Cofiant y diweddar Barch Robert Everett/Family Reminiscences

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Cofiant y diweddar Barch Robert Everett gan David Davies (Dewi Emlyn)

Poetry

FAMILY REMINISCENCES.

At the suggestion of the editor, we prepare these few personal recollections. It was our precious privilege to be nurtured in the atmosphere the unselfish love of those whose dear names appear on the title-page of this book, and to be with them in the unconstrained intercourse of home life, so that we can but know the purity and singleness of purpose which inspired them in all their ways.

In a letter written by John, our eldest brother, soon after father's death, we find these words: "I have no recollection of father unconnected with his earnest, persistent desire to do his duty. The work God gave him to do that he was intent on doing, in season and out of season. To me, his life will always be full of fragrant memories, of inspiration, and of warning from evil.

"Our hearts are bereaved and sore, but it is a consolation to know, from our intimate acquaintance with his daily life, that from his vigorous and active early manhood to his venerable advanced age, he tried, with what humility we all know, and trusting in his Savior, to do the work God set for him to do. It is a joy to remember how early, and without at all counting the cost, at the risk of popularity and of earthly prosperity, he pleaded for temperance and for the poor slave. "But he has gone home! The tired laborer is at rest. The servant has gone to his Master. Be it ours to lay to our hearts the lesson of his life. 'Be not weary in well doing.' 'To them who by patient continuance in well doing seek for glory and honor and immortality, eternal life."

The same brother, writing to us soon after he received the sad tidings of mother's death, says: My mind has been heavy with grief. I am so far: away that I have been utterly unable to go to see her, or to attend her dear body to its last resting-place. And I feel that it is an overwhelming affliction to you, to whom her magnetic presence and her self-denying care have made for you a restful and happy home for so many years. O, my heart is sad and heavy when I think of my dear mother, of what she has been to all of us; of her ready sympathy, always going forth more than half way to meet its object; of her sincere and shining piety, and ardent desire for the spiritual good of her children. I never before so fully realized how much mother was our home. The grand words of Moses, in the 90th Psalm, come to me now with stronger meaning: 'Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place.' And her love, her never-tiring affection, was so vital, that it still wraps us round. For me, I ought to thank God every day of my life, that he gave me such a mother and such a father; that their lives were permitted to be such types of living godliness."

We copy the following from Brother Butler's pen:

"It is a privilege to add my brief tribute to the memory of our honored and beloved father. After an intimate acquaintance of more than thirty years, I can testify to his pure, gentle spirit; his upright, blameless life; his earnest service for the Gospel, his high moral sentiment, his sympathy for the poor and the oppressed. He was an able preacher and pastor, and his praise is in all the churches in America and in Wales. In his domestic relations, he was all that a kind husband and father could be.

"We have often felt grateful that he was spared so long for the great and good work committed to his hands. He has done his work faithfully and well, and we may not grieve that he is called up higher, to the heavenly home. I could say much of my estimate of his life, and of my regard for him, but it is not necessary. Those who knew him best, loved and valued him most. His life was an eminent success. Would that we might, in some degree, fulfil our mission as he has fulfilled his." "I feel that any words I can offer are utterly inadequate to express my appreciation of our noble, Christian mother. In her family, in the circles of relatives and friends, in the church, in the community, everywhere, and at all times, she had uniformly a warm heart, a ready band, faithful and efficient. She was, indeed, a mother in Israel, and a helper of many. It was always our delight to visit the old home, ever so bright and genial.

"She was a precious friend to us all, and we feel that your deep sorrow is our sorrow. With her, it is well. She was spared to a long, useful, noble life, and has gone to join the loved departed. in a better land. What a meeting is that of father, mother, children, on the shining shore, in the presence of the Savior. She has done what she could for us all, by loving words and pure example. She has gone to her reward, but her memory will abide with us."

One of our sisters says that one of her earliest recollections is of overhearing mother pleading with God for her children, in private prayer, and that afterwards, when she was but seven years old, mother spoke to her so earnestly of God's great hatred of sin, and her accountability to him, that she could find no peace till she found it in Christ.

Our dear parents were united in all their interests and sympathies. They were faithful and frequent in their private devotions. God was in all their thoughts. Their language was pure and correct; no by-word or slang expression escaped their lips. They were particularly guarded in this, often saying that the idle use of unnecessary words was akin to profanity, and a sin against God. They loved to study the Bible; for a long time it was their custom to read it through privately every year, taking five chapters on the Sabbath, and three on other days. This portioning of the Bible for yearly perusal was suggested to them by one of father's parishioners in Winfield.

