth from one child to another, and trembled when their eyes were setting, more and more, upon the beautiful features of her love. A few days were left her before the child was to be taken, and these days were the shortest, the dear- est days of her lifetime. , She counted the hours and reckoned the moments when she must forever part with this jewel of her soul, continually gazing upon its features, printing her burning lip upon its cheek, pressing it tenderly to her bosom, and weeping. She was much distressed ; and as the lit- tle innocent, startled by her tears and sobbings, looked up, and seemed to say, "What ails you, mother?" and nestled closer to her bosom, as if prescient of coming calamity, she loved it more and more. At length, yet all too soon, the appointed hour arrived. 'The young mother found that she had not overrated the extent of the sacrifice she was making. Oh, holy tie I best boon of God to man, which Death but loosens to clasp more strongly beyond the veil 1 110 SHADOWY HAND ; OE, Now was the trying moment to her soul ; but, lest her resolution should fail, she hurried away to prepare the child for the journey. "Is the child read}*?" was asked, in the stern, coarse voice of the male visitor. " It will be shortly," was the reply. That gruff inquiry reached the ear of the listen- ing mother, and stirred up the well-springs of her heayt. Ready for what? To bless the arms of another, to call a stranger M Mother," where its palpitating heart could uo more beat by her side and yield sweetness to the midnight hour, where that mother never could gaze upon its angelic fea- tures, where her very name and being must be forgotten ? And what could she do when there is uo child for her bosom? There remains the cradle, the casket without the jewel; and the toys, but no Julia to play with them. Oh, how desolate must be those arms, that watchful couch, and how lone those almshouse walls, with no Julia ! But if it must go, she would dress it for the journey in the best manner possible. All her treasures in the world would she give, not because the child might need them, but because they were a mother's offering to a mother's idol. She had a few articles of faucy dress for it, which were the relics of her early fortune and her husband's love. She kissed the- child, and adorned it, and held it before the LIFE-STRUGGLES. Ill glass, and gazed upon its lovely eye and fascinating features by the side of her own. She gazed and wept over the last lingering look, the last embrace, and the last of its nestling in her arms, shedding a flood of tears upon its little dimpled cheek, as if she could never come to the last. She seemed to have no soul, or sense, or feeling of her own, but all was poured out without restraint, generous as the floods of heaven, upon that child. That her selfish and unfeeling soul might become generous, and her harsh nature tender, she had long prayed to be a mother. God heard her prayers, and here was the invaluable gift of Heaven in her arms. She had never known the tenderest ties of nature until now had never measured the store-house of its hidden treasures had never fathomed the ocean of its deep love had never drank from its highest fountain till when first she gazed upon her breathing infant ; and never before had she felt its priceless value as now. She suddenly clasps it to her arms, and wipes her tears, and hastens to present her child to the arms of the strangers ; yes, to turn off the child that had blest so many a weary hour to her, and made the night sweeter than the day, and poverty better than costly treasures, the child that God had given her, as a jewel more precious than rubies, the child with which God had blessed her 112 SHADOWY HAND; OK, above many an anxious wife ; this pearl of purest transparency she was now about to break from its parent shell, and give away as worthless. Ah! that thought was too much for her; and as she came down stairs, and the cherub innocent, r,s if afraid of falling, or of coming danger, put its little tender arms so sweetly around her neck, and darted the glance of its eyes those gems, those brilliants so deep to her soul, and returned her gentle kiss with prattling talk, and plainer than she had ever heard it before, strove to lisp the name of "mamma," her courage wavered. And now, as the strange woman's arms were extended; and she was placing it in her lap, the child screamed out, and raising its little hands towards its mother, cried, "Mamma! mamma!" so pit- eously, that she, swift as thought, clasped it to her bosom, hugged it frantically, and, with Dishevelled hair, and almost frantic with rage, cried, "Gome to me, my Julia! That cruel stranger shall not have thee ! No ! you shall not be taken from these maternal arms ; you shall never call her ' mother.' God has not blessed her with your love, she is not worthy of it ; yet she would rob me, because of my poverty, and she would teach thee to love and bless' her ; and thou wouldst call her 'mother' in heaven. No! no 1 cling to my neck, my dearest Julia ; you have LIFE-STRUGGLES. 113 but one mother, and she is thine forever ! Let those be mothers whom God makes mothers, and let no other crave so glorious a gift ' Come, then, my love, my jewel, my gem, the fairest pearl of ocean, the idol of my heart, the rapture of my soul, God's last, best gift, to a widowed wife! No, never! never! NEVER! will I part with thee, so long as these lungs can breathe the name of Julia." With that she flew away tip stairs, with her treasure in her arms, still to enjoy the ecstacy of a mother's love. The Zioris Herald, Boston, reports : "Mr. Henry Morgan, who has recently lectured on temperance in our city, is now travelling through the interior towns t>n his beneficent mission. Mr. Morgan is a Methodist; there is just enough enthusiasm about him to make him heroic in his cause. He has struck out a new path of usefulness in the temperance reform, and will) we think, pursue it with good results. We commend him to the attention of our Methodist brethren, and the friends of temperance gener- ally." I continued to preach and lecture on temperance wherever an opportunity occurred. The Boston Bee says : " We had the pleasure, last evening, of listening 114 SHADOWY HAND; OR, to a thrilling and beautiful discourse upon the moral and physical effects of intemperance upon the young men of our country, by Henry Morgan, of Connecticut before the North End Total Absti- nence Society. Mr. Morgan is a stranger in our city, and must therefore be heard to be duly appreciated. For depth of argument, beauty of style, and words of burning eloquence, he is not surpassed. We hope that no individual will fail to hear him." At the close of an address to the convicts of tho Keform School, a boy begged of the superintend- ent the privilege of conversing with me. His name was Thomas Walsh. Said he, " My father and mother were praying parents, and did all they could to educate me in the ways of religion. They lived in Canada ; but they resolved to sell out and mo veto Boston, that I might have the advan- tages of a city education. As I entered school, I formed aquaintances with a number of truant boys always cheerful, lively, full of fun, having plenty of money, and excellent companions. I soon, however, found where they got their money. They stole it from bakers' wagons, and from milk carts, and stole keys from the doors, and cut pieces of copper from the water-spouts, and in the attic of a dilapidated building they found an old man living who would give them a few cents for their plunder. LIFE-STRUGGLES. 115 I soon learned to be a truant with them, and also to steal. My father heard of my truancy, and pun- ished me ; but he knew not the depth of my crime. This only exasperated me, and for two long weeks I remained away from home, sleeping anywhere I could, sometimes in the stables, and sometimes in old casks upon the wharf. My mother spent most of this time in walking the streets to find me, and employed several officers for that purpose. "On a Sunday morning, alone upon Central Wharf, I thought I heard footsteps behind me. I dared not look back, I was so guilty. Nearer they came. It was my mother 1 f Oh, Thomas ! ' she said, ' how could you serve me so ? ' She fell upon my neck, and wept. * Oh, my son, you will break your poor father's heart I Only tell him that you will try to do well, and he will certainly forgive you all.' I resolved to ^go home. I met my father, with his venerable locks dishevelled in sor- row, and his eyes and Jiands raised towards heaven, weeping bitterly. It was the first time in my life that I saw him cry. 'Oh, Thomas,' said he, 'my son, my son, you will break your poor old father's heart! Oh, tell me that you will now attend school, and it is enough 1 I will question you no further.* "I pledged him that I would return, and vowed to him that that should be the last of my wander- 116 SHADOWY HAND; OR, ings. But as I entered school, I found that I loved sports better than books, and soon became tired of study, and joined with the liveliest again. Oh, sir, there is the boy [pointing to one of the con- victs] that led me away the second time. I did not know him then, but afterwards learned that he had been several times in jail. I was late one morning, the school bell had rung. I met that boy and his truant companions ; we took a sail, and the rest need not be told. My mother came in haste one morning to my father, and said to him, ' Thomas is again in the hands of the officer ; you must go at once and assist him, or he will go to prison.' 'No,' said the old man, f l shall not go. I have done what I could for him. I cannot witness the sight. You may go, mother, and do what you can for him ; but I feel faint, and will lie down till you come back.' He laid down, but he never rose again. His last breath was spent in uttering the name of his son. " Yesterday, my mother came to tell me of my father's death, and to bid me farewell. She could not stay in sight of this prison and gaze upon its bolted windows, while the only object she had to live for was immured behind its walls. She was going back to our old homestead, on the banks of the St. Lawrence, and there, amid the flowers where I sported with the school-boys in my mno- LIFE-STRUGGLES. 117 cence, and beneath the shade where I learned my Sabbath -school lessons, and by the little fruit- trees she planted for me, there she has gone, if it be possible, to forget her grief. 'Oh, Thomas,' said she to me, 'as we part, don't forget your prayers. Forget your mother, you may, and forget your poor departed father, you may ; but oh, do not forget your God 1 He will forgive you ; and, if you will trust Him, will restore you to liberty and honor again ! * And with floods of tears and sobbings, as if her heart would break, she gazed upon me, and kissed me, and embraced me, and clung to my hands as if she could never leave me, until the keeper compelled us to part. Then, with a mother's tenderness, gazing upon me, perhaps, for the last tune, she looked upon me with a long, anxious, lingering look, and strove to say farewell. At last she covered her face, and left me. O God, warn young persons against bad company 1 " 118 SHADOWY HAND; OR, CHAPTER XIII. Children's Campaign for Temperance. New Bedford, 3,000 pledged. Sandwich, 1,150. North Bridgewater, 1,700. Worcester, 3,500. Springfield, 2,500. Hartford, 2,900. Middletown, 1,000. New Haven, 4,000. Newark, New Jersey, 3,700. Total in One Year 19,450. Good Con- science my only Reward. i Y path of duty next called me to New Bedford, where I commenced my mis- sionary work. Before leaving for Barn- stable, I delivered a farewell address in Liberty Hall. More than 3,000 signatures, pledged to total abstinence, rewarded my labors. I felt that the efforts of several weeks had not been wasted. The New Bedford Standard reported as follows : " Mr. Henry Morgan has toiled without fee or reward, except that satisfaction which the benev- olent man experiences in his efforts to do good. We have had some opportunity of observing him while here ; we have seen the testimonials which he has received from our brethren of the press, and from officers of public charitable institutions in various parts of the North. Our LIFE-STRUGGLES. 119 firm persuasion respecting him is that he is a good man, giving himself, with exemplary and unusual devotion, to a good work. He neither asks pay- ment for his services or expenses, nor requests to have contributions for his support. He withholds himself not from the humblest, and what would be, to a man of less benevolence and love for his race, the most repulsive labor, in behalf of the forlorn victims of misfortune or of vice. The prison, the almshouse, the subterranean, damp, and unwholesome dwelling, these have no cause for aversion sufficient to hinder him from entering to do his good work. "The parent and the child, the old and the young, the white and the black, all share his benevolent attentions and sympathy. We believe really that he is as truly disinterested as any man to be found ; without the ample fortune of a Howard to fall back upon, he labors with all the zeal, and bears himself with all the humility, of the English philanthropist. "He is an eloquent lecturer, has been very successful in his good work, and we cordially com- mend him to any community which he may visit. He has obtained three thousand signatures to the pledge, one thousand of which are from the schools, and more than one thousand are scattering names which have never been signed before. 120 SHADOWY HAND; on, They are to remain sealed, for ten years, among the city records. They have been obtained by school children, encouraged by parents to go from house to house. Their simple eloquence has reached a class of persons unmet by any other temperance lecturers ; indifferent parents, and wine-drinking friends, have become interested, and have put their names to the pledge. All classes of society have heard from youthful boys, w Have you signed the pledge ? " Having completed my work there, I went on to Sandwich, where, with child-help, I obtained 1,150 signatures, to be seated up, as usual, for ten years. Their names were duly reported in the Obsemer of May 17th, 1851. I commenced the good work at North Bridge- water, feeling much encouraged. Here I obtained more than 1,700 signatures, a great success, con- sidering the number of the population. I attrib- uted this to the co-operation of the clergy, who accompanied me to the respective schools, and thus incited the assistance of the several teachers. I then lectured ten times in Worcester, seven lec- tures being in the City Hall. By means of the school children, I obtained 3,500 signatures to the tem- perance pledge, which were to remain sealed ; of these, 900 were obtained in the border districts of the city, 600 from the public schools of the city, LIFE-STRUGGLES. 121 and GOO young men and boys signed the anti- tobacco pledge. Many parents, heretofore indifferent, by seeing their children so delighted in doing good, put their names for the first time to the pledge, wit- nessed by the whole household. At an appointed hour all the public schools of the city were fur- nished with temperance pledges. Immediately the boys, and especially the young ladies of the schools, with flying pledges in hand, called at every store, office, and dwelling in the city, and popped the question to the young men. All were honored with a visit from these fair ones ; and the green hills around the city, glistening with the dews of morning, appeared more lovely with these happy faces gliding over them for names. Some went four and five miles on foot, and alone. Roman Catholics vied with Protestants in adding names to the list, and general enthusiasm was the order of the day." The Worcester Cataract thus reports : " Mr. Henry Morgan, from Connecticut, who has been very faithfully and successfully laboring for some weeks past in the cause of temperance, closed his lectures at tke City Hall on Sunday evening, and has deposited, we understand, among the archives of the city, that sealed book bearing 3,500 names of those fathers and mothers, sons 122 SHADOWY HAND; OK; and daughters, who signed the pledge, which is to remain there unopened for the next ten years. As Mr. Morgan aslss no compensation for. his labors, some are at a loss to know how he can thus gratuitously devote time and talents to the cause without living on air, chameleon-like, or, Midas- like, changing everything into gold. How can Mr. Morgan render services so laborious and val- uable without remuneration? The community needs scores of such lecturers. We hold, then, that Mr. Morgan is a magnificent benefactor to the city. He has done more than to govern it for a year, or to bequeath it a legacy ; more than to drop a load of wood or a barrel of flour at each door." The Springfield Republican remarks : "Mr. Morgan, for the past two weeks, has been laboring among us with much zeal and efficiency in lecturing upon temperance, and procuring sig- natures, principally among children, to the total abstinence pledge. Mr. Morgan belongs to that class of reformers led on by pure love for the wel- fare of others. He closed his course of temper- ance lectures in Springfield on Sunday evening, in Kev. Dr. Osgood's church. He has obtained 2,500 signatures to the pledge, 800 of which are children's. Most of them have also signed the anti-tobacco pledge. There has been a temper- ance society formed in the High School, with the LIFE-STRUGGLES . 123 Principal as President. The ladies of the same school have obtained many names to the Young Ladies' Temperance Society. The children of Court Square Grammar-school have obtained 800 signatures to the pledge, and all except one in that school signed it." The Hartford Times says : ."Mr. Morgan, by means of the children of the public schools, has obtained 2,900 signatures to the temperance pledge. Many parents, by the entreaties of their children, and to encourage them in their missionary work, have decided to forego the gratification of an occasional glass, and whole families have written their names side by side, to be opened in 1861. Nearly 1,000 per- sons have recorded their names, who have never signed the pledge before ; and many young men and boys have also signed the anti-tobacco pledge. There has been quite a strife to get the largest number of Reverends, Doctors, and Deacons on their pledges." . A Middletown paper remarks : "During the past week there has been quite an interest awakened among the public schools of Middletown, by the lectures of Mr. Morgan, especially in the High Schools. The scholars have not only given their signatures to the pledge, but have gone as missionaries from door to door, 124 SHADOWY HAND; OK, to obtain the names of their friends and relatives, to seal them together in a book for ten years in the City Records , a thousand signatures having been obtained. The son looks ahead for ten years, which are to be the all-important ones of his life. If, during this time, he remains pledged from the first glass, he is comparatively out of danger. On the first page of the book to be sealed, are seen the names of the teachers of this school, all pledged to temperance. On another page we see the name of the Mayor, with his family, and many of those in his employ, headed by the name of his son." The New Haven Courier says : "Mr. Morgan has just completed a fortnight's labors in this city, in behalf of the cause of temperance, with more than usual success, having obtained over 4,000 signatures to the temperance pledge. It has not been his design so much to reform the inebriate, as to forewarn the young, and to awaken an interest in the parents. A number of intemperate persons, however, have signed, and several liquor dealers have pledged themselves to buy, sell, and use no more. 800 men and boys have signed the anti-tobacco pledge. " The youth of New Haven seemed prepared for such a work, as they have been disciplined in Sabbath-schools, and in the Cold Water Army ; LIFE-STRUGGLES. 125 so that in the present campaign the Light Infantry did execution like old veterans. The private schools of Mr. Smith, Mr. Beckwith, and several in Fair Haven, have been unusually active in the cause, and almost every pupil signed the pledge. More than 1,200 signatures were presented by the Lancasterian School." The Newark Daily Mercury observes : " Mr. Henry Morgan, of Connecticut, has deliv- ered thirteen lectures in Newark, and addressed the public and Sabbath-schools. By means of the school children, he has obtained 3,700 signatures to the pledge. One-half of the signatures are from children and young persons, and nearly one thousand from the schools. Heads of families, by scores and hundreds, have started the list with their own patriarchal names. He has been very kindly received by our good citizens, and also shown great courtesy by the clergy and press. Mr. Morgan has obtained, during the year, 19,450 signatures to the pledge." Thus ended my Children's Temperance Cam- paign. The good people of Newark were the most generous of any I had met with. They would not allow me to defray my expenses, even of board, advertising, or of hall-rents ; all were free. But mission labors, however beneficial to the public, do not tend to popular favor. 126 SHADOWY HAND: on, Twenty years after, when I became somewhat noted as a lecturer, I never received a call from those cities where I had done the most good, but was rather repelled. The reward of well-doing must be in the approval of a good conscience. In Boston, however, I was placed on the top wave of popular favor, by philanthropic labors alone. When Boston took me up, and gave me the lar- gest audiences of any city, I was unsuited for the position, as my style was denunciatory and severe. But their kindness chastened my asperities, and warmed me into wider sympathies. Now the lar- gest and most popular hall of the country is always crowded when I lecture, with an audience glad to pay for admission. LIFE-STRUGGLES. 127 CHAPTER XIV. Lecture before Paintings. Sketches of Virginia. Peaks of Otter. Geological Deposits. Sunrise and Moonlight. Equestrian Ascent. Primeval Forests. Climate. Storm. Mountain Billows. Convulsion of the Elements. Negro Astonishment at Locomotives. HELE lecturing at Newark, N. J., I was offered a handsome sum to speak before a collection of paintings of Bible scenes then on exhibition in that city. I was allowed to visit prisons at the same time, and had all my Sabbaths to myself. I visited the Southern States, inspected the sep- ulchres of the heroes of the Republic, and wrote " Sketches of Virginia." "While lecturing before the paintings in Washington, among my audience in Odd Fellows' Halt were President Filmore, and Edward Everett, Secretary of State. I visited Richmond, Lynchburg, and the Peaks of Otter. Perhaps, to me, no American scenery was more interesting than the Peaks of Otter. Landscape has its beauty ; Niagara its grandeur ; Ocean its immensity ; but here these seem to me to be com- bined in sublimity. Eastern Virginia soon wea- ries the eye with the sameness of its scenery, but 128 SHADOWY HAND; OR, here Nature has garnered her choicest stores of beauty to astonish the visitor with magnificent scenes. No description nought but the eye of the beholder can appreciate their transcendent merits. Situated in Bedford County, not far from Lyuchburg, and about two hundred and thirty miles from the capitol, they are about fourteen miles from the Natural Bridge. Since the wild savage, from these heights, has ceased to sound the war-whoop for his chiefs, com- paratively few persons had visited them until the past few years. Indeed, for want of roads, they had been almost inaccessible ; none but the more adventurous would attempt their ascent ; yet Kan- dolph, Jefferson, and Patrick Henry found the pleasure in gazing upon their respective planta- tions in the interminable plains below, to exceed the fatigue and exposure of the journey. When the rising sun burst its sea of glory upon the keen eye of John Randolph, and lighted up the moun- tain with burnished gold, he pointed his long, bony finger ("that javelin of rhetoric") towards the east, and exclaimed to his companions : " Here let the infidel be convinced of a Deity " But now that the facilities of travel have been increased they have become popular, and during the warm season are extensively visited. Assist- ance, food, and shelter are at command, and the LIFE-STRUGGLES. 129 gaze is caught by the isolated shaft that towers above the clouds, in lone grandeur, from the broad plain four thousand feet below, inviting the lightning and the thunders with a daring that defies expression ; and oh the very summit, vast piles of toppling, bleak, gray granite, in high, irregular, wild sublimity, breastiner the storm, pre- sent the climax of all that humanity can experi- ence. From this mountain the stone for the Washing- ton Monument was taken; it was prepared and finished at Lynchburg, and transported to Wash- ington. On it is inscribed : " From Otter's summit Virginia's loftiest peak To crown a monument To Virginia's noblest son." The towering pile looks on Mount Vernon now. About thirty years since an egg-shaped rock, twenty-five or thirty feet high, stood on this mount, with the small point toppling over the vast abyss, so exactly poised that one hand would move it. Nothing in nature could be more sublime, and no point of elevation more exciting for youth. Since the name of Washington has been found engraved on many interesting rocks of the country, it is common to find mountain 9 130 SHADOWY HAND; OR, heights covered with names. Upon these crags names from all parts of the world are found engraved upon the precipitous brink, vieing with each other for immortality. Upon the most distant point of the high rock spoken of, an ambitious youth once ventured to mark his name, and another climbed out upon the point with a silver-headed cane, and, laying it upon the utmost verge, placed a stone upon it, a temptation for some adventurous youth to climb and break his neck. The cane was taken down shortly after, with difficulty and hazard, but without accident. Then I proceeded to the Springs, leaving the cars near Lynchburg, and ten or twelve miles from the Peaks. Here we find stages, carnages, buggies, and riding-horses, to suit every person's taste for travel. Those desiring to continue from the Peaks to the Springs, generally prefer public conveyance, but the parties visiting only the mountains choose the more social and chivalrous pleasure of horsemanship. Tremendous is the excitement! The wild, prancing steed catches the wilder spirit of his rider, and paws for the race. Now the mighty forest echoes with the multitudinous bound of iron hoofs. Vociferous shouts of laughter drive the partridge and the pheasant from their old possessions, and the sylvan songsterflies with notes half spent in air, and LIFE-STRUGGLES. 131 half down his throat, frightened to death. Dogs from the distant cabins rouse from their slumbers, run over fences and hedges to join the chase, and yelp in the tangled briar with mad despair. On, on, rush the fiery coursers, with the speed of thought. The mountain heaves in sight, but only to cheat the senses, for perspective hath lost its rules of distance. It seems within a short walk to the mountain-top ; it really is ten miles. The fact is, the mountain being exceedingly grand beyond our common experience, we cannot judge of its distance ; but the delightful road, amidst towering forests and beautiful plantations, com- pensates for the length of the journey. But now come the ladies. Ah, what are the pleasures of nature's scenery without the society of woman? What our conceptions of pleasing, the lovely, the beautiful ? Beneath her gentle footsteps flowers spring in our path ; at her radiant smiles the wild rose develops its choicest tints, and sheds its selected odors ; at the sound of her voice Nature strings her silver harp sweetly as sounds the dul- cimer ; the bands of the Pleiades are forged by the glance of her eye ; and at the low, gentle sigh from her bosom, who does not feel the heart quake ? What forest-trees ! Here stand the oaks of centuries hi sublime majesty, reminding us of the 132 SHADOWY HAND; on, forests of Oregon, and here, in the cultivated lield, they stand withered, girdled, and dead ; their tall, gray branches, towering to the skies, inviting the lightning and the storm, still set fate at defiance, like Bonaparte in exile. Here, in the thicket, they have fallen by age, and by their own weight, giving way for their successors, like the generations of men. Now the " big spring " pours its warbling tide over our path. Never was water more refresh- ing, cold as the ice of winter, pure as the fount of Castalia, and sweet as the nectar of Jupiter. Weary and exhausted by the tedious ride, we wipe the sweat from our brow, and gaze with rap- ture upon the glittering tide. With scooping palm we drink, and lave the brow ; exhausted Nature rallies, new life and vigor throbs through every vein, and with adventurous spirit we aspire for the peak. Now we climb the topmost crags. What trem- bling, shrinking, misgiving, as a world appears below ! An experienced one climbing the ladder, and clinging desperately to the rock, exclaims : "Is it safe? Won't the mountain fall?" The clouds are beneath our feet, and anon they rise and crown our brow, and our fingers sport with their golden borders. Now they are gone, casting their black shadows over ten thousand acres a mile beneath your feet, and hurrying away as if impelled by LIFE-STRUGGLES. 133 your command. The largest trees diminish to the smallest shrubs. We stand upon the cold, rugged granite, unchanging and unchangeable as eternity, and severe as the justice of Jehovah. New London, the beautiful villages of Liberty, Fiucastle, and Amsterdam, the Blue Ridge and the Alleghauies, extend before the eye, and afford a charming expanse. Here we behold immensity ! He who has strug- gled with the storm, and felt his laboring bark, league by league, ascend the wave, until, arriving at the crested top, he gazes upon a hundred sails beneath, some skirting the wave in full view, some dipping half hid beneath the surge, and anon exploring the engulfing trough, their banners seen outpeering overhanging billows extending miles above, can fully appreciate the sublimity of these interminable mountain billows ! As the weather- beaten seaman stands upon these heights, they seem to roll in boiling waves beneath his feet. He gazes upon the clouds beneath, sees the image of Hope beckoning him on, and instantly thrusts forth the hand to grasp the halliards, to mount the yard- arm, and seize the helm, and bring his vessel to her course, as flashes his keen eye that has faced the thunderbolts, and throbs his heart with the passion and excitement of his youth I How he gazes 1 How his spirit bounds once more for the 134 SHADOWY HAND; OR, excitement of the sea ! And imagining these to be the transfixed billows of ocean is no fiction. No mountains or valleys in the Union present more marine deposits of shells and marl, and fos- sil remains of greater number and variety, and no physical features bear stronger impress of marine convulsions. Mountains from the depths of the sea, parting the briny waters, with all their shell and submarine remains upheaving, have towered to these very skies with glittering crowns of pearl, while the gathered waters, frightened at confine- ment, ploughing enormous chasms, have broken through the mountain barrier, bearing down every obstacle, and, through wide, deep channels, have hurried to the freedom of their native profound. But the much-desired sight is a fine sunrise. I was aroused at half-past three, and proceeded at once to ascend the heights, not without a shudder lest the old logs should harbor a panther or rattle- snake. The dying notes of the whip-poor-will filled the air with solemn melody. Right above the Peaks the clouds parted, and at once the tow- ering heights appeared in bold relief. Natural scenery, especially in the early morning, has a marked devotional tendency. A small mountain lies upon the horizon, as if shielding the sun until its proper time to rise with the greatest effect, and a small black cloud float- LIFE-STRUGGLES. 135 ing before. A more beautiful impression cannot be conceived. The cloud nearly hides the ring of the sun, circling the mountain until the sun is so far risen that all its treasured beams at once burst with an electric thrill upon the enraptured sight, and astonishes Glory itself. Behold a sea of burn- ished gold ! a contrast and union of ten thousand hues ! a hundred miles of landscape, crowned with emerald, sapphire, and rubies ! the mountain crags at your side a pile of refulgent diamonds I I might visit the same place, when the sun is in the same latitude, a thousand times, and fail to meet with the concurrence of circumstances, the pecu- liar clouds, the temperature of the atmosphere, the nature of the eastern sky, and the aspect of the horizon which overwhelmed me. He who has not paid his morning devotions upon these high altars, has not felt man's divinest nature. Far from the distracting cares of the habitations of men, here is Nature in her purity, speaking her own lan- guage. How delightful to stand and converse with her on these mountain peaks, to breathe the atmosphere of these higher regions, and gaze upon the depths below, to make companionship with sky, with clouds, and mountains, which become our brothers, sisters, friends ! We seem a part of them, our existence becomes enlarged ; the chain of desjres that bmds us to earth, link by 136 SHADOWY HAND; OR, link, is broken, and our conscious spirit aspires to be free. Such are the feelings impressed by these scenes. If there is a place on this lower world where spirits dwell, that place is here. Celestial voices answer each other's notes from crag to crag with soft, low, dulcet strains borne upon the gentle breeze, which take full possession of the soul. Nature has never sinned ; remaining in her pris- tine purity, with floral cheek, and breath all incense, here she smiles with sweetest expression, and wooes us to her embrace. He who loves Nature loves God. Moonlight. Sweet is the converse of Nature upon the mountain-top in the silent watches of the night. The earth, the air, the heavens, how still ! A holy feeling pervades the place ; the rock, the clouds, and the stars all seem a part of ourselves, each a link in Nature's chain to bind us to the Deity. A moonlight view from the Peaks of Otter, as a field for fancy or imagination, surpasses our highest anticipations. So brightly gleam the stars, the clouds pass by as sentinels over a slum- bering world ; the comets, falling stars, heaven's telegraphic messengers, bearing despatches for weal or woe, and the silver moon Queen of Night walks in silent majesty among the beacon-lights c heaven, gazing upon a slumbering universe, light ing up the mountains and hills below, just enough LIFE-STRUGGLES. 137 to make their shadowy features visible, all pre- sent a boundless field for the wildest flights of imagination. Well might John Randolph, "Na- ture's acting poet," delight to spend the night in contemplating scenes like these. I found the climate of Virginia very changeable : a storm is coming on. The forest roars, bea"sts howl, the raven flies in terror; the sturdy shrub, deep-rooted on the mountain brow, is uptorn and hurled headlong, and stern, stately oaks, whose tall branches have defied the storms of centuries, now break and fall like pipe-stems ! The Fiend of Storm seems enraged that a mortal dare approach his seat. Lightning leaps from cloud to cloud, marshalling up his hosts of artillery with icy shots of death I Mad thunder, from his ebon chariot, with sulphureous breath and fiery eye, strikes upon his granite throne with horrid shock, as if a huge mount of adamant from heaven had crushed the flinty brow of earth ; and tenfold more dreadful pours the rain and hail. . Now a calm ; and what a calm ! Perfect silence reigns ; blue peaks burst through their misty shrouds, and in dewy tear-drop smile beneath the sunbeams, sweetly as a sister's face lit up with rays of hope. All below is a dark, unfathomable abyss ; but above and around our brow the transparent vapors glitter with refulgent 138 SHADOWY HAND; OR, hues ; a resplendent rainbow extends i*s broad arch from peak to peak, forming an intermediate vault between heaven and earth, for the abode of angels. The high-soaring eagle, with his eye on the sun, darts above the mists, now tipping his spacious wing in the crystal drops of the iris, now sailing far beyond the clouds, to adjust his plumes in the pure radiance of heaven. As swells the gentle breeze, Nature strikes her sylvan lyre from pine and fir in JEolian symphony, and merry songsters redouble their notes with rap- turous delight. So pure, so peaceful the heavens and earth, so exhilarating the air, so melodious the warblers, and so redolent the flowers, one imagines earth without a sigh, without a tomb ! Pedestrian excursions afford many interesting adventures. The country people are most hos- pitable, and always glad to see a stranger, and their simple piety contrasts favorably with the social condition of large cities. Curious anecdotes are related of the introduction of railroads, and the interest they excited. At Lynchburg, a mountaineer saw, for the first time in his eventful mountain life, the puffing, smoking, black Ingine! It was not a savage, yet how much like one ! His hand unconsciously started for a knife or gun. As it passed, he was told LLFE-STRUGGLES. 139 he could overtake it; and Jonathan, seeing it retreat, started in chase; but as the monster entered the big black tunnel, he ran as fast the other way ! The by-standers told him he- had not caught the bear this time. "No," said he, "but I have run him in his hole!" A negro seeing the swift-coming, snorting, black engine, ran to get behind his master, and rolling the white of his eye with terrific horror, he seemed to shrink to half size ; but when the monster had passed, he commenced laughing and leaping with the wildest paroxysms of joy. "What is the matter?" cried the master. " Oh, massa ! I be so glad dat de devil will git no more among de niggers I " "Why not? What do you mean?" said the master, as if somewhat astonished. " Oh, massa I didn't you see um ar Lynchbugs hob got him in de harness?" 140 SHADOWY HAND; OR, CHAPTER XV. Grave of Patrick Henry. His Eloquence. Speech on the Johnny Hook Case. "Beef! beef!" John Randolph, of Roanoke. Rivalry of Henry and Randolph. The Preaching of Rev. Lorenzo Dow. Anecdotes of the Stolen Axe, the Negro's Toot-horn, and the Gallon of Rum. PAID a visit to Charlotte County, where John Randolph and Patrick Henry, Vir- ginia's greatest orators, sleep well after "life's fitful fever." In very sight of the "Peaks" Henry lived and died, of whom Ran- dolph applied the words of Sacred Writ; one "who spake as never man spake," and of whom Jefferson declared that he "was the greatest orator tnat ever lived." His grave is very rural. It is on the borders of a forest, surrounded by a slight railing overhung by vast trees, and, singu- larly enough, unmarked by a monument. A rus- tic chair stood near the place where Henry, in his old age, used to sit musing for hours. It is much to be regretted that so few reports of his " ipsissima verba " have come down to us ; and such as we have are so inaccurate and incom- plete, as to tantalize us. But judging from the effects he produced, his power must have been LIFE-STRUGGLES. 141 immense. We see him rise before the assembled multitude so plain in his exordium, that it seems but household talk ; so careless in his manners, so simple in his whole bearing, that the bookworm or aristocrat may hesitate whether to call him fool or clown ; but this is only for a moment. So slight has been the attack, that the audience have been thrown off their guard, and their hearts open to receive the charges of his overwhelming elo- quence. His eye flashes, his finger strikes con- viction, passion swells up from his soul, his whole countenance is inflamed ; his voice, now tuned to the teuderest notes of the sorrows of suffering innocence, now cutting with the severest sarcasm, and now sounding with vehement thunderbolts of vengeance and defiance, all these we witness, until we think no more of the orator, but hang upon his lips in breathless suspense, thinking as he thinks, feeling as he feels, on the subject at stake. Not far off is New London, in the court-house of which, still standing, he made his celebrated Johnny Hook beef speech. During the distress of the Army, consequent on the invasion of Corn- wallis, the Commissioner had seized two of Hook's steers. Peace was proclaimed, and Hook brought an action for trespass against the Com- missioner, for whom Henry acted as counsel. 