fervent wishes and prayers for his well-being and his 'prosperity in the work to which he had set his hand. The Rev. Dr. Holdich, in his prayer, gave expression to the deep desires of that little company, who, after singing Heber's noble missionary hymn, parted, never all to meet again on earth. The recollections of that evening assumed a mournful interest, when in a few months the tidings came that the young missionary had fallen a victim to the African fever, by which he was attacked shortly after his arrival.*

On the first of November Dr. Olin sailed for Savannah, his health requiring the relaxation of a sea-voyage, which was always of service to him. His journal letters, which will be found in the correspondence of this year, give a graphic picture of the discomforts as well as the compensations of life at sea. He returned early in December, and, after spending some weeks in New York, where he preached a number of times, he went to Boston for the remainder of the vacation, with the hope of carrying out some plans which the failure of his health had repeatedly interrupted.

Letters written from January, 1845, to May, 1846.

CXVI. TO JOHN M. FLOURNOY, ESQ.

Middletown, January 30th, 1845. VERY DEAR SIR,-Your letter of the 8th instant reached me last evening. I should perhaps say, more properly, I reached it, as I returned home last evening after an absence of some weeks. This is the termination of our long vacation, and we recommence operations to-day.

* This vacant place is now filled by the Rev. J. W. Horne, a student who graduated a year after Dr. Olin's death, and who the son of a Wesleyan missionary, born and brought up in the West Indies, has fair prospects of being able to live and work in a tropical climate.

Allow me to congratulate you on returning "home," and yet more, on becoming a father. These words imply great responsibilities and weighty cares, but yet more emphatically the best sources of earthly pleasures. I can not doubt that you possess all the requisites, both in yourself and in her who is the sharer of your lot, for making domestic and conjugal life happy and useful; and with these requisites it is, and is designed to be, the most favorable condition for doing good, and for working out our salvation. May God add to your happy house, and to your young family, all the rich blessings and bright ornaments of his providence and grace. May yours be a house of peace and of prayer, which Christ shall delight to honor by his presence, and in which he shall be honored by all the Christian virtues and observances which shall constitute yours a "household of faith." I will not apologize for indulging in a strain to which I feel myself impelled in writing to my friend, and the son of my friend, on so interesting a change in his relations to society and to the future. How much I should rejoice to know that you had consecrated these fresh blessings, with the many you enjoyed before, to the great Giver, in the spirit of faith and love.

It would be impossible for me to express a small measure of the anguish I have experienced from our Church difficulties. I did all I could to prevent them—all I could to diminish them-all I could to render them the less intolerable by providing for them when inevitable. Especially, I have constantly endeavored to carry out the plan of the General Conference for a peaceful division, which I have all along regarded as inevitable. I have regretted all attempts to prevent this, as calculated to aggravate the evils that beset us. I will yet hope that, after some time shall have elapsed, better feeling will return to all parties, and we may pass this great crisis with less injury than now seems to be inevitable. I must confess that my regrets are much aggravated by per

sonal considerations. My most cherished attachments are in the South. I have lost nearly all my friends there by the part which I felt bound in duty to act in this business, and which I could but act again in a similar case. I have no complaints to make of any, though many have not been satisfied with allowing me the benefit of my own motives and my own explanations. I have been perpetually represented in the papers as calling in question the rights of Southern Methodists to the privileges of the ministry and the Church, though I fully acknowledge them in word and deed. I also advocated them as well as I could. Yet it is certainly true that a state of things had come upon us in which I believed it impossible to avoid the adoption of measures which might divide us. So it turns out and I would gladly do or avoid any and every thing to promote, as much as possible, our future harmony. I know no difference in the two parties into which we are divided. With affectionate salutations to Mrs. Flournoy, I am, as ever, yours with sincere regard,

STEPHEN OLIN.

CXVII. TO MRS. -.

I am quite unable to read or to hear, but I have ventured to listen to your "Annie Walton," as I did the other day to "Little Ella." Thinking it possible that my approbation, may give you a little encouragement, I feel constrained to say to you that I can but detect in these little books a vocation for you. I think them excellent. Annie Walton will probably lead some to righteousness. Write on, seeking for yourself a deeper baptism into Christ's Spirit. You may be a blessing to many, and may God make the good work a blessing to you. Excuse this intrusion of unasked advice from a very sincere friend.*

Saturday morning, January 24th, 1846.

* This note, which belongs to the correspondence of the next year, has been misplaced. It was written in pencil from a momentary impulse, while the writer was taking a foot-bath.

CXVIII. TO MISS CLARINDA OLIN.

Middletown, Feb. 9th, 1845.

I hope that none of my friends will infer, from

any seeming indisposition on my part to devote as much time as I formerly did to correspondence, visits, &c., that I feel less interest in their welfare than I have manifested. I am more busy than ever. I have more health than I have enjoyed for, perhaps, twenty years, and with it more duties— more official and ministerial duties. Formerly I could do little besides visit and journey. Now I have no time for either, when I have no object beyond my personal gratification, and I feel bound to attend to my duties and sacrifice merely social satisfactions. I have done very little in my life that ought to satisfy a Christian man, though I have made many long journeys to visit my friends. My days are far spent. I have just now a little unexpected strength for laborious duties, and I shall probably feel it to be my duty to give it a direction not always the most gratifying to my private inclination. I have not been to Vermont since I left West Poultney, in July, '42, and though I much desire to see our friends there, I am unable to foresee when that pleasure may be secured. I have to attend several Conferences in behalf of the university—all my vacations are and must be devoted to the same interest. I am liable to be called to Maine or Niagara, to Boston or New York at any time, and, unless some of these business tours lead me to Vermont, I know not when I may again see my native state. Be this as God will, I must spend these few days of comparative health which He allows me in doing his will. You will be glad to know that I have a very pleasant home, though I am much away from it. There is a very intelligent community with whom our relations are exceedingly agreeable, except that these social demands are a little too numerous and strong for a man who ought to give his very scanty leisure

to literary pursuits. With these, however, I may probably have little to do, and I am trying to be content, as, indeed, I ought to be, with this unlooked-for ability to engage in active duties. Cultivate a cheerful, contented spirit,

and a calm, confiding piety. These are the best securities for happiness here and hereafter. I am glad your religious privileges are so satisfactory. This, after convenient food and raiment, is, after all, the main thing. We are then in the way of living usefully and dying happily, which constitute the principal objects of our being. May God protect you and guide you. We, perhaps, shall hardly meet again in this world, though that may not be wholly improbable, but I trust we are in a way to meet in heaven.

CXIX. TO THE REV. DR. M'CLINTOCK.

Middletown, Feb. 3d, 1845.

There is just now an imperative want of moderation and of a spirit of concession. God only knows if these virtues have any longer a place among us to such an extent as the crisis calls for. I do not forget, my dear friend, your remarks upon the sort of prudence which I feel it to be my duty to inculcate. I do not see with you—I can not, that the General Conference lacked courage or wisdom in its

measures.

er course.

It pursued the moderate, and, as I think, the propIt did what was necessary, and no more. More would not in any conceivable way have diminished the evils that beset us-would not have postponed them—would not have been a clearer declaration of principle. There was no dodging, no temporizing, and there was courageous moderation. So, at least, I continue to think, though in thinking so I differ from a friend for whose opinions I have the highest respect. I am sorry, at the end of more than half a year, to be compelled to admit that the promise of moderation, held out by the discussions of the General Conference, has grievously failed in the subsequent discussions.. Party

spirit and controversy make wise and good men mad.