Every morning and noon they gathered with us around the family altar, The noon hour was chosen in preference to evening, being more convenient, and, also, because it had been thus observed in Rosa, mother's early home, for many years. In the morning, our practice is each to repeat a verse of Scripture before commencing to read. This is very interesting to children. They feel that they have a part to take, and they love to lisp, "God is love," "Jesus wept," "The Lord is my Shepherd;" &c. But when they grow older and learn to know that God is love, that the Lord is their Shepherd, and that Jesus wept for them, this little daily exercise is precious beyond all telling. It is a quick and sure way of gathering heavenly manna. Occasionally the passages recited were on some particular subject, as "Trust in God," "Brotherly Love," &c. There was something inexpressibly tender and reverent in father's manner when reading the Bible, especially in the unconstrained atmosphere of home. The wonderfully thrilling stories of the Old Testament, and the sweet, pathetic words of the New, never seemed to lose the edge or freshness of their interest to him. His voice always bled with emotion when reading of Abraham's trial of faith, of Moses in the bulrushes, and the ever new story of the cross. One such occasion we may cite as an example. It was but a very short time before his last illness, and, therefore, is vividly remembered. The passage was the last chapter of Luke. As usual, we read in rotation, and father, in his turn, read: "Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked with us by the way, and while he opened to us the Scriptures?" Father paused after the word burn; he could not finish without waiting to regain his composure. The words seemed to burn in his heart. The few sacred moments which we daily spent at the altar of prayer were, in some sense, the most precious of our lives-bright oases of busy and sometimes trying days. Our dear parents loved the family altar so much, that in time it became very sweet to us all. Mother was fluent and gifted in prayer, both in Welsh and English, and she never shrank from this duty when occasion required.

Singing was one of the most interesting parts of our family worship. Frequently, after returning from church, Sabbath evening, we would gather around the dear old fireside and have a season of song together, one after another proposing favorite hymns, or those that suited their feelings best at the time. Father often would say, "Let us sing 'Mary to the Savior's tomb,' or O fryniau Caersalem ceir gweled;" and mother would call for "Come thou fount of every blessing," and "His loving kindness, O, how great." These were precious hours, which we love now to recall. Indeed, they were doubly prized, as father was so fully occupied with public duties and his labors in the study, that the enjoyment of his company, all to ourselves, was a rich treat.

He was seldom idle. His time seemed consecrated to God. If, by the unexpected arrival of a brother minister, he was relieved from preaching in his own pulpit on a Sabbath, his thoughts would turn to some feeble, struggling church, where his services might be acceptable, and he would go to break to them the bread of life. Indeed, he often went when we felt that he greatly needed rest, and when the companionship of his ministerial friend would have been very pleasant and refreshing. But his soul was engrossed with his Master's work, and these less-favored corners of the vineyard claimed his tenderest sympathy. He had his reward. The warm, affectionate welcome which he always received, was to him soul-inspiring and restful.

He was regular in his habits, being uniformly an early riser, and never prolonging his studies into the small hours of the night.

The world did not appear to have a very strong hold upon him. We can remember no moment of his life when it would have looked inconsistent or irreverent for him to pause, and, lifting up his hands, say, "Let us pray." He lived for eternity, and had no time for idle conversation or foolish jests. Every one seemed instinctively to acknowledge this, and his friends showed their respect by checking, at the first sound of his footstep, all noisy demonstrations. Yet he did not lack a certain quiet humor. We remember his telling, with an amused smile, a little story of Alvan Stewart. Mr. Stewart was a large, tall man, living in one of the finest residences in Utica. He came to lecture at an anti-slavery meeting in our church, and spent the night with us. At that time our house was small, and that he might be as handsomely accommodated as possible, father and mother gave their room to him. In the morning, when father inquired how he rested, he replied: "Very nicely—only I had to lie quiet, 'For the bed is shorter than that a man can stretch himself on it.""

One Sabbath morning, when father was preparing for church, he opened the study door and said to one of us, "Will you please ask your mother if she can let me have quarter of a dozen clean shirts?" "Quarter of a dozen!" repeated mother, in astonishment; "What can you do with so many, my dear?" Then she remembered that he had only asked for three, the number he always wore in winter. With a grave smile he left us to enjoy our laugh.