142 SHADOWY HAND; OR, One can well imagine the scene, the crowded court-house, the miserable question, at issue trespass, in time of invasion, after a couple of steers, when the Army was distressed and Hook's unpopularity. Henry, as usual, had complete control of the passions of the audience, and more especially of their merriment. At one time he excited their indignation against Hook, and vengeance was visible in every countenance ; again, when he chose to relax, and ridicule him, the whole audience was in a roar of laughter. He painted the distress of the American Army, exposed almost naked to the rigors of winter, and marking the frozen ground over which they marched with their unshod feet. Where was the man, he said, who had an American heart, who would not have thrown open his fields, his barns, his cellars, the doors of his house, the portals of his breast, to have received with open arms the meanest soldier in that little band of famished patriots? There he stands ; but whether the heart of an American beats in his bosom, you, gentlemen, are to judge. He carried the jury to the plains of Yorktown, the surrender of which followed shortly aftei the act complained of. He depicted the surrender in the most noble colors of his eloquence : the LITE-STRUGGLES. J43 audience saw before their eyes the humiliation and dejection of the British as they marched out of their trenches ; they saw the triumph which lighted up every patriot's face, and heard the shouts of victory, and the cry of "Washington and Liberty I " as it rung and echoed through the American ranks, and was reverberated through the hills and shores of the neighboring river. But hark 1 What notes of discord are these which disturb the general joy, and silence the acclama- tions of victory ? They are the notes of Johnny Hook, hoarsely bawling out through the American camp, " Beef I beef! beef!" The whole audi- ence was convulsed. The clerk of the court, unable to command himself, and unwilling to commit any breach of decorum in his place, rushed out of the court-house, and threw himself on the grass in the most violent paroxysm of laughtfir. The cause was decided almost by acclamation. The jury retired, for form's sake, and instantly returned a verdict of acquittal. John Eandolph, Henry's illustrious successor, was descended, in the seventh generation, from Pocahontas, the Indian Princess. The hills of Roanoke are in sight of the Peaks of Otter. His first speech was delivered on the same day on which Henry delivered his last, upon the same platform. Randolph was a candidate for Con- 144 SHADOWY HAND; OK, gress ; Henry for the State Senate ; but they were opposed in politics. Henry mounted the hustings with the full measure of his fame, and, though in his sixty-seventh year, his eloquence seemed like an avalanche threatening to overwhelm the boy of twenty-six. He carried everything Before him, when, waving his body right and left, the audience unconsciously waved with him. As he finished, he literally descended into the arms of the obstrep- erous throng, and was borne about in triumph. The cry was, " The sun is set in all his glory! " While one was setting, another was rising, with perhaps equal brilliancy. But Randolph was so youthful and unprepossessing in appearance that the audience began to disperse, and an Irishman exclaimed : w Tut ! tut ! it won't do ; it's nothing but the bating of an ould tin pan after hearing a fine church-organ." This singular person's peculiar aspect, shrill, novel intonations, and his cutting sarcasm, soon calmed the tumultuous crowd, and inclined all to listen to the strange orator, while he replied at length to the sentiments of their old favorite. When he had concluded, loud huzzas rang thro ugh the welkin. - This was a new event to Mr. Henry. He had not been accustomed to a rival, and little expected one in a beardless boy. He returned to the stage and commenced a second address, in LIFE-STRUGGLES. 145 which he soared above his usual vehemence and majesty. Such is usually the fruits of emulation and rivalship. He frequently adverted to his youthful competitor with parental tenderness, and complimented his rare talents with liberal profu- sion ; and while regretting what he deprecated as the political errors of his youthful zeal, actually wrought himself and his audience into an enthu- siasm of sympathy and benevolence that issued in an ocean of tears. The gesture, intonations, and pathos of Mr. Henry operated like an epidemic on the transported audience. The contagion was universal. An hysterical frenzy pervaded the auditory to such a degree, that they were, at the same moment, literally weeping and laughing. In this contest Henry was elected to the Sen- ate of Virginia, but did not live to take his seat, and Randolph to Congress, in which body, at intervals, he served more than twenty-four years. Well did the people of Charlotte obey the last injunction of Henry, in his speech above described : * Cherish him, he will make an invaluable man." Such was Randolph's youthful appearance, that when he came to the clerk's table at the House of Representatives, that gentleman could not refrain from inquiring his age. "Ask my constituents, sir" was the reply. Randolph died in May, 1843. His grave is in a dense forest, near the stream 10 146 SHADOWY HAND; OR, called "Roanoke," with no marble memorial ; but two tall pines hang their rude branches over the spot, and the wind mournfully sighs through their foliage. On taking leave of his constituents, and final retirement from public life, he spoke thus : "Peo- ple of Charlotte ! which of you is without sin?" at the same time shaking his bony fingers with thril- ling effect. "But," continued he, "it is time for me to retire, and prepare to stand before a higher tribunal. Here is the trust you placed in my hands twenty-eight years ago." And, suiting the action to the word, as if rolling a great weight toward them, he exclaimed " Take it back ! Take it back ! " Randolph had a great veneration for religion, and his main illustrations were taken from the Bible. Towards the latter part of his life he was accustomed to call his three hundred servants together, and preach to them with surpassing elo- quence. He was a being of impulse ; and his eccentricities remind us of the saying of Cicero, " There is but a hair's breadth between a genius and a madman." He never spoke without com- manding the most intense interest ; at his first ges- ture or word, the house and galleries were hushed into silent attention. His voice was shrill and piping, but at perfect command. His tall person, LIFE-STRUGGLES. 147 firm eye, and peculiarly expressive fingers, with his command of language, in satire and invective, were, to an enemy, almost" annihilating. His power of invective, charged against Henry Clay, contributed perhaps more than anything else to defeat him as a candidate for the Presidency. In a duel between them, Randolph showed great magnanimity ; it was fought on the banks or the Potomac. The evening before, Randolph had confided to his friends that he could not make Clay's wife a widow, and that.he would receive without returning the fire. The moment the word was given, Mr. Clay fired, but without effect; and Mr. Randolph discharged his pistol in the air. When Mr. Clay saw that Randolph had thrown away his fire, with a gush of sensibility he approached him, and said, with overwhelming emotion, K I trust in God, my dear sir, you are untouched ; after what has occurred, I would not have harmed you for a thousand worlds." Randolph, afterwards, was a friend of Clay's, and, had he lived, his voice might have elevated the noble Kentuckian to the place of his desert. The last meeting and parting of these gentlemen in Congress Hall is said to have been most pathetic ; it was but a few days previous to the death of Mr. Randolph. Not the least subject of interest in Bedford 1-1-8 SHADOWY HAND; OR, County, was the preaching of Lorenzo Dow. He made his first appearance near New London, before a vast concourse of people, who were, by flying reports, in a furor of excitement to witness the strange preacher, a tall, long-faced man, with long Indian locks flowing down his shoulders, meek and solemn in countenance, with now and then a sly wink of waggish shrewdness, singular in garb, eccentric in manners, vehement in decla- mation, witty in ridicule, cutting in sarcasm, quick in leaping to a logical conclusion, severe upon the commonly received doctrines of election, a man who had filled the world with witticisms, been mobbed so many times, been excommunicated from his own church for wandering, who was boundless in his philanthrophy, knowing no North or South, rich or poor, receiving no reward, for- giving all things, hoping all things, enduring all things ; the man admired by some of the purest Christians, and condemned by others ; thought by some a pure, holy, self-denying, perfect saint ; stigmatized by others as a fanatic. Such a sin- gular genius could not fail to awaken an inter- est. The triumph of his genius was complete. Sinners and sceptics quailed at his graphic descrip- tion of the final judgment, and the agony of the lost, and many were smitten with conviction of their heaven-daring and holl-deserving sins. On UFE-STRUGGLES. 149 one occasion he prayed that the woman who was that night to die (at the same time pointing with thrilling effect among the dense crowd) , might be prepared for judgment. The next morning a woman was found, a corpse, in her bed, and many now believed him a prophet sent of God. He preached several days, having many converts ; but he mixed much drollery with his genius, which gave offence to some of the elders. As an instance of his shrewdness, it is related that a gentleman once meeting him on his way to an appointment, observed to him that he had lost an axe, and he expected the thief would be in the congregation ; and that, while the thief was there, he intended to search the supposed thief s premises. "Never mind the search," says Mr. Dow; "go with me, and the Lord will take care of your axe." Mr. Dow, placing a stone in his pocket, entered the pulpit, and preached upon the Commandments. When the commandment against stealing was presented, he soared beyond his usual powers of description. He spoke of the ancient mode of restitution, and of the all-seeing eye of Omnipo- tence, and the duty of confession. He pictured graphically the stoning to death of Achan, the son of Carmi, who had stolen the Babylonish garment, and the wedge of gold and shekels of 150 SHADOWY HAND; OR, silve *. The audience could see him kneeling, and confessing before Joshua, and submitting unto death, with the. horrid destruction of all his family in flames. Now there was a person in that audience who was guilty of stealing. He seized the stone, calling upon the spirits of God and of angels to direct it to the head of the guilty. He saw a man in a distant part of his audience begin to tremble, and felt confident of victory. He gazed intensely upon that man, with a furious, a most searching eye. The horrified, conscience-smitten wretch looked here and there anxiously for a place of escape, but the thick crowd in the grove presented a barrier. What was he to do? The sure-aimed stone is poised in the inspired hand, and circling round with a deadly intent, when lo ! the quivering culprit jumped behind a tree ! "There, neighbor Jones," cried out the preacher, " there stands the thief who stole your axe, sneaking behind the tree ! " On another occasion, arriving before the hour at the place of preaching, he met a negro boy with a tin horn, and inquired what use the boy intended to make of it. The boy stated that he had been hired to blow it while old Dow should be preaching. "Now," says Mr. Dow, "will you blow it for me if I give you a dollar ? " LIFE-STRUGGLES. 151 The boy consented, and hid himself in the thick foliage of a tree over the preacher's head. When the audience came, he preached upon the judgment of the last day with wonderful vehe- mence. The audience could almost see a sinful world hurled to judgment, the heavens departing with a great noise, and the elements melting with fervent heat, and in the midst of the excitement, at the top of his voice, the preacher cried out, "Blow, Gabriel, blow!" The boy commenced a slight toot at first, and then made the woods ring with deafening reverberations ! Some actually fainted at the shock. " Oh, you ungodly cowards ! " cried the preacher ; K it's nothing but a little nigger blowing a toot- horn ! If you are so easily frightened now, what will be your consternation when the angel, at the last day, shall stand with one foot on the sea and one on the land, and sound the trumpet for the resurrection of the dead?" A young man on a spree determined to play a trick upon Mr. Dow, and laid a wager with his com- panions, of a gallon of rum, that in less than an hour he would go to Mr. Dow, be converted, and return a Christian. Meanwhile Mr. Dow had been apprised of the facts of the case. The young man, approaching Mr. Dow, said to him that he felt a deep sense of sin, that he should very soon 152 SHADOWY HAND; OR, be lost if he found no mercy, that he was willing to forsake all things and do anything for the sal- vation of his soul, and that he had humbly come to seek an interest in his prayers. Mr. Dow stated that his case was hopeless without conver sion, and ordered him to kneel for prayers. He cried : " O Lord ! here at my feet is a great sinner. He has bet a gallon of rum! Now, O Lord ! con- vert him, if he will be converted; if not, Mil him, let him die!" The man was thundertsruck ; without his hat, on all-fours, he crept for the door ! Mr. Dow strove to call him back, stating that service was not properly concluded ; but the wretch fled for his life, declaring that the preacher was either inspired, or had a familiar spirit. LITE-STRUGGLES. 153 CHAPTER XVI. Monticcllo. Jefferson's Residence. Popular Forest. Tomb of Jefferson. University. Chaplain and the Bible. French Politics and Religion. Mammoth. Broken- hearted. Veolia and Ostee. "Go, white man, go 1" Death of Veolia. Ostee's Despair. ^Eolian Harp. AST of the Peaks of Otter, towards Lynch- burg, is "Poplar Forest," once the resi- dence of Thomas Jefferson. The dwell- in# is of brick, and in the form of an octagon, similar to his Monticello residence. Here, daring the winter of 1781, he wrote his cel- ebrated "Notes on Virginia," in reply to the French Secretary of Legation to the United States. They were printed several years after, while he was Minister to France. Neither Poplar Forest nor Monticello is now in possession of any of the Jefferson family. Mon- ticello was owned by a Jewish Captain in the United States Navy; the buildings were much dilapidated, and the tomb defaced by pilgrim patriots, who barbarously hammered the monument for relics. TOMB OF JEFFERSON. HAIL, Monticello ! at thy shrine I bow, And drop the tear, and pay the pilgrim vow ; As evening weaves her shroud, and silence reigns, I muse with moonbeams o'er these cold remains. 154 SHADOWY HAND; on, Rash stranger ! hold thy sacrilegious hand, Nor bruise this tomb for relics ! Mortal ! stand Or by the indignation of thy race, By mad irreverence, shame, by dire disgrace, By powers that guard the consecrated dead, Beware, e'er vengeance strike thy guilty head 1 O patriot, sage, immortal Jefferson ! Behold the manglings of thy battered stone ! But think not all this race ungrateful. No ! This solemn hour, in yonder dome below, Are met the grave, the young, the wise, the great, Thy happy natal hour to celebrate, To laud thy fame, increasing age by age As plans mature, revealed on History's page, That prove thee wisest, greatest of the line Of learned statesmen to the present time. Like the Plymouth rock upon which the Puritans landed, unless protected by iron bolts, the obelisk must pass away in pocket relics. Being near the University of Virginia, founded by Jefferson, and one of the most distinguished institutions of the country, it is frequented by multitudes. Jefferson was much influenced by French pol- itics, and French views of religion. He thought the Bible should be omitted as a reading-book. At the University the students became riotous. He was called on to quell the riot, and concluded that a chaplain and a Bible would have a human- izing influence. He was profound as a statesman, sagacious as a LIFE-STRUGGLES. 155 jaw-maker, arid ingenious as a philosopher ; but as a soldier and general, his skill existed only in theory. While Governor of Virginia, the traitor Arnold was allowed to sack the Capitol with only eight hundred troops, without losing a man. But Jefferson was no warrior. The five brass cannon were planted, not against the enemy, but at the bottom of the James ; the teamsters and militia, instead of loading muskets with powder and ball, loaded wagons with arms and ammunition, and drove them post-haste into the country. Five tons of powder were borne away with the utmost despatch. So animated was the Governor's fugitive movements, that one horse sank beneath him, and he was obliged to mount " an unbroken colt." Unparalleled were his exertions, but unfortunately they were of no avail. The cannon were found, the powder, magazines, and public stores destroyed, with much private property. Meeting with no opposition, the British would naturally be inclined to return ; so the Legislature was obliged to adjourn to Charlotte ville, and here they barely escaped being taken, and fled to Stauuton, where, by Mr. Jefferson's request, General Nplson was chosen Governor. Governor Nelson immediately repaired to join the army near Yorktown, and Mr. Jefferson retired to 150 SHADOWY HAND; OR, Poplar Forest. Here, being indisposed by a fall from his horse, he composed his "Notes," in which is shown much learning and felicity of expression. In accounting for the physical aspect of the country, the various Layers of strata, and the sea- shells upon the mountains, he demurs somewhat from the opinion of theologians ; and, treating on education, he thinks the Bible might be omitted as a reading-book until the scholar shall be able to comprehend it ; a doctrine agreeable to Cath- olics. South of the Peaks, near Buford's Gap, remains of the Mammoth have been excavated, the size o'f whose bones appears almost incredible, the dis- tance between the eyes being about seven feet. Jefferson speaks of this animal, in his " Notes," as having the jaws of a hippopotamus and the tusk of an elephant, being larger than either, and a combination of both. Perhaps it is in mercy to man that this monster has become extinct ; it must have fed on bears and horses, swallowing them wJiole. The bones of the one recently found covered a space of earth of more than forty feet. They were discovered in alluvial soil, upon a bed of limestone. As limestone rock was on either side, an Irishman commenced boring and blasting in the head of the animal, supposing it to be a kind LIFE-STRUGGLES. 157 of rock. When questioned as to his motives in destroying the bones, he replied : " Faith, there ba anough of the plaguy crathur left after when ya build a railroad between his eyes ! " Very near the remains of an old block-house, Indian relics balls, tomahawks, hatchets, beads, pipes, arrows, and images of worship were discovered in large quantities. An Indian trail led past this spot, and was the scene of frequent battles. Still is remembered the sweet legend of Oslee and Veotta, the Broken-hearted. Two sons by the name of Holsten, whilegathering mulberries at a short distance from the block-house, were surprised by the Indians ; one was shot, and the other taken captive. Holsten, knowing the barbarity of the Indians, expected nothing but torture ; indeed he preferred to be shot with his brother, rather than to risk his fate. After three days' travel he was bound, and allowed to rest before his execution. Fatigued and exhausted, he slept, and dreamed of his brother's blood, heard his dying shriek, felt his own flesh consuming by slow torture with agony a hundredfold worse than sudden death ! Now, half awake, he sees the council of chiefs, the watch-fire, and the reeking tomahawk ! With a deep groan, he wishes his sleep had been death. A hand presses his brow ! Is it the hand of the scalping-knife ? No ! it w 158 SHADOWY HAND, OR, the hand of a female, a hand of compassion! He gazes half hopeful, half in doubt, and at length feels his hands loosened from their fastening, a gen- tle finger upon his forehead, and a beautiful image by his side, wiping off the cold sweat, and pityingly watching the agony of his heart. He rises, with gushing tears welling up from a heart overwhelm- ing with gratitude, and clasps her to his bosom in a transport of ecstasy. Their hearts are united no more to separate. Veolia, the daughter of one of the chiefs, his protectress, becomes his companion ; he delights in the wild excitement, of forest life, and sur- passes ttte swift-footed Indians in the chase. The mountains and the cataracts are a passion to him ; the softest furs are his pillow ; the rarest game his food ; and he espouses Nature's noblest daughter. Years of rapturous delight fly as a dream. He is familiarly known among the chiefs as " Ostee the Brave," and the pride of "Olla" (or Veolia), his bosom friend and ministering spirit. But the time arrives when he would fain visit his parents and his friends. Can he leave Olla, to whom he owes his life, and the joy of his happiest years ? Can he leave that pure, transparent face of love, never veiled from the sun's warm kisses, that has lit up his heart with feelings divine ? She heard Ostee's resolve to visit the whites, LIFE-STRUGGLES. 159 and his promise to return ; and now comes the most trying scene of her life. The whites, she knew, had proved insincere ; had made treaties and broken them ; had destroyed the hunting- grounds, and slaughtered the poor Indian. Like them, she feared the heart of Ostee might forsake her. She trembled and wept ; but upon a high mountain crag, looking towards the white settle- ment with brave despair, and taking, as she feared, her last farewell, she bade him go. "Go, white man ! Olla will see thee no more ; a bird of fair plumage and sweet voice, that has nestled in my bosom. Olla loves Ostee, but Ostee loves not Olla. Go, white man I Olla will take no venison but from the hand of Ostee ; her head shall press no furs but his. Olla will die. The Great Spirit calls her from the leaves of the trees in the air. Olla will die. She fears not to die. She fears nothing but to grieve Ostee. Ostee loves the pale woman. The pale race hate red man, and kill him. Red man saved thy life for Olla. Go, white man ! Olla will live no more." Holsten parted from her with anguish. He hur- ried to the home of his boyhood, but everything was changed. His friends and relations were dis- persed far away. The very grounds where, in his boyhood, he hunted, were now covered with roofs. How desolate he felt ! He determines to return ; 160 SHADOWY HAND; OR, he hastens back to the forest, and flies to the pres- ence of Olla ; but, approaching the tribe, he finds, alas ! she is no more. She was not one to till life's cup of pleasure to the brim, and ever after feed on dregs ; she committed suicide as soon as he was out of sight. Now Holsten's happiness was at an end ; he returned to Bedford County, dejected, disheart- ened. He replied kindly when spoken to, but regarded all things earthly with indifference. His tall frame was bent, his head bowed. He strove to hunt, but Olla would no more leap to his arms in his glad return with the game, and print the warm kiss upon his cheek. He had no Spirit for the chase. He shot only one bird ; it was a dove, that fell quivering and dying at his feet, with its heart's blood staining the glossy feathers of its downy breast. He gazed upon it, saw its quiver- ing wing, saw it dip its bill in the purple drops flowing from its innocent heart, and with pearly tears point towards him the blood-stained monitor. He.thought of the wounded, broken heart of Olla, and would hunt no more. In vain they resorted to the violin ; there was no music to his ear but the voice of Olla ; and from the tall pine whistling in mournful numbers near his cabin-door, he imag- ined that her spirit was sighing in low, dulcet strains, still fearful to enter the dwelling of the LIFE-STRUGGLES. 1G1 whites, still faithful in holy devotion to her ungrateful and most unhappy Ostee. He resolved upon an expedient to call her to his bedside, and converse with her in a language unknown to his relatives and friends. He placed his hand in his bosom, and took the long braids of hair which he had kept with holy reverence near his anguished heart since their last parting, and separated them in small strands of various sizes, and hung them in the crevices between the logs of his cabin, directly over his pillow. These long Indian locks had witnessed deep devotion, and the tenderest of human passions. Many a time had they fallen upon the face of Holsten, drenched with the tears of his affectionate companion, and many a time had they veiled her face and drank the unseen drops of her overflowing love. Could she now forsake them, when strung by the hand of her dear Ostee, and kept as the only relic sacred to his heart ? No, never I With the slight- est breath of air pouring through the openings of the gable-ends of his cabin, the coarser strands were continually murmuring, in low, pensive num- bers, like the half-suppressed sigh of a dying loved one striving to hide from her beloved com- panion the partially concealed grief of her broken heart. Now a brisk breeze strikes the finer chords with most piteous wailiugs, and the intermediate 11 162 SHADOWY HAND; OB, strands present every variety of sound. Night and day, without cessation, pours forth the .JSolian melody. Holsten reclined upon his couch, and listened in silence, until his mind, fast losing its attachment to earth, seemed, with his Veolia, far away. He thought that her tears glittered in precious pearls upon the sweating chords, and, starting from his disturbed slumbers, he imagined her hand had pressed his brow, and her tears had distilled in affectionate sympathy upon his cheek, and " Veolia, Veolia/" still whispers upon the strings. 'Tis a sweet sound ! All the happiness of his life echoes in the name, and all his hope is to meet her in heaven. To call off his mind from the exciting topic, he was accompanied to the banks of the stream. But there warbled in its flowing tide the name of "Veolia"; there appeared upon the golden sands of the stream her spectral shadow beckoning him away, and he longed to embrace the object of his vision. He visited the stream, day after day, growing paler and weaker, with the same shadows dancing before him, until, so attenuated and spiritualized, there was but little left of his earthly tabernacle. He laid himself upon his couch to die. His mind seems in unison with the strains over his head; his lips whisper to their LIFE-STRUGGLES. 163 numbers ; his eyelids sink languidly ; smiles sit expressively upon his pale countenance ; and as the low, mellow music expires with the dying wind, a shadow comes over his silent features, and the shrill tones of the next rising swell of that harp find no response. Holsten is dead ! THE AEOLIAN. HE took from his bosom the braid, And strung to the breezes sighing ; All pale on his oouch he was laid, And caught the sweet strain when dying. It sighed in soft murmurs low, "Veolia, Olia, Olia, Ol" Like whispers of angels the strain, Who sigh o'er the broken-hearted, It calls forth his loved one again, The maid that hath long since departed ; And sweet as the dulcimer's flow, " Veolia, Olia, Olia, O ! " Like ocean in slumberings still, Soft spirits his senses are stealing, Like ocean in boisterous thrill, Now rouses its rapturous feeling, And wail, as the finer strings blow, " Veolia, Olia, Olia, O I " The breezes are dying away, The sun slowly setting in sorrow, And pouring its last lingering ray On him who will meet, ere the morrow Far, far from this desert of woe, " Veolia, Olia, Olia, O I ' 164 SHADOWY HAND; OR, Smiles dance on his countenance now, His visions of glory are breaking, But shadows come over his brow ; He sleeps, but too deep for awaking I He meets, on the winged zephyr's blow, " Veolia, Olia, Olia, O I " The winds see their kisses in skies, And clouds flash the smiles of their greeting, And honey-dews fall from their eyes, And Ecstasy shouts at their meeting. Farewell ! With her lover must go Veolia, Olia, Olia, O 1 LIFE-STRUGGLES. 165 CHAPTER XVII. Preaohing to Slaves at Richmond. Excited Congregation. Shouts of " Glory ! glory !" Natural Bridge. Leyburn Lackland's Leap. Shadow of the Departed. Deer. Puss taking a Sam Patch Leap. Teamster's Lost Fuel. Romantic Marriages. Sunday I preached at Richmond, Vir- ginia, to the slave's. The church for colored people here is built in the shape of a cross, having three galleries, .and four or five doors for entrance, and will hold more than a thousand persons. It was crowded to excess. The pastor of the church was learned enough, if learning is what is needed for the salvation, of such an audience ; for he was President of Rich-* rnond College, and of course was a white man, no other in those parts being allowed to preach, any more than the women were by St. Paul. This is a great theatre, for a young preacher to practise in pulpit oratory, that is, if he wants to study Nature, and read human passion and feeling from Nature's own pages, rather than from books. One hour here is worth more than the theoretical drilling and sham gesticulations of a \\hole college course. If eloquence be hi 166 SHADOWY HAND; OB, the man, here it must come out. There aro no cold, heartless critics to put the brake on the first impetus of passion (unless it be some members of the legislature who come in out of curiosity, as they did here) . My subject was the 'rich man and Lazarus. Unaccustomed to such sympathy from an audience, I was at once borne on a tide of feeling beyond" myself, and perhaps was as much carried away with the excitement as were my congregation. I stopped, and told them to wipe their tears, for we were going to contemplate a scene where all tears were wiped away. I said, "Come and see how a good man can die. Come and see one whose pulses beat easy though he may lie by the wayside, one whose wounds may have no oil, and whose spirit no earthly balm. The dogs are his only sympathizers, his only physicians, and his only mourners. "But look through that dark cloud above, and in faith see that light ! There come a host of angels, and with overshadowing wings they watch the soul's last struggle the last throbbing of the pulse the last beating of the heart the last heaving sigh ; and now, as the ear is dull to sounds without, the inner ear is charmed with celestial voices ; and as the sight grows dim, Faith sees the angels, &nd the soul, struggling to LIFE-STRUGGLES. 167 break from earth, now nestles, now flutters, now claps its bright wings, and bursts its fetters, and mounting higher and higher, is escorted by angel convoys to Abraham's bosom." When I pictured the last struggles of the soul panting to be free, and waved my arms as wings beating the air, and then at the victorious moment brought my hands together with a mighty clap, many a hand followed the example with clappiugs, and with shoutings of " Glory ! glory ! glory to God!" I continued, and said : " Where is Lazarus ? What part of heaven is for the poor man and the slave ? Let us picture the beauties of heaven as rich men would have it. Here I behold the upper courts, the courts for kings and princes. Here I see the palaces for the rich men, the mighty men, and the chief captains. These constitute the oligarchy of heaven. They have a higher order of cherubim to minister to their joys, and more melodious harps. And there I see poor Lazarus and the poor slave in the outer courts, in the more secluded part, and in the lower foun- dations. And, in fact, it is but the kitchen-place of heaven. They have angels, but of a lower grade ; and harps, but of humbler ministrelsy. They can taste but slightly of the waters, and the Tree of Life, and take only what others refuse. 168 SHADOWS HAND; OR,. O my Saviour ! is this heaven ? Are there such distinctions here? Where, then, is Lazarus? Where is Abraham? Oh, ye poor slaves! ye despised human beings ! ye who are poorer than Poverty's own self, whose flesh and bones are not your own ! Tell me, ignorant as you are, who was Abraham? Was he not the father of the faithful? Then is he not honored among the highest seats of heaven? And tell me, then, where is Lazarus, poor despised Lazarus? He who had the dogs for his watchers, a stone foi his pillow, and a ditch for his burial-place? Where is he ? Look ye ! Above the rich and the mighty ! above the high priests and chief captains ! Look far up yonder, and tell nie what gives us the high places in heaven? Is it money, or is it faith? Then see Lazarus dropping off the garments of mortality, and putting on the clean white robe that the angels brought him. See him, like the insect, leaving his chrysalis to spread his wings ! See him, with harp in hand, mount upward ! See the angels escort him through the gates with shoutings, 'Lazarus has come! poor, neglected, contemned, disdained Lazarus ! ' See him pass by the rich and the noble, .by the kings and the priests, away up ! up ! Glory to God ! See him above the prophets and the ancient worthies, above the apostles, away up LIFE-STEUGGLES. 169 in the high bosom of Abraham. Lazarus is saved in the highest heaven ! Oh, shout and clap jour hands, ye slaves ! There is a heaven for you, where the wicked cease from troubling, and where the weary be at rest, where the prison- ers rest together, and hear not the voice of the oppressor. The small and the great are there ; and the servant is free from his master." When I said, "Shout and clap your hands,'* many of them took the order literally, and they literally fulfilled it, so that the last words were drowned in the commotion. One old slave was so happy, she did not seem to know whether she was in the body or out of it; she jumped, and danced, and shouted, and, as the little pew could not hold her, out she came into the aisle, jumped up higher and higher, and took such high leaps for heaven, was so determined to go up bodily, that it took two men to hold her back. As they seized her hands to steady her, and prevent her from injuring herself against the seats, an invitation was given for mourners to come forward ; and such a rush, such praying, and such singing, baffle all attempt at description. The occasion was profitable to myself, and, I trust, notwithstanding the exuber- ance of their annual feelings, much good was done. 170 SHADOWY HAND; on, The Natural Bridge of Virginia is situated seventeen miles from the Peaks of Otter. Many paintings and engravings have appeared, but they express little or nothing of the sublime feelings which the overwhelming grandeur of the bridge inspires. To fully appreciate its grandeur, we are obliged to stand in the rocky bed of the stream below, and there, like the saint in the dungeon, we seem nearest heaven while deepest in the vale. The sight from the "Cedar Stump," upon the height, presents rather too much of the awful for common nerves, but the magnificent view from below is enjoyed and admired by all. The deep ravine beneath the bridge extends for several miles, and can be crossed only at this place ; but strangers passing over would not discover any bridge, unless pre- viously informed of it, as the road has no pecu- liarities, and the valley is hid by hedges of cedar. Cedar Creek, passing through a limestone coun- try, is much reduced in the hot season, but at -other seasons of the year is much larger than represented by travellers. It warbles down this most delight- ful valley, through beautiful openings and dense thickets, and by steep, overhanging, flowery banks, for about two miles, and empties into the River James. Here passengers leave the canal for the bridge. Having witnessed the deep cut through LIFE-STRUGGLES. 171 the Blue Ridge by the James, they are prepared for the extreme magnificence which awaits them. Unlike the visitors of Niagara, no person is dis- appointed at first view, but exclaims : " The halt hath not been told ! " Many have been the flights and adventures up and down these stupendous heights, some safe, some fatal, some by a car from the top, some pre- cipitous, some by intoxication, and some for love, and some for glory. About twenty years since, Leyburn Lackland fell from these heights while in a fit of intoxication. He had occasionally drank to excess, and upon the death of a beautiful, engaging, and affectionate wife, his intemperance knew no bounds. Seeing her features in the face of his lovely little child only excited him to mad- ness at his misfortune, and he strove to drown his sorrows in the bowl. In his delirium he some- times declared that she was not dead ; that he saw her pale image in the room where she had died, bending over him in his afflictions, shedding upon his face the warm, gushing tears of her former affection, wiping the cold, clammy sweat from his brow, and with gentle hand softening his thorny pillow, presenting the cool, sparkling cordial to his fever-parched lips, and kneeling in holy com- munion, with heaven by his side. Again he affirmed it was but a shadow which he 172 SHADOWT HAND; OK, saw, and her spirit which he heard. Her image was beckoning him away from the agonizing tor- tures of earth, and her spirit called him. Once, upon a precipice, he was prevented from self- destruction by his friends. Once, while gazing upon the bed of a river, and seeing the phantom of his wife inviting him beyond the wave, he plunged into the bottom of the stream, and there, while seizing the roots and digging in the sand to embrace his fancied companion, he was again res- cued by his friends. But it was with reluctance that he yielded to their solicitations. When the chafing hand brought back his answering spirit from shades below, to take possession of his mor- tal frame again, and when the air touched his vitals, bringing nothing of life but torturing agony, he shuddered that he was alive. He thought he had remained beneath the tide but a moment, it was a pleasing moment. Wholly absorbed in his purpose, he felt no pain, and thought of nothing but the fancied image before him; but now appears to his swimming eyes a dark world, a world that had given him but little pleasure and much pain, and, lastly, rob- bed him of the only object in life worth having. Why remain in it longer? In his delirium he visited the Natural Bridge. There the same delu- sive phantom was before him ; and though he had IJFE-STRUQGLES. 173 been unkind to his wife, and maltreated her, yet the same forgiving, affectionate, weeping woman still clung to him, witnessed his tears, and called him away. He stood a few rods above the bridge, where the chasm is dark, deep, and wide. The stately trees from the channel below, and the trees and shrubbery overhanging the banks, pierced by sunbeams dancing upon the silver foliage, with the almost unfathomable abyss, were easily peopled with fanciful objects by an over-strained imagination. There, near the opposite bank, were the face, the eye, the flowing locks, the beckoning hand, and the voice of his heavenly consort. He thought not of the depths, but the object beyond. He thought not of fhe world behind, nor cast a lingering look upon it, for there no object of attraction remained. The rays of the sun burst through the dense foliage, and brighter appears the fancied image ; and with clasped hands, looking first upon heaven, then before him, he leaps to the arms of his spectral companion, and Leyburn Lackland is no more ! A deer was once found dashed in pieces at the base of the bridge ; and once, on a Sabbath, some mischievous youngsters threw a dog from the heights, which yelped but few times before his breath was gone, and soon he struck the rock below and parted asunder. From a family resid- 174 SHADOWY HAND; OR, ing a mile or two from the bridge, a company of visitors once purchased a cat for a dollar, for their fiendish sport. Each person chose his position to witness the exciting scene, and poor puss seemed conscious of danger, as she bit, and scratched, and wauled hideously, to extricate herself; but she was paid for, and had no right to complain. Fortu- nately, such a cat was just the one to take care of her- self ; and finding herself obliged to go, she kept her feet directly under, and, sounding no very agree- able music as she went down, struck splash into the water ; and shaking off the liquid drops as testimony against her tormentors, she scampered home, anxious to share a part of the proceeds of the dollar in warm milk. Puss, after this, became an idol of the neighborhood, as being the only surviving animal that ever took a Sam Patch leap from the Natural Bridge. A teamster once encamped for the night upon the bridge ; and as he commenced cutting wood for Ms camp fire, he felled a cedar, and felled it quite a distance, so far that he dared not follow it. Seeing it settling down from him, and it finally dis- appearing in the darkness, he fled in terror to the nearest dwelling, inquiring what spiritual power had mysteriously robbed him of his fuel. Upon being informed that he had encamped upon the Natural Bridge, and that his cedar-tree had prob- LIFE-STRUGGLES. 175 ably fallen several hundred feet, he congratulated himself that he had not gone after it. There have been several marriages upon the bridge, and many matches made which have resulted in subsequent marriages. One party came a long distance, from a place near Salem, and were united in a solemn manner, witnessed by all nature. Nature was in sympathy with their love. The sky presented not the slightest speck of a ruffled cloud ; the sun was warm in "its sympathetic beams ; the stream below scarce rippled, so anxious was it in silence to hear the ceremony ; and the songsters coming from their sylvan homes, and in silence resting upon the floral tapestry of the bridal cham- ber, mutely witnessed the imposing union of the fair couple, then struck up their hymeneal songs, that stirred the air again, startled the river, and set all the pine-trees whistling. Trust not in the capricious freaks of Nature ; she is a change- able dame, and often presents the clearest sky before the greatest storm. The couple spoken of were too romantically united, lived unhappily, and parted in about six months. Another couple from Rockingham brought a Lutheran minister with them, and were so strongly bound together that it would take two worlds to separate them. 176 SHADOWY HAND; OR, CHAPTER XVIII. Young Wallace. Fatal Fall from Natural Bridge. Daring Feat of Young Piper. Incidents. Negroes' Lineal De- scent. Over Niagara Falls. Power of a Woman's Tongue. Chained Eagle's Escape from Bondage. Wallace, who fell from the bridge in July, 1850, though somewhat intoxicated, died with very different feelings from Lack- land. He was of a highly respectable fam- ily, and would have been their pride and hope, were it not for drink. On the day before his death he had acted very strangely in taking a bottle to church, and desecrating the Sabbath ; but the poor man's sufferings and untimely end command our commiseration rather than blame. Truly, the way of the transgressor is hard. Though afflicted, mentally and physically, by habits of dissipation, and forsaken by his friends, he loved life, and clung to it with desperation. Besides, with a mind beclouded with the fumes of alcohol, he was not prepared to die ; and, being young and vigor- ous, might have reformed, and been a blessing to the world. It was at nightfall that he wandered upon the bank near where Lackland took his fatal leap. In bewilderment, he ventured too far, and LIFE-STRUGGLES. 