o the
pulpit with that preparation which alone makes any preaching effective,
and which will make it mighty forever."

To Rev. Henry W. Bellows.

SHEFFIELD, Feb. 26, 1849.

MY DEAR BELLOWS,--I came from Albany to-day at noon, and have had but
this afternoon to reflect upon your letter. But I see that you ought to
have an answer immediately; and my reply to your proposition to me grows
out of such decided considerations, that they seem to me to require no
longer deliberation. I see that you desire my help, and I am very sorry
that I cannot offer it to you; but consider. You ask of me what, with my
habits of thought and methods of working, would be equal to writing one
sermon is a fortnight. I [210] would rather do this than to write four
or even three columns for the "Inquirer," considering, especially, that
I must find such a variety of topics, and must furnish the tale of
brick every week. I have always been obliged to work irregularly, when I
could; and this weekly task-work would allow no indulgence to such poor
habits of study. Besides, this task would occupy my whole mind; that is,
such shattered mind as I have at present to give to anything; I could do
nothing else,--nothing to supply my lack of means to live upon. I could
better take the "Christian Examiner;" it would cost me much less labor,
and it would give me the necessary addition to my income, provided I
could find some nook at the eastward where I could live as cheaply as I
can here.

I think the case must be as plain to your mind as it is to mine. If
I were to occupy any place in your army, it would be in the flying
artillery; these solid columns will never do for me. Why, I can't
remember the time when I have written twenty-five sermons in a year, and
that, I insist, is the amount of labor you desire of me. You may think
that I overrate it, and you speak of my writing from "the level of my
mind." The highest level is low enough, and this I say in sad sincerity.
In fact, if nothing offers itself for me to do that I can do, I think
that I shall let the said mind lie as fallow ground for a while, hoping
that, through God's blessing, leisure and leisurely studies may give
strength for some good work by and by. How to live, in the mean time, is
the question; but I can live poor, and must, if necessary, trench upon
my principal. But if I am driven to this resort, I will make thorough
work of it; I will bind myself to no duty, professional, literary, or
jo