The last in that group which sat and conversed so delightfully together on the evening to which I have adverted, was one who bore to me a dearer and more sacred relation than any or all of these. Can I ever forget the kindliness of that eye that beamed with such sweet affection on me? Can I ever forget the soft velvet pressure of that hand, which when I was sick was laid so gently on my burning, feverish brow? Can I ever forget that cradle hymn, that calmed my infant fears, and hushed all my troubles to repose? Can I ever forget the tones of that sweet voice that first breathed into my infant ear the name of Jesus? Can I ever forget the appearance of that dear form, the heavenliness of that look, or even the seat in which she sat, when I was first taught to kneel down by her side, and say "Our Father who art in heaven?" No! Every other image may fade from my memory, but my mother's will be there for ever!
On that evening to which I have referred, no one appeared more cheerful or happy, and no circumstance added more enjoyment to that hour than the presence and conversation of my dear and beloved mother. But a few years only had elapsed, and the charm of our home was gone! Well do I recollect that night when I was called from my bed, and saw the last breath trembling on her quivering lips. Well do I recollect how that brother of whom I have just spoken, as we stood silent around that bed from which a departing saint was about to go up to glory, took her dying hand, and as the last pang was ended, said in the deep solemn stillness that pervaded the weeping group, "The bitterness of death is passed, and she is at rest!" Her grave is in the burying ground. Of all that company that sat and talked and looked out on that moonlight scene I only am left. Oh what reason have I to praise the Lord! What reason to die daily!
The commencement of Geneva College had occurred a few days previous to my arrival. This institution had been struggling for many years with a series of difficulties, most of which are now happily overcome. The corporation have recently received an endowment that will enable them to compete with any kindred institutions in the country. They have an able and well-organized faculty, at the head of which is President Hale, a man not only of varied and large acquirements, but of most bland manners and devoted piety. There is an influence now gathered around this institution that must very soon elevate it to a high rank among the institutions of our country. It gives fair promise at present of being what one of its originators toiled and prayed and spent many anxious days and nights to make it. Though he has gone to his rest and though he saw gathering over it during his life nothing but clouds and darkness, he will reap the fruits of his labours in eternity.
I spent a Sunday here that strikingly reminded me of former days. The congregation were already gathered. I went in, and sat in the same pew I used to occupy long before I assumed the responsibilities of the sacred office. The place itself was unaltered, but the worshippers—what a change had come over them! Here and there was a well-known countenance, but how many pews were occupied with those who were strangers to me! And then, where was that venerable father—that promising young jurist—that physician rising rapidly to eminence—that blooming, beautiful young bride, that drew all eyes towards her? Where was that mother in Israel—that much respected and hoary headed man, whose voice used to give such deep emphasis to the responses? Where were a hundred others, whose images came up fast before me? Ah! the grave, the grave had swallowed them up! And where too was the pastor whose voice used to echo through this temple? He too was gone! That voice which had so often called upon sinners to turn and flee to calvary, and urged the heaven-bound pilgrim onward towards the goal, was now hushed in death! On a tablet near the pulpit I saw his name inscribed, but I believe it was written in deeper and more durable characters upon the hearts of some who worshipped with me that morning.
The day was bright and sunny. There seemed that morning to rest on the mind of the assembled worshippers a sweet, holy calm, the emblem of that "rest which remaineth for the people of God." The deep, solemn tones of the service, came that morning with unwonted power on my ear. Every sentence of the liturgy, fraught as it is with the richest vein of evangelical piety, seemed particularly on that occasion to give wings to my devotion, and to bear my soul upward to the very courts of the most high God. It was a sacramental season. The sermon was appropriate, faithful, solemn, and affecting. The communion service began. The bread was broken and the wine poured out. As I went forward to kneel at that altar, I could not but call to remembrance my feelings eighteen years before, when I first bowed there to vow a vow unto God, and receive a token of the Saviour's dying love. The thoughts and feelings of that hour I will not presume to obtrude upon you. There was a rush of sensibilities and recollections that quite overcame me for the moment.
CHAPTER XIV.
A JAUNT FROM PHILADELPHIA TO ALBANY.
A bleak, dreary morning—Bishop of Illinois—Sail up the Delaware—New York Bay—Sail up the Hudson—Unexpected meeting—College friend—Story of his afflictions—Poor African servant.