177 ionnd himself sliding down the declivity. He thought of Lackland ! His hair rose, and his heart fluttered with shocks of horror! He grasps a shrub, which root by root gives way ; he seizes a shelving rock, which, heaving to Hud fro, now falls from crag to crag, and strikes the depths below with deafening groan. He slides apace, then rests upon a shelving crag, breathless, and fearful to stir. His senses are sobered by the shock, and he calmly contemplates his danger. A lifetime rolls by in a moment ; friends and relatives appear in his fancy ; and, could he once more meet them, he might pledge himself to a life of sobriety. To-morrow might find him a changed man, in principle and in heart. To-morrow might unite many hearts to him which have long been estranged. To-morrow might witness gushing tears, overflowing from full hearts, of deep-felt gratitude at his unfeigned repentance and noble bearing as a Christian. Can it be that to-morrow shall witness him bruised, pale, cold and low? The moon shone upon him, but not with the least glimmer of hope. The wind wailed pit- eously upon his ear, and all sounds were foreboding. With difficulty he has retained his position thus long, and now comes a struggle for life or death. Living a life of excitement, and acquainted with danger, he cannot tamely submit; and the im- 12 178 SHADOWY HAND; OR, petuosity of his strong passions rises with the sub- limity of the scene, and redoubled is his effort as life's last moment approaches. If these arms and nerves must yield to death, it shall be when each finger is worn to the bone, aud each strained nerve exerted to its dying grasp ! He seizes a shrub, but retains only the bark within his hand, and slides with digging nails still clinging to the repel- ling rock, until he arrives at the very brink. And there he can remain but a momen^, to bid farewell to home, to friends, and make his peace with Heaven ! Struggling between hope and despair, life and death, his bleeding, hooked fingers slowly yield their reluctant gripe, his steel-strung nerves give way, his ghastly eyes roll upon the pale moon, his brain whirls round, he falls, and is dashed in pieces ! So great were the marks of his struggle upon the high bank the upturned stones and turf, the torn bark, and tearing away of shrubbery that his friends suspected that foul means were used, and ordered him to be disinterred and examined several days after his burial, to convince them that there was no shot or ball lodged in his person. A fine Temperance Hall is now erected within a few rods of the memorable place where he fell, and many a noble "Son" walks over the spot with his pure white regalia, clear-minded, upright, straightforward, and fearless of catastrophe. LIFE-STRUGGLES. 179 Several persons have obtained notoriety by ascending the heights of the bridge. Much has been said of the daring feat of young Piper, a student from Lexington, who climbed the walls of the bridge in 1818. The exploit has furnished a subject for many fictions, and given him a sort of immortality which he little expected. Mr. Piper is still living. A most graphic representation of an adventurous exploit is given by Burritt, entitled the "Ambitious Youth." The youth witnessed, far up the heights, the name of Washington, inscribed there before Braddock's defeat, and became ambitious to place his own name as high as that of the Father of his Country. By steady nerve and noble daring he succeeded in engraving his name, in large capitals, above that of Washington, and still was bent upon mounting higher, and again inscribed his name. With his knife he cut notches in the limestone rock for his hands and feet, until he had mounted so far that the voice of his com- panions could not be heard. Now he becomes weary, his nerves relax, and his knife is blunted and worn. For him to return is impossible, and the chance of his mounting the heights improbable. His head swims, his heart faints, and the wind, echoing through the tunnel, sounds his funeral knell I 180 SHADOWY HAND; OR, The sun is setting, and with its falling beams sinks his dying hope. In the midst of despair, he hears a voice from above: "William, look up! Mother and sister are praying here!" and with renewed energy he cuts his way, and mounts higher, until nature is exhausted. His knife falls ; his foot slips ; but, as his eyes roll ill despair upon the gulf, he sees a noose rope before him, and with both hands united, balanced on one foot, he thrusts his hands into the noose, and hangs fainting, dangling ill the air ! He wakes, he wakes in the cabin of his home! Bright lights and bright faces are shining upon him, and he lies upon a downy bed. But at the first return of his departed senses, he imagines himself still clinging with digging nails to the flinty rock ; with his last exhausted grasp he sees the horrid chasm, and again his heart is still. He wakes again ! Is this a soft couch on which he lies, and no rocky bed of yonder chasm T Is this the air of earth he breathes ? Are these the walls of home? Is this a smiling sistei's face, smiling with gushing tears streaming down her beauteous cheeks with gratitude to Heaven? Is that a mother, weeping, praying, blessing God for the recovery of her son? Still hoping, still doubting, he rises ! He flies to the arms of his sister, and bathes his blushing cheek with sym- LIFE-STRUGGLES. 181 to pathetic tears mingling with her own. After many warm congratulations and happy greetings of his numerous friends, he inquires of his success. Is his name there? Is it high, and intelligible for future generations to read, respect, and applaud? Then he is happy, and contemplates with thrilling rapture his daring enterprise. Knowing that the glory of the soldier is won at the expense of danger, that the most brilliant productions of poetical or musical genius have emanated from a sickly frame, when the spirit of life was near another world, he could not expect the boon of immortal renown, amid the competitors of the present day, without a struggle, without hazard, and the forfeit of almost life itself. Incidents. Many persons have settled down from the bridge by a car suspended from a wind- lass, moved by servants for that purpose. The descent or ascent is most sublime, transporting the passenger into a sort of new world of feeling, a spirit realm. If the grandeur is so overwhelm- ing to the senses as to cause fainting, there is no danger of falling out of the bucket ; and in these artificial flights, no accident has ever occurred. During the last war with Great Britain, the heights of the bridge answered the purpose of a shot tower. A large cylindrical tube of canvas extended from the summit to the bottom of the stream, dis- 182 SHADOWY HAND ; OH, ** tended by hoops, and supported by hooks and ropes. In time of a great storm and fresht-t, it was discovered that the lower part of the appara- tus was in danger of being swept away, and the upper part of the machinery was likely to be drawn, with it. How to unfjisteu the lower part of the tube was the difficulty. The current was too deep and rapid for any to venture that way, and to des cend in the tube required more than common nerve. At length a negro by the name of Patrick Henry volunteered his services. He seized the ropes within the cylinder, and descended gradually from hoop to hoop, and arrived safely at the surface of the foaming torrent. Like his namesake, he could descend to the depths and soar to the heights of the sublime in human passion. The fastenings were cut loose, and now comes another difficulty : Patrick just discovers that the wind sweeps through the arch, a perfect hurricane. Scarcely had the last cord yielded, before poor Henry finds himself unceremoniously swung off more than fifty feet. To and fro swings the dark tube, with its darker occupant, now snapping and cracking with just weight enough to give it force, now doubling itself up in a whirlwind, and now coming down with an impetuous jerk. But Patrick's fists are locked in the ropes, and will stick though the wind may snap his heels off. To the great joy of his owner, LIFE-STEUGGLES . 183 nud not much less to the satisfaction of himself, lie arrives safely upon the bridge, the hero who has stood where shots have fallen thickest, has breasted the storm, and is the lineal son who has literally descended in direct line from high-blooded progenitors. AVhile visiting Niagara Falls, I obtained the following account of a man who perished there, because, while upon a rock above the falls, he would not lay hold of a rope sent to him. On a certain day the whole village was startled with the announcement that a man had floated to a rock among the rapids below the bridge. Immediately the bridge and the banks were thronged with people. All eyes were turned towards the unfortunate man, and all hearts yearned for his rescue. A raft was constructed to float towards him, but it broke in pieces, and a boat was sent, but it foundered, and yet another, and another, but all their efforts proved abortive. The mad tide, like demons that guard their prey, dashed in pieces every craft that came near. Only a rope could be floated to his grasp, but this he was afraid to trust. It was a long distance to the bridge, and he was fearful that he could not keep above the wave. He refused it, and called for more certain relief. The sun was setting, all means had failed, and 184 SHADOWY HAND; OR, his friends cried out to him to lay hold of the rope, for it must be his only hope. As he stood trembling, hesitating, and refusing, his wife and children stepped forward from the crowd, and raised their eyes and hands and voices to heaven, and implored him to lay hold of the rope, and fasten it around him, and trust the rest to God'. They wept, they prayed, they entreated, and appealed to him by his love for them, by his desire for life, and by the counsel of all his friends, to lay hold for his life. " Lay hold ! lay hold ! " echoed from shore to shore, and was repeated by more than a thousand voices, but all to no purpose. The man was afraid to try. He had rather run the risk of waiting another day, in hopes of better assistance. He waited, but gained nothing, and lost his life. His fingers had become too benumbed to tie the rope, and his arms, too weak to keep above the wave. He had waited' too long ; but with his chilled, stiff fingers he made an effort, alas ! it was too late. His rattling, bony fingers struck numbly against the rope, but he could not grasp it, and he could not tie it around him. He struggled desperately to call back, by exertion, life and heat to his frame, but all in vain. His foot slipped, his hand failed, and the tide bore him down. But the shock started his blood and LIFE-STRUGGLES. 185 * heat again, and for some time he kept above the wave. Oh, the shrieks that rent the air when the spectators saw him driven from the rocs ! Oh, the wails of that wife, and the shrieks of those children ! ** He is gone I he is gone I my father, oh, my father ! " And the poor dying man, now beneath and now above the wave, when coming near the brink, as if to bid them farewell, sprung with more than half his length above the tide, and with arms extended, sunk for the last time, and rolled down the tide to eternity. In Virginia 'I learned the story of a young wife who had been unfortunate in her choice of a husband, and had married a spitfire of a man. Her only hope now was in speaking kind words ; so she made it a study, and practised upon the art, as a musician would, to catch the tune. When she found the right word touched his ear, and his surly countenance lighted up, she would pour into it more of the same kind of music. At last she took lessons at a singing-school for the sole, purpose of singing him down when cross ; and sure enough, when coming in, blustering and storming with rage, to be met with nothing but sunshine in her smiles, with laughing eyes, looking loveliness, and sudden burst of a romantic song, was a new mode of warfare, which took the wind 186 SHADOWY HAND; OR, 1 all out of his sails, and left him to sport with the breeze of his own folly. He could not stand such an attack, he must either yield or run; and, by the kind words of that wife, the lion has become a lamb, and is now a devoted follower of Jesus Christ. The Chained Eagle. "When travelling, I obtained from an old hunter the following eagle story, and related it in a religious meeting : He had caught and caged a large and noble-spirited eagle, but had not retained it long before it began to sicken and droop. Its lofty spirit was broken, its wings dropped, and its towering head sunk towards the earth. The hunter saw that unless the bird had more liberty it must die. He there- fore fastened it with a line to the cage, and gave it a circuit of several rods for action. The liberty- loving bird immediately spread its wings to mount upward. But it had scarcely got under way, before reaching the full length of its chain, down it fell. Again and again it tried, but with no better success. Finally, its courage was gon, it made no more efforts to escape, and spent the livelong day in biting its chains. It now refused to eat, its feathers were untidy, its wings dragged upon the ground, its neck was bent in dejection, and its eagle eye lost its lustre. At length, on a bright sunny morning, while pining over its bond- LIFE-STRUGGLES. 187 age, it heard the voice of its companion shrieking from a mountain crag over its head. Old associa- tions came with the sound, and roused its spirit. Jt began to adjust its feathers, raise its head, and look on high. Again, and louder, came the wild shriek of its companion, when the fettered bird stood erect, flashed its eye, spread its wings, darted upward to the length of the chain, and with mighty struggles of new-born Freedom assert- ing her right, burst its fetters, and, rising far above the mark of rifle or the ken of man, flew away to meet its royal mate in the radiant sky of heaven. Sinner ! this is thy case. Thou art chained, pining under bonds of sin, and thy spirit refuses to be comforted. Now by breaking off some evil habit, thou hast freed thyself a little, but though out of the cage, thou art still fettered. No good works will save thee, all the powers of earth cannot get thee free. Without the Spirit you may vainly struggle for a lifetime. Man may make a bird, and give it eyes and feathers und wings, but he can never make one that can breathe or fly. Thine own works cannot raise thee to heaven. The Spirit from a higher source must nerve the wings of thy faith ; the Spirit must make thee free. I see thee pining under thy chains, and striving to break the fetters of SHADOWY HAND; OR, habit by thine own strength. Thou hast advanced a little, like the eagle to the length of his chain, but canst go no further. Despair is upon thee. Hark! the voice of thy companion, the Com- forter from the rock above thee ! " A rock that is higher than I." Hark ! it is Jesus ! " Come up hither ! " he cries. " The Spirit and the bride say, Come ; and whosoever will, let him come ; come up hither, come up hither." Oh, sinner ! plume thy wing for glory ! Brighten thy dim eye of faith, and look at the Sun of Righteousness ! Now hear the " voice of thy beloved leaping upon the mountains. He looketh forth at the windows, showing himself through the lattice ! " Now raise thy drooping head of despair ! Strike thy fettered feet upon the Rock of Ages ! Now burst the last bonds that bind thee ! Now, with thine eagle eye of faith brightening for glory, thine ear open to the voice above thee, thy feet bending to leap, thy wings spread for flight, now ! now 1 now ! strike thy pinions, and upon the gcjlden wing of Faith, as a bird of hope soaring towards the land of promise, mounting above the confines of earth above its clouds, its darkness and its storms, fur up, beneath the radiant smiles of thy Redeemer there settle thy weary feet upon the ever-enduring promises of God I LIFE-STRUGGLES. 189 CHAPTER XIX. Negro Preaching. "Glory! glory! we is all a comin'." Lively Congregation. "Higher ! higher ! O, Lord-a-massy, I can't go no f udder ! " " Call her children." Baltimore. a bright Sabbath morning, in Augusta, 1 beheld a company of colored people mak- ing their way for Zion's Church. I decided to witness the free worship of a congre- gation of slaves ; for in the States further north, in Virginia and the Carolinas, slaves were not allowed to preach or conduct meetings for them- selves. I entered, and found a seat. The whole congregation were united in praising their Maker, with a spirit and pathos that told they meant and felt what they sang. The preacher absorbed our every attention. In hearing that man preach and pray I felt my littleness as a public speaker. I had heard the great models of eloquence, studied the chief masters, and listened to the professed elocutionist in training his disciples, but all seemed mockery before this unlettered African. What- ever education might have added to the finish of, or diminished from the force of, his oratorical powers, is not for me to say ; but he seemed at this time a man for the occasion. He had buried 190 SHADOWY HAND; on, a member of his congregation a few days before. Her Christian experience, as related by him, was very superior, and his grief on her account was excessive. He chose heaven as a theme for his discourse. It is said that " there is but one step from the sublime to the ridiculous " ; and I almost fear to record many of his pithy and pathetic expressions on this account. Although none of the audience, not even strangers who came out of curiosity, could resist the torrent of his eloquence, yet his words upon paper, without the force of his voice and gestures, could convey no adequate idea of the man. To appreciate his language at all, we must imagine an audience familiar with his brogue, having the utmost confidence in his piety ; and by the power of his prayer, the melody of their singing, and the bereavement which they had suffered, excited to the highest pitch of expec- tation, and who now, even if they perceived them, overlooked all imperfections. He chose Rev. xxi. 1. "And I saw a new heaven," etc. Said he, "De language wid which we describe heaben must be figertib. Heaben is rest. Dar de wicked cease from troubling, and dar de weaiy be at rest. Dar de saints rest from dar labors and dar works do faller clem. Oh, de sweet comforts ob rest ! See dat weary man comin home from his work. He haf toiled all de day long, from de dawn ob do LIFE-STRUGGLES . 191 mornin till dark. His skin be burned and blis- tered and baked till it be like de skin ob de ele- phant. Do sweat haf poured off from him till dar be no more sweat in him. His bones be so achin as if a hot iron was r,unnin frew de marrow ; and his legs am so tired dat one ob dem will scarce foller tudder. Him seemed to nebber get home. His eyes am red as sundown ; and his head, oh, de achiu head ! See him comin all dizzy and faintin to de cabin door. Den he smell do good meat dat massa gib him, cause he work so hard, and him begin to feel better. And when he haf eat all de good meat and drinked all de good coffee wid de sugar in it, den he bless God for all dese good tings, bless God he hab so good a massa, bless God for de children, and he lie down to sleep. Oh, how sweet be de sleep ' how soft be de bed I It seem like de bed ob roees ! "And now he dream of heaben. De ansrels O seem waitiu to carry him home as da did poor Lazarus ; and da sing de music of de upper world. In heaben de work be all done, and dar de weary be at rest. Dat sister dat died so happy last Sun- day, she rest in heaben. She was so happy to tink she was goin home. She saw de angels a waitin, and she saw little Nelly, way ober de rib- ber, on tudder side ob Jordan. And she see de gates ob pearl, and de walls of jasper stone, clear 192 SHADOWY HAND; OB, as crystal. And ober de gate was de watchman, wid a harp and a crown in his hand. . And he cried with a loud voice, f Blessed be de dead dat die in de Lord, come up bidder, come up bidder !"' Floods of tears gushed forth, both from the preacher's eyes and those of the congregation ; and the loud responses of " Amen ! " and " Glory to God ! " even before he had arrived at the part- ing scene, had encouraged him to put forth every effort, for he knew he had touched the right string. Therefore, for the time being, he was apparently lost in his subject, cutting away from all forms, all order, floating on a billowy sea of excitement, yet secretly holding the rudder, that the passion might land at the right spot. In conversing with the dying, the image appeared before him ; and as he bent over it, and as he spoke with it and received answers, his hearers were all agape, and bending over with him, drinking in his passion, anticipating his thoughts, and mouthing his words. And when he said, " I is goin, I is goin ! " with his brawny arms extended towards heaven, there seemed, in sympathy with the speaker, a general aspiration of the audience to spread the wing and mount upward. But, "What shall I tell Jesus?" was original to me. " Oh," cried the speaker, making motions at the same time, as if seizing a pen, "oh, dat I knew LIFE-STRUGGLES. 193 how to write ! I would send an epistle to Jesus I What shall I tell Jesus? I'll tell him we is all a comin ! " And " glory ! " " glory ! " " glory ! " sounded all over the house. He resumed : " Dis rest be not only a rest from labor, but a rest from sorrow. De Rebelator say, God shall wipe away all tears from deir eyes, and dar shall be no more death, neither any sorrow. Oh, my bredren, afflictions be de lot ob man I Man dat is bom ob a woman is ob few days and full ob trouble. He lie in his bed to-day, and he lie in his tomb to-morrow ; den de mourners go about de streets, and de stars, de eyes ob heaben, weep in dewy tear-drops ober de sacred dust. Da peep like nail-heads frew de pall dat shrouds de world, and de waning moon be de coffin's handle. And de winds moan in wailing sorrow. And de night is but de mantle for de dead. De clouds be de messengers ob mourning, and de tunder- souud de requiem. And old mudder Nature drops her leabes, and lay her bosom bare to de chills ob winter, when she tink ob her poor, dying chil- dren. Look down dar where so many were buried last fall. Oh, how de people did run to git away from de plague ! But de black wing of de angel would chase dem eben to de woods, and dar da would die. But, bressed be God ! dar be no deff 13 194 SHADOWY HAND; OR, in heaben, neither sorrow. Dar dis heart hab beat de last achin pang, dar dis bosom hab heabed de last sigh, dar dis eye hab shed de last tear, and dar be no more partin wid kind friends. " De next figure ob heaben is home! HOME! Sweet, sweet home ! When de servant come home from de cotton field, or de turpentine woods, after bein gone a whole year, how sweet to see de houses and de cabins as he first come in town ! How sweet be de faces as he come up to de depot ! How sweet be de boices as da say, f He's come ! he's come ! ' Dar be de wife and de children waitin, and dar de massa lookin smilin cause his servant got home. And so in heaben dar our friends be a waitin. Oh, Peggy I dar I see de in de new white robe, standin at de depot ob immor- tality, wid palms in di hands, waitin for us poor weepin mortals to come home. I see de in de dreams of de night. I hear di boice foller me in de day-time ; I see di tears weepin in de cup where I drink ; I feel de wing ob di spirit brush my cheek when I pray. Oh, Peggy ! we is all a comin home ; tell Massa Jesus we is all a comin. "Now, my bredren, ye may hab heaben in dis world. By faif.we may be carried to the beatitude ob heaben. Den it is dat we pant like de little bird in de nest, when him see his mudder go upward. And what be dat pantin ? It be de Spirit ob God LIFE-STRUGGLES. 195 inditin our petitions. And de Spirit now inter- cedef wid groanings dat cannot be uttered. (Sensation.) Now we shut our eyes, and .trust God for de rest. And de moment we let go ob de world, and walk by faif and not by sight, do at first it seem dark, and we tremble as we feel round for help, yet dat moment de light come into de soul. We tremble like de ship anchored in de dark when we first pull on de cable ; den see de light dance on de crest ob de wabe. Dis cable be faif, when it pulls us up to de windard, towards de anchor ob hope. We tremble as doff' de bal- loon when it rise a little, den sink, den rise, den find it to be tied down. But when we no care whidder we go if we only go upward, we cut loose from de houses, de cabins, and de friendship ob earth, and feelin dem all sinkin beneaf our feet, we know not whedder we be in the body or out ; de heart stop hims beating, de brain stop hims tinkm, and de sight be gone, all be gone but de feelin ; den we feel de breaf ob earth strike de cheek as it pass by ; den we be abobe de trees and de moun- tains, abobe where de birds sing in de sky, abobe de cloud, ruimin, leapm, sailin, flyin, onward, upward ! upward! UPWARD ! ! HIGHER ! ! HIGHER ! ! Lord-a-massy , I can't go no f adder!" Reader ! do not laugh, but imagine the state of the audience, at this time in a paroxysm of 196 SHADOWY HAND; OR, ecstacy ; all hanging breathlessly upon the speak- er's lips ; all moved at his will, seeming, with faces turned upward, to step as he stepped, and mount hand over hand as he mounted. His feet moved as if on a treadmill, and his hands, swift as wings beating the air, indicated a rapid ascent, until above the birds, above the clouds he went, bearing his audience with him, onward ! upward ! high- er ! higher ! Few orators could calm down an audience so suddenly, and but few assemblies could bear the transition. But to him, and to them, aH seemed natural ; and when he came to the climax of excitement, having said the last word and made the last exertion, with one hand point- ing as far towards heaven as he possibly could reach, he gave a leap upward with all his might, and expressed his inability to advance. Faith seemed to step in where the mortal failed, and, catching the flagging wing of human passion, bore the soul-enraptured audience to the ecstatic regions of enchantment. That day's lesson in pulpit oratory is ever memorable. There were imper- fections in it, but these I could lay aside. Yet to this day I have never dared to preach from that text, lest I should mar the beauty of the impres- sion I then received. I made use of the following illustration and ap- peal, while addressing a Southern audience about this time. LIFE-STRUGGLES. 197 When Alexander had conquered nearly all Asia, he came to one fortress which seemed impregnable. It was a high rock, called Petra Oxiana, accessible by a single path only, which had been cut through it, and defended by thirty thousand men. Arimazes, the commander, on being ordered to capitulate, haughtily replied, "If Alexander had wings he might corne and take the fortress." Alexander was highly exasperated at this insolent answer, and calling three hundred of the most dexterous of his young men, men who had been schooled on mountain crags, he bade them climb on the opposite side, and wave a signal when they should arrive back of the fortress. An immense reward was offered to each, and the twelve first ascending were to have treasures that would make rich a king. And a greater incentive was, that they were to be continually under the eye of their commander. Alexander dismissed them, and ordered them to beseech the gods for protection They spent one day and two nights in climbing amid the winds and snow, with wedges, cramp irons, and ropes which answered for scaling ladders, and after seeing thirty of their companions dashed in pieces, the others, on the second morning, unfurled a white flag at the top of the rock. Alexander never watched a battle with more interest than 198 SHADOWY HAND; OR, he saw those brave young men toil up the ascent. All the day long he gazed upoii them, and when the next daylight came, he was first to see the signal. Arimazes was then summoned to surren- der ; but he replied more insolently than before. He was then ordered to look upon the rock behind him, and see that Alexander's soldiers had wings. At this moment they waved their flags, and shouted, and from the army below the trumpet sounded, shout answering to shout; and so astounding were the noise and confusion, that the barbarians, not observing whether there were few or many behind them upon the rock, at once surrendered. Young Christian warrior ! behold in this thy upward course. Thou hast enlisted under a Captain greater than Alex- ander. Call her Children. A mother at Baltimore, being aroused at midnight, finding her house on fire, flew to the rescue of her children. Above the crackling of the flames she heard the cry, K Mam- ma ! mamma ! fire I fire ! Willie burn I Willie die ! " She mounted the stairway, dashed open the door, and started to plunge in; but suffocated by the smoke, she reeled backwards and fell down stairs. She rose again, and seeing the maddening flame at the top of the stairs, as a fiery sword between LIFE-STRUGGLES. 199 her and her darlings, and still hearing their cry above the roaring flame, she started, all frantic, to leap into the choking flame, but fell stifled to the floor. A stream from the engine brought her to her senses, and the firemen bore her to the street. But when she heard the crash of the falling build- ing, and thought of her children, she swooned and fell into a fit, from which there seemed no hope of recovery. Once or twice her nerves twitched, her lips muttered, her eyes glared, her teeth grated, and nature rallied for a moment, but with a deep shudder she sunk into shades of forgetfulness again. Hours passed by ; she knew not her friends, nor time, nor sweet cordial. Once she suddenly stretched out her hands, and cried, " Fire ! fire I " but stopped as one dead. Life now appeared extinct. Many gathered round, weeping as for one departed. By chance a child prattled in the room. The sound struck her ear as a voice from heaven. Suddenly her fingers moved, her pulse beat, a flash lighted her features, and a ghastly smile ; but it seemed like the last gasp of the dying, and she became unconscious again. " Call her children," was the cry of the by-stand- ers. And forthwith the children were seated upon her bed, but she was too far gone to heed them. At last her dearest one if a mother can have 200 SHADOWY HAND; OR, one dearer than another climbed up farther towards her head, and placing his lips close to her ear, he cried, " Mamma ! wake up ! Willie live ! Willie live ! " And, as if touched by an electric spring, her eyes opened, she gazed upward in vacancy, and muttered some incongruous sounds, as if talking with spirits from another world. For a moment she gazed, then closed her eyes again. The three children now assembled close to her head, and commenced singing. The music roused her senses and called back her wandering spirit, and with rapture she arose and embraced her children, with all the heaven-born tenderness of a mother's love , There is a moral in this. If a mother's sym- pathies for the cause of temperance and humanity have become dormant, and she >hath lost her inter- est, then "call her children." See if their dan- ger, their exposure to temptation, will not stir a mother's blood. "Call her children" to that mother who is despairing in poverty, and can find no work, and see if ways and means will not be opened, and new energies awakened. " Call her children " to that dying mother, if you would win a smile with which to bless the world in her dying moments. " Call her children " to that lifeless church whose heart-throbbings are apparently, dead to all vital godliness. Let every woman and child raise their voices, and see if they do not LIFE-STRUGGLES. 201 awaken an interest in the church, a music on many a cottage floor, that shall ring from heart to heart, and house to house, far above the wails of sorrow, as the voice of many waters. "Call her children," then, and the church shall rise and put on her beau- tiful garments, and shall be as the "voice of my beloved leaping upon the mountains, and as the rose of Sharon, and the lily, of the valleys." 202 SHADOWY HAND; OR, CHAPTER XX. Return from the South. Sick at Harrisburg, Pa. Carried Home to Newtown, Conn. Recovery. Resolved to Preach. Opposition. Quarterly Conference at Stepney. License Refused. Mother's Grief. My Night of "Unrest. returning from the South with the paint- ings before which I was lecturing, I stop- ped in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, where I was taken down with the measles. Going out too soon, I contracted a cold which settled upon my lungs. I was brought to my home in Newtown, Conn. I arrived there after midnight, having hired a sleigh to bring me from Bethel Depot, which was four miles away. I feared, if I tarried all night, I might never again see my home. My mother, on seeing me arrive a mere shadow 'of my former self, pale and trembling, was struck dumb with astonishment. She had learned of my illness, but was not prepared to see me so near the grave. On recovering from her surprise, she immediately sent for a physician. I was under his care several months, and finally recovered. Sickness had given me time for reflection, sub- LIFE-STRUGGLES. 203 dued my spirit, and made me more inclined to preach the gospel. My mother had upbraided me for lecturing for money, and thought this an inter- vention of Providence. The money, however, was of great service to me, and all of it was to be devoted to God and humanity. I resolved to preach. I handed my letter into Sandy Hook Church, Newtown, Conn., as my mother and my uncle belonged to that church. The church had been removed from the centre down to Sandy Hook, through the instigation of one man, a hatter, and placed by the side of his hat-shop. He was church leader. The member- ship was small, and poor. The Quarterly Con- ference was composed of three churches : Sandy Hook, Stepney, and East Village. I preached as a candidate in all these churches, and held meet- ings at various school-houses during the week, and at the almshouse. At the latter place, con- siderable interest was apparent ; many of the inmates hobbled along several miles to the church, to hear my trial sermon. A colored man was also of great help to me ; he rode in my carriage to the poor-house, attended all my meetings, and his wife gave me twenty-five cents as her contribu- tion, which was the only money I received for four months' service. I often travelled seven milea after a meeting, through woods and damp swamps, 204 SHADOWY HAND; OR, to get to my home, exhausted, and exposing my health. At the trial sermon in Sandy Hook, the house was crowded. The audience was not generally of a literary character. One man professed, however, to be a profound thinker ; that was the hatter. He had been an exhorter, failed in that, failed in his business, got the church under his control, failed to make it a success. He was envious of the crowd, and sneered at the character of the audience. He didn't waut a church filled with paupers. As I had credentials from all parts of the country from ministers, from newspapers, and public men had labored among the poor and prisoners for years without reward, was already designated as the "Poor Man's Preacher, and Prisoner's Friend," I had not the slightest doubt of being licensed to preach. The Conference met at Stepney. As I arrived at the church, I was surprised to find that the hat- ter, with his " Man Friday," who was given office because he had a little money (almost the only one that had any) , had come down several hours pre- vious, to prejudice the Conference against me. . Conference Opened. " Do you feel yourself called to the ministry ? " "I do." "Are you willing to devote yourself entirely to the work of God?" LIFE-STRUGGLES. 205 *Iam." "Do you believe in the doctrines of our Church?" "I do." " Give us a sketch of your religious experience." I did. Here came a question that startled me. " Will you submit to Church rule if you are not licensed?" I saw in this a plot to defeat me, and became a little nervous. But I answered, "I will." Now for my talent, my preaching talent, the Elder said, " Brethren, speak." I was requested, at this point, to withdraw, but my uncle remained to listen. The hatter arose with great solemnity, and said he had heard the candi- date preach several times ; he must say, he did not think he had talent for preaching. He might lecture, might draw a crowd, might make them weep, might impress their minds, even get them converted ; but he could not present a sermon. He was neither alphabetical nor exegetical! He was not alphabetical in his arrangements, had no firstly nor secondly. He was not exegetical in his treatment of the text. And his " Man Friday " thought the same, I was neither "alphabetical nor exegetical." The hatter continued to say I was more " topical 206 SHADOWY HAND; OR, than textual" that is, I could handle a topic, but not a text. His "Man Friday" thought the same ; I was more " topical then textual." Rev. Mr. Smith, the preacher, pleaded hard for me, and said "he was surprised to see such a conspiracy ; he deplored its consequences to the Church. He had known Brother Morgan for a long time ; knew him to be consecrated by a Mother's Hand, in early life, to the ministry ; had heard bim preach with acceptance ; and his dis- interested labors among the poor and lowly were to his credit rather than condemnation. His ministrations in prison, without fee or reward, had been almost like those of a Howard. In one year he had obtained nineteen thousand pledges to temperance. He had lectured before large audiences in New York and Boston, and in the presence of the President and chief dignitaries of the nation. He had hosts of credentials from both clergy and press, in testimony of his self- sacrificing efforts. He thought it not becoming: O O illiterate men to talk of the "alphabetical and exegetical." But the hatter and his " Man Friday " were in- exorable. The Conference was composed of nine members. The two from East Village did not vote. The hatter obtained two votes from Stepney, be- sides his own two, making four out of seven. LITE-STRUGGLES. 207 I had been walking the vestibule over an hour, when niy uncle came out, with disheartened coun- tenance, saying: "There is too much trickery here for you." At a lute hour of the night, the vote was an- nounced. My uncle and I took the carriage, and rode home seven miles to bear the sad tidings to my waiting mother. Oh, what a night was that ! What news to that devoted mother ! What a dagger to her heart ! All the efforts of her lifetime crushed by one wilr ful man ! Uncle said : " Yes 1 That hatter has done it." She recalled my consecration in the " old school-house " ; her vow to train me up to the min- istry ; her prayers and watchfulness over my moral being ; her fifteen years of angelic guidance ; her anxiety when I left home ; her standing, as it were, at the helm of my little bark, launching me on the sea of youthful resposibilities ; her implor- ing the " Shadowy Hand " of the Almighty to guide and protect me ; her prayer and blessings at morning and evening, at parting and meeting ; the sacred room dedicated to me for gospel work ; the songs, the Bible, my little paintings, drawings, all the furniture of the room consecrated for my devo- tion, and for preaching good tidings to the meek ; her early hopes ; her knowledge of my great suc- cess, congratulations from the good and the great, 208 SHADOWY HAND; OR, yet, in the midst of these successes, to have the object of a lifetime, my " becoming a preacher," defeated in a moment by one jealous, illiterate, con- ceited man, and this without a charge, or even an insinuation as to my motives or against my moral character. This was too much ! She had said that P. M. P. , M Poor Man's Preacher," was the highest title of God's nobility ; yet for going among the poor, and associating with the meek, I had been rejected. " Serves you right," said my uncle, "for uphold- ing such a man as a Class Leader, when he was charged with intemperance ! " " I know it ! I know it ! " she said, " and bitterly am I rewarded." Oh, how she took it to heart ! She went to my room, looked at my credentials, and examined my papers, as if she must have been mistaken. I wasn't the boy she thought I was. Then gazing upon the portraits of the bishops on the ceiling, who seemed to sympathize with her, she walked to and fro before them, and exclaimed: "Is this Methodism? This the spirit of Wesley? Is this the way of God's Church ? No ! no ! it cannot be ! " And tears gushed forth, and sighs and sobs filled the room. As she took her old, familiar hymn-book from the shelf, and thought of her early songs and LIFE-STRUGGLES. 209 religious joys with that Class Leader, she cried : " O God, forgive him as I forgive ! " Her heart was crushed, her faith was shaken. That night was a night of sorrow and anguish. In vain I said : " Don't take it so much to heart, mother ! It is in me, and it must come out!" " Ah, my son, you have no chance, there are so many against you ! " "The world is wide, mother ! Methodism itself, in its beginning, was persecuted, its early defend- ers assailed, some even stoned. '-2V7Z Desperan- dumf" But she only repeated : " O God ! Give me a humble seat in heaven." No rest came to her watchful brain, no sleep closed her aching eyes ; her pillow was bathed in tears. " O God 1 Give me a humble seat in heaven," was the constant ejaculation. No other prayer was offered that night ; no other sound was heard, save sobs and sighs. I, too, must weep, weep for that mother's sake. She had loved me too well, she had hoped too much. I felt I had disappointed her expectations. My room, that night, was cheerless and lonely. The paintings and the pictures she had placed upon the walls, the care she had given to the toilet, every memento and article of remembrance, all 14 210 SHADOWY HAND; OR, seemed to reproach me for not doing better. I was not the boy she thought I was. " Oh, mother," I thought, " how can I repay you for all your kindness and care, and deeds of love? How can I make you happy and hopeful again ? " And the crickets in the wall that night upbraided me for disappointing her hopes, and the wild bats added to my discomfiture 1 LIFE-STRUGGLES. 