Many a sweet talk have we enjoyed with him while riding over the Penymynydd hills. He often said it must have been these glorious hills that first attracted the Welsh. He loved to compare the landscapes with those of Wales. He particularly enjoyed the twilight hour-though it seemed, to him, very short here. He often referred to the time when, a lad, he occasionally watched in the mines of which his father was then steward, and returning home at two in the morning, he could see two twilights-that of evening just fading in the west, while the early dawn was breaking in the east. The impression remained, a bright spot on memory's page, to cheer his busy life.

He would come at any time from his study to look with us at the bow of promise or a golden sunset. He loved and appreciated the beautiful in nature, so grand and so perfect, for he had well learned the precious lesson of looking "from nature up to nature's God." One summer evening, having just returned from church, the younger members of our home circle gathered around the table, on which stood a lovely bouquet. We were commenting on the variety and beauty of the flowers; no two exactly alike, though all so fair. One of our number was a young minister, who had preached that evening. Father noticed our group, and placing his hand gently on the shoulder of Mr. C., pointed to the flowers in his own quiet, impressive manner, and repeated, with a voice tremulous with emotion, "Even Solomon in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these."

He was very fond of birds, and especially loved to watch the humming-bird. He always seemed surprised to see the little creature so swift and so small. The frequent call in the early summer, "Father, here is a humming-bird," seldom failed to attract his attention, even in his busiest moments. He never tired of telling us of the sweet singing birds of Wales, and he would always become animated in describing the variety and richness of their songs. The memory of the mounting and singing of the lark in the early morning, seemed to fill his soul with wonder and joy, even to his latest days. When in Wrexham, he had a goldfinch, of which he often spoke with peculiar tenderness, and he never forgot or lost his affection for this innocent pet of his college days.

Father had naturally a quick temper, as is often the case with such sensitive natures; but grace held it well under control. At one time, during a very warm discussion, he felt his honor assailed, and addressing his opponent, with his hand clenched, but not raised, he said, excitedly, "Do you say that I told a falsehood?" The brother minister who tells the story says he will never forget" that little fist," so rare was it to see Dr. Everett disturbed from the even tenor of his way. He could hardly have been touched at a more tender point. If a sudden shower, thwarting our plans or threatening injury to the crops, caused an expression of impatience or apprehension from some member of the family, he would turn quietly to the window or door, and watching the falling drops, say, "What a precious rain."

There was something very beautiful in father's faith. He conld see God's hand in all his dealings with him. Often, in coming from Penymynydd, he pointed to a certain place, saying, "There your father once came very near losing his life." He never again could pass the place without recalling his imminent danger and signal deliverance. He was riding down the hill on a spirited horse, when he was suddenly thrown, and his foot becoming entangled, he felt himself entirely helpless. He closed his eyes, expecting to be cruelly dashed to pieces. At length, becoming more calm, he realized that he was unhurt; his horse was standing perfectly quiet, and he knew that there was work for him yet to do. Clinging with his teeth, in order to get the use of his hands, he extricated himself from his perilous position, and remounting, proceeded to the meeting for which he was bound, filled with a spirit of renewed consecration to Him who had so wonderfully spared his life. Notwithstanding his high moral courage, physical timidity was very characteristic. On nearing home after a journey, he frequently said, as if with relief and thankfulness, "Well, we have come safely, so far."

He was a kind, indulgent parent, but one who always was and must be obeyed. A word or a look from him was usually sufficient. His study opens out of the family sitting-room, and its needful quiet was sometimes disturbed by the talk and laughter which is so hard to curb in a large, happy family circle. Father was very patient, but the noise occasionally was too much even for his forbearance-he would open the door softly, and with his dear, gentle hand uplifted, exclaim deprecatingly, "Children! children!" This mild rebuke was enough to ensure quiet for a while. Once, we remember, it had to be repeated three times in an evening; still there was no harshness in his tone or manner.

The following extract is from a letter written while traveling west in company with Rev. D. Price:

"MILWAUKEE, June 21, 1858.-My Dear Daughter Cynthia: I received your good and sweet letter at Racine. * * * We have had a very pleasant journey, and good meetings everywhere. I feel much refreshed, though often worn out with fatigue. I am glad I came to Ohio and Wisconsin-hope some good will be done on this long journey. I have had much comfort in attempting to preach the gospel to my countrymen; more freedom and consolation in the work in in my own mind than is usual for me. May the Lord bless our poor efforts for the eternal good of those to whom we ministered, probably, once for ever. We met with the warmest Christian affection everywhere." When Rev. E. Davies was preparing his article entitled "Dr. Everett fel Diwygiwr," he wrote to inquire what first led father's thoughts to the slavery question. Brother John's reply was not received in time, but as it contains facts of interest, we insert it here.

