Boston.
DEAR ANNA,
A most melancholy and distressing event has spread a gloom over the face of the metropolis. Every heart heaves the sympathetic sigh, and every eye drops the tear of regret. The very sudden death of Doctor Clarke, who was seized with an apoplectic fit, in the midst of his sermon, yesterday afternoon, and expired this morning, is a subject of universal lamentation.
Not only we, who had the happiness to sit under his ministry, and to enjoy his particular friendship and attention, but the whole town; and, indeed, the public at large have sustained a great loss in his departure. Amiable in his disposition, engaging in his manners, and benevolent in his whole deportment, he conciliated the affections of every class. His talents as a scholar, philosopher, and divine, commanded the respect of the most judicious and learned; while the elegance, perspicuity and delicacy of his style, joined with the undissembled seriousness of his manner, rendered him uniformly acceptable to the devout. In every condition and relation of life, he was exemplary as a Christian; and as a preacher, an air of persuasion invariably accompanied him, which arrested the attention of the most heedless auditors.
——“By him, in strains as sweet
As angels use, the gospel whisper’d peace.
Grave, simple and sincere: in language plain:
And plain in manner. Decent, solemn, chaste
And natural in gesture. Much impress’d
Himself as conscious of his awful charge,