211 CHAPTER XXI. Effect of Bad News. Mother recovers, and becomes bolder than ever. Battle of Argument. Radical Mother. Conservative Uncle. Opposed by my Uncle, who loves Camp Meetings, but won't "shell out." My sacrifices scare him. Preacher's Visit. Effect on the Poultry. ORNING came ; there was no one to pre- pare the early meal ; the Shadowy Form of that noble mother graced not the table. Physical infirmity had yielded to mental emotion. She was entirely prostrated. Oh, how desolate and lonely that house appeared, with no mother's sunny smile, no cheering voice, no helping hand I Days and weeks passed ; she finally recovered both health and spirits. Once more her busy hands were employed in household work ; once more her cheering words were heard ; once more her song of joy rang through the house. My uncle was desirous tc have me give up the idea of preaching, and con sent to work upon the farm. " Where I couk earn a dollar," as he expressed it. My mothei was still firm in her belief that I should yet suc- ceed in obtaining a license, and her vow of con secratiou be fulfilled. w Hope against hope I " 212 SHADOWY HAND; OK, " Never too weak to win ! " she would repeat many times to me, when I was depressed, and almost discouraged. Now comes the battle of argument. "This preaching business isn't suited to you, Henry, it's a waste of time ; you can't make it pay," said my uncle. " But you once advised him to preach, and to preach boldly, and you would assist him," replied my mother. " Well, if he had been docile and submissive, put on a coolness and seeming dignity, he might have already succeeded." At this, my mother's indignation rose. She said : " Act yourself, Henry, if the heavens fall. Put on no deception, if you are never licensed ; be true to your manhood, be true to God. Remem- ber John Wesley's motto : 'The world is my parish !' Corrupt cliques are not the Church of God ; no, no ! God's Church is in the hearts of the faithful. These men have not been chosen by the people, the people had no voice in their election." "He must submit to authority," said my uncle. " Submit to God and a good conscience," replied my mother. K If you plant an oak in an earthen jar, the oak must die, or the jar break. The feet of my son may be too big for the tub he stands in." " But," said my uncle, " that was the very trouble LIFE-STRUGGLES. 213 complained of by the presiding Elder. He said, 'When your son gets on his war-horse, Bishops and presiding Elders have to leave the track.' " " Yes ; and it is well," added my mother, " well that there is one young man bold enough to strike .out in a new path, to unloose the fetters imposed on aspiring talent, and set an example for future ages. There is more genuine talent crushed out by incompetent Church officials than has been hus- banded in the Church, three to one. The Church is dying for lack of live men. Niminy-piminy wooden heads fill the pulpit. Men of power have been muzzled, disheartened, contemned, driven back to the world, and lost, because of the whims of a few dogs-iu-the-manger. If my son will con- sent to make the sacrifices he has, live devotedly to God and for suffering humanity, Church or no Church, license or no license, I will sustain him with a mother's love, so help me God ! " "He might have got his license first, and taken some small appointment," remarked my uncle. " Small appointment ? " said my mother ; "small appointment? There is scarcely any broken- down church in the country but has just such big- oted officials to cramp a young man, to thwart his plans, to get the ear of the Elder, to set the Church against him, and to ruin him ; yet a little forbearance and encouragement would have devel- 214 SHADOWY HAND; OR, oped, from these crushed ones, the traits of an apostle." Now my uncle was an enthusiastic admirer of earnest preaching. At first he said to me, " Preach without a license. Preach boldly." Camp-meetings were his delight. The great preachers of the stand were his idols, their heaven-inspired appeals to the ungodly were continually upon his lips. He also loved to hear his own voice in prayer, and thought himself quite a favorite with the Almighty ; but when money was necessary, or sac- rifice demanded, he was found wanting, although Providence had favored him with a large fortune, and he had now .entered his new house. There- fore, in my case, though at first encouraging me in every effort, yet, when assistance was needed, he opposed all my plans. Presiding Elders, and preachers in charge, were great favorites of my uncle. His new house was their home. When they came, the fatted calf was killed, the table groaned with luxuries. My mother did the cooking, he furnished the food. It was a gala-day all round, when the preacher and his family drove up to David Underbill's home. Even the chickens took the hint when they saw the carriage drive up, they knew that fresh corn was coming ; they also knew that one of their number must lose its head. Therefore tho LITE-STRUGGLES. 215 cock never crowed at the arrival of the preacher's carriage. On such occasions he told the chickens to " cut ! cut ! cut ! " then they all " cut, cut, caw, darcut," and scampered for the thicket. The chickens were the only creatures shy of the preacher's coming. The horse was glad to welcome the preacher's horse ; he pricked up his ears, capered about, and neighed a happy greeting, for he knew it would not be Christian to feed the preacher's horse and not give him any. So, on the preacher's day, he got a double quantity. The pigs were not allowed to squeal when the preacher was round, they had an extra pailful to keep them still. Thus the preacher's visit spread the humanizing influences of Christianity even among bipeds and quadrupeds. Uncle David gave the preachers good dinners, because he liked their company, and was fond of telling to them his "wonderful" experience. He had been a " big sinner," and thought his conver- sion little short of a miracle. He welcomed them, and filled their returning wagon with plenty of vegetables, potatoes and turnips. This, however, was about all he did give them for their preaching. His money subscriptions were very small ; in fact he gave more turnips than greenbacks. The subject on his mind next to his conversion, 216 SHADOWY HAND; OR, was the spiritual welfare of his nephew. *^as Henry been prudent? Couldn't he have had a license if he had been less impulsive ? " The preacher generally answered to suit both parties, the conservative uncle and the radical mother. He said, " It is well to be prudent and circumspect, yet impulsiveness in a young man is not always discreditable." Both were pleased! He continued, addressing me: "I hope, like your mother, you will be radical, and speak the whole truth, and like your uncle, you will be con- servative, for the truth should not be spoken at all times." Both were pleased again. The preacher said, " I suppose, Henry, you make more money by lecturing than a country minister." "Yes," I replied, "if I choose to lecture." The preacher responded, "It is well to lay up treasures in heaven ; nevertheless, to have a trifle in one's pocket is no sin." Both were pleased again. The great event of the preacher's visit was the praying. After a good dinner, and plenty of cof- fee, all felt in sympathy, and prayer became easy and natural. The preacher generally know how to suit the case of each, and as he divined my mother's heart, and prayed earnestly for the great success of hei >on, she forgave everybody even the opposition of the preachers and forgot all my opponents. UFE-STRUGGLES. 217 CHAPTEK XXII. One more Effort for License. School at Easton. Tftght- School. Revival. Jealousy of English Preacher. Packed Conference. Recommendation to act as Colpor- teur without License. My Speech in reply. My Appeal from the Conference to the People. Again refused License. New Society. Opened at Long Hill. Zeal and Enthu- . siasm. RESOLVED on one more effort for clerical \hfll honors. I opened school in Flat Rock, Easton, old Methodist ground. I was not fully aware of the jealousy of the school- master years before, nor of the coolness of one or two of the leaders. But my stakes were set, and I must go on. I could scarcely have had a more favorable field. The people were poor and hum- ble, but had great heart and great devotion to the cause. The meetings from the school-house had leavened the community with good morals for miles round. Songs and prayers were the chief enjoyment; an intemperate or profane man was rarely met with. No sooner had I opened school than I organized a night-school, for the gathering of young people. They improved in Composition and Declamation, then studied Bible Scenes. These exercises devel- 218 SHADOWY HAND; OR, oped into religious meetings ; and such meetings, for attraction and depth of interest, had not been known for years. Many were the converts; Unfortunately for me, however, the preacher and the school-master had put their heads together in antagonism against me. The preacher, an Englishman, was jealous of the interest awakened, and ran about scattering fire-brands, arrows, and death. The Quarterly Conference was composed of Flat Rock, Daniel's Farms, and Centre Street, "Weston. As the Elder opened the Conference, I perceived he had been prejudiced. After witnessing the testimonials to my labors, he very coolly remarked that as I had done great good heretofore among the needy, without license, I could act as w colpor- teur " at my own expense still without license. In short, I might do the work and others receive the name and salary, I bear the burden, and, as is the case with burden-bearers in the Church gener- ally, be denied and contemned, and others reap the fruits of my labor. To submit to such may exhibit a Christian spirit, but is not a wise policy. I knew his style of living, his carriage, his salary, his easy berth, and how little his heart was in the work. I pocketed the indignity. On examining, I found the Conference had been packed by the preacher. Of the two voters LIFE-STRUGGLES. 219 brought over from Daniel's Farms, one had not been inside of a church, except at a funeral, for four years ; he traversed the fields and worked on the Sabbath. The other was but little better. The church at Daniel's Farms was really extinct, having no organization ; these men had no right in Conference. The two voters of "Weston were a local preacher and a steward. The local preacher said he was astonished at the learning and argu- ment exhibited in my sermon ; he thought it would, be a sin to refuse such a man a license. The steward, however, thought otherwise. He had heard me several times. I had too much "temperance" in my discourses, and did not pre- sent a "pure gospel." He drank at the same time, was soon expelled, and died miserably. These were the men drummed up to vote against a man whose life-struggles had been of self-sacrifice and toil, for the benefit of his fellows. I heard the preacher whisper, " It is easier to crush him before license than after." Then the question came up in Conference, "Will you submit to Church rule if you are not licensed ? " At this the steward seemed in ecstasy, and my opponents exchanged glances of delight. I arose, and said : " This is the sixth time I have asked license from the Methodist Church. If I am refused, as I perceive I shall be, it will be my 220 SHADOWY HAND; OR, last time. When I am licensed I shall be com- missioned by a church of my own. I believe in the scriptural charm of Seven. Seven means perfection. 'Seven lamps, seven golden candle- sticks, seven spirits before the throne, seven trumpets, seven priests that sounded them seven days to surround the walls of Jericho. Seven churches, seven stars, seven seals, seven angels ' ; and on the seventh time I think I shall conquer. The Elder says I can act the colporteur. I think I shall, in a big way. The times demand men of the age, not fossils." "The three preachers who now oppose me are foreigners just landed ; they know nothing of the American Idea ; that idea means Progress and Reform. They have desired me neither to preach nor speak in their meetings, lest I reflect upon their talent. I must go Sabbath after Sabbath to hear them preach to congregations numbering less than fifty, sit in the pew, keep silent for months, just to show my submission to Church authority. And this to a man whose whole life has been 'action!' 'action!' 'action!' and this without a charge of immorality or insubordination. This is not Methodism ! It is not Christian-! 'There is something rotten in the state of Denmark.' I will appeal from this Quarterly Conference to the people. God's Church is in the hearts of the LIFE-STRUGGLES. 221 faithful. Consecrated in early life to the minis- try, reared for that object, overshadowed by a holy mother's prayers, the die is cast, the Rubicon is crossed, the bridges burned, and with her motto ion my lips, f Never too weak to win ! ' I take my stand : * With God to speed the right, There's no such word as fail.' " Of course I was not licensed. When the vote was announced, I felt free. The trammels were broken. I was no more to be hampered by in- competent officials. I could now speak in my own way, and strike out for myself. The news spread like wild-fire. "Morgan was now himself." At the first religious meeting, songs and shouts went up, and the zeal and enthusiasm knew no bounds. The Beerses and the Marshes, a mighty troop a host in themselves clapped their hands, and decided for an Independent Church. We went two miles east, hired a hall at Long Hill, and organized a new society. Within a mile of our hall were three churches two Episcopal and one Coagregationalist all empty. The Spiritualists held meetings in a wagon-shop, which was also occupied as a dance- hall ; a liquor-shop was hard by. These were the 222 SHADOWY HAND; OR, only places of public % resort. Here was a grand field open for trying my hand in spiritual reform ; a little of the Methodist element would stimulate other denominations ; if I could succeed here, T could anywhere. No sooner had the revival com- menced on Long Hill, than the three churches were opened, all the members exhibiting unparal- leled activity. Good men and manhood were at a premium ; children were in great demand for Sun- day-schools. Proselyte timber became scarce. All that were to be confirmed went to the Episco- pal churches ; those that believed in fore-ordina- tion went to the Congregationalists, and we had the rest. MORGAN CHAPEL, At Long Hill, near Bridgeport, Conn. Page 223. XJFE-STKUGGLES. 223 CHAPTER XXIII. Church Built, Dedicated, and paid for. "Morgan Chapel" llev. J. B, Wakeley. Kev. E. E. Griswold. Increase of Membership. Certificate of Life Membership. Spirit- ual Influence of Church. My Reluctance to preach the Farewell Sermon. Leave for New London. success at Long Hill, considering its sparse population, was remarkable. We soon numbered over a hundred members, having five bands, with five leaders, in va- rious districts, every week, besides the public meetings on the Sabbath. Here I learned what holy enthusiasm could do, and resolved to push the battle to the gate. The members of this so- ciety were generally poor, especially those on the eastern side, but a company of more holy and enthusiastic worshippers I had never witnessed. When I saw what bufletings they would endure, what trials, and what sacrifices for religion, I felt encouraged. From the extreme borders of the circuit, even through snow and storm, they were almost invariably at their post. And such singing ! And such praying ! And this was not through the excitement of a few weeks only, but for nearly two years, during the time I was with them. And their holy living so corresponded with their pro fession, that even the ungodly were filled with awe 224 SHADOWY HAND; OR, and respect at such disinterested devotion. Add what love had those saints for me ! What devo- tion to my interests ! What jealousy over my rep- utation ! Brother Beers, who thought that I had been neglected in the missionary life-membership by the ruling authorities, went to Conference himself, paid the whole amount for a life-member, and brought the engraving home. Presenting it to me, he declared that he desired to see "fair play," and thought that a man laboring in the missionary cause as I had done, and without charge, was entitled to the honor. We continued to increase in numbers rapidly, and the hall became too straight for us. A lot was purchased, the corner- stone was laid by Kev. E. E. Griswold, P. E., May 20th, 1857. Speeches were delivered by Rev. J. M. Reid, of Bridgeport, and Rev. E. E. Griswold, Presiding Elder, after which I was called upon, and said : "Little did I think, one year ago, that we should be able to build a church at this place, and less that my name would be connected with such lasting associations. Then, we were every- where spoken against as enthusiasts and fanatics. For a score of persons to come together, and sing and pray, and respond with a lively Amen, seemed nothing short of madness. There were against us the example of professors, the victims of vice, UFE-STRUGGLES. 225 and the prejudice of bigotry. Thus with fightings without, and fears within, our little band, poor and despised, commenced operations. But God was greater than our fears, and wrought victories marvellous in our eyes. " We now compare favorably, in number and in spiritual influence, with our sister churches, and with a prospect of a glorious future ; and the thought that my name, this day, is placed upon the inscription-stone, is too much for my feelings, and quite overcomes me. I feel humbled, for I am unworthy of such an honor ; and were it for me alone, I could in nowise accept it. But when I consider the coldness and formality of the churches generally, in New England, the appal- ling increase of intemperance and crime, the opposition you have had to contend with in plant- ing an earnest, spmtual religion, such as has force qnd feeling in it, and such as will preach louder against unbelief than all theoretic dogmas com- bined, I feel that it is the cause you honor, and I am but a pencil in the hand of the Great Artist. " My reluctance is also increased when I con- sider that this name will remain conspicuous to passers-by for a lifetime, whatever may be the fate of the author. It is a solemn thought, and fearful are the responsibilities resting upon me. Oh, may my faith and future success be equal to 15 226 SHADOWY HAND; OR, your wishes and my prayers ! I am soon to roam the world again, and from this place may I trim the lamp of my profession, and, grasping the fire- brands of God's truth, may I carry the flames of a revival from town to town and State to State. May this be the starting-point of a general awak- ening ! " The church was built and paid for, and dedi- cated by the Rev. J. B. Wakeley. My mother was there to wave the blessing of her " Shadowy Hand." On the corner-stone of the sacred edifice was engraved " Morgan Chapel " ; I was licensed by my own church. The pews were rented, and I was now to have a salary. Over two years I had worked without charge or emolument. I had also given $1,000 towards the new edifice. Alas ! my troubles pursued me. A superan- nuated preacher, who had accumulated a fortune by peddling shirts and brooms, claimed that I had built upon his circuit, and demanded the charge of the pulpit. I at once gave up the church, rather than have any difficulty, as it was deeded to Conference, knowing that Conference would supply them with a spiritual man. I delivered the Farewell Discourse, and took for text Acts xx. 22 : " These are the words of Paul to the Church at Ephesus. They form a part of one of the most pathetic farewell discourses ever LIFE-STRUGGLES. 227 recorded. The emotions that filled his soul at parting with the church he had ministered unto for two years, his reflections that they would see his face no more, moved him beyond expression. He recounted his trials and triumphs, and felt pain at leaving them as sheep without a shepherd ; yet he longed to enter the contest at Jerusalem, and to preach the doctrine of the Crucified in the capitol. "In a-much humbler degree these are my feelings in leaving this youthful church at the present time. As the rules will not allow me to be preacher-in-charge of the church which I have builded, I feel that my call is away, and I long to be engaged in a wider field of usefulness, and bat- tle on more difficult ground. When I first com- menced to preach at Long Hill, we had trials to contend with not unlike those at Ephesus. Yet, poor and weak as we were, the God of Sabaoth laid to His helping hand ; miracles of grace were wrought ; our hall became too small ; a church was built ; and now, in one year's time, you stand res- pectably among the congregations, and compare favorably in numbers "and influence with any church in these parts. I now cast-off the .cable that has so long anchored me among you; and for the swellings of untried seas, I leave the harbor of my dearest recollections. As I seem to be reced- 228 SHADOWY HAND; OR, ing, I turn back for one farewell glance at the objects of interest which have occupied the choicest moments of my life. Here have I toiled, suffered, and finally triumphed, and here has been the first congregation which I could call my own. It is a matter of congratulation that the congregation still holds its own ; but few have died, and but few have gone back to the world. The faces that rose from the altar, for the first time beaming with exultations of hope and victory, I see before me, smiling with the same hope ; and the friends that risked much and sacrificed much for me, are still faithful to the cause of God. They have lost nothing. So I hope it may ever be, that no person by me shall lose anything in reputation or spiritual interest, and may never be brought into a smaller place, but into a larger one. My object is to do them good, and not evil ; and if I can bring out the talent of one young man to the world, whereby the world may be benefited, I shall be thankful. I have been here contending for a principle ; it is the right to preach in a natural, earnest, and colloquial manner, whatever preju- dice, bigotry, and custom may say to the con- trary notwithstanding. God helping me, I intend to pursue the same course with renewed energy when I arrive in Boston. "And now behold I go, bound in the spirit, to LIFE-STRUGGLES. 229 *. that city, ' not knowing the things that shall befall me there.' If I succeed in winning many souls to Christ, if the multitude hang upon my lips as at other times, and God attends the work with power, I hope you may share with me the victory. And when you receive tokens of my success, I hope to be remembered in your prayers ; and, by the little victories we have won, let us think of each other, and, at the heavenly places where we have wor- shipped together in Christ Jesus, let our interests be reciprocal, and there may I be remembered. If I am unfortunate, and shall lose my reputation or my health, and come back forlorn and desti- tute, it is a consolation to know that I may yet have friends who will not cast me off in time of need, and who will not close the door to my dis- tress, or witness my sufferings without feelings of compassion. There are no acquaintances so dear, and no associations so sweet, as those formed at the feet of Jesus. There to bind those acquaintances are connected the interests of two worlds, the union of mortal and immortal powers. And if Memory shall be allowed in heaven to look upon places and faces on earth, the dearest place in all our recollection will be where we gave our hearts to God, and the faces first in our affections will be those that pointed us to the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world. 230 SHADOWY HAND; OR, j* "When I remember what anxieties you hav felt for my interest and that of Zion, what forbear- ance you have exhibited toward my weaknesses, what forgiveness toward my faults, what confidence in the integrity of my heart and the honesty of my intentions, and with what unhesitating willing- ness ye have complied with my wishes, when I consider these, I feel unworthy of such friends, and unworthy of the confidence you have placed in me. But God knows my heart ; and, unworthy as I am, I cannot forget these kindnesses, these sacrifices, and these prayers, so long as Memory holds her reign. . I cannot forget the hearty wel- comes with which I have been greeted at your homes, the generous board spread for my gratifi- cation and pleasure, the friendly encouragements and congratulations, the kind counsels, the family altar, and songs and conversations about Jesus ; I cannot forget this church and this altar, the altar where we have so many times kneeled, where the heavenly powers have come down to our waiting souls in overflowing raptures, where our hearts have been united in that love which passeth knowl- edge, where we have taken the emblems of our blessed Lord in the Holy Eucharist. I cannot for- get this building, the subject of so much care and anxiety, so many prayers and sacrifices ; I cannot forget its associations. No, its tall spire is the UFE-STRUGGLES. 231 last lingering object of which I lose sight, in my slow and reluctant retreat, and the first to greet me in my return. When its gilded vane shall first meet the morning sun, may that sun find mo in prayer for your prosperity ! When that sun, full risen, with its resplendent beams, pours its flood of light and love upon your Sabbath gather- ings, and when you are assembled with one accord in one place, with hearts all elated, with the rap- tures of joy and blessings of hope, listening to the one who may fill my place more acceptably, perhaps, than, myself, still, in the midst of your pleasures, remember me, a lone wanderer up and down the world ; and let your faith, swifter than the rays of the sun, bring answers of peace to my inquiring soul, and, like the telegraphic shock, may the electric spark tell me that I am thought of vhen far away I "What a strange, mysterious power there is in faith and prayer, to bind souls in a union and har- mony of feeling, while they are many miles apart ! I have often, when in scenes of danger and death, felt this. When weary with hearing the com- plaints of the prisoner, and with comforting the mourning, I have felt the spell come over me like a dream that roused my drooping spirits, refresh- ing my soul ; and I could but believe that it was in answer to a mother's prayer. 232 SHADOWY HAND; OR, "When on foot, and alone, in the wilderness of Canada, fatigued and exhausted, I lay down, re- signed to the will of heaven, the thought of pray- ing friends anxious for my welfare, and waiting to welcome .me back again, darted like lightning across my mind, and I arose, and resolved, by the energy of Hope, to meet them. What but the Spirit of the living God can inspire and answer prayers thus in our necessity? As our day is, so shall our strength be. "Then with my eyes open to danger, and certain only in one thing, that of affliction, I can say that ' none of these things move me,' neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus. The only things that move me are the tears which I see suffusing your eyes, and the thought that I may see your faces no more. The thought brings before me the lovely past, with all its associations of love and heavenly union ; and when you sing, ' What ! never part again?' my soul says, if partings be so severe let us meet where we never shall part again. And the music of this choir I shall remember, a music coming from hearts that can pray as well as sing. " And now, as my little bark pushes off from these golden shores, these sweet associations, per- LIFE-STRUGGLES. 233 mit me to thank you ; in the name of God, and the church of His Son, to thank you. Yet thanks cannot express my meaning ; it is too cold a term ; and the letters of language and the sound of words cannot do it ; nothing but that Spirit which has so long witnessed with our spirits, witnessed our love, our faith, our prayers for each other, our holy communion and heavenly rejoicings, which has upheld us, defended, sustained us, in doubt and fears, in trials and conflicts ; which has made us feel for others more than ourselves, and prefer others above ourselves ; which has made us of one heart, one mind, one spirit, bearing all things, hoping all things, believing all things, enduring all things ; that Spirit only can tell the gratitude of my feelings and the overflowing of my heart. To say that I love you and thank you, is to say but little ; and to say that you have been kind and friendly, is what many may say ; but to say that, when a wanderer, and but a boy preacher, a bird- ling first beating his untried wings, you took me in and licensed me, and counselled me, and placed your reputation in jeopardy for me, and watched me as a parent bird over her callow young, and to say that under God I owe my elevation as a preacher to your efforts and your prayers, is noth- ing more than the truth, and far short of the hid- den meaning and spiritual interpretation of Ian- 234 SHADOWY HAND; OR, guage. Then reluctantly, and with suppressed feelings of emotions, deep struggling for utter- ance, conies that endearing and oft-repeated word, Farewell ! "Now the guardian spirit that has thus far inspired me, tells me that I must leave you. Tha$ spirit seems to speak what I cannot utter. Its harp-strings are tuned to the strains of a most affecting farewell. I see it in the tearful eye, as the well-springs of the heart open the fountains of their feelings and overflow the sluices of the soul. I see, in saint and sinner, the working of that Spirit melting your hearts as one, and subduing the harsher feelings of your nature. That Spirit, hovering over this altar, and touching the lips of the kneeling worshipper with fire from the eternal throne, must inspire those lips with the notes of a mournful farewell. Farewell to this altar and this sacred desk ! Farewell to these walls echoing the praise of salvation, and these faces that I may never see again ! Farewell to the Leaders who have labored so faithfully, to the choir which has been the solace of many a weary hour, and the strength of many an encounter. And with them I sound the last strain. . Now with the vapors of evening, with the soft zephyr, comes whispering, with lessening cadence, that last solemn Fare- well!" LIFE-STRUGGLES. 235 CHAPTEE XXIV. Labors at New London. First Appeal to the Pocket. How - to disperse a Crowd. Last Nights' Meetings in Second Baptist Church. Revival Commenced. Three Hundred joined the Baptist Churches. Additions to other Churches. Union Meetings. Union Church. New London Con- tribution to the Boston Fair. Preached at Norwich, Mys- tic, Westerly and Providence. AEEIVED at New London in October, on jill a Saturday afternoon, and was cordially in- vited to preach in three of the churches the following day. I preached in the morning at the Second Baptist Church, Eev. O. T. Walker, Pastor. I took for my text, " God will provide." It was indeed applicable to my condition, as I had literally "gone out, not knowing whither I went." I saw, by the sympathy of the audience, that my earnestness had touched the right chord, and was warmly greeted at the close. In the after- noon I occupied the Methodist pulpit, and in the evening that of Elder Swan's large brick church. The Elder lamented much the declension of Evan- gelical religion in the city, and said he would be " a hewer of wood and drawer of water " for a 236 SHADOWY HAND; OK, revival ; therefore I girt up my loins for earnest work. I preached in the several churches, and at length settled down in the basement of the Second Bap- tist Church, as it was central and commodious. Here I paid the expenses for lighting and heating, and labored night and day for several weeks, but with little success. My audiences were gathered from the lanes and the by-ways ; they came and went at will, like a flock of sheep; I fear some were " lost sheep." After sermon one night, I proposed a collection for expenses of the church. I said, "I charge noth- ing for my services, but you may contribute towards the lighting and heating." This was the first time I had touched their pockets ; it fell like a bomb-shell. What a scattering I One started for the door, then another, and another, until a grand rush crowded the passage-way. There was no alarm of fire, no apparent danger, yet they fled as if for their dear lives. If their giving had been as lively as their going, no one knows how much I might have received. I thought .from that night, if ever I wanted to disperse rioters, I would send a contribution-box in their midst. Of that large assembly I don't think that two dozen remained to contribute any- thing, so the matter dropped, and I continued to LIFE-STRUGGLES. 237 pay the expenses, until I was notified to leave the church. Why was I warned to leave ? The truth was, the preachers had decided to withdraw their forces from me. Such a stir among the lowly, so much preaching and praying from house to house, had roused the preachers' jealousy. Nothing seemed more certain to them than my defeat and departure, if they withdrew from me and left me to the tender mercies of the ungodly. I was to be left, like the brave Uriah, to fight and die alone. Joab's forces were instructed to with- draw, that the patriot might fall by the enemy. With me, my reputation was a matter of life or death. If I could not succeed here, I could not hope to succeed in Boston, or anywhere in New England. Success is everything in a man's rep- utation. " Success is a duty." Cataline was no greater conspirator than Csesar, but success crowned the one, defeat branded the other as a traitor. The Lord might honor me with a con- sciousness I had done my duty, but the public never would flock to me in other cities,* if I came without trophies of victory. It was imperative that I should get some poor souls converted ; God only could do the work. I prayed, fasted, and labored as I had never labored before. I asked the committee to give me the church for two days just two days only and I never would ask for 238 SHADOWY HAKD; OR, it again. They consented, what few friends I had to responded. Monday came, and found us holding three meetings a day, morning, afternoon, and even- ing. That evening I took for my text, " I AM hath sent thee." I spoke of the call of Moses to deliver his people Israel, his refusal, at first, to go, and the anger of the Lord that was kindled against him. He at last consented, and great was the joy of the Israelites when he came among them. But when their deliverance was to be attended with difficulty, and when their bondage grew more severe, they blamed Moses for not staying in Midian. "Now this is my case. Your Elders at first wel- comed mo, and said they would be even 'hewers of wood and drawers of water ' for a revival. I came to you, sent of God, with the rod of faith in my hand. You listened at first, and were glad ; but when deliverance would demand trials and sac- rifices, and when the Pharaohs of sin were likely to be stirred up in opposition, and when the mon- grel Israelite must be separated from the true blood, ye trembled. The Israelites asked for a sign,amiracle ; and is there no sign here to attest our mission ? More than one soul has been converted. Is not that a miracle ? What power has inspired LIFE-STRUGGLES. 239 eucli agony of prayer, such a burden for souls in our afternoon meetings ? What power awakened that backslider at dead of night, with such fearful visions of Eternity? What made that man, never before heard to pray, this morning, at break of clay, in his shop, praying, 'Lord, save! or I perish ! ' ? What meaneth this agony of soul ? What meaneth this excitement among the uncon- * verted? this sympathy for me at my unchristian treatment ? What has awakened the spirit of sac- rifice and prayer all over New London ? What but the ' GREAT I AM,' who hath sent me ? " Next evening the basement would not hold the people, and the main body of the house was opened. Many prayers were offered for me to stay longer ; and one poor Methodist woman gave me two dol- lars, with such prayers and tears as decided me, more than anything else, to stay, if the Lord should open the way. But some of the staid Leaders approached me, and advised me to go, as I could do no good, for there was a general feeling against me. I asked, " Who has made this feeling, and what offence have I committed? I suppose I preach and pray a little livelier than you have been accustomed to. If the Lord hath sent me, this is leaving in an abrupt manner indeed." The general impression was that I should go, as there would be no house allowed me, and this, at 240 SHADOWY HAND; OR, any rate, would be my last sermon in a New Lon- don meeting-house. In my sermon I spoke of Paul's parting with the Ephesians ; that he coveted no man's silver, or gold, or apparel ; that he had not shunned to declare the whole counsel of God, and had taught them publicly, and from house to house. These were labors much like my own. I then turned to the unconverted. " The hour has now come when we must part, unless you take a bold, determined stand for Christ, and that imme- diately. You know you are convicted. God's truth has pierced your hearts like an arrow. Why do you mourn, and groan, and not come forward? Christ is ready to receive you, and the Recording A ngel stands waiting to record your name in the Lamb's Book of Life. Will you start, will you seize the precious moment ? Mind ! The decis- ion is for ETERNITY ! Eternity is measured in one little word, ' Now ! ' And now the last moment 'has arrived that decides between me and you, and between you and your God ! Whether I stay another day in New London or not, depends upon this moment. Souls must be converted ; if I stay, I remain only on one condition : that you start for heaven. Start, but not if not convicted ! Not for me ! not to keep me in New London ! But for your own sake, and for Eternity ! This is the decisive point : all that will start, and desire our LIFE-STRUGGLES. 241 prayers, let them rise and stand upon their feet ! " Twenty persons immediately rose, and ten of them were that night converted to God. A large hall was hired for me to preach in on Sabbath even- ings, and a smaller one during the week, until over two hundred came forward for prayers. Thus commenced the greatest revival ever known in New London. Soon the "gentle ram" extended to other churches, and they reaped a glorious harvest, according to their faith and labors. Three hun- dred joined the Baptist churches, and the Meth- odist and Congregational churches T\ ere largely increased. Some of my friends obtained a hall in East New London, and there they established Union Meet- ings, and years afterwards these meetings still continued to have a most beneficent influence, and filially a Union Church was built. At our first Fair in Boston, the greatest attrac- tion was the "New London Table." Kind friends in New London had sent us a donation of wax- work, needlework, embroideries, Avorsteds, and shell-work, which far surpassed, in beauty and value, any other contribution. I went from New London^o Norwich. Here I preached in the Methodist and Baptist churches, in 16 242 SHADOWY HAND; OK, the Town Hall, and in a large book-bindery, in the Preston side of the town, where I had great suc- cess. During my subsequent travels all over the land, I have met with converts from the book- bindery. A Norwich paper says : "Rev. Henry Morgan has preached for several months in this city with unwearied efforts, and with some tokens of success. About two hundred have presented themselves for prayers, many of whom are taken from the strongest ranks of sin, and who now show signs of thorough conversion. His <_? CJ labors have been exhausting : he has preached from ten to fourteen times a week, until he has dropped down before his audience, and been carried away by his friends. It will be necessary for him to recruit during the summer. His remuneration has been small. Many of his friends intend to accompany him, on his departure, as far as New London, for which purpose they will charter the steamboat Tiger Lily. They desire to return the compliment of his New London friends, who char- tered an engine to bring them up, last winter, to assist in his meetings. The young men on the Preston side are quite engaged in the meetings, and also for the excursion." Next I visited Mystic, where I was kindly treated, and where over a hundred professed con- version. Mystic friends were exceedingly warm and enthusiastic. LIFE-STRUGGLES. 243 When 1 lectured there years afterwards, a preacher, converted at my former meetings, said "the lecture was good, but he preferred my old- fashioned revival preaching." At Westerly my success was not quite equal to that of other places, as several sceptics went in to the meetings, and injured their tone before the public. At Providence I preached in the Meth- odist churches, and in the Railroad Hall, and was very kindly received. Unless I had tried my hand here, I should not dare to open in Boston. Prov- idence, next to Boston, in later years, has always given me my largest audiences. I have lectured, of late, fourteen times in Prov- idence, repeating "Fast Young Men" four times, by request. All my new lectures are first deliv- ered in that city, in honor of those who have shown, in their criticisms, the"Koger Williams" spirit of charity. 244 SHADOWY HAND; OR, CHAPTER XXV. Arrival at Boston. Preaching in Three Methodist Churches. Visit to Preachers' Meeting. Preachers' Eefusal to aid me. Kindness of Dr. Kirk. Hiring of Music Hall. First Sermon. "Preaching for the Times." Critical Audience. ROM Providence I came, a stranger, un- heralded, to Boston. I had no friends to assist me ; my help was from God alone. I preached my first sermon in Hanover Street Methodist Church, by invitation of Rev. J. W. Dadman, on the Sabbath morning, and in the afternoon in Hedding Methodist Church, Wil- liams Street, South End, Rev. Mr. Cox, Pastor. On the Wednesday evening following, I preached in Bromfield Street Church by invitation of Rev. Lorenzo Thayer. This was my last sermon among the Methodists, except when I exchanged with Bishop Haven. I went to the Preachers' Meet- ing, and found that they did not wish to further my efforts, unless I submitted to the direction of Conference, and would remove when Conference should direct. I stated that Father Taylor had been here fourteen years, perhaps I might stay ab long. I had a license with me to preach, and LIFE-STRUGGLES. 245 as uij license named no particular field, I consid- ered it my right to preach wherever there was an opening. I had built one church for Conference, and had not been allowed to preach in it. I should hesitate before I built another. They said, " You're not ordained." I replied, "I'll han:l in my letter, and wait for ordination." "We shall not ordain you, unless you join Con- ference ; neither will any other denomination." "If I am refused, then," I said, "I will create a denomination that will ordain me ! " They said, "You have no building to preach in ; now can you hope to succeed in this great city, having no friends ? " I said, "I will hire a building; I will hire Bos- ton Music Hall ! " " But that will take money." "Well, I have a thousand dollars ready in my pocket. When that is gone, if the Lord does not sustain me I shall think I am not called." The preachers thought this a bold undertaking, no man in his senses would attempt it. I said to them, I had already preached for Dr. Kirk; and the Doctor, after the sermon, grasping me by the hard, said, " If this be a sample of your preach- ing, go on, and the Lord will sustain you in Bos- ton." 246 SHADOWY HAND; OR, " If Methodists can't endure old-fashioned Meth- odist preaching, and the Cougregationalists can, I'll strike out for Independence, and push my own boat." They said, "You can't fill the Music Hall; no- body can fill it except Theodore Parker." I said, " I can try ; my motto has been, ' Hope against Hope ! ' ' "With God to speed the right, There's no such word as fail ! ' " 1 hired Music Hall, and commenced to preach ; but I must confess the audience gave me rather a cool reception. There were cold professors from Cambridge, calm and sedate Churchmen of Bos- ton, cool sceptics, the uneasy novelty-seeker, and the astute critic, with eye-glass on nose, watching every thought and gesture, and noting every eccentricity as minutely as a trader, before pur- chasing a horse, examines every part. My first sermon was delivered Feb. 27th, 1859. In introducing myself, I said : " In appearing as a religious teacher before a Boston audience, it may be necessary for me to define my position. For several years I have been laboring among the poor and prisoners in various States, and in a mission which is vulgarly termed LIFE-STRUGGLES . 