"I think father's feelings were strongly anti-slavery from the very beginning of active modern anti-slavery effort. It was not his habit to speak much of himself, but from his modes of expression, I was satisfied that he was interested in the anti-slavery sentiment before he left the old country. You know the first form of opposition to slavery in England was against the slave trade. Father, in speaking, frequently said slave trade, when an American would have said slavery. I think he (in common with many old Abolitionists) was interested in the old Colonization Society; for when I was a boy, their organ, the Colonization Herald, used to come to the house. Our religious newspaper in the year 1835, and before, was the New York Evangelist, then edited by Rev. Joshua Leavitt. The strong points of that paper, that took hold of father's mind then, were the reports of Charles G. Finney's labors in New York, and the anti-slavery articles. In 1835, father took me with him one beautiful summer day, eleven miles to Sauquoit, to hear a lecture against slavery, by Beriah Green. It was a day meeting. The house was full, on the floor and in the gallery. President Green gave us a most convincing discourse. In the fall of that year, October 21, 1835, there was a meeting held in Utica, to organize a New York State Anti-Slavery Society. There was a large attendance from all parts of the State. Father went to attend the meeting, and took me with him. This was before the day of railroads. We rode after the proverbial "minister's horse," overworked and underfed, and it was twenty miles to go from Winfield, so we did not arrive in Utica till noon. We drove directly to Uncle Henry Roberts' house, and found that the convention had met at ten o'clock, and succeeded in organizing, but had been dispersed by a mob led by such men as Samuel Beardsley, afterwards Congressman; A. G. Dauby, Postmaster of Utica; R. B. Miller, &c., &c., "gentlemen of property and standing," as their friends called them. That night, the office of the Oneida Standard and Democrat, that had espoused the cause of the slave, was sacked by the mob, the press thrown into the street and broken, the cases of type taken to the street and emptied into a mass that printers call pi; all the anti-slavery books, pamphlets and papers that could be found, taken to the street and scattered. The following winter, Alvan Stewart delivered an anti-slavery lecture in the Congregational Church in Winfield, of which father was then pastor. I was in Ohio; but I heard by letter that rotten eggs were thrown at Mr. Stewart in the pulpit, and stones thrown through the windows. Such outrages, you may well believe, failed to convince father that slavery was right, or that those who were arraying the battle against it were wrong.

"It was in 1840, the first Presidential election after the formation of the Liberty party, that father's antislavery feeling took a more public expression. His feeling was that political action against slavery was immeasurably the most important political action that the time demanded, and that the alliance of both the old parties with slaveholders rendered it impossible for him to act with either.

“Father's action against slavery seemed to have two roots—one, that slaveholding was a sin and should be immediately abandoned; the other, that the slave was a man for whom Christ, our Lord, died. I remember when I was a boy, a poor negro, illy clad, came to our house in Winfield. I was deeply struck with the respect, even tenderness, with which father treated him; as if he looked on him as the representative of the down-trodden race."

Brother Lewis was not old enough then to be allowed to attend the evening meetings, especially when a disturbance was feared, but he remembers hearing father say, on returning from an anti-slavery lecture, that hymn-books were hurled at the speaker from the gallery. The next day he shared the persecution, in a small way, in common with older Abolitionists. He was mobbed by the schoolboys and pelted with snowballs.

Father was very happy in his charge in Winfield. His third service there on the Sabbath was a Bible class, which he conducted himself. This he often referred to in after years with a good deal of interest. That the attachment was mutual and strong, we have many pleasant proofs. As stated elsewhere in this work, by Rev. Erasmus W. Jones, the beautiful memorial window, bearing father's name, in their new church, attests the constancy of their love. So also in Westernville, our parents had many warm friends, whom they always regarded with peculiar affection Nothing could have exceeded their kindness, especially at the time of the burning of our house, when, in so many ways, they showed their sympathy and readiness to help repair the loss. When father first came to Steuben, intoxicating wine was used here, as in other churches, for communion purposes. This was, to some, a severe temptation. One of the members said, publicly, that the very smell was sometimes maddening to his appetite. The two churches soon decided with father, that this cause of offense should no longer exist at the Lord's table, and since about 1840, unfermented wine has invariably been served.

