o are
such to me still. In the pastoral relation, New Bedford was, and long
continued to be, the very home of my heart; it was my first love.

In 1827 I was invited to go to New York. I did not wish to go, so
I expressly told the church in New York (the Second Church); but I
consented, in order to accomplish what they thought a great good,
provided my congregation in New Bedford would give their consent. They
would not give it; and I remained. I believe that I should have lived
and died among them, if my health had not failed.

But it failed to that degree that I could no longer do the work, and I
determined to go abroad and recruit, and recover it, if possible. [66]
This was in 1833. The Messrs. Grinnell & Co., of New York, offered me
a passage back and forth in their ships, one of the thousand kind and
generous things that they were always doing, and I sailed from New York
in the "George Washington" on the 8th of June. It was like death to
me to go. I can compare it to nothing else, going, as I did, alone. In
London I consulted Sir James Clarke, who told me that the disease was
in the brain, and that I must pass three or four years abroad if I would
recover from it. I believe I stared at his proposition, it seemed to me
so monstrous, for he said, in fine: "Well, you may go home in a year,
and think yourself well; but if you go about your studies, you will
probably bring on the same trouble again; and if you do, in all
probability you will never get rid of it." Alas! it all proved true.
I came home in the spring of 1834, thinking myself well. I had had no
consciousness of a brain for three months before I left Europe. I went
to work as usual; in one month the whole trouble was upon me again, and
it became evident that I must leave New Bedford. I could write no more
sermons; I had preached every sermon I had, that was worth preaching,
five times over, and I could not face another repetition. I retired with
my family to the home in Sheffield, and expected to pass some years at
least in the quiet of my native village. [67] I should like to record
some New Bedford names here, so precious are they to me. Miss Mary Rotch
is one, called by everybody "Aunt Mary," from mingled veneration and
affection. It might seem a liberty to call her so; but it was not, in
her case. She had so much dignity and strength in her character and
bearing that it was impossible for any one to speak of her lightly. On
our going to New Bedford, she