247 'on my own hook.' It may be asked, Why not labor among your own denomination ? I answer, That the poor to whom I am sent are not of any particular denomination ; the world is my field. As to being called, there is a vast difference between being 'called' and being 'sent.' We are often called to the place of the highest and the loudest call has the sweetest silver-tone. But we are generally sent the other way, down among the poor. Says Christ, ' The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He hath anointed me to Breach the gospel to the poor.' ' I am sent to the lost sheep of the house of Israel ' ; therefore we are often called one way and sent another. And brave is the man who can resist the silver ' call,' and obey the copper * sent.' "My object in Music Hall is to present the gospel to the working-classes, and to open a mission for the poor in some part of the city. This can be done by no one denomination, and by no common missionary arrangement. If you say there are some free seats in the churches, still the self-respect of an American mechanic will not receive as a gift what others purchase ; and if he cannot com- pete with others in seat and dress for his family, he will stay at home. Nothing can meet tho demands but a hall, where all seats are considered alike, and all persons are on a common level. 248 SHADOWY HAND; OR, " It alarms my friends to think that without a single backer, or a single dollar pledged, I should come, an entire stranger in the city, and while other preachers have their established churches, and members covering the whole ground, that I should hire the hall when three weeks' rent would cost more than I ever had for preaching in my whole life. Yet such is the case. 1 may be mis- taken in the generosity of Boston ; but, as seven years ago, when but a mere boy, I lectured in Tremont Temple, and had the expenses refunded to me, I have yet to learn that in the same conimu- .nity bread cast upon the waters may not again return." I took for my text, " Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature." Mark xvi. 15, 16. "Nothing could be more unpromising than this, the last commission of Christ to His dis- ciples. To human appearance it was wanting in all the essential elements of success. First, the Author. Had Jesus started from a distinguished city of some vast empire, and from the first schools and authorities of His times, and been followed by accomplished disciples, the world perhaps might give Him a hearing. But He was from a small province, and from a small and despised city of that province. To be a working carpenter, the son of a carpenter, housed in a stable, cradled in LIFE-STRUGGLES. 249 a manger; then to be condemned by His own countrymen condemned as an impostor, slain as a malefactor for the followers of such a leader to think of succeeding, and those disciples themselves without learning, without popular influ- ence, in fishermen garb and Galilean brogue, for them to aspire to the seats of the Aristotles and thrones of the Caesars, what could be more pre- posterous ! For such fishermen-preachers to dare disturb the shades of Demosthenes and the manes of Homer, what but a superhuman power could make them venture even the first attempt? But they were commanded, and they went in their Master's name. They had a secret power the world, was unacquainted with ; an ineradicable principle, which neither fagots, stones, nor steel could'crush. " And here is the secret of their success : in bear- ing, enduring, suffering. The hope of immortal- ity made them obedient unto death. The world had not seen the like. When from Jerusalem the Pharisees and disciples of Gamaliel stood round a dying Stephen, and saw him praying for his per- secutors amid a shower of stones, they were astounded at the spectacle, and saw the Jewish hierarchy crumbling before the suffering constancy of martyrdom. When Imperial Rome witnessed the martyrs march smilingly to the rack and to the stake, welcoming the flames, which to them were 250 SHADOWY HAND; OR, but a fiery chariot to glory welcoming the chain of iron which is soon to be exchanged for a golden crown their mockery and ribaldry, when hear- ing, far above their blasphemy, the watchword, 'Be faithful unto death and I will give thee a crown of life,' and seeing the heavens open to their enraptured vision, while they were shouting 'Vic- tory ! victory ! ' Heathenism flew to the dens and caves, and Idolatry, as if smitten with a thou- sand thunderbolts, was scattered to the moles and bats. " We now consider the ' manner^ 9 of their preach- ing, in contrast with the ministrations of the pres- ent day. The pulpit is the great bulwark for the stability of government, the home of the sub- limest oratory, the fountain of the purest elo- quence, and the ' Legio Fulminea? the thunder- ing legion against vice, if it be properly manned. But the watchmen of the American pulpit have yet to learn that to be ' stuck over with titles wins no battles,' and that reading an essay on meta- physical dogmas, ' coldly correct, and critically dull,' Avithout one pointed thrust, or strong appeal, is not preaching. They have yet to learn that this fastidious elaborateness, this cushioning the face of the hammer of God's Word, lest it be too harsh for some dignified pew-holder, this hiding the sword of God's truth beneath diamonds, ribbons, LIFE-STRUGGLES. 251 and rhetorical flourishes, this fighting with kid gloves, silver canes, and buskins, will never over- turn Satan's kingdom." (Here I perceived I had the attention of the audience. Some began to stare in astonishment ; others to bow assent, and whisper smiling words of approval.) I continued : " How would Petcf look after being commissioned by heaven to preach, in com- ing to Gamaliel for school-boy lessons, and copy- ing enough of the Targums and Talmuds to weave into a discourse, then start for Athens with man- uscript in hand, and with the gruff voice of a fisher- man, and brogue of Galilee, an unlearned and ignorant man, as he and John were said to be, even after they had received the Holy Ghost, and there upon the forum of Demosthenes read a dis- sertation on the moral and intellectual merits of the Nazarene? How ridiculous to stand before the household of Caesar to demonstrate, from a written essay, the necessity of abandoning all the gods and religion of their fathers, all the customs, philosophy, and poetry of a thousand years, that they might be saved by a malefactor, crucified in that little rebellious province of Judea. What a tremendous excitement he would raise ! What a bluster in the court ! What a furor would the reading of such a document excite ! How soou 252 SHADOWY HAND; OR, would the terror-stricken gods leap from their pedestals ? How soon would Plato and Aristotle seek the shade, and blush and bow before the unlet- tered Galilean? How soon would the whole Ro- man Empire be turned upside down? It may be affirmed 'that those times demanded earnest preach- ing, for they were less refined than ours.' I ask, What times do not demand it ? Nature is the same in all times. And when, in New England, in the face of these giant-growing sins, was more vehe- ment preaching ever demanded ? w Object and language of preaching. The apos- tles had but one motive, one object, and one aim : and that was the conversion of sinners. If that were attained by preaching, they gave God the glory ; if attained by suffering and death, they re- joiced to be counted worthy to die. In perils by sea, in perils by land, in weariness and painfulness, hunger and thirst, cold and nakedness, they were alike invincible. Such were the first preach- ers of Christianity. " In language they were untrammelled with the technicalities and dialectics of the schools, the pro- lific source of so many deists and athiests of our day ; but coming direct from the people, their lan- guage was simple, earnest, vehement and over- whelming. " And here is the great fault of modern preach- LIFE-STRUGGLES. 253 ing. Its language is from books, not men. Relig- ion is a social principle, entering into all the affairs of life, and should be preached in a social manner. The very name of ' homily ' once meant a social discourse. Religion should be preached in nat-; uralness. We are natural in everything else but preaching. Away with your multitude of ' firstly, secondly, thirdly,' and forty other arbitrary divi- sion, subdivisions, and sub-sub-divisions. The people demand social colloquial preaching, such as Jesus delivered in parables by the sea-side, when preaching about sheep, fishes, and harvest- fields. Such was the preaching of Paul, when he preached all night at Troas. Such was the preach- ing of the golden-mouthed Chrysostom, when receiving vociferous applause from the audience. But now even a loud 'Amen, 'in our sleepy times, would start Dignity from his boots, and shock a fashionable' audience like an earthquake. Origen, who first introduced metaphysical subtilities, also introduced dangerous heresies. And in the pres- ent day, dogmatic theology and mechanical preach- ing are making more infidels than all the infidel writers in Christendom. " The Bible has been belied by its pretended defenders. Oh, ye followers of the fishermen ! Infidelity laughs at your sham fighting, your blank cartridges, and paper bullets. Away with your 254 SHADOWY HAND ; OR, essences and quintessences, and give your hungry people bread ! Throw off the cumbrous armor of Saul, and choose the pebble-stones and the sling. Cry out, ' Fire ! fire ! fire ! ' like a faithful watch- man, when the city is in danger. Not, ' 'Ignis! ignis ! ignis ! fuge ires Dei Tonitrus ! ' But ' Fire I fire ! flee the thunders of God's wrath.' " (Here the College Professors began to stare, as if my mode of expression was something strange, unusual. All were on the qui vive to ascertain what was to follow.) " Let your words be simple. Some of the strong- est expressions in language are composed of mon- osyllables. 'God said, Lot there be light: and there was light,' is one of them. Sanctimonious dignity would say, 'The Omnipotent commanded ; and forthwith confiscations of effulgence descended upon the sable brow of Erebus.' God's Word is Yea, Nay, and Amen. Jesus Christ could use satire. Elijah mocked the priests of Baal, and said, 'Cry aloud, for he is a god.' John the Bap- tist cried, 'O generation of vipers, who hath warned you to flee from the wrath to come?' Peter said to them, ' Ye have killed the Prince of Life/ He called them murderers to their face. But we, forsooth, to silence the batteries of sin, must flee from common language, and fortify our- selves behind the pulpit, give out orders in Latin, and fight with puff balls 1 IJFE-STKUGGLES. 255 * Need, of change. Thus we contrast with the preaching of our fathers and the apostles. What but a thorough change can meet the exigencies of the case? Scepticism assumes new forms, erect- ing new batteries in our very midst. Intemper- ance grows gigantic, unmet by either law or gospel. Maine Laws are but cobwebs, and pulpit essays but gossamer ; yet they tell us * there is no need of change.' 'Is there not a cause?' said David, when the Philistines threatened Israel with total overthrow, with none to meet the giant ; and is there not a f cause ' for a change of warfare in our Israel? a cause for simpler weapons, and for a stronger arm of faith? Walk ye down these streets where Infamy holds her diabolical reign, Debauchery her gilded chambers of death, checked neither by Church nor State ; then tell me there is not a cause ! Tell me that a gospel able to save to the uttermost the odds and ends of earth, the lowest of the low, cannot be- made to bear in their case! 'Oh, tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon, lest the Philistines rejoice, lest the uncircumcised triumph.'" (Quite a sensation was now apparent, almost amounting to applause. Many shifted about in their seats, and brought their canes heavily to the floor, as if to say, " That's so ! there is need of a change!"} 256 SHADOWY HAND OR, "I ask, If the fallen were to reform to-day, liow many churches of this city would welcome them, and, Christ-like, have it said, 'He eateth with them ' ? How many would present a gospel they could understand? How many of the preachers have time to visit these outcasts? And if they should, how many are competent to sympathize with the mourning, and bind up the broken- hearted ? " Methodists. Shades of the "Wesleys ! Fathers of Methodism I Where now your ancient glory ? Tomb of Whitefield! Shrine of the brave! Where that voice that once shook the world ? Oh, stir your venerable bones ! rouse your hallowed dust ; and from your sacred ashes let there rise the phoenix of a new reformation ! And ye fathers of American Methodism ! Ye once despised Meth- odists I ye whose names were cast out as evil ! ye graduates from Nature's own university, from kitchens, school-houses, camp-meetings, and barns ; ye whose diplomas were written with the finger of God, and whose only criterion was success ! look down from your glorified seats, upon us your children. Bow your reverend heads, and weep, if immortals can weep, over our condition. Look upon the heritage ye have left us ! Where the example ye have taught us ? Where the fol- lowers ye may call your children ? Where that LIFE-STRUGGLES. 257 untiring zeal which drove you through all reproach, all sacrifice of body and soul, for Christ? Where that zeal for the conversion of sinners, which rejoiced with joy unspeakable at their coming home to God ; which considered every sermon a failure without immediate results ? a zeal that cries, ' Give me souls, else I die ! ' " Where that sympathy for the poor ? that Christ- like compassion for them which made many a mul- titude rise up and call you blessed ? Where that apostolic success which broke forth on the right hand and on the left? Where those loud shouts that made many a Jericho fall, and many an enemy cry out, ' It is the power of God ' ? Where that unconquerable faith which took no denial ; which laughed at impossibilities ; which had great results ? Alas ! alas I ' How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished.' Alas ! ' The bow that turned not back, and the shield of the mighty are vilely cast away.' "Oh, what a falling off is here ! And why is this ? Is sin less abounding ? Are the poor less needy of the gospel ? Shall sinners go unwarned ?. Hear it, Almighty God ! Shall they people the regions of dark despair without one inviting voice ? No! NO! by yonder Common, where Jesse Lee preached ; by yonder Old Elm, whose umbrageous boughs overshadowed the first Methodism of this 17 258 SHADOWY HAND; OK, metropolis ; no, by the tomb at Newburyport, it shall not be ! no, so long as Whitefield's bones remain in glorious repose upon our shore, the dry bones of backslidden churches shall hear the trum- pet of Resurection ! "Modern Whitefields. Oh, wonderful age of Whitefields this ! I ask, Who among the modern Whitefields preaches from seven to fourteen times a week, and when preaching six or nine times, considers it short allowance? Who, with deep emotion before every audience, speaks ' As if he ne'er might preach again, A dying man to dying men' ? Who, in agony of soul, with strong cries and tears, feels the destiny of immortal souls hung upon the efforts of every moment? Who feels his knees trembling, his heart bursting with grief, and his eyes a fountain of tears, while praying, * Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me,' and still feeling, ' Wo is unto me, if I preach not the gospel ' ? Who sacrifices all for Christ, home, friends, ease, wealth, reputation? Who goes from house to house, and from town to town, like a blazing comet, preaching at all hours, and giving every dollar for Christ? Oh, ye modern Whitefields ! Ye who use your voice only one LIFE-STRUGGLES. 259 day in seven, great indeed are your labors, and great your sacrifice I "Is there no remedy? Oh, America! has it come to this? Shall science advance with rail- road and telegraphic speed, and preaching retro- grade ? Shall infidelity triumph on Puritan soil ? Shall its pitchy cloud of locusts eat up every green thing, with no rod of Moses to drive them into the sea ? Shall it part the sacred ties of hus- band and wife, destroy the confidence of society, desecrate the Sabbath, tear down pur altars, break up our Sabbath-schools, undermine the pulpit, trample upon the Bible, crushing our every hope, with no prophet to cry against it?" (Great sen- sation.) "Hark ! the sound of conflict is heard ! The battle is already begun ; shall we flee to our tents, fold our arms, and cry ' Peace, peace ! ' when there is no peace ? God of Sabaoth forbid ! Then come from the four winds, O breath, and let these bones live I O Breath ! BREATHE upon these slain ! Bid them rise, and stand upon their feet, a mighty army. Already I see a thousand eyes flash with triumph ; a thousand hearts beat to the tread of battle ; a thousand hands grasp the sword of God's eternal truth ; and a thousand spirit voices shout, Victory I victory I " 260 SHADOWY HAND; OR, CHAPTEE XXVI. Large Audiences. Effect of the Sermon. Congratulations. Circulation of Sermon. Three Services a Day. At Music Hall, Wait's Hall, and Lager-Beer Saloon. Decline of Health. Funds Running Low. Rainy Sunday Morn- ing. Story of the Robin. Sermon on Woman's Mission. HE audience at my first sermon in Music Hall was large, and the response was generous, both in feeling and contribu- tion. The collection was the largest I ever received. Bishop Huntingtou, then a Pro- fessor of Harvard College, was in the audience, and said he was highly pleased, and hoped the movement would succeed. He soon started a similar work, in Boston, himself; several other Professors, and leading citizens of Boston, gath- ered round me in congratulation. In the evening I continued the same discourse ; my sermons were already printed, and lay upon the table. A thousand copies of them were taken. Next morning paper-carriers were distributing them all over South End. The name of " Morgan" was upon hundreds of lips. Great interest was awakened, an I great inquiry as to whether I should be a success. I had hired the hall for a short time IJFE-STKUGGLES. 261 only, to get advertised before the public, BO that I could establish a mission among the poor. Many of my first audience have remained firm friends and co-workers with me unto the present time. My first convert in Boston was at the first prayer- meeting in the reception-room of the Music Hall, on the first Sunday evening. During the week I held various meetings, and visited from house to house. The Boston Bee reports : "The new religious movement was inaugurated yesterday afternoon, at Music HalL It is proposed to have services every Sunday, free to all, those in attendance con- tributing or not, as the spirit may dictate, or their means allow. "Mr. Morgan is of the Methodist denomination, and of the Revivalist stamp, though in this move- ment he does not appear in a denominational character. He has labored for the most part in Connecticut, in which State he has a reputation of some note as a preacher. " The subject of the sermon was 'Preaching for the Times.' The main idea of his discourse was, that we needed preaching that is more earnest and hearty, preaching that not only touches the heart, but penetrates and rouses the soul. He criti- cised modern preaching with a keen tongue and ready wit. Preaching upon velvet, and with 262 SHADOWY HAND; OK, metaphysical essays, coldly correct and critically done, he thought not only did not do any good, but increased infidelity. The object of preaching should be to convert souls to God ; and this is to be done in a plain, common-sense way, by using such terms and illustrations as we hear daily ; by putting that 'power into it, and feeling,' which made the preaching of the apostles so wonderful. It was the man, he said, and not the words, that, gives power to preaching. The speaker was sad that the spirit of Methodism of Wesley and Whitfield, and other great lights had so degen- erated in the manner of its preaching. " Mr. Morgan is essentially a live preacher, hav- ing all the spirit and energy of Henry Ward Beecher, but resembling him, however, in no con- siderable degree. He uses no notes, and speaks not only with freedom, but with impetuosity. His gestures are violent, irregular, and often awkward. His general manner is something like Gough's : theatrical, startling, and frequently spasmodic. As a preacher, however, he has much power, and we will venture a guess that he will be a great suc- cess. In person, he is a genuine specimen of a live Yankee. The man, his manner, style, spirit, will not fail to draw a crowd." After this I preached one sermon each Sabbath in Music Hall, one in Wait's Hall, South Boston, LIFE-STRUGGLES. 263 and one each Sabbath evening in a lager-beer saloon on Washington Street. The saloon would hold about 200 persons, and the bar was open at the time of preaching. The first night, there were not sober ones enough to keep the drunken ones still ! Thus two antagonistic spiritualities were striving for the mastery. After preaching here several weeks, the proprietor declared that his cus- tomers were leaving, and I should have to take the hall altogether, or give up preaching in it, for the two machines wouldn't run in the same groove ! When he made the grand confession that Kum must succumb to the power of the Gospel, it was the proudest moment of my life. The thought of bearding the lion in his den filled me with con- fidence and hope. I said : "Now I shall succeed in Boston." But visiting twenty families a day, and holding meetings every night for three months, began to tell upon my health. My nights were sleepless, Nature's sweet restorer rarely bringing balm to my affliction. I suffered great pain ; neuralgia troubled my face. Some nights were spent in pacing my narrow room, others in walking the streets, in the vain effort to ease my anxiety. Many think my taking that hall a rash act ; and so it was, and I staked my all upon it. Well do I remember one cold, rainy Sabbath mom, when 264 SHADOWY HAND; OK, rising from a painful, restless couch in a narrow attic in Essex Street, I found it was raining. Th\t rain might prove my ruin. I knew if I failed in this enterprise I should be branded as a fanatic, and my enemies would rejoice to see their prophecies fulfilled. God alone could help me. That morning I rose and prayed ; I prayed in the midst of the tempest, while the storm furiously rattled against my window. If the storm should continue, I should have no audi- ence that day, and no assistance to carry me through another Sabbath, as my funds were get- ting low. Then farewel] to Boston ! In the midst of the pouring rain a robin flew upon a tree near my window in Newbury Place, back of Essex Street, and began to sing. As its shrill, piercing notes rose high above the storm, it fluttered its wings and shook off the fast-falling rain, and still kept on singing. I was struck with surprise at its courage and joy. Ah, thought I, if this poor shivering robin can sing in such a cold, merciless storm, shall I despair? No! if God provides for the raven and the robin, He will not forsake the weakest of His saints ! Glory be to His name ! Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him. That moment my soul lighted up with joy. Light flashed upon my pillow like the brightness LITE-STRUGGLES. 265 of noon-day ; a halo of light shone romicl about me. Then I seemed to hear a voice saying, " What doest thou here, Elijah? Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world." Oh, the calm, holy joy of that ecstatic moment ! Oh, the peace of mind, the rapture of soul, and the sweet quietude of my bodily frame ! My nerves became quiet, pain fled away, and a calm, refreshing sleep fell upon me. I awoke in time for meeting, and looked from the window. Lo ! the storm was gone, the sun shone brightly ; I attended service, the audience was large, my spirit was free, a bless- ing attended the Word. My subject was "Woman's Mission." I said : " Women of America ! How many of you are dying for want of public spiritual exercise ? Dying because you have no field of labor? Dying with nothing to do ? You see the fields already white, and would gladly be a Ruth to take the gleanings ; but there is no Boaz to welcome you. You hear the cries of suffering humanity, but are not allowed to speak in its behalf. But it shall not always be 'so. Preaching has been pulpit-ridden lonsr enough. Preaching must commence in small O CU C7 circles, in private houses, and upper rooms again. The work has already commenced. Twenty femalo missionaries of this city, holding twice that num- ber of meetings per >reek, are busy in the work, 266 SHADOWY HAND; OR, and five hundred more are panting for the field . A mighty change is coming over the spirit of preach- ing, a mighty revolution in the ministrations of the Word. The day-spring is rising. The glori- ous millennial day is dawning, and its radiant advent shall be ushered in by the ministrations of Woman ! " While the disciples were few, who were tho 'many 'that followed Jesus, and ministered to Him of their substance ? Who left husbands and homes in Galilee, and followed on foot for seventy miles, to listen to His teachings? Who was glad to bathe the feet of Jesus, while a proud Simon refused oil for His head ? Who loved much because she was forgiven much? Who watched the dying Son of God when the pale and cowardly disciples had fled ? When one had sold his conscience for money, and another had denied Him with an oath, who still lingered round , and gazed and wept, sighing with His sighs, and shuddering with His groans, pouring out her soul at His agony? Who fol- lowed the mangled corse to its last resting-place, and sat over against the sepulchre weeping ? Who wore the last to leave the sepulchre at evening, and the first to -visit it on the resurrection-morn ? Who was the first to see Jesus after He had risen ? Who received the first commission to preach on the Resurrection ? Who preached the first gospel UFE-STRUGGLES. 267 sermon, and how was it received by the apostles? Just as her story of the cross is received nowadays by faithless disciples, 'And their words seemed to them as idle tales, and they believed them not.' ' Not she with traitorous kiss the Saviour stung ; Not she denied Him with unholy tongue ; She, while apostles shrank, could dangers brave, Last at His cross, and earliest at His grave.' " The star of woman's empire rose with the gos- pel, and sank with it in the Dark Ages. When Methodism arose, her voice was heard again, and every member was enjoined to speak. The social circle is her theatre of action, and prayer the lever of her power. Religion forms her train, Charity fills her court, Mercy is her prime counsellor, and Humanity her subjects. She visits the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and feels that, inas- much as she has done it unto the least of these, she has done it unto Christ. Man may coldly dis- cuss his religion from the pulpit, and clearly con- vince the head. She, by live, warm action, con- vinces and moves the heart. A holy living full of feeling and faith, is the mightiest logic. Man may move the arm of the State and of battle ; she moves the heart that moves the arm. To reform an evil world, man resorts to politics and 268 SHADOWY HAND; OB, to war ; she to God, in earnest prayer. Man rages as the fire, the whirlwind, and the storm ; she, all godlike, speaks in the still, small voice. He may thrill and terrify ; she will melt and subdue. Her influence is the leaven that worketh silently. The sunbeams are voiceless and noiseless ; yet, beneath their silent rays, winter yields, snow melts, waters flow, flowers bloom, fruits appear. So, beneath the genial smiles of woman, earth is made almost a paradise. Her influence is silent as the sun- beams, gentle as the dews of heaven, soft as the breath of violets, and sweet as the zephyr's flow. When sanctified by religion, her eyes sparkle with heavenly rhetoric, her .voice charms with holy music, and her countenance beams with the radi- ance of the King of Righteousness. " Welcome, ye heralds of mercy ! Welcome, ye messengers of peace ! Welcome, ye that bind up the broken-hearted, and ye that comfort the mourning ! Welcome to the waste places of Zion ! Welcome to the high position that ye once en- joyed in the early days of the gospel ! Welcome to the leadership of bands, as in Wesley's time ! Welcome be your voice in our prayer-meetings ! Then awake, O woman, to your duty ! By your gratitude for what the gospel has done for you, awake ! " I also related several anecdotes given in this LITE-STRUGGLES. 269 work, such as w Call her Children," "Woman to the Rescue," " Child in a Cave," and * Woman's Fidel- ity," which won their sympathy, and roused to the highest pitch their ardor for missionary work. At the close of the lecture, many devoted ladies came forward with subscriptions, and other prof- fers of assistance. One lady, who was a nurse, and had but small means, divided her substance with me, and brought in many workers. One person brought me five dollars from a lady belong- ing to the Baptist Church, who continued monthly subsc* vptions for a period of twelve years. Sev- eral oi the noble spirits who first met me there, have been co-laborers with me to the present time. Thus the Lord rescued me in the hour of trial. My debt of gratitude to the great Army of Women is beyond calculation. When I had no helper, they prayed as never mortals prayed before. They sacrificed home, talent, health, and some of them even life itself, for me and the gospel. 270 , SHADOWY HAND } OR, CHAPTER XXVII. Merchants aid me. They Petition for use of Franklin School Building. Organization of the Boston Union Mis- sion Society. Its Success. Converts from every Class of Society. Over a Thousand Reclaimed. Cheap Police Investment. Night-school. Volunteer Teachers. Exhi- bition of Ned Nevins. My Ordination. Sickness. White Dove. Harbinger of Peace. HE merchants, seeing I was doing a good work among the lowly, petitioned the city authorities for the use of Franklin School Building, owned by the city, now vacant. Here we organized in May, 1859, the Boston Union Mission Society, for he purpose of carrying the gospel to the poor, clothing chil- dren for Sabbath-school, educating boys of the street, and getting homes and employment for the needy. It embraced a Church, Sabbath-school, Night-school, Benevolent Sewing Circle, Indus- trial Agency for Working Women, and Employ- ment Office. The merchants said, "Mr. Morgan, don't be sectarian ; keep independent ; do all the good you can, and we will sustain you. If you ever want to open in Music Hall again, call on us." LIFE-STRUGGLES. 271 "We continued in that building for the space of eight years. There we held services every night in the week, and six services on the Sabbath. Great interest was awakened, and many were the converts. People of every class were reclaimed from sin, high and low, rich and poor, from the University student to the lowest criminal. The pugilist forgot his thirst for blood, the intemperate abandoned his cups, the profane ceased to swear, the blasphemer commenced to pray ; the Sabbath breaker attended service, the sceptic ceased to doubt; dishonest men, and fraudulent traders, turned over a new leaf. The school-building became a Bethesda for the penitent; there was a stir in the Waters of Mercy. One was converted who had not been inside of a church for sixteen years. One, a Harvard student, who had squan- dered $2,000 a year, and had been disowned by his family and friends, was restored. His father paid his debts, and his mother blessfed him on his return, now a changed man. Some from the House of Correction became earnest workers in the Society; scores from the gutter and the prison became useful and honorable citizens, until over a thousand persons professed a change of heart. These meetings were profitable in various ways : they were self-supporting; they paid the pastor 272 SHADOWY HAND; OR, his salary ; they furnished laborers for the Benev- olent Sewing Circle, and teachers for the Night- school ; they were a shield to the young ; the;y prevented crime ; protected life and property ; they moralized and regenerated socie+v ; they were profitable here, to say nothing of the "hereafter." They were the cheapest and purest of all recre- ations. w Sing unto the Lord, O ye his saints ! " None but the pure in heart can enjoy tj,iem ; therefore, their tendency is to elevate the life and soul. The City Fathers found the grant a cheap police investment, for the prevention of crime. Piety that pays, is worth something. To reform a vicious and idle man, whose family is dependent on charity, saves the public the time and the wages of the man, saves fifteen dollars a week. Such salvation pays. To educate two or three hundred boys evenings, and reform them while they are earning* their own living on the streets, saves the State one hundred dollars per day, or fifty thou- sand dollars a year. Such salvation pays. Vol- unteer teachers, with moral suasion, battling against sin and ignorance, are more likely to suc- ceed than hired officials, with whip and lash, in public institutions. Besides, reforms, to be gen- uine, must be voluntary, and in the face of temp- tation. Boys must learn to resist while the bait LIFE-STRUGGLES. 273 is before them. There is no virtue in fasting where there is nothing to eat. Plants in hot- houses won't stanl the storm. Churches are cheaper than jails. Congregating boys in public institutions vitiates them ; evil predominates. By huddling fire-brands together, you increase the flame. Christianity individualizes ; despotism cen- tralizes. Away with despotism ! it is costly. Baptisms were generally solemnized at South Boston Harbor ; the gatherings numbered many thousands, and were very impressive. The sing- ing added much to the interest. All denominations were friendly to the Mission. Exchanges were made with Dr. Neale, Dr. Blag- den, Dr. Manning, Dr. Webb, Dr. Dexter, Dr. Kirk, Bishop Haven, and others. Women were not slow in coming to the aid of the Church. Mrs. Liverrnore, Mrs. Julia Ward Howe, and many other female philanthropists filled the pulpit. Now came another difficulty, the most serious of all : I was not ordained, being simply a licensed preacher in the Methodist Episcopal Church. The Conference would not ordain me, unless I gave the Mission into the hands of the Methodists. They stated that Father Taylor's influence had been exerted for the Unitarians rather than for the Meth- odists. They wanted no more such experiments. Not being ordained, I could neither administer the 18 274 SHADOWY HAND; OR, sacrament, nor solemnize marriages. What was to be done ? My friends advised me, by all means, to keep independent. I joined with Rev. Hirani Mattison, of New York City, and called, a Conference of seven Independent Methodist churches, and that Conference ordained me. Thus I became pastor of the first Independent Methodist church of Bos- ton. The church is Congregational in government, Baptist as respects immersion, and Methodist in doctrine and mode of worship. The night-school increased until it numbered from three to four hundred. Twenty volunteer teachers attended each night. We enlivened our routine by exhibitions, on which occasions Gov- ernor Andrew, the Mayor of the Oity, Eev. Mi". Waterstou, Judge Russell, Mr. Philbrick, Dr. Wetherbee, Dr West, Dr. Warren, Wendell Phil- lips, and other celebrated gentlemen addressed the boys. The boys had a chance to speak on the same platform with these notables, now a news- boy, now a Mayor ; now a coal-picker, now the School Superintendent ; now a boot-shiner, and now Wendell Phillips. They appreciated tho im- portance of the occasion, and were determined to do their best. Many of the boys graduated with honors, iv^ have since made their mark in the world; thr-y , ^ H 2 ft J " 3 2? a- - 53 c 2 9 LIFE-STRUGGLES. 275 may be found practising law, in stores, printing- offices, and other honorable occupations. The model hero of the school was Ned Nevins, whose life was published in connection with " Street Life in Boston." This book created a tremendous furore. Boston alone exhausted the first edition , twenty thousand copies were sold the first year. Its success induced the production of the present work. A portion of the dialogue of this book was represented by the boys of the school in Boston, Lowell, and other places. At Tremont Temple, it created great enthusiasm. The boys depicted the scene to the very life, and drew forth many a sym- pathizing tear. One gentleman was so delighted, he at once gave $20 to the school ; others gave presents to all who took part in the performance. Among the scenes represented were Ned's arrest, his heart-rending appeal to go to his poor sick mother ; Mag Murphy's animosity against Ned, the court-scene, his vindication and acquittal, and the death of Ned's mother in Orange Lane. I lec- tured also on the same subject, and obtained con- siderable funds for the Mission. Sixteen hours a day, however, of continual labor in night-school, Church and Mission work for the poor, relieved by but little sleep, finally pros- trated me. My lungs gave way, and I was brought to death's door. 276 SHADOWY HAND; OR, Oil Sunday, June 15, 1862, I was advertised to preach a funeral discourse on the deatli of Mrs. Julia Youiigueel. After the advertisement had gone forth, I was attacked with hemorrhage of the lungs, and could not preach; Rev. Mr. Holland took my place. While the audience was gathered in the chapel, a beautiful white dove came flitting into the room, flying about the chapel, over the seats and over the pulpit, then halting as if it had a message to communicate ; it allowed itself to be caught without resistance. Except a few spots beneath its beak, which hung like jewels about its neck, it was of pure snowy whiteness, without a stain upon its fleecy down, as if coming from a land of purity with a message of mercy. Having tarried a day or two, it departed on its aerial mis- sion, followed with the blessings of many a wor- shipper. Some of the audience became alarmed, thinking this bird a harbinger of death. The preacher told them it was a happy omen of iny recovery. "Hail, holy dove ! patriarchal bird ! messenger from the spirit world ! From what dream-laud hast thou come, and what is thy message? I take thee to be a messenger of mercy, entering the win- dow of our ark, bearing the olive-branch of Peace. "Welcome, holy courier ! May thy advent be hailed with delight ! may the members of this church be LIFE-STRUGGLES. 277 peaceful and dove-like ! In doing good, may their speed be as the wings of a dove ! When conten- tions come, may they flee from them as a dove from the voracious hawk ! May this dove, as the dove that attended John's baptism in Jordan, be accompanied with a holy unction from on high ! May the baptism of the Holy Ghost come with its advent, remain with its exit ! May blessings come as a cloud, and as doves, to our windows ! " A baptism of wonderful power came to the church with that dove ; all hearts were stirred. The Mission never before was so faithful in Chris- tian labor, never so thoughtful of their pastor. Though not allowed to converse with, or even see me, their kind tokens of remembrance were unpre- cedented. Bouquets, jellies, comfits, and every- thing that warm, loving hearts could suggest, were freely tendered me. Oh ! how united were they ! What a noble band ! What devoted followers of Christ ! Nearly all of the pastors in the city tendered their services to till my pulpit. I never knew how deep I was in the hearts of the people, till sickness laid me low. " Out once more. Once more I venture in the streets to taste the balmy air. Once more I feel the clear beam of sunshine. It is refreshing to iny soul, its golden rays gleam with hope upon in} pale cheek. Oh, how salubrious is this bracing, 278 SHADOWY HAND; OR, buoyant air ! Oh, how sweet is the light of God's heavenly rays ! Hope darts on their beams. How exhilarating the breath of flowers. It comes to me on the zephyr's win; filled with the aroma of Paradise. How cheering the song of birds ! On wings of joy they sing their matin songs, praising God in the free air of heaven. I have been caged, confined. Once more I ascend these stairs, to minister at the altar and greet the face of friend. Sacred stairs ! Never were steps to Jewish throne more holy. And never was Jewish altar in Jew- ish sanctuary more hallowed than this pulpit. Glorious pulpit ! where the majesty of the Divine presence has been felt, where the Divine image has been displayed through the Word, and where the glory of the Shechinah has shone forth . To me it has been the fleet charger, fired by the spirit that has borne me to many victories. It seems to welcome me as one that knows its master. It speaks and says, 'Welcome to the courts of the Lord, wel- come to the Temple of David.' " Once more I stand before my own dear peo- ple. Your faces appear lovely ; they speak in language divine. Your warm greetings welcome me as a friend from a far country. Your counte- nances are imaged on my heart, they have been pictures for my sick-room reveries ; they have awakened longings in my soul, and have hung in LIFE-STRUGGLES. 