We remember hearing father once state that, about the beginning of his ministry, he for a short time indulged in the habit of smoking. His deliverance from this snare, he attributed to the wise counsel of an aged minister, who took him aside and kindly advised him to abandon the practice. He said he was casting his influence in favor of the custom, with all the excesses to which it might be carried, and that he was wasting money, for which also he was accountable. Said he, "You might as well burn the bill with which you make the purchase, as burn the article itself." This one appeal to his conscience was sufficient. He yielded at once to his convictions, and ever remained faithful to them.

Mother had a vigorous mind, and was strong and decided in her convictions of duty. She knew no middle ground between right and wrong. If we sometimes rebelled at her strict discipline, further acquaintance with the world has convinced us that she was guided by wisdom and love. She was deeply devoted to her family, and always regarded the happiness of others in preference to her own. She considered it her mission to aid father in his life-work. For this she was peculiarly fitted by her natural qualities and her home training. In the many vicissitudes of his life, in all the storms that tried his sensitive spirit, she was by his side, counseling, cheering, consoling. They were very tender and constant, almost reverent in their mutual love; loth to be deprived of each other's companionship, even for a day. Mother was once strongly urged by a much-loved niece, to make her a visit. Her reply was, "I am afraid your uncle can not leave his papers." "That need not make any difference," pleaded she, "you can come just as well, and stay two or three weeks." "No, Mary," said mother, we can not have a great while to be together, and I do not like to lose any time." For nearly twenty years after that they were spared to each other, the union becoming stronger and stronger as age advanced.

[ocr errors] Mother was an excellent nurse. Her very presence in the sick room was inspiriting, and her touch, so gentle, skillful and soothing, carried with it an impression of strength and restfulness. Her quiet selfpossession was an important element of success. Sometimes dear father, on becoming suddenly aware of the serious nature of an illness, would exclaim, "My love, how can you be so calm when the child is in such great danger?" Well did she know that life was trembling in the balance, as with her true mother-heart and almost professional eye, she watched and prayed; but equally well did she realize that in her calmness lay the only hope of the sufferer, and with self-forgetful love she suppressed all outward expressions of uneasiness, lest it might reflect unfavorably on the dear one whom she would save. O, our precious mother! how do we now, when ill, miss her hopeful, healing presence!

She had a clear understanding of God's Word, and a pleasing, graphic way of illustrating its truths. Telling Bible stories was her favorite method of governing children. Mrs. E., of Remsen, tells us that she well remembers being with us one busy day sewing Cenhadwr. All had some part in the work except the youngest child, who was too small to help, and the little one grew restless and troublesome. After a while mother began to tell a Bible story, as she went on with her sewing; soon the child forgot his troubles, and the others forgot their work-all were intently listening.

The Sabbath was, to mother, the most precious day of the week, and she strove to make it a delight to her children. She was watchful of her conversation and of ours, often telling us this little incident of her girlhood. When she was walking home from church one Sabbath, with another young girl, talking and laughing as children do, an aged deacon overtook them, and hearing their light conversation, laid his hand softly on mother's head and repeated the words, "Not doing thine own ways, nor finding thine own pleasure, nor speaking thine own words." The impression made on her tender heart was never effaced; even to her last days she could feel the touch of that dear man's hand, like a shield, warding off idle thoughts.

In many ways she showed her love of the Scriptures. The numerous passages committed to memory in her youth were to her a store of wealth, from which she drew largely in after years, especially during the wearisome nights, when, on account of feebleness and sorrow she was unable to sleep. Not long before her last illness, she spoke to us of the profit and comfort she took in meditating on the wonderful fullness of God's Word. She divided the verse into heads, as she expressed it, as, when the words were first spoken, to whom, for what purpose, and with what effect; then, what they said to us, what directions, promises or warnings were given.

Speaking with Uncle Henry Roberts, after her death, we asked if he knew how she formed this habit. He said, "No, but your father was always studying and inducing others to study, if he could." When at college, in Wrexham, the students preached occasionally in Denbigh, making their home at Rosa. When

it was father's turn to be there, he would invite the young people of the house and neighborhood, on Saturday evenings, to what he called Bible lessons. They would gather around the large table, each ready with some passage of Scripture on a subject previously given. Father would call for the verses, and ask simple questions to elicit their views. He then enlarged upon the subject, and explained it more fully, if necessary.

