ded to spend a few days in Boston, Erie Co. Leaving Royalton for this purpose, on the 4th of July, I could not well resist the temptation to stop at the New York State Anti-Slavery convention, which was that day to commence its sitting in the Methodist chapel in Lockport. Here, a little more than two years ago, a private lecturer was mobbed for advocating the abolition of slavery. Now not even the faintest whisper, 'I fear there will be a mob,' was heard. It was to me a gratifying circumstance that the convention was in a Methodist chapel, as the influence of so many in this denomination was on the side of the oppressor. O, thought I, could the illustrious Wesley arise from the dead, and speak to his American brethren, how would he show them their sins, while, as in the days of his flesh, he would thunder peal after peal on the conscience of the slaveholder, and cry aloud in his ears, Render unto all their dues. ** Escape for your life! Regard not money! Whatever you lose, lose not your soul! Immediately quit this horrid trade! Instantly deliver yourselves from blood-guiltiness! Your hands, your bed, your furniture, your house, your lands are stained with blood. Surely it is enough. Accumulate no more guilt!'

Some distinguished abolitionists were present. One of the num ber was Henry B. Stanton. He spoke on a resolution, saying that the declaration of independence breathes the very spirit and principles of abolitionists. While commenting on the declaration, he came to the clause, 'But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, evinces a design to reduce them to absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their DUTY, to throw off such government,' he said the resolution was not correct. That clause in the constitution allowed war. It was revolutionary. But it was the doctrine of the declaration, not of abolitionists. They were engaged in a moral conflict, a war of principles. No bloodstained banner waved over their heads. No widow's groans, no orphan's tears, no garments rolled in blood, marked their path. In a manner entirely his own, he alluded to the persecuted abolitionists, the mobs at Boston and New York, the burning of Liberty Temple in Philadelphia, the grave and future glory of Lovejoy, and closed his remarks in a burst of powerful and impassioned eloquence. The assembly seemed electrified. An amendment was immediately proposed, which passed unanimously, cutting off the approval of that part of the declaration, which declared it to be the right and DUTY of the oppressed, to throw off their yoke.

Leaving Lockport, we went to Buffalo, and thence to Boston, where my good friend, Deacon Truman Carey, gave us a very hearty and affectionate welcome, and told us to make his house our home as long as we pleased. I remained here three weeks, follow

ing the prescriptions of the physician, excepting that I preached on the Sabbath, and wrote to some correspondents."

The following is taken from a copy of one of the letters written during this period, to Mr. Phillips, missionary in India, from whom intelligence had been received that his wife (formerly Mrs. Beede) had entered upon eternal scenes.

My dear brother,

*

*

"BOSTON, N. Y. July 19, 1838.

* In April last, on taking a copy of the Star from the P. O. at Rochester, I read that for which I was not prepared the death of dear sister Phillips! For a while, I could not realize it, but as the truth of the painful intelligence rushed upon me, I was quite overcome, and could not refrain from weeping aloud. When I met my dear companion, I was reminded of your bereavement and solitary situation in a land of heathen strangers, while I was blessed with the wife of my youth in a land of friends. Then we fell on each other's necks, and sobbed for a long time. Our sorrow was not altogether for dear Mary, who, we doubted not, was enjoying sweet rest beyond the toils, and pains, and sorrows of life, but for our dear brother Phillips. We supposed that the heart-rending tidings of the death of both your parents had already reached you, and even then was weighing down your spirits. Since very remarkable bereavements had already become your lot, we were not looking for one still more heavy and cutting than all the rest. My dear companion, who you know was much attached to your Mary, read the short painful notice in the Star. Like the friends of Job, we sat a long time in silence, then we kneeled and poured out our supplications to high Heaven in your behalf. We were cheered, however, by the reflection that you mourn not as those who mourn without hope, and that religion can assuage the sorrows of the soul. Yes, my dear brother, a firm trust in the Lord can fortify us against those bereavements which are more painful than even death itself. The reflection that the time we have on earth is very short, and that the tender ties which bind us to our families and friends, were only formed to be dissolved at the touch of death, should reconcile us to look upon our friends as but lent favors, not to be retained always, but only during the pleasure of the loaner. Hence we should look at death until we become acquainted with its worst features, comprehend its power, and are prepared to resign ourselves, or our dearest friends, to its iron grasp.

It was once my lot to comfort and beguile your Mary of her tears, when her dear Beede was laid in the grave, and I had hoped while she was in India that I should have the privilege of attempt

ing to comfort her in her labors. I recount the time since we parted, and am astonished at the swiftness with which more than three years have passed away. I cannot refrain from tears, when I think how little time I have had to hold communion with you across the great watery waste that separates us. But, however neglectful of my duty you may judge me to have been, I acknowledge with gratitude that you, and indeed all my missionary friends, have been faithful and kind to me in this respect, for myself and wife have received, in all, ten letters from India. We have felt a deeper interest in these communications than in any others we ever received, and after forwarding interesting extracts for publication in the Morning Star, we have filed them among our choicest papers.