279 sweet recollections in the gallery-chamber of my memory. Your features have played before me like fairy forms in the castles of enchantment. They have seemed to say,*' The Lord bless you ! may Heaven smile upon you !' Lo, now they look in loveliness upon me, they pity my weakness, they smile with hope ; they shine on the sympa- thetic waters of my soul like the round full moon on glassy lake in the evening of summer. The transparent features of my soul drink in all the radiance of your love. The beating of my heart finds an echo in yours. As the. silent watching stars that in the lone midnight hour beam through the window of the sick-room, watching, yet fear- ful to disturb, so have been the tender eyes of your affection, gazing upon my weakness, fearful to speak. As rosy Spring conies leapiug over the hills with hands full of flowers, so have your foot- steps entered my room and filled the house with odors of the lily, the daffodil, and the rose. As golden summer comes laden with delicious fruit, so your hands have brought the luscious stores of a tropic clime. Ah ! the climate in which they grew is not warmer than are your own warm hearts." 280 SHADOWY HAND; OR, CHAPTER XXVIII. White Dove continued. Death of Mrs. Julia Youngneel. Sick-chamber. Angel "Watcher. Her Sparkling Eye, a Gem from Ocean Wave. Marriage. Life Risked and Lost. Dying like a Dove. Farewell, White Dove. Heaven's Commissioner I holy bird, farewell ! ELL me, sweet bird ! Hast thou not come from the silent city of the dead? the cemeterial shades? the green grave of the departed ? Hast thou not a mes- sage from the spirit world ? hast thou not a word, a token, a sign from Julia? Coming with thy fair neck loaded with pearls, hast thou not some memento, some sweet memorial from her? If thou hast, there is one who will receive it. There he sits ; his head is bowed, his face is cov- ered, and his hands are filled with falling tears. He sees not the multitude around him, he hears no voice but hers. Her dying cadences still echo in his ear as from a spirit land ; he can hear no other sound. Ah ! these are times that try his faith in God. There he sits, bowed, bereft, pining, com- fortless, and lone. Hast thou not some cheering sign ? some comforting word ? A word, a look, a thought, a sign from Julia, would be worth more LIFE-STRUGGLES. 281 to him than a kingdom. Speak ! fair bird ; oh, speak a word from behind the curtain ! Is it well with her ? is it to be well with this her child ? Does she think of home ? and does she pity that broken heart there? Home! sweet home, how changed ! There once the weary spirit found an asylum of rest ; ' there a refuge from intruding care, and there a quiet haven for the sea-tossed bark of life. Home was the end of his toil, the goal, the Mecca of the heart, where devoted pil- grim found a shrine for his offerings. Now, alas ! that shrine is broken, and desolation reigns. Every shadow darts a gloom, every sound strikes terror, and every association speaks of death. The vacant garments, in their shadowy wrinkles air eventide, whisper in the twilight air, as the breath of her whose noble heart once beat beneath their costly folds. The vacant room and chair, and drawer and toilet speak, and the empty couch cov- ered with her own handiwork has a voice that no writ- ten language can express. A world of thought is centred in that couch, a World of bliss and of grief. In marble whiteness, pure as her own pure heart, it had borne the heads of their wedded love, and thrown the pillow of its downy arms beneath their breathing features, as if conscious of the treas- ures it bore, while Heaven showered upon them its selectest benedictions. Now, alas ! it stands 282 SHADOWY HAXD; OR, a pale, cold monument, too sacred lo be ap- proached. . She was the first and only object of his earthly love. All else were nothingness in hif sight, all other objects paled before the sun of her counte- nance, and all other thoughts retreated at her approach. She was too much his idol ; he had placed too much of his treasure in an earthen ves- sel. Yet so it was decreed, Heaven had ordained it, the treasure came to him without his seeking. He had been searching for wealth ; life had been made up of trials, and travels, and adventures ; he had not looked for social bliss. He sought for gold, and traversed seas, spanned the ocean, and circled continents, but, in truth, he found no sparkling gem till he met the eye of Julia. Her eye darted joy to his soul, her voice whispered pleasure, and her presence filled the mighty void of his once vacant heart with felicity. Asleep or awake, at meeting or parting, by day or by night, one object alone filled his thoughts. Wealth had no charms for him, his earthly goal was reached, and the prize was in his arms. But, alas ! they were too happy for this uncongenial earth, the luxuriant flowers of their affection were too exu- berant for the cold chills of this frosty clime. Their love was like the ripe, luscious fruit of a tropic clime; it can be enjoyed but for a day. LIFE-STRUGGLES. 283 There he sits, the bridegroom of one short year. He had not sought her, but found her sent of Heaven, as an Angel of Mercy, a free-will offering upon the altar of self-consecration for his recovery in the dark hour of sickness. When the plague was raging in this city, she heard of an exemplary young man sick in this a foreign land. He. was sick with a pestilence. All did shun the house, even ministers stood aloof, and I must confess that I was one of them. But a modest young woman, of fair countenance and amiable mien, had more courage and devotion than anointed bishops. She had learnetl the foreign tongue, she could speak the comforting word, and she addressed herself to the task. She broke through every barrier, braved all danger, and, inhaling the breath of infection, she threw herself at the feet of the sufferer. Like a spirit did she enter that sick- room, and with noiseless, fairy footsteps, like the wing of a seraph, did she flit before his fevered brain. As angels encamp round about them that fear the Lord, and as Mercy bends in tears over the good, so she guarded the bedside of that troubled heart. Her voice was the music of hope to his disconsolate ear, sounding in his own ver- nacular. It came as from a far country, with the sweet sound of home ringing in his ear. The 284 SHADOWY HAND; OK, open candor of her full-beaming eye told him he had a friend. Upon her soft, warm arm she pillowed his aching head, when she brought the antidote to his lips, and prayed as she presented the bitter drug. She bent over him in pity, and in prayer, like a rainbow of hope over the dying. Then, with tender lily hands, she smoothed his pillow, laved his brow, parted the locks of his anguish, and, gazing on his answering features, she rested in hope for his recovery, like Faith on a monu- ment. Her heart was stirred to pity. A myste- rious power had led her to that sick-room, and a mysterious influence now came over her that she could not comprehend. When silence reigned in the vigils of the night, and none but spirit voices were heard, she felt, she knew not why, -her heart going out in pity, in a manner that she could not restrain. As the sen- tinel stars, passing on their beat through the heavens, stole through the window, and glanced upon her fair cheek, they saw her not only watch- ing, but weeping. Why did she weep? She knew not herself. Her big heart was swelling and overflowing, but by what power, and for what cause, she could not tell. As if penetrating the mysterious future, and solving the problem of her destiny, her large, round, lustrous eye was fixed on shadowy vacancies ; then turning her thoughts LITE-STRUGGLES. 285 on that child of sorrow, still she wept. From pitying and consoling she had learned to love. Ah ! little did that young man know what love was silently beating in the maiden's heart. At last she confessed her passion, and he loved her in return, with a grateful heart. Heaven had ordained their fate ; no man can resist Fate's decrees ; their eyes met in mutual admiration, and they became one. Now she had an object for living, a purpose, a motive for action. She had ventured her little bark out on a sea of sorrow, and had plucked up a gem. All passionately, and hopefully, from its turbid waters, she had fished up a pearl that was all her own. For years she had lived, as flowers bloom in deserts, with none to inhale the exuber- ance of their odors. Her life had been a waste, an aimless vacuity, neither giving nor receiving the pleasures for which social beings were created. Heaven is not a place of solitude, and holiness of character is not perfected in seclusion. When they were joined in holy wedlock their little home became a paradise. Love was sole king ; all other passions and faculties bowed to it ; its beck drew audience, its look was but to com- mand, and to its willing sceptre was yielded uni- versal obedience. As planets in their orbits move passively and harmoniously around their common centre, so, in the orbit of God's eternal decrees, 286 SHADOWY HAND; OR, as sweetly and harmoniously as the unwritten music of the spheres they moved round love's central orb, and drew light from its sun. The four rivers of Paradise were not purer or more transparent than the flow of their spirits, and the warbling strains of Pison and Gihon's streams, dashing over sands of bdellium, gold, and onyx stone, were not sweeter than the voice of their tender hearts. And the attendant angels on Crea- tion's early pair were not more solicitous and atten- tive than they were to each other's wants. But, alas ! death once entered Paradise, and death might enter this holy bower. These hearts were too pure, too happy, too closely united to live together long in this cruel, heart-severing world. It is midnight at that quiet home. The Bible has been read, the evening hymn sung, and prayer offered, each praying for a blessing upon the other's heart. Now balmy Sleep has spread its assuaging wing over that halcyon couch, and weav- ing its meshes of soft oblivion over their retiring senses, at last has locked them in its sweet em- brac3. Yet there is a murmur in the ripples of sleep. Lo ! on that white pillow and that ivory couch, where the clear full moon pours down upon the features of that sleeping pair its light of gold, and topaz, and amethyst, baptizing them with the flood of its subdued and variegated beams, there LIFE-STRUGGLES. 287 w are seen tears pouring forth, and on the breath of that fair heart there comes a sigh ; she is dreaming ! Portentious forebodings terrify her visions, and she awakes in tears. She prints the warm kiss upon his slumbering cheek, and wakes him with the dash of her scalding tears. "Charles," she said, "Charles, I fear I shall die, and not live ! What will you do when I am gone ? " "Ah! Julia, say not so," he cried; "you will live ; you must live ; you cannot, you shall not die." And with consoling voice he poured a flood of comforting words in her aching ear, and with ten- der hand he smoothed back her briny locks, as he pillowed her head upon his beating heart, but all in vain : her hour had come, they had slept their last conjugal sleep. She died as her Saviour died ; she gave her life for the life of another. And all she asked in return, was to be remembered. "Show^ny infant this picture," said she, "and when he is old enough, tell him it is the picture of his mother." Then, thanking God that she had given a son to bear the image and the name of that husband to future generations, she died as calmly as sinks the setting sun, growing more splendid in its expanding disk, and, shining with a more mellow light as the heat of the day is past, it prints its farewell rays of peace and hope upon 288 SHADOWY HAND; OR, ^ the clouds, and hill-tops, and tall church-spires, then sinks to rise in a brighter sky, and shine in another world. She had lived much in little space. Years had been crowded into weeks, and months into days. The cup of her pleasure was full to overflowing, and she took it almost at a draught. Yet she would not have it otherwise ; she would not eke out a miserable existence in solitude and selfish- ness, for fear of meeting the perils as well as the pleasures of connubial life. "No ! she ventured upon the trip, sailed a swift voyage of enchant- ment, and, as God had decreed it to be short, she was submissive. Ah ! liberal soul ! Always gen- erous ! generous in living, and generous in dying. She was dove-like in purity, dove-like in gentle- ness, dove-like in affection, and uncomplainingly, without a murmur, dove-like she died. She died, leaving a pledge of that one year's happiness tell- ing the father what a dream he had passetl through, and with its little blue eye and prattling talk, and mother-like features, reminding the father of one who had first ventured her life for him, and then sacrificed it for the child. When little Julius is grown up, and reads these words, let him remember the generosity of that noble mother. May her life , that is already imaged on his heart, be as the seeds of flowering and LIFE-STRUGGLES. 289 decaying beauty, germinating with increasing vigor and fragrance over the grave of the parent stock ; ma}' his temper and passions be dove-like ; though he have no mother's arms to teach him the passion of love, and no mother's breast to lean upon for its nourishment, may the principle imparted by her grow spontaneously into the ripe, blooming fruit of dove-like tenderness and love ! Farewell, White Dove ! Thy advent still re- mains a mystery, the unintelligible roll of thy prophecy is yet a sealed book. Time only can reveal its purport. Shrouded in the impenetrable mist of the unknown future it lies hid, and with it all our destinies. If thou earnest to warn me of danger, thou earnest too late ; the blow was struck, I had already fallen. But thy coming has been a comfort to me, an object of sweet meditation, whereon I could rest my weary thoughts in time of weakness and seclusion. My dark imagination has been borne by the inspiration of thy buoyant wing into regions of brightness and felicity. Thou hast been a comfort to me in the wakeful midnight hour ; thy coming has been as a friend from a far country. I have laid the weight of my dark thoughts upon thee, as a hand is laid upon the shoulders of a friend. I have embraced thee with the arms of my affection, as 1 would hang upon the neck of a brother. And not in vain have I 19 290 SHADOWY HAND; OR, confided in thee. Thou hast borne my weary, drooping spirits up from the slough of melancholy and grief, to the realms of light and hope. In imagination thou hast stood upon my sleepless pil- low, and watched by my side, like the fabled bird of Jove. So mysterious was thy coming at that eventful hour, it seemed almost probable that thou hadst been sent to convey my spirit home. Yet I still live. Thy wing seemed like the wing and the ball engraven over the gate of eternity ; thy pres- ence and departure, like the wing by the hour- glass, denoting the flight of time. Thy whiteness has been a comfort to me ; O that my soul were as pure ! O that I was as pure as the eider-down of thy spotless breast ! O that my accounts in judgment were as acceptable as thine ! Thy coming to Boston has been like my own : alonestranger among areservedand distant people. Some mysterious power sent thee, perhaps the same that induced me to risk my all on the altar for suffering humanity. May thou be favored, as I have been, with friends. Though the outside of Boston seems cold, and the stranger is kept a long while knocking, yet within there are the fires of warm hearts, and stores of generous supplies. Soon, like thee, I go to the hills and wild woods of my native home. Like thee, may I bear good LIFE-STRUGGLES. 291 tidings from this city of the Puritan Fathers. Like thee, I still linger, knowing it better for me to go, but, with the warm susceptibilities of a ten- der heart, I still remain lingering, and Loving to tarry. Farewell, kind "Watcher 1 The night of my sickness, I trust, is far spent, the day-spring of health is rising, and the dawn of my hopes is at hand. Thou hast tarried, like the angel with Jacob, till the dawn of the day ; and thou dost not retire without leaving a blessing. Sweet have been the benedictions of thy visitation. In the lone cham- ber, when my lamp was burning low, amidst the shadows of the night, and the sleepless, restless hours of despondency, thou hast been my compan- ion and comforter. Sweet companion ! blessed comforter ! fit companion for my weary thoughts in time of trouble. Now, with the parting shadows, thou art going, like the wing of time. Thy wings are spread, thy flight is set ; one spring, and I see thee no more. As a cloud borne upward thou dost ascend, till thou art parted from our view, never to be seen again. As the years before the flood, thou art gone. Like the single chance that fortune gives to the vigilant and the brave, thou makest but one visit, one offering. If we knew the exact purport of thy mission, we would act at once. But time must unravel the mystery. 292 SHADOWY HAND; OK, Again, sweet bird, in thy receding flight, fare- well ! The interest gathers as thou art going ; the eye lingers upon thee, the memory retains thee and thoughts follow thee with increasing solicitude. Thou hast come to our chapel, bringing .the olive branch of peace. Emblem of our Mission ! with thee we bear peace and good-will towards men. May the wing of our charities spread wider by the lesson we learn from thee ! May many an orphan and widow be blessed by resting under the shadow of our wing ! May the worshippers in our chapel ever be peaceful and dove-like ! May thy wings, hovering over our altars, be as the wings of the cherubim over the mercy-seat ! Holy bird, adieu ! May thy future be peaceful and happy ! May the hand that feeds thee be kind to thee, may the eye that sees thee admire thee, and may the fingers that caress thee treat thee tenderly ! A blessing on thy advent and exit ! Bird of purity ! bap- tismal type of the eternal spirit, like a spirit hast thou come, and like a spirit hast thou gone. Chosen bird, prophetic bird of promise, sacrificial bird, redemption fee of the Carpenter's Son, the Son of Mary I The poor man's offering, com- ing to the poor man's meeting to sympathize with the poor man's preacher in the time of his afflic- tion ! Heaven's commissioner I holy bird, fare- well! LIFE-STRUGGLES? (293 CHAPTER XXIX."* First Shot from Fort Sumpter. Drill in Franklin School- ho.ise. Bitter Partings. Massachusetts First Regiment. Return Home. Ovation. Story of Nicholas S. Hall. Funeral Service. His Mother at the Hospital. Cries f o*. " Water ! water ! " What has the Soldier done ? Wha. shall we do for him ? HEN the first shot from Eort Sumpter was heard, and the war broke out, part of the Franklin School Building was used as a recruiting-room ; the religious meeting was in one room, the night-school in the other rooms, and soldiers were drilling over-head, for the war. The tramp ! tramp ! of the soldier, and the jar of the grounding of arms, shook the house. The solemnities of our meetings, how- ever, were not disturbed by the martial sounds, but rather increased. After the battle of Bull Run, the thought of carnage, and of those who had gone to the war, and the many that were dressed in mourning, widows and fatherless, all tended only to enhance the interest of the meeting. The Massachusetts First Regiment, commanded by Colonel Cowdin, made this place their head-quarters. The praying 294 SHADOWY HAND; OK, bands became familiarized with the muskets, knapsacks, and accoutrements of the soldiers. There were many tearful partings, farewell benedictions, and prayers tendered to the depart ing father, brother, and son. Many a fona embrace of husband, lover and brother many a parting tear were witnessed by these walls. At length the regiment returned, but with de- pleted ranks, in time to attend the funeral of Private Nicholas S. Hall, Company I, who was wounded, by a ball in the spine, at Fair Oaks. The pro- cession was escorted by the regiment, and the little carriage of the deceased, draped with crape and flags, drawn by his pony, with empty seat, followed the hearse. Some two years he had lingered in decline. His mother heard, by telegram, he was wounded, and 'fleeing to Washington, found him in the Stone Hospital. Her boy was alive, and that was all. The fatigues of the journey from the field, the exposure on the way, the oppressive heat, and the nature of the wound, all had brought him near to his grave. His mind was wandering, for he had been stupefied with narcotics to prevent his groans from disturbing his fellows. Like an infant she watched him, pitied him, and loved him. His petulancy, his nervousness, UFE-STRUGGLES. 295 his peevishness and fretfulness, were not from him her kind-hearted boy they were from his disease. She everlooked them all, and pitied him the more for his sufferings. It was no* a . task, but a glorious privilege to watch by his side and administer to his wants. A mother forget her son? No, never ! Now he was twitch- ing with the jerk of the ambulance, now he was in the midst of the battle, and rushing to the charge ; now he was in the hands of the enemy, calling for his comrades to rescue him ; now he was wounded, and left on the field ; now he was dying, with no friend near. Oh ! the agony of both mind and body. One day he found a little quiet sleep, and fell into a gentle dream. He dreamed of home ; he dreamed that he lay on a mother's couch, and his mother's hand lay upon his brow ; he heard his mother's voice, he saw her image, then strove to reach out the hand to embrace her, but he could not move. He awoke ! it was not all a dream ; his mother was there, and pressing his brow. With opening, wonder- ing eyes, half awake and half asleep, and half deranged, he gazed upon the image before him, whose dark eyes were looking down tearfully upon his face, those tender, motherly features ! and a strange sensation came over him, as if recalling some indistinct image of the past. 296 SHADOWY HAND; OB, "Nicholas," said she, in gentle tone, "Nicholas, don't you know me ? It is your mother." As she smoothed his hair and kissed his cheek, he gazed in wonder until he came to his senses. Then, with mingled emotions of gratitude and love, such as a wounded soldier only can feel when thinking of mother and home, he exclaimed, in pathetic strains, "Oh, mother, is it you? How did you get here? I was thinking about you, mother. Oh, this cruel war! Where is Harry? Is father dead? I'm afraid I sha'n't get well, mother ; I sha'n't see sister Eda any more." " Don't say so, my son," she said, as she turned away to weep, "you must get well ; I have come to watch by your side till you get better." "Have you, mother? Oh, how good it seems to see my mother ! I have had no one to talk with me and pray with me ; will you stay with me, mother?" "Yes, my son, but you must not weep so; it will prove your death." " Oh, mother, I will not weep ; I will keep quiet ; I will not speak, if you will but stay." She promised to tarry, but the rules of "red tape " prevented her from remaining in the room. There were twelve patients there ; she offered to nurse them all if she could but remain. This was not allowed ; but she could lodge in an upper LIFE-STRUGGLES. 297 room of the same building. She lodged there, but could not sleep. Thoughts of her son troubled her. She listened to every sound below. " Nurse ! nurse ! please give me some water ! " The nurse was asleep, for he had watched there day and night. Again she heard the cry, "Water ! water ! Nurse, will you let me die within hear- ing of my mother ? " That was Nicholas's voice. She sprang to her feet, she broke into the *room, she made herself a necessity, and watched by his side for two weeks, until he was able to be brought home. At home he recovered so far as to ride out, but the excitement -caused by the return of his regiment, with his two brothers, prostrated him. Old scenes and sufferings, and old battles, passed before his mind ; the poor, weak boy fell at the very thought of his former dangers. His mother said to him, " You are not going to leave us, are you, Nicholas? " "Not quite yet, mother, I must go by and by." The day but one before he died, I talked with him about his hope ; he smiled, and said he felt himself forgiven, and ready to go. On the morning of his death he called Harry, who had just returned from the war, to his side, and grasp- ing him by the hand, said, " Harry, I am going ; 298 SHADOWY HAND; OR, I want you to stand by me as you did at Fair Oaks. Stand by me, my brother !" And he stood by him to the last. It is a beautiful Saturday evening of June. The dying soldier lies in his chamber, breathing shorter and shorter, with Harry, and Edward, and Eda, and mother by his side. The bells of the various factories are striking the knell of the week. The men are being paid off, the streets are full of returning workmen. The bills of the week are being settled, children are preparing for the Sabbath, servants are receiving their wages, clerks are dismissed, and all the weary of mankind are looking for a day of rest. Sweet rest ! rest for the laborer and the soldier. The sun is setting in the Western horizon in a sea of crimson and gold. As its departing rays burst on the chimney-top of the adjoining building, the dying inau opens his eyes and gazes upon their changing hues ; then sinking back upon his pillow, as if passing away with the setting sun, he closes his own eyes, and without a pain, or a groan, or a struggle, like a sleeping infant settling into its mother's arms, he falls into the arms of his Saviour, and sleeps the sleep that knows no waking. His two little pet robins in their cage died the same evening, and the house of suffering became the chamber of death. LITE-STRUGGLES. 299 He has fought his last battle, his weary marches are over, the bugle will not wake him, nor the drum-beat startle him from his quiet rest. No more will he stand on picket-guard and pace the dreary hours of the night ; no more stand in the thickest of the fight, till the fatal bullet reaches its mark. No more ask Death to relieve him from pain ; he has fought the good fight, and gone to his reward. The ball has at last accomplished its work, the ball which he carried to his grave. Great have been his sufferings ; his was the sub- limity of agony : he died daily ; he died a hundred deaths in one. The ball in the spinal marrow had broken the nervous connection, and his lower limbs were palsied and perishing ; but there was sympathy enough between the parts to produce the severest pain. Life hung like a needle on a pivot, with the pole of the needle pointing towards the grave. The least deviation shook the compass like an aspen leaf. The least noise, a breath of wind, the damp dew, or changes of weather, or signs of approaching storm, filled his marrow with rheum, and threw him into trepi- dations and convulsions. When first brought o home, his shrieks alarmed the whole neighborhood. Eyes wept in pity in distant dwellings, and hearts shuddered at their own windows as they contemplated the cruelties of war. Nothing 300 SHADOWY HAND; OR, could abate the pain but an injection of arsenic and chloroform, to kill the nerve. This produced quiet for a few hours, but was destroying life. Yet he clung to earth, and light, and life, and when quiet came it seemed to him a heaven. He looked on the flowers, and the green fields, and desired to roam the carpeted earth again. He saw the boys angling, and wished to be baiting his hook. When able to be carried out in his little carriage, his gratitude knew no bounds. Great was his mortification when he found that he could never walk again. He must forever drag his lifeless limbs along like a creeping infant. His manhood was gone ; he could no more walk erect, and lift up his face to heaven, and say, " I am a man." He was mortified to think that in his helplessness he might everywhere be in the way. Indeed, he seemed in the way when he went out, in the way of passing footsteps, and his carriage was in the way of the teams and cars of the street. He would be in the way at public gatherings, at the social board, and on festival occasions, and in the way at church ; therefore he never entered church. When his regiment returned with the honors that Boston gives to her defenders, he would have given all he had in the world to stand up with them in -Faneuil Hall, at the ovation for their reception. Then, most of all, he felt his humiliation. Oh I LIFE-STRUGGLES. 301 that he had been shot in the neck, or limb, or breast, anywhere if he could but walk. He parted with his newl}' -arrived comrades at the door, after following them in the procession ; then he drove home, and wept like a child. He wept, and sobbed, and groaned as if his heart would break, when he thought of that festal hour, and of his abject condition. This was the climax of his sor- row, and nearly ended his life. Peace be to the ashes of the wounded soldier who has returned home to die ! Green be the turf above him ! Hallowed be his grave ! Let tender hands smooth the mound, let sympathizing fingers carve the name upon the stone ! Let sweetest flowers be planted on the grave ; let them bear in their fragrant odors the incense of a country's gratitude ! Let the rising beams of Morning, all radiant with Christian hope and promise, salute the tomb, and let the parting rays of Evening smile with a sweet "good-night" as they reluctantly decline from the shadows of one who has fallen in defence of his country ! Lst a bereaved, widowed mother bend over it with gushing tears and prayers, petitioning God for grace to submit to the stern decrees of war ! Let the dewy tear-drops of Evening fall with her tears ; let the starry lamps of Heaven watch as she has watched by his bed-side during the lone hours 302 SHADOWY HAND; OR, of night ! Let the breezes of Evening, as they whistle through the mournful pines, in wailing dirges of sorrow, kiss the tomb where the hero lies ! Let youthful footsteps approach it with future promise, bearing floral offerings of gratitude for generations yet unborn ! Let the bent form of Honor, loaded with the weight of years, come at last, and do reverence ! Let the fugitive pilgrims of Liberty bow the knee by its side, and tfiank Heaven for such men ! Let them swear by the tomb that this blood shall not be spilled in vain ! Let meek-eyed Patience perch upon the cold, inanimate stone, and Avait for victory ! The soldier has been a wall of tire round about us, and the glory in our midst. His breast has stood between us and danger, and received the shots intended for us and our children. A fiery palisade of living, breathing breastworks has extended from the Potomac to the Rio Grande. He has set valor at a premium, made our lives precious, homes secure, property safe, government free, flag honored ; he has wiped out our disgrace with his own blood ; he has shown that we love our country, and can fight for it ; that Republican- ism is the strongest ; it can fight harder, and raise more men and money, than any other government. He has established our glory among the dynas- ties of the world. All we have, and are, and UTE-STRUGGLES. 303 hope for as a nation, we owe, under God, to him. If there ever was a being under heaven whom I could adore, it is the soldier. His scars are next to those of rny Saviour ; his brow wears the thorny crown of Care, hio groans awaken my grief, his bloody sweat stirs the depth of my pity, his bro- ken limbs remind me of what would have been, the broken pillars of our government without him. Th<*e is no music to me like the clump, clump, clump, of the soldier's crutches. As he passes by me I feel like bowing my head in reverence, and saying to myself, " There goes the man to whom I owe my liberties." We will welcome him to the hospitalities of our homes, and will share with him, if need be, our last crust ; our children shall reverence him ; offices of trust shall be granted him ; if he have but one arm to fill the place, that arm shall receive double wages ; his family shall be at ease and affluence ; his widow shall feel proud of her position, and his children, with the mantle of his honor foiling upon them, shout with pride and exultation, "My father was a soldier, sir ! " Massachusetts First Regiment, oh, brave men ! veterans of three years' service ! Shattered remnant of nearly two thousand men, maimed, scarred, bronzed ! heroes of thirty battles ! wel- come, thrice welcome, home ! You have returned 304 SHADOWY HAND; OR, in time to pay your comrades the honors of a Chris- tian burial. Welcome to the sanctuary of God ! welcome to our hearts ! Merciful Heaven has shielded you in the hour of battle ; God, and your own right arms, have been your defence ! Honor crowns each brow ; glory perches on your stand- ard ; your tattered ensign speaks of victory. Valiant, self-sacrificing, devoted men ! You en- listed before enormous bounties were offered. Patriotism called, and you led the van. First Eegiment of the United States to enlist for three years ! Second to pass through Baltimore ! First in habits of cleanliness ! first in brigade inspec- tion ! first in sending home your allotment-money ! first to be deployed as skirmishers ! first to stand at the point of the wedge in the van of the fight, and fewest to die in camp ! Many have died, but they have died with honorable wounds, facing the foe. Officers of other regiments have complained that Colonel Cowdin needlessly exposed his men. If so, how is it that you love your old commander so well? How is it that so few were taken pris- oners ? Is it not more glorious to die with honor- able wounds than to^rot in the corruptions of the camp? By the morale of your men you have driven back the pestilence which is more destruc- tive than battle. Let wives, mothers, and sisters be proud ; let Boston do honor to the returning brave. TJFE-STRUGGLES. 305 Many, alas ! have not returned. Many lie in unmarked graves. Their bodies are far away, but their spirits are here, still clinging to their colors. There I see Major Chandler, the gentleman and the scholar ; there Lieut. Gill, Lieut. Harris, and there the pure-minded Lieut. Mandeville, and there a list of dead outnumbering the living. They sleep, but their spirits wake ; they watch our movements, and smile to think they are not for- gotten by their comrades and friends in this day's services. Hallowed names ! noble martyrs I Never to be forgotten so long as Blackburn's Ford, York- town, Williamsburg, Fair Oaks and Malvern Hill are rendered immortal by their deeds 1 20 306 SHADOWY HAND; OB, CHAPTER XXX. Address to Returned Soldiers. Tablets to tlie Unreturned. Christian Soldier. Personal Conflicts. Every Man to be engaged. More Privates, less Officers. Martial Lan- guage. Call for Volunteers. Position of the Enemy. Strength, yet Inaction of our Forces. Latter-day Warfare. Better Times coming. HE following address was delivered to the soldiers of our congregation who had re- turned from the war. Many had drilled here, and enlisted in this building, and thence departed direct to the field. Upon their return, ovations of welcome were given them, while sweet memories were revived of the unre- turning brave. We had no building of our own in which to erect tablets, but upon the tablets of our hearts there were inscribed names and memories never to be forgotten. Sermon to Returned Soldiers. " Fight the good fight." 1 Tim. vi. 12. "Soldiers of the cross ! conscripts of heaven ! let us talk a little about war. " Since it was declared that the seed of the woman should bruise the serpent's head, there have been two antagonistic principles at variance UFE-STRUGGLES. 307 with each other, and continually at war ; and what- ever peace-loving man may decree, and whatever peace-gathered conventions may resolve, it cannot be otherwise until the great enemy of mankind is chained, and the kingdoms of this world become the kingdoms of our Lord and His Christ. There- fore, to bring about these peaceful times, we are commanded, even by the God of Peace, to fight ; are commanded to 'quit ourselves like men.' K I am aware that the profession of arms among the soldiers of the cross consists too much in name ; that many have a name to fight, who raise not a finger in battle. Many have lost their vigor, many have retired on parole, and many have deserted. Many officers, ceasing to do active ser- vice in camp, have repaired to splendid mansions, and appear only once a week, or on Sabbath mus- ter-days. They still retain their titles and emolu- ments, although they have thrown off the military dress, and have ceased to give out orders in mar- tial language. " Then, in the face of most appalling inroads upon our religion, and most dangerous incursions upon our faith, both the common soldiers and the commisioned officers are criminally delinquent. And although, on the first day of the week, mul- titudes are seen marching up to rendezvous, for exercise and drill, dressed in uniform perhaps, yet 308 SHADOWY HAND; OB, their dress and their drill indicate very little of the bearing of a soldier. " We are to speak of personal conflicts in the inner life ; then of general warfare. Every man living is born to doubt, to doubt God's Provi- dence, and especially His Revelation. Our first struggle is with unbelief. The weapons requisite are study, meditation, and prayer. "We doubt because we neglect the Word ; if we study at all, it is to criticise and condemn. But to study honestly, and allow the truth to reveal the corruption of our hearts, is far from our purpose. Therefore we are guilty in doubting, because we refuse the light. The ostrich, by hiding his head in the sand, does not evade the pursuer, and we cannot avoid the judgments of God by closing our eyes against them. Then study the Word. If it be true, it iq awfully true. "Contemplate this great theme : Has God reveal- ed His will to man ? Has man sinned ? Is he guilty ? What must be his punishment, especially if he refuses mercy ? Think upon it, and then pray over it. Prayer is the mighty battering-ram that breaks down the doors of unbelief. It is the lever that overturns the kingdom of darkness, the key that unlocks the store-house of heaven. " Then let our knees be bent, our eyes turned upwards, and our hands raised to heaven for help. LIFE-STRUGGLES. 309 Pray until darkness be expelled. Watch the mov- ings of the Spirit ; watch and pray, and when you hear a ' sound of going in the tops of the mulberry trees, then bestir yourself.' To prayer, then, O ye soldiers of Christ ! to prayer ! Bow the knee. As soldiers in front ranks bend the knee to repel a charge, bow the knee. Attention, soldiers ! Every man upon his knees, hands up, eyes raised, and knees bowed, waiting for your commission . v Now rise and advance upon the foe. Charge I charge ! for ' the kingdom of heaven suffereth 'violence, and the violent take it by force.' w Ye veterans fresh from Gettysburg, ye know what war is ; ye whose empty sleeves, and crutches, and maimed limbs tell of your prowess ; ye know a soldier's duty. How many battles have been lost because all the marshalled forces were not brought into action ? The Church fails because she does not employ half her resources. That church is the most flourishing which can set all her members at work, and that preacher the most effective who > can give employment to the greatest number of laborers. A few officers in the front ranks cannot do all the fighting ; and a preacher and a few lead- ers, the only ones to be heard in meeting, will never conquer the world. Meetings should be appointed in every nook and corner, meetings enough to give every professor, male and female, 310 SHADOWY HAND; OR, an opportunity to speak. Then let them speak of experience ; old soldiers can teach the young be^t by experience, and Christian experience is the loudest preaching. Then come out from your hid- ing places, O ye banished saints ! there is fighting to do ! The private ranks must be filled ; fighting- men are needed , and not commissioned idlers ; common soldiers must do the fighting. " Little spindles twist the yarn ; small gearing weaves the web ; little wheels move fastest, and are in closest affinity with the workmen. Then let us set the little wheels in motion ; let every * one be in its place a 'wheel in the middle of a wheel ' and let every one have a connection with its fellow. All wheels are dead weights without a connection ; and Church members may die with nothing to do without proper sympathy with each other. Let us not despise the day of small things. The largest animals are not the most useful, nor the most active. Behemoths cannot build islands, but little coral insects can do it. By millions they labor together, and build the vast rock, until it rises above the wave and becomes the habitation of man. Whales are not fighting animals, but are driven about and killed by the little sword-fish, the killer, and the thresher. Little animals move swiftest and multiply fastest. Little birds are the sweetest LIFE-STRUGGLES. ' 311 singers ; small vipers are the most deadly. Then watch the little foxes that destroy the lender vine. "The shoulders are good for bearing heavy weights, and hod-men move slowly ; but the fingers, the tongue, and the brain move swiftest, and wield the greatest moral power. Then let every finger be working for the Lord ; let every tongue be speaking of His goodness, and every brain de- vising something to do. Rouse up the neglected part of community ; kitchen-work is done by servants, and the hardest fighting by common soldiers. Then to arms ! to arms ! O ye idlers. God calls to arms ! Ye have enlisted where there is no leave of absence, no parole, no discharge. Then do your duty ! Be at your place, at the circle of prayer, at the Sabbath-school, in dis- tributing tracts, in visiting the sick, in comforting the mourning, in feeding the poor, and in preach- ing by the way. "Right in the face of our mock parade and sham fighting, let us examine the enemy's works. No accurate observer can doubt that the churches have failed to be effectual upon the masses. Cushioned seats and high rents do not attract them, or, if once attracted, the preaching does not draw them again. Scepticism is multiplying its castles and opening its batteries, even on the 312 SHADOWY HAND; OR, Sabbath, to more persons than are found in our churches. This is done in drinking-saloons, and by light reading and social converse. The churches themselves have lost the aggressive, war-like spirit ; they have degenerated in doctrine as well as practice. There is scarcely a church or denomination, Armenian or Calviuistic, that abides by its old doctrinal landmarks. And, as seen by the recent monetary crises, confidence in society is being lost, corporations are suspected, directors are proved defaulters, politics is a tool for corruption, religion has degenerated into form; not one-fourth of the people profess any religion at all, and much of what is professed is a mere negation, allowing every ism and schism, thick as the frogs of Egypt, to creep into the very bread-troughs of our divinity. "Vice and crime of every hue and kind are mul- tiplying, poor-houses-are crowded, jails are filled, murder is let loose, robbery prowls abroad, safety is fleeing, justice is bribed, and judgment per- verted ; yet the watchmen but faintly sound the trumpet, and the soldiers do not rally. I do not say that our country, or even New England, was ever free from this state of things ; but I do say that since scepticism has prevailed, and the rigid doctrines of the Puritans have been ridiculed, vice has become awfully alarming. Formalism has LIFE-STRUGGLES. 