This early practice may have led him to prepare his catechism, when, a few years later, he became pastor of the Denbigh church. He always loved to teach the young how to "search the Scriptures." He studied the Bible thoroughly in the original, that he might be clear in his teachings, and he retained to a wonderful degree his knowledge of the languages. Among his private stenographic notes, we find brief sketches of Bible lessons, not dated, which he probably used at some such gatherings; also notes and questions on rhetoric and logic, seemingly to aid him in teaching a private class of young men preparing for the ministry. His private writings were all in this short-hand, which one of our number has, since his death, succeeded in deciphering. Though less complete than those which he himself prepared for the press, we insert a few such sermons; also short selections from others. He learned the system while at Wrexham, and afterwards added many new characters, and adapted it to the Welsh language. The use of it through his long life was a great help, saving much time and labor, and enabling him to accomplish much more than he could otherwise have undertaken. The following are specimens of his stenographic writing, with their renderings :

2 Cor. 5: 13, 14.-Canys pa un bynag ai an

mhwyllo yr ydym, i Dduw yr ydym; ai yn ein pwyll yr ydym, i chwi yr ydym. Canys y mae cariad Crist yn ein cymell ni.

WESTERN, December 8th, 1836.-Preparatory Lecture.-Galatians 6: 14.-But God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world.

Salm 31: 15.-Yn dy law di y mae fy amserau. (My times are in thy hand.)

Father often expressed a desire that his last sickness should be short, and that he and dear mother should not be long separated by death. And so it was. After a brief but painful illness of twelve days, father entered sweetly and peacefully into rest. He did not talk much during that time, on account of extreme weakness, but spoke calmly and hopefully of the bright and beautiful "home" to which he was going. He died as he had lived, reposing entire confidence in the Savior whom he had served and trusted so long, Three years from the day of his death, mother seemed rather feeble, and the next day she was taken with the same disease (pneumonia), and after two weeks of uncomplaining suffering, she left our sorrowing, narrowing circle, and went to join him and the other loved ones in that land where all tears are wiped away. Her quiet Christian fortitude during those three sad years of bereavement and patient loneliness, was indeed very touching. But it is over now-the sorrow and suffering, the labor and care. Though we, with our poor, weak vision, can see only the painful vacancy, and the dear home bereft of its brightness, still, we do not sorrow as those without hope. They have reached their Father's house. "There remaineth, therefore, a rest for the people of God."

HENRY was the first of our number to leave us. He was born in Winfield, and died in Steuben. He was very affectionate, and tenderly loved in the family. He was hopefully converted at Whitestown Seminary, and consecrated himself at once to the work of the Gospel ministry. While under conviction, this was impressed upon his mind, and he could find no peace, no light, till he had given himself unreservedly to do whatever God would have him do. His experience was very full and clear, and from that time, all his thoughts and studies were directed to a preparation for the ministry.

He was remarkable for the purity of his life. He was very fond of committing to memory portions of the Bible, and studying its truths. He loved singing, especially sacred music. He had a fine voice and a good knowledge of the rudiments, and he anticipated much pleasure when he should be able to start a singing school in our neighborhood; but his health did not permit.

In conversation with one of his sisters, some time before he was taken sick, he said that the grave did not appear to him an object of dread, as it once did; on the contrary, thoughts of death were, on many considerations, sweet and pleasant. He would like to be the first to go, that he might be in heaven to see all the rest come home. He spoke with animation of father, saying that he thought there would be something especially grand in the welcome he would receive. Dear boy! he had his wish; he was there to see it.

When he found that his health required him to rest from his studies and remain at home for a time, he began to devise plans of usefulness here. He longed to see more earnestness and activity in the prayer meeting, especially among the young; more faithfulness in the singing and in the mission cause. He was very anxious to be well prepared for the work of the ministry; this seemed to be the chief end of all his plans. Often, during his sickness, he would say, "I hope this will make me a better minister."

As he grew weaker, he seemed to rest more fully on God as his Father. At one time he said, "O, how good it is to be able to trust in Him;" and again, "How blessed it is to think that He knows what is best for us." About three days before his death he said to father, after some of his Christian friends had been to see him, "How sweet is the fellowship of Christians. The Lord has been very good to me, dear father; he is always doing me good-whereas, I might have been like a pagan child, having no knowledge of the blessed Savior."

