ivine and Eternal Will; his power over men was in the sublimity of his
appeal to an answering faith in themselves.

He was greatest as a preacher, and it is as a preacher that he will be
best remembered by the public. The printed page, though far inferior to
the fervid eloquence of the same words when spoken, will corroborate by
its beauty, its pathos, and its logical force, the traditions that still
linger [132] of his deep impressiveness in the pulpit. In making the
following selections from his letters, I have been influenced by the
desire to let them show him in his daily and familiar life, with the
easy gayety and love of humor which was as natural to him as the deep
and solemn meditations which absorbed the larger part of his mind. They
are very far from elaborate compositions, being rather relaxations from
labor, and he thought very slightly of them himself; yet I think
they will present the real man as nothing but such careless and
conversational writing can.

No letters of his boyhood have been preserved, and very few of his
youth. This, to Dr. Channing, was probably written at Plymouth, while
there on an exchange of pulpits, soon after his ordination at New
Bedford:--

To Rev. William Ellery Charming, D.D.

PLYMOUTH, Dec. 27, 1823.

DEAR SIR,--I was scarcely disappointed at your not coming to my
ordination, and indeed I have felt all along that, if you could not
preach, I had much rather see you at a more quiet and leisurely time. I
thank you for the hope you have given me of this in the suggestion you
made to Mr. Tuckerman. When the warm season comes, I pray you to give
Mrs. Dewey and me the pleasure of trying what we can do to promote your
comfort and health, and of enjoying your society for a week. [133] Our
ordination was indeed very pleasant, and our prospects are becoming
every day more encouraging. The services of that occasion were attended
with the most gratifying and useful impression. Our friend, Mr.
Tuckerman, preached more powerfully, and produced a neater effect, than
I had supposed he ever did. I must remind you, however, that his sermon,
like every good sermon, had its day when it was delivered. We cannot
print the pathos, nor you read the fervor, with which it was spoken.

I have had no opportunity to express to you the very peculiar and high
gratification with which I have received the late expression of the
liberality and kindness of your society, nor can it be necessary. I
cannot fai