I do not think that I mentioned to you in my last, though the occasion was so suited to it, a circumstance which recent events have made peculiarly affecting to me. In the last interview which I had with my excellent friend, your ever honored father, you became the special subject of our conversation, as you had frequently been before. I always made special inquiries in reference to you having been led to feel a lively interest in your welfare-your religious welfare in particular-not only from my intimate relations with your father, but from your having frequently been the subject of conversation between me and my lamented friend, Dr. Fisk. Your father said to me, with emotion, that you fulfilled all his wishes as far as your general deportment and character were concerned, but that he had many fears with regard to your spiritual prospects. You were all veneration for the Gospel, but appeared to be without any personal feeling or concern upon the subject. He expressed a fear lest you were satisfying yourself with the correctness and amiability of your general deportment. I think it probable that your pious and affectionate parent often expressed these sentiments to you. Still, I felt it my duty to repeat them, now that they have acquired the character and claim of a message from the dead. May God give to this, to me, affecting incident all the effect to which, from its connection with him we loved, it is well entitled. May he lead you speedily to a firm and blessed faith in Christ.

LXXIX. TO THE REV. SEYMOUR LANDON.

Saratoga Springs, August 12th, 1842. It was my intention to come to New York this week, but the weather continues so warm, and the water here so perceptibly does me good, that I incline to remain a little longer. My health is, I think, rather better than it was at the Conference, and I have worked uninterruptedly since till I left home.

You will have heard before this time, and I doubt not with surprise, that I have consented to go to the Wesleyan University. My reason for attempting to do what I am obviously unfit for, and what I had quite resolved not to undertake, was simply this: I thought it my duty, under all the circumstances, to go and try. This reason will, I am sure, be good in your eyes, though many will no doubt think that I am mistaken in my course. Let what will be the result, I can never repent acting under such convictions; and weak and poorly fitted as I am to assume high responsibilities, I must fear nothing. You know my motto-" Be careful for nothing." I try to do all things "in simplicity and godly sincerity," and so doing, I may trust in God even "out of weakness to ordain strength." How blessed are we in being permitted and enabled to cast all our burdens on the Lord! I love and admire the Gospel more and more, I may almost say daily. My experience of its sufficiency and adaptations was certainly never half so satisfactory as it has latterly been. I want to acknowledge and honor God in all my ways.

LXXX. TO THE REV. WILLIAM M. WIGHTMAN.

Saratoga Springs, August 16th, 1842. I have often heard from you through the medium of the weekly manifesto which you address to thousands. These frequent allusions to yourself, and to a multitude of Southern interests and men, render your Advocate invaluable to me, independently of its literary and religious claims, which I am accustomed to rank very high. It is possible, however, that this cause betrays me into a measure of negligence in writing to you and others, though I am rather inclined to offer as my apology the constant employment of my time in pursuits which I do not feel quite at liberty to abandon, and to which I have thought it necessary to devote my entire attention as the only probable means of arriving at any useful re

sults. may say that my whole time since November has been given to preparing my Travels for publication, though, upon an average, I have only been able to work four or five hours a day. This has been to me a great and unexpected boon. It is far better than I had ventured even to hope. It has enabled me to go over the ground which I wished to occupy with a volume or two. I have yet a good deal to do by way of correction, but have got to a point at which, should I sink, you or some other friend might complete my task. I have made haste in view of probable interruptions from ill health. I was afraid to spend time to elaborate—to finish. It will do me no credit as a literary performance; but I have hoped and "prayed without ceasing" that it may prove useful to our young people in leading them to more knowledge of the Bible and more respect for it. I still think that a plain, true account, such as I give of the East, may do good in this way. This has been my highest-I think my only aim, and I give thanks to God who has so unexpectedly supported me in this labor. I expect the printers to begin as early as next month. I am now doing nothing, having urgent occasion for respite and rest.

You will have heard that I have been re-elected to the Wesleyan University, and will, no doubt, wonder at my imprudence in consenting to accept the office. I am quite unfit for it, and yet I thought it my duty to try. The circumstances of the university are peculiar, and the call for me from all quarters has been singularly earnest and unanimous. Perhaps it is because I am deeply conscious of not deserving any measure of the unfortunate reputation which such a case implies that I am ready to ascribe it to Divine Providence, and do not feel at liberty to neglect it. I feel that I hazard every thing by engaging in a work for which I am so poorly fitted; still, I am obliged to conclude that popularity and health, if they do not prove sufficient to enable me to be useful, are not worth taking care of; and after trying and fail

ing, I think I shall be content with the retirement and increased insignificance that must, of course, be the result. I try to desire no honor but that which God gives, and to be careless of any reputation which will not enhance my usefulness. I was not consulted about the appointment. I felt it to be my duty to accept it, and am about to proceed to my work in the spirit of faith and humble resignation. Will you pray for me?

LXXXI. TO J. O. WALKER, ESQ.

Saratoga Springs, August 19th, 1842. Among the consequences of my protracted ill health, upon which I have been compelled to look with much regret, is my inability to visit you during my stay in Vermont. In the order of Divine Providence, I have been unexpectedly called to bid adieu to my native state for the present, or, more properly, to forego the gratification of returning to bid it adieu; for, when I left home on the first instant, I fully expected to return after a few weeks. It is since my arrival here that I have been reappointed to Middletown, under circumstances that seem to render it imperative upon me to accept the presidency, and try to fulfill its duties. I am still in feeble, though improved health. Every thing has been done to relieve me of labor. I shall have no classes, except at my option, and I can have even my peculiar duties done by another when there is need. The call was as pressing as unanimous, and the friends of the university seemed to think its fate hung on my acceptance, so peculiar are the circumstances with which past events have surrounded it. I know my manifold unfitness for the place. I shall certainly fail of satisfying the expectations which so unreasonably and unfortunately rest upon me; but I dare not refuse to try.

I design to go on to Middletown in about three days. I left my brother ill, but he is since better. He is very pleasantly situated in Poultney, and I think there is no man in

the world whom he would more gladly see at his house than yourself a sentiment in which I, were I there, should most cordially join. Indeed, every member of my father's family, scattered, as it now is, far and wide, cherish toward you a feeling of respect and affection, second only to that which they exercise toward the memory of our honored father, and much akin to it. I know not of another man of whom I can say that he was my father's bosom friend and confidant from early youth to old age, and mine from boyhood to the present hour-a period of thirty years. It is one of my most fervent wishes that your old age may be comfortable and happy, blessed with the love and kind attentions of your children, and cheered by the rich consolations, and supports, and hopes of the Gospel. These, after all, are the true foundation. I can truly say for myself that Christ is more and more my rejoicing. For all the changes and deep afflictions through which I have been called to pass since I last saw you, I have found His grace to be sufficient. I am always happy, though the loss of my dear, incomparable wife has made me a solitary man, and taken from earthly things their power to engage and please.

LXXXII. TO MR. -.

Middletown, September 17th, 1842. In your letter, received two days since, you speak of some theoretical difficulties which hinder you in your attempts to become an experimental and spiritual Christian, and you request me to direct you to some book or books which are best adapted to remove them. I am sorry to say that I know of no books upon the subject which I could recommend as likely to be particularly useful to you. Your difficulties are neither new nor peculiar to you. They are substantially met by every argument against a stern fatality-a domineering, unalterable destiny in human affairs, and a great many good books might be referred to as exhibiting such arguments in a