Brother ROBERT was born near Denbigh, and came with our parents to America when he was about a year old. Their faithful religious training early bore fruit in him, and he firmly believed that he experienced a change of heart when only seven years of age. When nine, he felt a quickening of his love to Christ, and a strong desire to be admitted to the church; but on account of his youth, it was thought best for him to wait. "This was a mistake," he used to say; "children ought always to be encouraged to come into the church, there to be trained for God." So earnest and persistent was his desire, that before he was eleven, father received him into the Congregational Church of Winfield, and he continued faithful from that time to his death. Very soon, he began occasionally to lead in prayer at home, in family devotions.

He was naturally full of life and fun; quick to see the humorous in everything, yet very tender of the feelings of others, and watchful not to appear to trifle. He was of a cheerful, hopeful temperament; very honorable and upright in all his business-never knowingly wronging any. He was one in whom we could safely trust; gentle, thoughtful and affectionate.

He and brother John were pupils of Beriah Green, and graduates of Oneida Institute. While there, they learned the printer's trade, in the office of the Friend of Man, and when father first published the Cenhadwr, in Remsen, they came home and took charge of the printing office.

From a child, Robert longed to preach the Gospel, and the church in Steuben was hearty and unanimous in inviting him to do so. He began his theological studies in Whitestown, but did not complete the course on account of his health. After leaving school he learned the Daguerrean art, and carried on that business for some years in Utica; yet always cherishing the hope of being sometime able to return to his chosen work.

He was an interesting speaker, and happy whenever his health permitted him to do anything in this way. He preached a number of times, quite acceptably, in Steuben and Remsen, and in the vicinity of Utica. He also lectured on anti-slavery, temperance and the mission cause. He loved to visit the sick and suffering, to read and pray with them. He was faithful in the Sabbath school, and an active member of the Young Men's Christian Association.

CYNTHIA was born in Steuben, and died in the same dear home. She was of a thoughtful, loving disposition, and at the age of twelve was received by father a member of Capel Ucha' Church. Her life was consistent and faithful, her great desire being to do right, and to be of some use in the world. She seemed to watch for souls, particularly among the young. Many can remember her tender invitations. Naturally timid and sensitive, her great love for Christ led her to take up burdens which others, much stronger, often neglect. When quite young she taught a district school, which she opened by reading and prayer. Years afterwards, one of her pupils told her that he then received his first permanent religious impressions. The sight of her, so timid and yet so fearless, was something too wonderful for him to understand, till he too was taught of Jesus.

Her intercourse with others was full of tenderness and forbearance, She would never intentionally wound the feelings of any. The unfortunate and feeble awakened her liveliest sympathies, and she always longed to help the slave. When the opportunity came, she gladly offered to teach the freedmen, and in 1869 she went, under the auspices of the American Missionary Association, to Norfolk, Virginia.

In a letter received from her while there, she wrote of her visit to one of the colored Sunday schools: "I was requested to take charge, for the day, of the most advanced class of boys. The lesson in the Question Book was, 'The Moral Condition of Man.' I was surprised at the knowledge of Scripture history and doctrine their answers showed. I asked their definition of all the hard words, such as hypocrisy, deceitfulness, &c., and found the replies often strangely worded, but showing, many times, very correct ideas." Of another school, she says: "I was placed in charge of a large Bible class of men and women. They were all able to read, though not without hesitation and most careful noting of the words. I requested one of them to select a chapter, and the 19th chapter of John was proposed. It was touching to see the unavailing attempts of several to find book and chapter. Those of us who could, gave the assistance, most gratefully received, and then the laborious reading, and few words of question and answer, and simple suggestion, began. Pray that, if God spares me, I may do them some little service. Except in occasional visits, I have seen but little of the adults who passed through the bitterness of slavery. This class, of course, embraces such. Doubtless their knowledge of letters has been acquired since the war, by earnest application in the night schools."

Cynthia's next field of labor was in Avery Institute, Charleston, S. C. She was very pleasantly situated there, as the Missionary Association had a "Home" for the teachers in connection with the school, Her charge was a fine class of eight or nine lads, fitting for college. They improved rapidly, and their love for her was manifest. Most of them, we believe, graduated afterwards at Howard University, and one, at least, became a Gospel minister.

Charleston jail stood near by, and Cynthia was not long in learning something of the condition and needs of the prisoners. She saw that many young boys, arrested on mere suspicion, were confined with hardened criminals. They were without reading, or any healthful occupation. With the co-operation of one of her fellow-teachers, she organized a Sabbath school, and she wrote to the Governor on their behalf. He replied very courteously, established a day school among them, and promised to see them provided with a library and papers.