313 prevailed. Now fettered religion rises to assert its rights; but, like uneducated freedom in the hands of unskilful men, it has run mad. Having religious natures that must be gratified, and fail- ing to be fed from the proper source, like unfledged birds, hungering and gaping, they have blindly swallowed everything that came along. " Soldiers ! Don't you remember the drum-call made at this building ? How the flag waved at the gate how the drum-tattoo beat in the street and how the crowds gathered round to put their names to the roll-call? How the welkin rang again, with the shouts and cheers of friends, when the regiments departed? " There is now a call to arms : a call for watch- men upon the walls of Zion ; for bold, courageous, enterprising men men like our fathers, hardy, intrepid, and self-denying men that can stand all weather, all storm, all opposition, all trials and persecutions men that can bear the burden, wield the sword, mount the ladder, scale the wall, and endure hardness as a good soldier men that can perform forced marches in double-quick time, spend sleepless nights, march all night, and fight all day men that consider no battle finished until the foe is routed, and no campaign ended so long as the enemy remains in the field men who always have the armor on, who are ever ready to 314 SHADOWY HAND; OR, stand, to marchj to charge, and to strike men who are not afraid of a little brush of battle, a little fatigue, a little hunger, a little cold, and a little loss of blood men who can remain a long time on duty, can march at any moment, strike when needed, charge when commanded, stand when called to shield their fellows, and die when the sacrifice is required. Oh, give us such men ! men that are as faithful in the Christian war- 'fare as in the field of battle -- men that are as brave as Ccesar, as combative as John Kiiox, as bold as Luther, and as full of faith and the Holy Ghost as a dying Stephen. Give us such men men of sanctified hearts, invulnerable faith, and indomitable will men who, at all hazards, will stand by us when God calls them, and pmy for us, and uphold our hands. Give us such men to fight the battles of the Lord, and old crusty Formal- ism will rise and open his eyes, and shake himself and march for the battle ; the children of sloth will catch the spirit of action, and it will be more difficult for them to remain idle, or stem the cur- rent, than it is now to start. Give us such men, and the powers of darkness would soon be routed. "Of thirty thousand, Gideon had but three hundred. We may be thankful if we have the same number ; but three hundred can do the work when God calls ; yea, one can chase a thousand, LITE-STRUGGLES. 315 and two put ten thousand to flight. Then sound the trumpet ! shout for victory ! and with the blazing torches of God's eternal truth ye shall awake the slothful, alarm the guilty, terrify the ungodly, and, burning the mazes of sophistry, ye shall light Scepticism to its grave. " We are to fight the good fight of faith. As I gaze up and down this world lying in wickedness, I find it full of disloyal subjects, armed against their lawful King. I see forts, castles, and barricades, built thick through all the earth, and filled with legions of the King's enemies. Besides the garrison, there are many outposts, scouting parties, pioneers, and an immense field army, ready at a moment's warning to march to any assailed point. Time would fail me to describe them. The whole forces are commanded by the prince of the power of the air, who is called Satan, the adversaiy. Among the castles, Intemperance, Sensuality, Sorcery, Idolatry, Covetousness, Mal- ice, Murder and Revenge, are prominent, defended by an army of doubters, under various officers, from Major-General Atheist, Brigadier-General Deist, Colonel Free-Thinker, Captain Christless, down to Corporal Unregenerate . From this fortress recruits are furnished for all divisions of the army, and none are fit for command until they have served here as cadets. They cannot be courageous 316 SHADOWY HAND; OK, in crimo until the fear of God is banished from their minds. "Could a messenger from some far-off pltlnet visit our nation, and, marching with the course of the sun on a Sabbath morning, hear the chime of bells from Maine to Oregon, circling one quarter of the globe, with one continuous sound could he see these tall spires perforating the heavens thick throughout the continent, towering from the most splendid edifices of the nation, and that these temples are open one-seventh of the time to the public crowds of beauty and fashion, besides the multitude of prayer-meetings and lectures during the week could he witness the millions of gilded Bibles adorning every library, every parlor, and every centre table could he find in these Bibles the same internal evidence extending from begin- ning to end, for more than four thousand years, the same attributes of God, His mercy, His judg- ments, and His goodness, all unchanged with the change of ages could he see that Bible attested by? the most astonishing miracles, miracles wit- nessed by both friends and foes, witnessed upon rivers, seas, mountains, deserts, and upon man, both in putting to death and bringing to life could he see in that Bible one distinguished per- sonage, spoken of a hundred times in the old Scriptures, bearing alike the same character in all IJFE-STRUGGLES. 317 ages, coming to earth in the latter days, and the circumstances of His coming plainly indicated for hundreds and even thousands of -years before the time ; and that this Person should be the Son of God, and that He did come to earth and became a man of sorrow, acquainted with grief, suffered and died, yet rose again ; and to attest His divinity the rocks were rent, the graves were opened, the sun was darkened, and Himself could not be holden in the grave, but rose on the third day; that He died, the just for the unjust ; was made sin for us who knew no sin, and that, by simple faith, only by believing, the greatest sinner may be saved, mid all the world and every creature be converted to God, and sin and iniqritybe banished from the earth ; and that His Spirit is promised to all that preach in His name ; a Spirit mighty to the pulling down of strongholds, quick and powerful ; and the Word, when preached, is sharper than a two-edged sword, and by that Word scores and hundreds have been pricked to the heart, and converted, under one sermon ; that even three thousand have been converted in a day ; and that the same Spirit is now promised, and is able to perform the same mighty deeds through faith could a messenger from another world become acquainted with such a gospel as ours, able to save to the uttermost, able to regenerate the whole world and then could 318 SHADOWY HAND; OK, he see how little are its effects among us, how indifferently preached, how miserably practised, how slow to overcome the world, what Avould be his astonishment ? What would be his indignation to see so priceless a gospel in so pitiful hands, to see so powerful an army backed up by the Almighty, yet overmatched by the Evil One ! " As military tactics in the physical world have greatly changed since the apostolic time, so also have the modes of our spiritual warfare. Once kings and commanders fought in the front ranks, and shared a common soldier's fare ; but now our officers are too delicate for such regimen. Once men could fight every day for a week, but now only two hours out of seven times twenty-four. Once commanders stood by the ranks, and were familiar with all. They could say, ' My sheep hear my voice, and I know them.' But^now it is glo- riously popular to be ignorant of every man's con- dition. Once it was necessary for every citizen to be a soldier ; now we can hire mercenaries to do the fighting, and by paying well we can sleep in the pew, while they do a little flourishing in the pulpit. Once officers anjd soldiers were on a common level ; but now officers are compelled to be reserved, lest they lose their dignity. Once it was an honor for them to live and die poor ; but now they are nothing without a golden reputation. LIFE-STRUGGLES. 319 Once it was forbidden to put on gold or costly apparel ; but now it is a sin to be without them. Once steel was thought better than gold, because more substantial, and sack-cloth better than silk, because more enduring, and better for kneeling ; but now, for fencing instead of fighting, gold glit- ters the best ; and as to kneeling, that is an old- fashioned mode of repelling a foe, and work too low for modern warfare. Once armor strong and heavy armor was required ; but now, as we can get behind breastworks and shoot at a distance, armor is not needed. Once we met the enemy face to face and eye to eye ; but now we can retreat behind the pulpit, and send rockets down into the dens of iniquity. Once we fought with short swords, and the shorter the sword the nearer we approached the enemy ; but now we can fire paper bullets. Once it was necessary to have a shield called ' Faith ' ; but now, as a shield may sometimes confound the sight, it is thought best to trust the sight rather than the shield. Once a helmet was needed called ' Salvation,' as the head was most exposed, and wounds in the head affect the heart ; but now the head is thought capable of defending itself, and the helmet is thrown aside for the free-thinking cranium. Once a sword was of great service, called the ' Sword of the Spirit ' ; but now a silver cane will answer. 320 SHADOWY HAND; OB, Once the Word of God was used as a sharp sword, with two edges piercing to the quick ; but now a sheath is made for it, called ' Politeness,' and, to prevent its penetrating, a ball is fastened upon the point called ' Tender Compassion.' Oh, the times ! the times ! " Land of the Pilgrims ! Shades of the Puri- tans ! Where the age that produced men, strong, bold, fearless, honest men? Where those men that were born heroes that drank courage from their mountain-springs that fed on valor from the forest game ? Where those men nurtured in the Wilds, who were as brave as Bravery's own self? Where those revolutionary heroes, who could be tracked by the blood of their feet to the field of battle ? Where that Puritanic independence and self-denial that could leave home in a civilized land for free worship in the wilderness ? Where now the Brainards, the Mathers, the Williamses, the Eliots? Where those men of the iron age, that meant what they said, said what they meant, and said it as if they meant it ? Whose every word was a nail fastened in a sure place, and whose every stroke of the hammer brought a clincher? O ye Pharisees, hypocrites ! Ye may build the tombs of the fathers, and garnish the sepulchres of the righteous, but ye touch not the burdens of those men with one of your fingers. LIFE-STRUGGLES. 321 Yc may erect a monument at Plymouth, and make it vie with that at Bunker Hill ; but ye are as far from* the faith and vital piety of those men, as a Sadducee is from a saint. Venerable Fathers, rise and rebuke the builders of your sepulchres ! Stop Scepticism from burning incense ever your tombs ! Let your ashes be scattered upon the sea, rather than have them usurped by unbelievers. Your monument already stands in the hearts of the faith- ful, and there forever let it stand, rather than in the cold stone of builders whose faith is as cold as the stone. Awake! O arm of the Lord ! Let God arise, and let His enemies be scattered. Awake, O Zion ! put on thine armor, O Jerusalem ! As wax melteth before the fire, so shall the wicked perish at the presence of God. Awake, O New England ! there is a change coming over the spirit of thy warfare. Awake and sing, thou that dwell- est in the dust ; for thy dead shall arise, and tho ransomed of the Lord shall return with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads." 21 322 SHADOWY HAND; OR, CHAPTER XXXI. Relinquishing of Night-school and Franklin Building. The City's Plan. Hired Teachers. Increased Expense. Failure. Elected Chaplain of the Senate. Complimentary Resolve. Assisted J)y Governor Claflin. Purchase of Indiana Place Chapel. Liberal Offer to have it c;i!l<>d "Morgan Chapel." Benefit by Jordan, Marsh nly token of recognition or response to our questions ; but that one token showed that her insanity, of whatever kind it may be, has not blunted her mental faculties beyond the power of response to appeals to her sympathetic nature. She appreciates them as fully as any one ; prob- ably more than others, from the fact that she is shut out from the sympathy of those she loves. The woman's one sole desire is to see her daugh- ter. The doctors have declared that it would do LIFE-STRUGGLES. 413 her no harm, and that it might be a benefit. But Mr. Scott has sent her daughter away to the West, we understand, so that there can be no possible chance of her seeing her mother. His persistence in keeping the daughter from her mother, when to see her is the greatest desire of her life, is one of the ugliest facts we have learnt of this man, unless the fact of his allowing her to support her- self in a tailor's shop, till she fell from exhaustion, be equal to it. He is worth several hundred thou- sand dollars. A member of a business firm in this city, who has known him many years, says he is worth half a million. He has put it all out of his hands. He has professed an unusual amount of affection for his wife, but with half a million at his command, and his wife in a tailor's shop, such professions are hollow, simply worthless. We asked Dr. Shew if there were any fear that it would injure Mrs. Scott to see her daughter. He said there was not, but that Mr. Scott feared the effect on the daughter. Is the daughter's happi- ness of more account than the mother's? The latter has no gleam of hope nor sympathy to make life endurable, but sits in one spot, day in and day out week in and week out in the black gloom of utter despair. Is it not reasonable to suppose that the voice of love and sympathy, if allowed to reach her, v - ould prove a more efficient balm 414 SHADOWY HAND; OR, than any drug or straight jacket ? We do not d oubt that she has the best of care, for the Middletown Asylum is one of the best of its kind , and its manag- ing physician is kind and attentive to its patients, but the atmosphere of a lunatic asylum, at the best, is not the most genial and hopeful to depressed spirits. It is not for us to point out the course to pursue with this unhappy woman. It strikes us, however, that Mr. Scott, with the great wealth he possesses, and the great love for his wife he pro- fesses, could take some steps to make her existence more tolerable than spending it sitting on a trunk brooding on the blackness of despair. It has been suggested that her only remedy lies in removal from all asylums, and being put under the loving care and attention of those with whom she is iu sympathy, for there are such. A short trial of this kind could do no harm, and might result in good. Mr. Scott's affection for his wife should lead him to take some such steps for her relief. He could do this without inflicting on her his own presence, which is evidently distressing to her. *" STEPHEN H. WAITE, SILAS CHAPMAN, FRANCES ELLEN BUKR, CHARLES S. WARNER.'" LEFE-STEUGGLES. 415 CHAPTER XXXIX. Paying off the Debt. Series of Lectures. My Pulpit occu- pied by the Methodists. Notices from Ziori's Herald, Bos- ton Post, Traveller, and Daily News. " Slavery of Fashion: Old Bonnets, and They That Wear Them." Varieties of Bonnets. How to Make a Bonnet. How to Put It On. How to Wear It. Those who Wear Old Bonnets. Honor to the Working-women. Coronation of Labpr. O raise the mortgage on my chapel, I gave myself up to lecturing, the Methodists occupying my chapel, and filling my pulpit, the meanwhile. Now came a change in the tone of my address ; heretofore I had laid down the terrors of the law, and driven things in sledge-hammer style. I found, however, lecture-audiences averse to that style ; they pay for admission, and ex- pect to be pleased. My aim was first to enlist their sympathies by humorous or pathetic illustra- tion, and then to drive the truth home. I am not certain whether, considering the vast numbers of the audiences addressed, I was not achieving more good in this way than by pulpit appeals. The Zion's Herald says of the Lecture on w Humbug : "It has met a popular demand, 416 SHADOWY HAND; OR, and is turning attention to the alarming increase of imposture, and those that thrive on it. His chapel has been crowded again and again by deeply interested audiences, composed of both sceptics and believers, and numbering among them many of the elite of the city." The Boston Post remarks : " For over an hour and a half Mr. Morgan regaled his audience with an expose of the humbugs of the present generation, in which jokes, anecdotes, and his own inimitable illustrations were sandwiched with pro- fusion, all of which conveyed to the mind some high moral idea." The Traveller observes : " Mr. Morgan is a host h* himself. He can give a whole course, and make it more profitable than most of the lyceums do with a variety of first-class star lecturers. Any lyceum in arrears had better call on Mr. Morgan. He has attracted larger crowds and awakened more enthusiasm than any of the lyceum lecturers in Boston." " Slavery of Fashion : Old Bonnets, and They That Wear Them:' Notices of the press : "The New Lecture on ' Old Bonnets,' by Rev. Henry Morgan, filled the hall with a paying audience, and awakened more applause and enthusiasm than were ever elicited by 'Fast Young Men,' or 'Street Life in Boston.' The Coal-Scuttle, the Close LIFE-STRUGGLES. 417 Cottage, the Kiss-me-Quick, the Quaker, the Throe-Decker, and the Mansard Bonnet, were handsomely detailed for woman's delight and amusement. His portrayal of the origin of many of Fashion's absurdities, such as the Grecian Bend, Royal Ruffles and Wigs, High-heeled Shoes, Waterfalls, Rats, and Chignons, brought down the house. An old miser said he would give a hundred dollars to have his wife hear it. Mr. Morgan's appeal to the wives and daughters of working-men to discard aristocratic notions, to stand up for labor and make plainness of dress respectable, was one of his finest perorations." Boston Post. " Mr. Morgan in Music Hall. Three thousand t ickets were taken at Music Hall for Rev. Henry Morgan's last lecture, 'Old Bonnets, and They That Wear Them.' Mr. Morgan most assuredly has the hearts of the Boston public. Coming unher- alded fifteen years ago, to this city, with no friends, no religious denomination to endorse him, he sat down among the lowly, the outcast, the vicious ; he gathered round him the boot-black, the news- boy, the street wanderer ; he clothed them, he fed them, he ate with them ; he declaimed with them on the same platform, before the same enraptured, audiences ; he saw them rise to success, and some of them to reiio\vii ; and on this tidal wave of 27 418 SHADOWY HAND; OR, public applause created for them, Mr. Morgan himself has arisen to become one of the most interesting and entertaining of public speakers. His last lecture awakened more enthusiasm and stronger demonstrations of approval than any previous effort. Boston Daily News. " * TEXT : " The fashion of this world passeth away." 1 Cor. vii. 30. If you don't believe it, look at the new style of Bonnets. (Laughter.) ' ' The Bonnet represents character frivolous or solid. A fantastic Bonnet represents a friv- olous, fantastic character. A plain, substantial Bonnet indicates solid sense, a sturdy charac- ter. " ' The Old Bonnet is a historical fact. The Coal Scuttle indicates the days of our grandmothers, and the Sugar Scoop a generation later. The Kiss-me-Quick recalls the days of pur boyhood. The Quaker Bonnet indicates maiden integrity. The Close Cottage is a symbol of modesty. The Three Decker, with streamer set and pennant fly- ing, indicates a craft that cannot be trusted far out at sea, more sails than ballast. The old green Calash Bonnet was held by a martingale ; implying that our mothers' tongues were bridled. (Laughter.) The Rising Sun denotes high as- pirations. The Sundown illustrates the decline of hope. The Mansard four and a half story LIFE-STRUGGLES. 419 is a roof too high for Cupid's fireman to aspire to. The Dolly Varden represents those that figure largely in roses and sun-flowers. " * The Bonnet of the Period is like a flower- garden. It has all the vegetables of the season. It is decorated with apple blossoms, orange blos- soms, peach blossoms, forget-me-nots, pinks and daisies, cherries, grapes, plums, blackberries, strawberries, raspberries, carrots, parsnips, pars- ley, corn silk, corn stalk, sorrel, fennel,, marjoram, squash seeds, melon seeds, bean pods, pea pods, green beans, pea beans, and string beans.' (Laugh- ter.) ' ' What a garden is carried on one little head ! (Roars of laughter.) " ' I promised to give " Old Bonnets with New Trimmings." These vegetables are the trimmings.' (Laughter and applause.) After describing the Reuben Bonnet, of the ' high cockade and the pea- cock feather' style, and the Spanish, Wellington, and the Oriental, he proceeded to the Glass Bon- net : ' ' Glass Bonnets were brought into notice at the Vienna Exhibition, and will be the fashion next season. So says the Oracle. By their transpar- ency they show what is in a woman's head. 'Who can tell all there is in a woman's head, all that pesters a young maiden's brain ? Combs, 420 SHADOWY HAND; OR, hair-piiis, nets, curls, frizzles, arrows, cupids, crosses, anchors, red bird, humming bird, blue jay, canary, paroquet, butterflies, grasshoppers, rats, mice, and other animals too numerous to mention. (Great merriment.) " ' Mercy ! what a head ! What a load to carry I No wonder, with all this on her brain, that the young lady is troubled with " bees in her bonnet." ' (Applause.) " Mr. Morgan then gave an amusing recipe for making a bonnet : 1 Two scraps of foundation, with velvet combined, A shower of French rose-buds to droop down behind ; Fine ribbons and flowers, with crape and illusion; Then mix and arrange them in graceful profusion, And place with a clasp the bright feather on it, When lo and behold ! what a love of a Bonnet ! ' "Then he related 'Six Pleas' of a wife to procure a new Bonnet. The last plea was, ' I will go right home to my mother ! I will ! ' This settled the matter. She got the Bonnet ! Her husband knew too well the terror of a mother- in-law!' (Loud applause.) M Mr. Morgan quoted How to Put On a Bonnet. ' The ceremony of trying on a new Bonnet is an important affair. The dear Jittle Bonnet is lifted carefully out of its box, as if it were a LIFE-STRUGGLES. 421 jewel. The lady gazes on it in admiration, takes a front look, side look, and back view of it, turning it quietly round and round on her hand. She daintily rearranges a bud, gives a twist to a cluster of flowers, she shakes up the plume, but immediately smooths it down again. Then she closely scrutinizes the quality of the velvet, the texture of the ribbons, and the character of the lace. Getting before the mirror, the good woman proceeds to smooth down her hair, or arrange her curls, and with due solemnity the Bonnet is put upon her head. It takes about ten minutes to get the Bonnet into exact position ; then a glance of such perfect satisfaction the ravishing smile, the arching of the eyebrows, a flood of delightful exclamations " Oh ! charming ! lovely ! mag- nificent ! What a love of a Bonnet ! " " He that can't enjoy tliat must have a heart of stone. Little does the bachelor think what a sensation is in store for him when he offers his tirst present after the wedding. Oh, the rapture of presenting a successful Bonnet ! ' (Great merri- ment.) "He then spoke of those who wore Old Bonnets. First: the unfortunate, the fallen. Second: the plain, the thrifty, the brave. Third : the honest poor. "lie pathetically delineated the sufferings of a 422 SHADOWY HAND; OR, dying working-woman, and graphically contrasted her case with that of the luxuries of the money kings, closing with the Coronation of Labor : ' The bell of centuries hath struck. Boom ! boom 1 It is the knell of Despotism in the Old World, and of Caste, Class, Fashion, Monied Monopolies, and (thank God) it is the knell of Chattel Slavery in the New.' (Tremendous applause.) "Mr . Morgan's appeals to the wives and daughters of working-men to discard aristocratic notions, to stand up for labor, make plainness of dress respectable, was one of his finest perorations." LIFE-STRUGGLES. 423 CHAPTER XL. Great Rush to Boston Music Hall. "Bachelors and their Follies." Notices of the Press. Seven Reasons Why Men Don't Many. Bride freighted like a Schooner. Arguments in Favor of Marriage. Need of Home. Happy Pair. Well-matched Span. Lecture on "Old Maids and Their Accusers.'' Accusers' Verdict. Reasons Why Old Maids Have Not Married. Monument to Old Maids. "Memoriae Sacrum." Fairy Tale of the Alham- bra. Woman's Temperance Crusade. Y two most attractive lectures were " Bach- elors aiid Their Follies : Why Men Don't Marry," and a lecture in defence of Sin- gle Women, entitled " Old Maids and Their Accusers." The immense crowds anxious for admission, extended from the doors of the Boston Music Hall to Winter and Tremont Streets. The Boston Times says : " This lecture is the most attractive of Mr. Morgan's whole course of lectures. Wornan-haters are anxious to know what can be said about female extravagance ; young men desire to obtain some excuse for post- poning the fatal day ; yoilng women want to know why in the world men don't propose. The lec- ture strikes the hearts of all. By it young ladies study their chances. Old bachelors expect to get 424 SHADOWY HAND; OR, a rub, and miserly men look for a tling at extrav- agance, while the great moral the sacred rite of marriage is to be promoted. The lecture was received with enthusiastic applause ; and so great was the rush for tickets, that the police were obliged to keep back the crowd from the ticket- office." The Boston Transcript remarks : "A large and enthusiastic audience greeted Rev. Henry Morgan last evening, to hear 'Why Men Don't Marry. How Some Act Who Do.' Long before the hour announced, crowds were clamoring at the doors for admission. As the lecture proceeded, the audience laughed, cheered, and wept in alternate succession." The Boston Traveller reports : " The crowd to hear Rev. Henry Morgan on , ' Why Men Don't Marry,' last evening, was unprecedented. The interesting ' conundrum ' was treated under various heads ; and many entertaining and instructive facts, thoughts, and deductions were given, inter- spersed with ludicrous witticisms, producing tumul- tuous applause. The closing part of the lecture, 'How Some Act Who Do,' illustrating the sad case of a wife placed m an insane asylum by a brutal husband, was rendered in Mr. Morgan's peculiar, forcible style, eliciting the warm, sym- pathetic tear from many an eye. " LIFE-STRUGGLES. 425 The Transcript adds: "'Why Men Don't Marry,' filled Mo rgail Chapel last evening, aisles, pulpit, and stairs. Mr. Morgan was in the best of humor ; the selfishness of bachelors, the extrav- agance of women, and the short-comings of hus- bands, kept the house in a roar. The well-matched pair, the sweets of home, the ties of children, the family in heaven, drew forth tears and applause, ft ever before have such crowds attended his lec- tures as at this course, especially last evening, three hundred persons paying for standing-room after the seats were filled. Hundreds were in their places an hour before the lecture. " Report by the Daily News : "'I propose to spend an evening with Bachelors. If there are any besides bachelors here to-night (and I perceive there are), they are welcome as invited guests. Bachelors are the elite of society - the elect, the privileged class : privileged to roam the world without bearing its burdens ; to eat the fruits of earth without adding to its pop- ulation. They are gentlemen of leisure ; they aspire to the beau ideal, they are beaus at large ; they claim to be connoisseurs of female excellence but they dodge the females. (Laughter.) " ' Bachelors are fond of titles. " A. B." sounds large to them " Artiam Baccalaureus" Bach- elor of Arts. " A. M. ," Master of Arts. They are 426 SHADOWY HAND; OR, masters of arts, the art of evading or shirking. All bachelors are shirkers'. They shirk the woman question ; the marriage question; they shirk responsibility; they are afraid of what are called "little responsibilities." (Applause.) Yet bachelors have their comforts : they live in a Paradise all to themselves ; Adam, with no Eve t- to bother him ; no tormenting trouble about the apple business. (Laughter.) They have no wives to scold them for going to bed with their boots on. I don't say bachelors, as a class, get oblivious, "get tight," but some do ! Late hours make them forgetful. They have no wives to hide their faults, reform their habits, to trim them down, take the conceit out of them ; none to lift them up into noble manhood. Bachelors are often sceptical. They have not faith in women or Deity. Hume, Gibbon, Hobbs, Voltaire, Pope, Lamb, were sceptical, unmarried men. Sceptical men do not always make good husbands. Boling- broke quarrelled with and parted from his wife ; Byron acted shamefully ; Coleridge left his wife to starve ; Shelley did but little better.' *" Here the speaker quoted a bachelor's defence : ' Who is petted to death by fond mothers who have marriageable daughters.; invited to tea and even- ing parties, and told to drop in when it is conve- nient? The Bachelor. UFE-STRUGGLES. 427 ' Who lives in clover all his days, the pet of female society, and, when he dies, has flowers strewn upon his grave by fair ladies who couldn't entrap him ? The Bachelor. : 'Who strews flowers on the married man's grave ? His widow ? Not a bit of it ! She pulls down the tombstone that Fashion's six weeks ' grief has set up in her heart, and she goes right off and gets married again, she does. ' Who cannot take an evening stroll, go to the club or ball, but upon his return receives a Caudle Lecture , lasting half the night ? The Married Man. c ' A smoky chimney is no more to be compared to a scolding wife, than a fire-cracker is to a thun- der clap. (Laughter.) ' 'Seven Keasons why Men Don't Marry. Be- cause they can't get the woman they want. Because they are cowards, they dare not face the music. Some are sceptical, they have no faith in woman's constancy. Some are selfish and stingy, think they could not support a wife. Some men are spendthrifts, of course they can't afford to marry. Some are afraid of divorce, don't know how long a wife may tarry. Last reason, Woman's Extravagance. This is cause for man's hesitating. If I had but $1,200 a year, and my intended needs expensive shawls, servants, car- riage, costing $3,000, my pile would look small in 428 SHADOWY HAND; OR her eyes, and I should look smaller. What would I do ? Do ! Why leave her father's house. (Laughter.) '" Schooner. It costs as much to launch a woman on the sea .of wedded life, in these times, as it would to fit out a small schooner. As to sails, cordage, pennants and streamers, the difference, 1 opine, is in favor of the schooner. As to her outfit, she is freighted with bonnet, veil, streamer, necklace, ear-rings, pins, chains, bracelets, rings, ruflles, bows, bauds, buttons, loops, folds, pipings, pleats, silks, muslins, laces, fans, boots, slippers, collars, cufis, gloves, nets, chignons, waterfalls, rats, mice, frizzles, switches, puffs, curls, belts, pannier, tournure Grecian Bciid ! (Great mer- riment.) What a cargo for so small a vessel 1 Few are the underwriters that will " take a risk " in such a craft ! (Laughter and applause.) ' Whom do Great Men Marry ? ' was his next heading; then he gave 'Arguments for Marriage.' Nature, History, and Revelation declare, 'It is not good for man to be alone.' Every man should have a help-meet, a bosom friend to co-operate with him in the battle of life. Man is but half himself, a single blade of shears, useless without a help-meet bound to him by matrimonial rivet. A wife is the balance-wheel of a man's character, the regulator of his morals. Marriage develops LIFE-STRUGGLES. 429 both husband and wife. Married men live one- sixth longer than single men, and twice as circum- spectly. "He then spoke of the need of 'Home.' Boarding-houses are not homes. A true home is man's Paradise Regained. Facts of history ; the Romans gave bachelors no legacies ; Corinth gave them no sepulture ; Athenians scourged them ; the rabbis insisted that every person at the age of twenty should marry. In 1695, a tax of one shilling a head was imposed upon old bachelors in England. If taxed now, he didn't know where some of them would get the shilling. (Laughter. ) " President Madison owed his popularity to the affability of his wife ; Sir James Mackintosh was reclaimed from dissipation by his wife ; Hon. Wm. Wirt was reclaimed by his betrothed ; John Hawkins, and John Bunyan, were saved by their wives. Let those who have had a faithful wife, and lost her by death, attest the worth of woman. " Objections to marriage were then answered, closing with a well-matched span a 'Happy Pair.' 'Marriage gives unity of purpose; makes a happy pair pull together like two ponies. I like to see a well-matched span harnessed for the road. There they stand, champing the bit, heads erect, pawing the ground, impatient for the start. Now the reins are seized! "Whoa, whoa, boy!" Off 430 SHADOWY HAND; OK, they go at lively gait. " Gently, gently, boy ! " Stepping together up the hill, down the valley, they go without a jar, briskly trotting towards their goal. Such is wedded life. Young married couple evenly matched, joyously passing through the flowery fields of youth. All nature smiles as they travel, step to step, eye to eye, heart to heart, sweetly on life's journey towards the heavenly city. M ' MORAL. Advice to Bachelors. In all your aspirations, aspire for wedlock. In all your seek- ings, seek the help of a true woman. In all your gettings, get a wife ; and never cease from getting till you get married.' (Great merriment and ap- plause.) " Physician, heal thyself.'' He then gave a bit of his own history, told how he was conse- crated to prison-work, to humanity, to celibacy, to God his success, his sacrifices and trials in a manner that started many a tear." "Old Maids and Their Accusers." The Tran- script says : "This is Mr. Morgan's chef d'oeuvre. It is intended as a memorial, memories sacrum, sacred to the memory of single Avomen, and to the great army of female philanthropists. At its first delivery, though but half completed, Mr. Morgan was offered the amount of the whole debt on his church, and the expense of a trip to Europe, if he LIFE-STRUGGLES. 431 would negotiate the profits of it for a year. It was delivered in Boston Music Hall, Sept. 7th, 1873, to over 3,000 persons." The Post reports : " Judging by the three thou- sand tickets taken at Music Hall, for Rev. Henry Morgan's new lecture, and by the rapturous ap- plause elicited, Mr. Morgan's fame as a lecturer is on the increase. Seldom has a man been found, who, starting in the lowest walks of life, teaching news-boys and street gamins in a ward-room, and preaching to the vicious, could suddenly rise and lill the largest and most popular hall in a large city, with an enthusiastic and paying audience, and this to do again and again, with increasing interest. First, Mr. Morgan has won the hearts of Boston by his philanthropic labors ; then he has the elo- quence to hold them." From the Daily News : " ' This evening I pro- pose to spend with "Old Maids." I have no inten- tions, no designs. (Laughter.) My motives are single, single as bachelors' motives generally are. I am astonished at this great audience ; astonished at the attractiveness of old maids. "Old Maids" draw they fill the house they replenish the treasury ; I rather like Old Maids on this account. (Laughter.) They are the salt of the earth magnets of attraction pinks of perfection! Pity that some of us hadn't discovered this fact before ! 432 SHADOWY HAND ; OR "'Hark to their accusers ! Accusers being judges, What is their verdict? Why, that " Old Maids" are the only incarnation, of the gospel, the only angels left on'earth. Is a young woman remark- ably neat and tidy, exact and precise, particularly resented toward the other sex, averse, to coquetry, to flirtation, she has all the traits of u confirmed, imperturbable Old Maid ! Is she irugal in her expenses, neat and exact in her domestic concerns ; does the cat have a cushion, the canary-bird a bathing-dish, and does the dog express his grati- tude every time he comes to her door ? Sad thought ! that humanity of hers is the sure characteristic of an Old Maid. Does she keep herself unspotted from the world, has she lived for the benefit of others, blessed every charily, died leaving her effects for benevolent purposes, still she is refused absolution fr- m the "unpardonable sin "of being an Old Maid, and this, too, in States where there are twenty thousand more females than males, and in Massachusetts, where there are fifty thousand more. * ' How can all get husbands ? How, unless they remove to Utah, join Brigham Young, and share with his sixteen wives and sixty-four children? (Laughter. ) Latter Day Saints are the only saints that can solve the social problem, and give cvciy woman a husband, or at least the sixteenth part of LITE-STRUGGLES. 433 one. The class I plead for desire the whole of a husband, or none, and a whole man at that. They don't believe, with Brigham, in seventy-husband power. (Laughter.) ' ' Seven Reasons why Old Maids have not Mar- ried. Some cling to family name, don't want to merge into the Smith family. Some prize their beauty too highly, don't find a purchaser. Some are too literary. Literary women should not marry ; Mrs. Hemans found the feeding of five hungry boys uncongenial to her tastes ; Mrs. Sigourney was unhappy in her domestic relations ; Mrs. Faun}*- Kemble preferred to be the heroine of her own tragedy, w Francis the First," than to be Mrs. Butler the Second ; Hannah More, Miss Edge worth, Miss Sedgwick, whose books have made the world better than they found it, did well to remain single ; the same may be said of Alice and Phoebe Gary, Louisa Alcott, Elizabeth Phelps, Emily Faithful, and many others. These are wed- ded to their works. Like Michael Augelo, they say, "Our works shall be our children." Miss Herschel was too much absorbed in the stars for " sparks " below ; Miss Mitchell preferred comets to bachelors ; Anna Dickinson wouldn't hitch on even to a Senator ; Miss Susan B. Anthony, the Bismarck of the strong-minded, who plans cam- paigns, heads the charge, leads the immortal fif- 23 434 SHADOWY HAND; OR teen at Rochester, and charges on the ballot-bos the John Brown of woman's rebellion tried, condemned, condemned without a jury of her peers, lined, imprisoned, all this by man. Miss Anthony marry? Marry a man! No, never! unless an executioner. Then all the tyrant men should have one neck, placed on one block, and she hold the axe. Then she would persuade them. (Laughter.) Some are too religious ; these are the Ann Lees, Ann Ilutchiiisons, the Joans of Arc, that have set the world on fire with religious enthusiasm. Some are too much absorbed in philanthropic work,. Florence Nightingale, Miss Barton, Miss Carpenter, Dorothy Dix. Some have no knack to win a lover. Lovers are often fools, caught with chaff. How to win them is an art. For twenty-five cents let me. show you. You can't buy a lover out and out for that money. (Laughter.) Some, however, are not worth more than a quarter.' (Renewed laughter.) '* Mr. Morgan comically portrayed a scene of Jove winning, which elicited great merriment and applause. ' Some are broken-hearted. Of all the treasures, heart treasures are the most sacred ; of all robbers and murderers, heart rob- bers and heart murderers are the most contempt- ible ; such a man 1 would hang on the gallows of public contempt, higher than Hainan. (Applause. ) LIFE-STRUGGLES. 435 Some arc too modest ; modest little violets bid in the lowland meadow. Some are too bold, too touguey : they rattle like an alarm-clock ; they make a soldier of a man, if he will only enlist.' The speaker related how 'Bartholomew' enlisted, and ' Zeke ' was made to travel faster. (Roars of laughter.) 'Som'ji have waited too long, skipped just one too many. There are no Old Maids here to-night, but some that will be. Some are too precise, too fastidious, too particular.' Mr. Mor- gan, in relating his first exploit in defence of Old Maids at the footlights, while preaching in a Bos- ton theatre, and stating he would defend them for- ever, brought down the house. He said, 'In honor of Old Maids, I would gather all the acts of kindness they have performed, all the slippers, neckties, handkerchiefs they have given to young ministers, all the Dorcas garments they have made, all the bed-quilts, stockings, tidies, crochet, all the cradles they have rocked, all the babies they have tended (I mean other people's babies), and build them ip.i:o a castle of defiance. What then? Why, I would shoot the first Old Bachelor, or any accuser, that dare to storm the fortress ! (Laugh- ter.) Furthermore, within that castle wall I would erect a monument to single women that should outshine the fame of heroes. This should be its inscription: "These arc the hundred and 436 SHADOWY HAND; OR, forty-four thousand, who came up through great tribulation, having their robes washed in the Blood of the Lamb. These are they which follow the Lamb whithersoever He goeth, and in their mouth is found no guile ; they are undefiled, for they are Virgins." ' " "Then Mr. Morgan quoted from the grand old Fairy Tale of the Alhambra the story of the Enchanted City silent as if petrified changed to stone. There lay the bride in her wedding-dress, surrounded by her ladies of honor the rich pink of beauty upon her cheek in the sleep of a thousand years. The lacqueys slumber on the staircases, and the waiting-maids lie, as if dead, clustered in the ante-chamber. There stands the war-horse, with nostril distended, caparisoned for battle. There stands the warrior, his stone hand on the mane of that petrified horse. All is still, lifeless, death-like. JVbio is heard the clarion blast of the Resurrection Trumpet ringing through the clear, cold atmosphere. As it sounds, men spring to life. The bridegroom rushes through the portcullis which opens at his approach. The ladies of the Court awake, and look inquiringly on each other. The staircase rings to the hurried footsteps of the bold prince rushing to his blush- ing bride. The war-horse, with fiery breath and flashing eye, shakes his mane, paws the earth, and UFE-STRUGGLES. 