One of the subjects on which you dwelt in your first letter is the wretched and heart-sickening appearance of the heathen of Hindoostan. Doubtless the first sight of them made an impression on your mind, of which we can form a very faint idea. But though we have not seen what you have, yet from the Scriptures we have a frightful picture of the sad and wretched condition of those who 'hasten after other gods.' For years, I have been fully convinced, that neither science nor civilization, equal rights or much temporal happiness, can be secured to men without the aid of religion-the pure religion of the blessed Bible. And it is equally certain, that the blessed God has not proposed to send men the gospel by any miraculous power; but through the instrumentality of the church, and by their using the ordinary means which God has put into their hands. Hence, our dear Savior forbade that state of mind which is always prompting us to seek a sign from heaven, when in fact the word of God is nigh us, and is sufficiently plain and conclusive to ensure our faith, if we will take the trouble to search faithfully for truth. I have seen the time when I anxiously sought for signs and wonders. I thank God that I have been perfectly cured of such desires, by the consideration that He who made man and perfectly understood his nature, and what will influence him best, has granted miracles very sparingly, and only on the most important occasions, such as establishing the divinity of certain dispensations, &c. Doubtless the reason is, that miracles, repeated frequently, would become so common as to lose their influence. Hence, God has not made it the order of his government to depart from the laws of nature, to advance his cause for the time being, at the expense of future generations. Although his mode of government imposes upon all men, and especially upon Christians and ministers, much study and labor in making examination of the records and evidences of divine truth, yet it exhibits an amount of wisdom sufficient to astonish even the angels of heaven. *

Your affectionate brother in Christ,

D. MARKS."

*

CHAPTER XXVII.

Particulars of Mr. Marks' Travels and Labors, mostly in New York, from July, 1838, to April, 1840.

The following is copied from Mr. Marks' correspondence in the Morning Star:

"About the last of July, my health having considerably improved, we resumed our journey to Canada, crossed the Niagara at Black Rock, and as we proceeded down the river, passed several houses that had been perforated with balls during the late insurrection. At the Falls, we found an encampment of eight hundred soldiers, who were marched from New Brunswick during the last winter, to aid in quelling the rebellion. We were permitted to visit any part of the army's camp. Their tents were large and neat, and the officers and soldiers were very civil. They told us heartrending stories of their privations and sufferings in marching, during the severity of last winter, through the deep unbroken snows of the wilderness, where they came near perishing. Alas! the miseries of war are indeed untold! We pursued our way to Zorra, found the country in a quiet state, and were treated with much hospitality and kindness. In August, I visited the churches in the London quarterly meeting, and found their state to be just what might be expected, after so much of the blighting spirit of war had swept over the land. Several of the brethren had removed to the United States, and others were preparing to follow. A council had been appointed to meet in Southwold, the second of July, to ordain two brethren to the work of the ministry; but on the first day of the month, the whole province was thrown into commotion, by a rumor that many thousands of the inhabitants were secretly organized with abundance of arms and ammunition, and would be joined by men from the United States to take the province on the fourth of the month. This occasioned the calling out of the militia, the fencing up of roads and bridges, and the stopping of travellers, so that the council did not assemble. I was now requested to meet with them. I did so, and we had a very interesting season. Both of the brethren that were ordained, appeared to be ministers of promise. In September, we returned to Boston, N. Y., where we arrived after an absence of six weeks, thankful to our Heavenly Father for our preservation, and for the rich blessing of improved health."

Mr. Marks, with much joy, now resumed his labors as an evangelist in the Holland Purchase yearly meeting. He had also consented to take an assistant general agency for the Book Concern,

among the western churches. Sept. 22 and 23, he attended the Chatauque quarterly meeting in Arkwright. Several were awakened, and one professed to be converted. During the remainder of the month, he preached in Cherry Creek, Ellington, Collins, and Springville. In the early part of October, he labored several days in China, generally preaching twice daily, besides holding prayer and inquiry meetings, and spending two or three hours in active manual labor. The blessing of God attended the preaching of his truth, the church was revived, many of the impenitent were awakened, and about twenty professed to turn to the Lord, most of whom were baptized. Some of these meetings were awfully solemn. In one of them, a Congregationalist minister related a thrilling account of the death of one of his classmates in Lane Seminary, Cincinnati, aged about seventeen years. This relation greatly affected Mr. Marks, especially as he knew and highly esteemed several relatives of the deceased. At the close of the meeting, he requested the minister to give him the statements he had made, in writing. He did so. The account, with the addition of some facts subsequently gathered, was substantially as follows:

"This youth resided in Rochester during the great revival in that city under the labors of Mr. C. G. Finney, and at that time was the subject of deep convictions. He visited Mr. Finney, acknowledged himself a sinner, but on being asked, if he would repent then, he said he would not. Mr. Finney said to him in much faithfulness, Young man, you will come to some dreadful end.' He replied, I am not afraid of it.' He resisted his convictions, and finally resorted to the objections usually urged by open infidels. His manners were gentle, his moral character unexceptionable, and his mind was of the very highest order. But he loved to use his objections against Christianity, in which he manifested uncommon skill. He was sent to Lane Seminary, that he might prosecute his studies under a holy influence. One day, after the cholera commenced its ravages in Cincinnati, he was in a shop where the workmen were making coffins. He asked, what should the shortness and uncertainty of life teach us? One answered, 'While we have life, to prepare for death.' 'No,' he replied, 'it teaches us to enjoy life while we have it.' The next day he was attacked by the pestilence, but remedies were applied so promptly that he was restored to comfort, with a good prospect of a speedy and perfect recovery. In this state, he was sitting in my room, when some rice was brought him, of which he ate too much, and suffered a relapse. The first indication of relapse was sudden. He exclaimed, 'I can see nothing.' I looked upon him, his eyes were open and rolling -his cheeks were blanched-his lips purple. I took him and bore him to his bed. From the first, those of us who had experience in