She was not strong enough to long endure such constant exertion, in that warm climate. Before the close of the second year she was obliged to return north. It was hard for her to fall back in the ranks when there was such need of pressing on; but her friends constrained her, feeling it was her only chance for life. She came home, hoping for health to return to her loved work; but God willed it otherwise. She continued to fail, though she lived some years, seeking to interest others in the cause of the freedmen, as she had opportunity, and patiently abiding God's time.

Her last words to one of her sisters, spoken with difficulty, but with a happy, trusting look, were : "I am almost gone to join the heavenly host." Yes, dear sister, we can, with the eye of faith, see thy sweet, loving face among the blood-washed throng, watching and welcoming our loved ones as the Heavenly Father gathers one after another to the great home above.

ELIZABETH, born near Denbigh, was five years old on coming to America. She early learned to love the cause of religion and reform, and when about fifteen, was received by father into the Congregational Church at Winfield.

At seventeen, she entered the Ladies' Seminary of Rev. H. H. Kellogg, at Clinton, N. Y., a decidedly anti-slavery school. She was assistant pupil during her course of study, and after graduating remained as teacher, both with Mr. Kellogg and when the Seminary became a denominational school of the Free Baptists, for gentlemen and ladies. The last three years she was lady Principal.

She was a superior teacher and disciplinarian, and a conscientious, earnest Christian worker; one who sought the moral and spiritual improvement of her pupils no less than their intellectual culture. She was remarkable for the clearness of her illustrations and the great enthusiasm of her classes. Even now, her former pupils refer to her teaching with great animation and affection, saying that, in mathematics, they never had met her equal.

November 14, 1844, she married Rev. J. J. Butler, Professor of Theology in Whitestown Seminary. Here they resided ten years. In the Morning Star of April 10, 1878, her husband says of her: "She well filled her position. She readily made the acquaintance of the theological students, and contributed much to make their labors agreeable and successful. Few ministers and students interested in Whitestown Seminary, at that time, do not give her a grateful place in their memory.

"In 1854, we removed with the Theological School to New Hampton, N. H., where we remained sixteen years. There, as at Whitestown, we had a very pleasant home. Her family always held the first place in her regard. As a wife and mother, she was most generous and devoted; thoughtful of others, unthoughtful of self. She was, as a companion, genial; as a Christian, exemplary and faithful. She cherished the cause of missions and the church; she loved reading and study; she loved the place of prayer and worship; she loved the work of benevolence; she loved society. Everywhere she was welcome, and became endeared to many hearts. Her home was ever open and kindly to all."

From New Hampton they removed to Lewiston, Me., where for three years Dr. Butler taught in the Theological Department of Bates College. Then they went to Hillsdale, Mich., where he occupies the leading chair of a like department of Hillsdale College.

Elizabeth had marked talent as a writer, and her contributions were well received. An article from her pen, previously published in English, appeared in the Cenhadur, September 1853, page 321. She was an ardent reformer, yet gentle and lovable. Her influence will long be felt, especially by the Free Baptist clergy who studied with her husband. Her health gradually failed after removing to Michigan, till at length she passed peacefully from earth.

Thus a large portion of our family has been called away, Henry died March 6, 1854; Margaret, Lewis' first wife, May 8, 1854, and about two weeks before, their little son, Lewis Henry; Robert, November 10, 1856; Sarah M. C., John's wife, August 21, 1864, and their four children, Henry C., April 14, 1855; Clara Elizabeth, September 16, 1861; Robert C., November 19, 1873, and Frank R., May 22, 1876. Sarah Everett, father's sister, died at our house July 30, 1865; Father, February 25, 1875; Cynthia, September 19, 1876; Elizabeth, April 11, 1877; Mother, March 12, 1878; William R. Prichard, Sarah's husband, May 16, 1879.

Our loved ones have gone—
They went one by one
Our noblest, our dearest, our best,
To heaven, the bright home of the blest.

In glory they wait,
And watch the pearl gate,
Till those they so tenderly love
Are safe in the great fold above.

The Savior is there
Our place to prepare,
And though the way sometimes is dim,
'Tis sweet to go, trusting in him.

O, wonderful thought,
With deep comfort fraught!
We'll know our beloved, our own,
And we shall be welcomed, and known.