437 "leaps -with life ! The benumbed warrior feels the thrill of enchantment. At the battle-neigh of that noble charger, he strikes his hand upon the neck, seizes the reins, vaults to the saddle, and, with levelled lance and bugle-notes, rides forth to Victory ! n Moral. "This story represents the Temperance cause. The bones of the slain lie cold in death ; the hopes of the living are petrified, turned to stone. Humanity stands aghast, and shudders at the spectacle ! Two hundred victims buried each day ; twenty have died while I am now speaking ; sixty thousand a year, what an army ! Churches have lost their zeal ; newspapers dare not give the alarm ; politicians have proved treacherous ; pub- lic opinion sleeps ; moral forces are congealed, and the hearts of the people seem silent. Hark ! A voice from Ohio ! It is the trumpet-tone of suffering, praying, weeping Woman. It thunders with the voice of God. To the rescue ! To the rescue ! O ye women of America ! Bow the knee ; pour forth the prayer ; make the earnest appeal ; sing the psalm of triumph ; press for- ward to victory, untill the stocks and stones cry out, the castles of Drunkenness yield, and Intem- perance is banished from the land. Hark again I Men of America ! Hear the trumpet-sound of reform I Awake I Awake I The steeds of 438 SHADOWY HAND; OR, heavenly promise are at your door ; they are' neighing for battle. Up ! up ! to the rescue ! Mount the fleet charger of present Opportunity ; leap to the saddle of Hope ; seize the reins of Prayer ; strike deep the spur of holy enthusiasm ; level the lance of God's Truth, and, amid the plaudits of redeemed millions, rush to victory, adding victory to victory, until the last enslaved drunkard is set free. When the victory is won, and the tears of the widow and the orphan are dried ; when you gather up the laurels, accorded with the first honors, crowned with the brightest diadem, and placed on the highest pedestal of glory, will be that much-abused class of humanity called OLD MAIDS!""' LIFE-STRUGGLES. 439 CHAPTER XLI Notice of New Book and Lecture by the Boston Transcript. "Shadowy Hand" and "Hidden Hand.' Extracts from "Hidden Hand." New Sunday Evening Lecture : " Sam- Bon." Notice from the Providence Press and Albany Argus. Boston Globe on "Shadowy Hand." Summary of the Book. Its Romance, its Autobiography, its History and Marvellous Incidents. ROM the Boston Transcript, August 6th, 1874: - "Mr. Morgan's New JBook and New Lecture. Rev. Henry Morgan comes out this season with a new book and a new lecture, which are the crowning efforts of his life. The new book, ' Shadowy Hand,' a story of real life, gives the life-struggles of a remarkable career. A larger sale is predicted for it than 'Ned Nevins,' which reached over 20,000 copies the first year. "His new lecture, entitled 'Hidden Hand ; Pul- pit and the Stage,' is the fruit of a lifetime. Mr. Morgan's whole life has been the study of elo- quence. On the plantation, in the prisons, in the backwoods, among the news-boys, with 'thousands upon thousands' in Boston Music Hall, and Cooper Institute, New York, his triumphs have no cul- minated in the 'Pulpit and the Stage.' 440 SHADOWY HAND; OR, " His lecture on * Fast Young Men ' has been repeated more than 200 times, has bought a church now worth $80,000, and given Mr. Morgan his reputation, but did not suit all classes, was not always a success. "His new lecture, 'Hidden Hand,' is adapted to any audience, as it strikes the hearts of all. It is not Tom Taylor's drama, 'Hidden Hand,' with the poisoned cup, nor the ' Hidden Hand ' of Mrs. Southworth's Capitola, but the 'hiding of God's power in soul-forces.' We give an extract : " * Eloquence is divine ; passion is power ; power is of God. All hearts are stirred by genuine eloquence. Touch the springs of human passion, and you touch the stars ! Touch the fountains of joy and sorrow, and you reach heaven ! Strike Nature's secret springs, and whether from pulpit or stage, the world responds I Christians have strong prejudice against the drama, yet the drama had a religious origin. It is found in all the relig- ious rites of ancient nations. The modern drama originated in the exhibition of miracles and relig- ious mysteries. Priests and monks were the chief performers. When the drama was usurped by strolling vagrants, it fell into disrepute. " ' Both the pulpit and the stage are moulded by the times . In Puritanic times the people demanded LIFE-STRUGGLES . 441 the tragic ; in time of Charles II. the ludicrous, the comic ; ia our time, the effeminate, the weak, the trashy. The time was when the pulpit swayed men's consciences ; they bowed to the fiat of the preacher as to fate. Now, many of the pulpits are silent on the great sins of the age. We wor- ship not the God of glory, but of gold ; not the King of Heaven, but the "Money King." ' " The speaker then presented two styles of pul- pit eloquence : one by an English exquisite, the other by a Yankee Revivalist. Also negro preach- ing in Georgia. * Going up, leapin,' sailin,' on'ard up'ard, higher, higher, O, Lord a-massy, leans go no f udder 1 " (Laughter.) "He then gave humorous sketches of 'Pulpit Eccentricities ' : Lorenzo Dow with the stolen axe ; Peter Cartwright making his antagonist pray under water ; Bishop Asbury declaring, 'The devil and the women will get all my preachers ! ' Whitefield crying, ' Fire ! fire ! ' Rowland Hill shouting, * Matches ! matches ! ' " He contrasted the pulpit with the stage, pre- sented Garrick acting before the Bishop, and Gar- rick in the crazed character of King Lear, with his crown of straw falling from his brow. He depicted Buhver's Cardinal Richelieu, exclaiming, ' I am the State ! Richelieu and France are one I ' Charlotte Cushmau in Lady Macbeth; Mrs. 442 SHADOWY HAND ; OR, Siddons representing madness, and driving men out of their wits ; Edmund Kean uttering the ' curse ' of Lear, and, at his last performance in Othello, crying, ' Villain, never pray more ! ' when he fell exhausted, and was borne from the stage to die ; Edwin Forrest's violence in the * Gladia- tor' and in 'Jack Cade,' and Macready's cool- ness and classical finish. These portrayals elicited repeated applause. " In presenting the * staginess of the stage ' (the- atrical affectation) , the gesture, the look, the strut, the walk, the simulated grief and rage, tears and despair, the manufactured thunder, the pop-gun climax of horror, the pre-arranged plans where to fall, when and how to die, in these the speaker brought down the house with applause and merri- ment. "While allowing the stage its true place, repre- senting some of the noblest of characters and the highest passions of men, piling ' Olympus on Ossa and Ossa on Pelion,' the pulpit presents a field for higher eloquence, deeper conviction, and more lasting impressions. The preacher, with single, unaided voice, may rouse an audience into higher rapture than the united efforts of twenty performers, with star actor, scenic effects, and orchestra combined. w One preacher like Whitefield transcends them LIFE-STRUGGLES. 443 all. "VYhitefield's portrayal of Christ's agony, the meltings of mercy, the terrors of judgment; his talking with Abraham in heaven ; his stopping Gabriel on his heavenly mission ; his compelling Lord Chesterfield to cry, 'He's lost! 7^e's lost!' his forcing Franklin to empty his pockets of their gold, and the assassin to drop the stone aimed at Whiten* eld's head ; his preaching, weeping, pray- ing, and exclaiming, ' Oh ! ' in a manner that made Garrick offer 100 guineas to do the like, these scenes, acted to the life, made Whitefield the prince of preachers, and superior to all actors. " The above abstract conveys but. a slight idea of the popular effect of this, Mr. Morgan's grand- est lecture, in which preachers and actors, play- goers and theatre opposers, are alike interested. Calls for its delivery are already being received from distant States." Samson. The last new lecture, "Samson," is adapted for Sunday evening delivery. The Providence Press thus reports : " A lajge audience listened with interest and attention to Mr. Mor- gan's lecture on Samson, at the Opera House, last evening. His ready flow of speech, alter- nating, now in the merry mood, then in the sar- castic, and often pathetic, carried his listeners with him at his will. He reviewed Salvini's play of Samson somewhat sharply, and was at a loss to 444 .SHADOWY HAND; OB, know why the strong man should be represented as having been shorn of his strength through the influence of the cup, there being no record to warrant it, He closed with an earnest appeal to those who had strayed from the path of rectitude, to return, and by a renewal of their determina- tion to serve God, and receive the forgiveness so earnestly sought by the subject of his discourse." The Albany Argus says : " Mr. Morgan's imper- sonation of the Giant Man struggling against the wiles of a wicked woman, his strength, his weak- ness, his firm resolve to keep his Nazarite vow inviolate at all hazard, his semi-confession, his betrayal, his breaking the cords and the withes, his yielding at last, his fall, his remorse, and his despair, these were graphically portrayed, and awakened intense feeling. His renewed vow, his penitence, prayer, and triumphant death, pointed one of the grandest morals ever presented to fal- len man." The Springfield Republican says, it was "gen- uinely pathetic. 1 " The Union says : " Mr. Morgan may be sure of a full house in Springfield, after such success as he achieved by his 'Samson.' : " MORAL. Young man, if once betrayed, now escape ! Escape for thy life ! Eenew thy baptismal vow ! Like Samson, die victoriously ! Die the LIFE-STRUGGLES. 445 death of the righteous ! In the valley and shadow of death, seize the pillars of doubt; grapple with the powers of darkness, and come off more than conqueror, shouting, Victory! Victory!" From the Boston Daily Globe, Aug. 17, 1874 : " Mr. Morgan's f Shadowy Hand. 1 The Rev. Henry Morgan announces for this season a new book, 'Shadowy Hand,' 450 pages, illustrated. A true picture of 'life-struggles,' it is a splendid contribution to the history of ' self-help.' It will stimulate many a struggling youth to perseverance, rehearsing the motto, 1 With God to speed the right, There's no such word as fail.' w The author sketches a thrilling picture of an earnest life. Reared in poverty at the ' Old Store ' in Newtown, Conn., struggling for an education, becoming teacher and preacher at last, his study of eloquence among prisoners, in almshouses, on the mountains, by the roar of Niagara, among slaves on plantations, and in the popular halls of large cities, make up a life of rare interest. A chapter devoted to the grand scenery of Virginia brings before the eye the Peaks of Otter, Mount Vernon, Cedar Creek, and the variety of prospec- tive seen by day and night, incidents of the nat- 446 SHADOWY HAND; OK, ural bridge, and scenes in the lives of John Ran- cjolph and Patrick Henry. "Romance flits across its pages, alternating like the tears and laughter of a child with narratives painful and sad. Few are the stories -in fiction that exceed the pathos of the romantic attachment between 'Ostee' and ' Veolia,' the Indian maid of the Shenandoah, and their untimely end ! His would be a stony heart, indeed, whose eyes could read, unmoistened, the narration of the deserted widow about to part with her child, sought for adoption by strangers. When the moment came, she cried : ' Cling to my neck, Julia ! let those be mothers whom God makes mothers. Never will I part with thee ! ' "The effect of a child's eloquence, when wife's and pastor's efforts have failed to succeed, is also fiiiety told. "The author's experience borders on the romantic, and we might say, the marvellous. In sickness and distress, messengers of Heaven seemed sent to him. On one occasion, a robin was the angel of hope to his despondency, singing at his window in the midst of the storm, shaking off the rain-drops, then louder sounding its notes of song. This inspired Mr. Morgan to make one more effort for a foothold in Boston, and he succeeded. On another occasion, a white dove, during a funeral LIFE-STRUGGLES. 447 service, came flitting. into the church, lighting upon the pulpit, a harbinger of peace, while Mr. Morgan lay nigh unto death. Two chapters are given to this occurence. " The magic influences of a mother's f Shadowy Hand,' which give title to the book, are also sig- nificant. The lovers of sensation take their fill of horrors from the * Scott Case,' a sad history of woman's suffering in an Insane Asylum. And the aged, for none are overlooked, have a whole chap- ter to themselves on that most interesting occasion of the testimonial service to Father Cleveland and the aged in Morgan Chapel. Colonel Cowdin, and Massachusetts First Regiment, receive atten- tion. "Mr. Morgan's previous work, 'Ned Nevins,' met with a sale of over 20,000 copies the first year. It is expected that the ' Shadowy Hand ' will surpass even this. This book, together with his new lecture, 'Hidden Hand; Pulpit and the Stage,' to be delivered in September, in Boston Music Hall, is considered his crowning effort. It is, in fact, the study of a lifetime. Both ' Shad- owy Hand ' and ' Hidden Hand ' will be given to the public in September.'* Notices from the Press, on "Fast Young Men" : "Tweedle Hall was filled, packed, jammed last 448 SHADOWY HAND. evening ; this may seem strange, but it is literally true. Old and young, rich and poor, high and low, gray-beards and boys, young men and misses, were present to hear the reverend speaker." Argus. ' " The rush for tickets to Rev. Henry Morgan's lecture in Tweedle Hall last evening, was unpre- cedented. Many of the intelligent and respect- able were debarred the privilege of hearing him, as it was found, at last, that none but the able- bodied could endure the pressure." Albany Express. "At times the jam was fearful, crowding in the doors of the adjoining piano-rooms, when the police were called. Those having reserved seats found it difficult to enter the hall, and some gave up the contest." Knickerbocker . LIFE-STBTJGGLES. 449 CHAPTER XLII. Fifth Thousand. Chapter on the Critics, favorable and unfavorable. Who assails the Book? Plea for Sensation. Proposition to my Assailants. Will sell Church, and place fifty Men in the Field, if they will give the Gospel a fair Trial for one Year. F IX weeks have elapsed since the publica- tion of " Shadowy Hand." Through storms of adverse criticism it has reached its fifth thousand. It has been unexpect- edly assailed by both pulpit and press. " Sensationalism," " self-puffery," " paid enco- miums," "burlesque in the pulpit," "pious hum- bug," and kindred epithets, have been heaped upon it. In consequence of which some of my appointments to lecture have been cancelled ; my name has been a byword of contempt. While professed infidels and free-thinkers are upheld and welcomed to the platform before a religious body, one called a " sensationalist " must hot be toler- ated. This shows that frozen orthodoxy and open infidelity are not far apart ; they go hand in hand. I had an appointment to lecture at Colby Uni- versity. Zion's Advocate of Portland, on learning Q the fact, gave the following : " We cannot 450 SHADOWY HAND; OR, but express our amazement that the students of Colby University have given a place in their series of lectures to Henry Morgan. If the public will hear Mr. Morgan, very well ; but we did not suppose that the students in any of our colleges would give encouragement to cheap sensation- alism." As this was the organ of the college, my ap- pointment was annulled; the president of the college at the same time caused to be published in a Boston journal, " Lest the announcement in your columns, that Rev. Henry Morgan will lec- ture in the course to be delivered under the auspices of the students of Colby University may be regarded as an endorsement by them, will you please say that Mr. Morgan will not lecture in the course." The following is from .the Watchman and Re- flector : "The members of the Literary Frater- nity of Colby University, however, thinking that the attack on Mr. Morgan was uncalled for, and believing in fair play, determined that he should have a hearing. He accordingly gave his lecture, ' Hidden Hand ; Pulpit and the Stage,' in the Baptist church ; and, at the urgent request of the students, gave his second lecture, 'Why Men don't marry,' on the following evening, when the house was crowded. Both lectures were lug My LIFE-STRUGGLES. 451 appreciated by the people generally, and decidedly successful in every way, netting the society a handsome sum, and gaining Mr. Morgan many warm friends in Waterville." Afterwards the students unanimously voted to tender me a series of complimentary resolves, "recognizing in Mr. Morgan an effective and earnest laborer in the cause of humanity." This same cry against " sensationalism " was raised when I was lecturing in Cooper Institute, New York, by an old school divine, Dr. Prime of the New-York Observer. He also cited Dr. Christleib. His criticism was copied in nearly all the religious journals, and republished in every large city where I was about to lecture. This is my reply. Sir : Sensation is the key- note of reform. Without sensation there can be no great achievement. Sensation is the plow- share of the future harvest. " Agitate ! agitate ! " is the talisman of progress. No- reform has ever been achieved except by the agitation of ideas. Creeds and institutions get turf-bound ; like fruit- trees, they need slitting and rasping. Skepticism is like the grubs beneath the bark ; it needs the rasp of reform. The hour has come. Hark I This cry against sensation ! What is it ? What does it mean ? Ah, sir, " the iron hath probed the glebe.*' The crickets are jumping from the furrow ; 452 SHADOWY HAND; OK, the moles and the mice are leaving their nests. Reform's plowshare has already struck the dry roots and turf of old ideas. Oceans of scientific thought are surging against the sand-bars of the dead past. Old landmarks are shifting. Theo- logical theories and castles of ancient conceit are crumbling ! Self-constituted hierarchies are fall- ing ! " Stand from under! " is the cry. " Progress is the watchword of the hour ! " "I will over- turn, overturn, overturn, saith the Lord." The worship that has heart in it need not fear the assaults of skepticism. Heartless preachers are the moths and grubs to the church hive. Honey-bees cannot expel them, but they can seek a new hive. Heartless preaching is making more infidels than all the scientists combined. The religion that can meet the wants of man- kind, take the vices out of a man, the swearing, the drinking, the licentiousness, and make him honest, noble, upright, God-like ! That religion need not tremble at skepticism; it can stand against the combined infidelity of the world. There is great prejudice against what is called " sensationalism ; " yet live religion must be sensa- tional. David was sensational when he danced be- fore the Lord. Jesus Christ was sensational when he wept over Jerusalem. Angels are supposed to be sensational ; they rejoice over repenting siniiers. LIFE-STRUGGLES. 453 When the foundations of the world were laid, the inspired poet says, " The morning stars sang to- gether, and the sons of God shouted for joy ! " I affirm that the pulpit should be sensational, and not a tombstone. Tombstones preach to dead folks. Want of heart has already killed the reformation in Germany. Yet you quote, sir, a German theologian as my censor, a man knowing nothing of the American Idea. His condemnation of the applause of " thousands upon thousands "- in Boston Music Hall, ought to be. to my honor, rather than discredit. You say I was "bold, blatant, impetuous." The same might be said of Knox, Luther, and Whitefield, greatest of preachers. You speak of "burlesque in the pulpit." What can be a greater burlesque than the insincerity of many men of your profession? You profess that the salvation of a soul is worth every thing, worth more than a kingdom; that a lost soul is the greatest of all losses. Yet how indifferent! What zeal do you exhibit ? What agony for the lost ? What groans, sighs, and bitter tears ? Ah I sir, is not this burlesque indeed ? You hint at "something like communism, flings at respectable pulpits and rich congregations." I confess to the charge. Christ was thus charged. We worship not the God of glory, but of gold. 454 SHADOWY HAND; OK, Not the king of heaven, but the money king. Wealth holds the pew; it muzzles the pulpit- With a carpenter for its founder, fishermen for its disciples, a tent-maker for its chief apostle, gospel preaching has now become aristocratic and exclu- sive. Where is the church that would welcome the working-man in his blouse ? Hear it, oh ye preachers ! Unless the laboring man rind's a gospel that will give him social equal- ity, and unloose the heavy burden, and pronounce for manhood-sovereignty, soul-recognition, and soul-equality before God, irrespective of class, caste, cloth, or gold, he will stay at home; churches will be deserted. Now I ask, what is your sect or church doing for the masses ? " hete- rogeneous masses," called in derision ? Where are the great congregations of the poor ? Does your manner of preaching reach one out of twenty of the population? Where the once great revi- vals ? Great anniversary occasions ? Where the zeal, the deep conviction, the noble self-sacrifice, humility and charity ? Shades of the Puritans ! Has it come to this ? When a man is found to attract non-churchgoers, and gather two or three thousand persons on a Sunday night in Cooper Institute, right in sight of open shooting-galleries, dance-halls, lager beer concerts, Black Crooks, and a thousand drinking- LIFE-STRUGGLES. 455 saloons, all in full blast, and constrain that audi- ence^to respond, almost to a man, to every noble appeal of moral sentiment for temperance, religion, humanity, and God, then, sir, alas ! there is not wanting an editor and orthodox divine to stand against the tide ; to throw himself into the breach, and cry with all the lamentation of Job, " My heart and my flesh cry out ! Saved by such meas- ures so abhorrent to my tastes ? No, no ! a thousand times no ! Better than such preaching is the LOWEST GERMAN THEATRE." Oh tell it not in the streets of New York ; pub- lish it not in the Bowery, lest the Five Points rejoice, and the enemy cry " ha ! ha ! " You speak of the " indelicate ; " of ladies covering their faces, and applause from the pit. I pronounce the insinuation false, and a slander upon the audience. "Evil be to him who evil thinks." You repeat, with seeming surprise, that " no pastors, no news- papers, secular or religious," had spoken a word against me in Boston. My answer is this : "They know me ! " You do not know me, and I fear you are incapable of comprehending my motives. Now, sir, I make this proposition : If you and the ministers of the denomination you repre- sent, will for one year curtail your expenses, divide your salaries, give up watering-places, spend your vacations with the poor, and for the poor, and 456 SHADOWY-HAND ; OE, give the gospel a hearty trial for one year, then will I do it for a lifetime. I will not lecture ; I will preach the gospel the whole gospel, and nothing but the gospel so long as life and health are spared me. Furthermore, if you will honestly and consci- entiously promise twelve months of faithful, zeal- ous labor for a genuine revival of God's work in the hearts of men, then I will make a still greater sacrifice. I will immediately sell the church ob- tained by my lectures, and all the property I have, except the dwelling I live in, and, with the pro- ceeds, place fifty evangelists in the field for mis- sionary and revival work. Yea, I will gladly do it, at a cost of fifty thousand dollars. Now let us try the experiment for one year. Who will say " Amen ? " If three hundred preachers will do it for one year, then their example will be contagious ; the flock will follow the shepherd. A general awak- ening will be the result. New hands will enter the field ; the three hundred will increase to more than three thousand the first year. If they in- crease in the same ratio for ten years, then the world's population will be met. What fruit from the example and toil of one year ! What fruit from the efforts of three hundred men I One year of faith, of sacrifice, and prayer ! One year LITE-STRUGGLES. 457 of sowing in tears I One year of bitter struggle ! One year in threading the lanes and alleys, and] treading the thorny paths of the Saviour ! One year, only just one year ! when he has suf- ered so much, suffered, bled, and died for us. One short year ! while he stands interceding forever at the right hand of the Father. One year of earnest planting, then cometh the harvest. And what a harvest ! What blessings on the faithful three hundred I What mourners will be comforted; what tears will be dried; what prisons will be opened ; what families united ; what orphans made glad ; what inebriates reclaimed I What a millennial of peace on earth I Every countenance shall smile with joy ; every wind whisper peace ; every sunbeam sparkle with delight ! Salvation will be in every song. The tides of redemption shall sweep into every corner, cleansing every pollution, rising higher and high- er with every flood of tune, dashing against the citadels of sin, sweeping them from their founda- tions, and, striking at last upon the ROCK OF AGES, echo as they fall, " Not unto us, not unto us, but unto thy name, be all the glory, ALLELUJAH, ALLELUJAH 1 THE LORD GOD OMNIPOTENT REIGNETH I " 458 SHADOWY HAND; OK, NOTICES OP THE PRESS. " REV. HENRY MORGAN is an eccentric minister of Boston, who preaches to heterogeneous masses in what is known as Morgan Chapel. For general sensationalism, frequent coarseness, and elements often worse, he probably has no equal. If clownish- ness in the pulpit can find justification here it is." Congregationalist, Sept. 24, 1874. It is but just to state that Dr. Dexter knew nothing of the above ; he said he would not have sanctioned it. He used to exchange with me when he was pastor of Berkeley-street Church, and always commended my work. Except it might advertise the writer, I would give his name, and show how much evil a little stinging, insignificant wasp may do around the hive of industry in repelling hon- est workers. Yet such narrow-minded, soulless, malignant wasps, stand, like dogs in the manger, by scores, at both pulpit and press, preaching by the minute and paid by the line, to starve the flock, and suppress every holy endeavor! " Ho w" LONG ! OH LORD, HOW LONG ! " " The reports which the author gives of his ser- mons and lectures are painfully disgusting. We stand amazed at the man who could preach the 4 sermon ' on the * Railroad of Life ; ' but we are more amazed, and more deeply shocked, when we read that he delivered it with overwhelming UFB-STEUGOLES. 459 effects over his mother's grave." Churchman, New York (Ritualistic). Such an organ could not be " deeply shocked " at the owning and leasing of forty grog-shops by Trinity church, or in spending the interest of seven millions to foster such heartless tomfoolery as is found in Trinity, at the head of Wall Street, every Sunday at 4 o'clock. Fit brother of the heartless bulls and the bears of the gold board. But it would be shocked if John Wesley should preach on his father's tombstone, or George White- field should soil his gown by preaching in the fields. The Christian at Work says, " The author of this book seems to fear that he is the one Elijah of his age, or the solitary John the Baptist;" "Pious humbug," &c. Oh dont! Dr. Talmage! Some may mistake ; they may take the picture for the wrong person. The " Danbury News " man says, " We cannot conscientiously endorse it." What a joke I The " Methodist " says, " His methods are among the most eccentric ever adopted by a minis- ter ; his Sunday services bear the outer aspect of a week-day show." Now, Mr. Methodist ! how was it with you in olden times ? What won you the success that you glory in to-day ? Please, sir, . don't throw stones at vour father's house. 460 SHADOWY HAND. From the " Christian Era " : " Everybody knows Mr. Morgan. His book is just like him. It is sure to have a host of readers, just as his lectures are sure to have a host of hearers. He has certainly done a great and good work, has fairly won his laurels, and deserves to wear them." The " Morning Star " says, " It is intensely alive from the first page to the last ; often keen enough to disarm criticism, earnest enough to be magnetic. The author thoroughly believes in his high mission, and is confident that this book will help him work it out ; and we think it will." Boston Journal. " Whatever faults may be ascribed to Mr. Morgan as a public speaker, or literary workman, dulness is not one of them. This book is full of the nervous and fiery energy characteristic of his platform utterances." Christian Intelligencer. " There is a rough earnestness, and a straight-forward simplicity, together with a mingled vein of humor and pathos about this story, which make it very attractive." LIFE-STRUGGLES. 461 CHAPTER XLIII. My Consecration at the Tomb of Whitefield. " Thy Vows are upon me." White Dove. My Mother's Shadowy Hand. My New Resolve. Appeal to my Critics. Mer- chants' Testimonial. West, or East? NOW come to the most interesting event of my life, an event of great moment to me, m y consecra ti n a t the tomb of White- field. It was on a cold, dismal, autumnal day that I visited the last resting-place of the Prince of Preachers at Newburyport. The leaves were fall- ing ; not a bird was stirring ; all Nature was pre- paring for her winter sleep, as with magic fingers she caught the solitary snowflakes as they fell, weaving them into gauzy net-work to veil her features from the coming blast. Whitefield was my beau ideal of a preacher : his tomb was the Mecca of my pilgrimage. Never were Delphic cave, tripod, or sibyl more hallowed than this vault. Never did Pythian priestees, or oracle of Apollo, guard holier treasures. No fabled exhalations from the caves of Parnassus, no droppings from the fountains of Castalia, were half so inspiring to poet, sage, or sibyl, as that plain, unadorned, unguarded tomb was to me. 462 SHADOWY HAND ; OE, Said the sexton, " There is Rev. Mr. Parsons's house, and there the chamber in which the great Whitefield died. There the stairs, and there the doorsteps on which he stood that memorable Saturday night, with candle in hand, burning it to its socket, while delivering his last exhortation, with hands upraised in benediction before going to his room to meet the angel. Then we talked of his trials and persecutions, his opposition from the clergy of the Established Church, of the New-Haven Association, and other associations, forbidding him their pulpits, and dis- suading their members from hearing him. He was accused of telling stories to please the multi- tude, of lowering the dignity of the pulpit. His followers were designated as the " Rabble," his con- verts called " Excitement converts" Most of them, being refused communion, joined the Baptists, and became the life of that sect. The Baptists, pre- vious to this, were open communionists. Being refused communion by the Established Church, they, in turn, refused the church, and became close communionists. Through that " Great Awaken- ing," under Whitefield, the Baptists became the leading denomination of America for nearly half a century. Said the sexton as we continued, " That is the church (pointing to the first church) which UFE-STKUGGLES. 463 refused Mr. Whitefield. Mr. Parsons's church was ever open to him. It was the fruit of Whitefield's labors. This is the cenotaph erected by the side of the pulpit to his memory ; and that is the por- trait of Mr. Parsons, who wished to be buried by his side." I said, " I wish to enter the vault. I have come to consecrate myself anew for the work of saving men. This is not the first time I have visited this place. I came here when first opening my mission in Boston : then my days were dark, and friends were few. Burdened with the care of newsboys, holding religious meetings every night, and visit- ing from house to house until my health was broken, I sought this shrine. The name of Whitefield was dear to me : it was ever on my mother's lips ; her shadowy hand always pointed to him as my model. His biography was ever by my side, his sermons continually on my table ; his portrait hung upon the wall over my bed ; his extended arms in my night vigils were over- shadowing me with his benediction. Through my mother's wish I visited the tomb, and at the feet of Whitefield laid my case in agony of prayer before God. " The Methodists had refused to ordain me, and threatened to take away my license, unless I gave my mission into their hands. My health was fail- 464 SHADOWY HAND; OR, ing fast ; my spirits were nearly broken. Like John on the Island of Patmos, in his cave, shut out from the light of day, I sought light from the spirit world. Here my soul was enlarged. I received a commission to go forth and preach the gospel to all classes of men, rich and poor, high and low, and not be limited by denominational ties. " What a vision opened before me ! As John saw his cave, by the dim light of the taper, gradu- ally expanding into a palace of crystals, each stalactite and stalagmite caused by the droppings of centuries changing into solid pearls for the twelve gates, and each gem of the ceiling becom- ing a precious stone, jasper, sardonyx, emerald, topaz, amethyst, until the walls went up twelve thousand furlongs high; the very floor upon which he kneeled was. paved with gold, and the * New Jerusalem came down from God out of heaven as a bride adorned for her husband,' so in Whitefield's vault my heart was enlarged to embrace all men of all nations who acknowledge the fatherhood of God and brotherhood of man. I returned to my mission with renewed hopes, and determined to labor for the salvation of the lost. Ten years have elapsed ; my mother has died ; my spirits have become again depressed. I have been assailed for lecturing and telling anecdotes LIFE-STKUGGLES. 465 on Sunday nights. Men in high places accuse me of ' sensationalism,' of selecting ' odd texts ' for my discourses to attract the ' rabble,' not com- prehending my motives. My book, ' Shadowy Hand,' has been severely criticised. Amidst my trials and persecutions I come again to this spot to re-consecrate myself before God. I desire to enter the vault." The sexton lighted his lantern, opened the trap-door at the back of the pulpit : we descended a small flight of stairs, and came to the door of the vault. He opened it, and we entered. " There at the right," said the sexton, " is the coffin of Mr. Parsons ; at the left is the coffin of the blind preacher ; and here, lying across them both, are the remains of the immortal Whitefield." He opened the lid, held up the lantern, and showed me the precious relics. " Many tunes I have opened that lid to visitors from both Europe and America," said he as he withdrew. I set the lantern outside, closed the vault-door, and was left alone in darkness and solitude with the dead. I seemed in the presence of the mighty, living Whitefield. My soul was imbued with his spirit of self-sacrifice and prayer. How holy was that place ! I knelt by the side of the coffin, placed my hand upon the brow of his skeleton frame. I pressed with reverence and prayer upon that skull whose brain had moved the hearts of millions. I 466 SHADOWY HAND; OB, touched the bones of his right arm for inspiration . I lifted the arm that had, like a magician's wand, swayed twenty thousand in the field. I had come to the tomb of Samuel, and saw the venerable prophet come forth. How deeply I felt my own insignificance before such a model ! How little 1 had done in compari- son ! Oh, how I longed to be more fitted to the work of saving men ! I cried from the depths of my soul to the Lord for help : " How long, O Lord ! how long ?" Oh for a holy enthusiasm ! Oh for a resurrection of the dry bones of back-slidden churches ! I thought of Whitefield's eloquence, his por- trayal of Christ's agony, the meltings of mercy, the terrors of judgment, his talking with Abraham in heaven, asking him, " Are there any sects in heaven ? " his stopping Gabriel on his heavenly mission, crying, " Stop, Gabriel, stop I " his passionate weeping, praying, and exhorting, pour- ing out his whole soul in every sermon, preach- ing, " As if he ne'er might preach again, A dying man to dying men." These filled me with reverence and awe. I prayed for a baptism, for guidance. I prayed until it seemed as if the heavens were opened. LIFE-STRUGGLES. 467 The darkness of the tomb became as the bright- ness of noonday. The white dove that years before had visited my congregation while I lay at death's door hard by, and brought me great com- fort, hope, and joy, now again appeared, minister- ing to my consecration, as did the dove to the baptism of the Son of God in the River Jordan. As it circled over my head, its plumage . sparkling with diamond flashes, light broke in upon my soul as from a new revelation. I felt commissioned for a great work. In my chapel at Boston, a dove had entered, and flitted round and round, lighting upon the pulpit, while the minister was at the altar, suffering itself to be caught and brought to my bedside as a mes- senger from the spirit world. That was an actual fact. It occurred June 15, 1862. This, however, my last visitation, was only in imagination. Here was no material dove, no possible chance for such an advent; the walls were of brick; the door of the vault was closed ; and darkness reigned. Yet what joy was experienced in that fanciful visitation ! what a holy unction ! what a revelation from the spirit realm ! I also saw in my vision, slowly moving upon the ceiling, my mother's " shadowy hand" once more. What a privilege ! I heard her whisperings, and felt her warm breath fan my cheek. I knew it 468 SHADOWY HAND; OB, was my mother : I felt her influence as in child- hood. As the hand waved, I saw her benignant form rise up before me. Placing her hand upon my head, as she did when consecrating me in the old schoolhouse in Connecticut, she said, " The wing of the Almighty be over thee, my son ! A mother's blessing be upon thee ! Go forth and battle for the Lord. Fear not opposition nor per- secution. * With Grod to speed the right, there's no such word as fail.' ' Then with a radiant smile, and angelic expression upon her countenance, her shadowy hand pointing upward, she vanished. How impressive the scene ! How inspiring that interview ! I rose from my knees, entranced. I thought of the lifeless pulpits and empty pews, the overwhelming tide of scepticism, the bold front of sin, and resolved to make one more effort to rally God's hosts to the charge. As I opened the door, and came to the light, there stood the sexton, bathed in tears. Said he, " O sir ! I had just such a mother. Her hand was over me ; her shadow followed me ; and her teachings led me up to God. May God bless you for publishing the influence of a mother's ' Shad- owy Hand ' / " I left Newburyport burdened with the apocalypse of my divine commission. " It was as a burning fire shut up in my bones. I could not forbear." I LIFE-STRUGGLES. 469 opened courses of lectures in Lowell, Lynn, and Salem, with greater success than I had ever before experienced. At Lynn, when '? Fast Young Men " was delivered for the fourth time, every standing- place in aisles, ante-room, and platform, was filled ; and the doors were closed long before the time for the lecture. Similar throngs were attracted to Me- chanic Hall, Salem, and Huntington Hall, Lowell. For over an hour and a half each evening, those immense audiences listened, wept, and responded to my God-inspired appeals. I felt it no sin to be " egotistical.'" The " GREAT I AM " had sent me. I felt not condemned for publishing " Shadowy Hand " " to advertise myself." My commission Was to " GO INTO ALL THE WORLD, AND PREACH TO EVERY CREATURE." To do this, I must meet the crowd not in select, cushioned pews, but in halls. I thought it not wrong to charge admittance-fee. There is no more sin in charging on Sunday night ten cents at the door than in taking five dollars at the pew. Besides, it is more democratic ; it is less exclusive ; it debars no one. It places all men on a level, rich, poor, high, and low, equal before G-od. I was not ashamed of my odd texts or odd sub- jects, my " Speckled Bird " lectures. The Sav- iour of the world was not ashamed of such. He drew his comparisons from hen and chickens, 470 LIFE-STRUGGLES. sheep, oxen, foxes, and fishermen. Neither was I abashed at " Bachelors " nor " Old Maids." He choose bridegrooms and virgins. Neither of " Sam- son," nor " Fast Young Men." Christ discoursed on the prodigal. Christ adapted himself to the times and his hearers. It was my duty to suit myself to my hearers, and to the age, even if it be by preaching on the " Railroad of Life." " The Salem Register " says, " Those who find most fault with his lectures are almost invariably persons who have never heard him. His eccentri- cities serve to draw in that large class to be found in every large city, who could not be induced to attend an ordinary religious service. Mr. Morgan will work on in his own way. He will have his hearers : his audiences will continue to laugh and weep ; and good will be done." O ye critics, forbear! Stand not in the way of the Lord ! From this time forth I shall, under God, do my whole duty, regardless of all opposi- tion. The merchants have tendered me a testi- monial on my departure from Boston. I know not whether I shall remain West or East. The great heart of the West is beating to welcome me, yet my affections are in Boston. Of the future, God only knows. Wherever I go I shall proclaim aloud, and spare not. University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 Box 951388 LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90095-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. ItHff!! II MfMMI Lbrtry FidMf HI WWf m