entrance to the house was near the fence, and directly in the course he was pursuing. When at the height of his greatest speed, he came in contact with the door, which, from the momentum he had acquired, he carried before him "as a very little thing," and landed it with himself on the opposite side of the room. An explosion of his pent up horrors instantly followed; he gave utterance to a most unearthly screech at the very top of his voice. This, with its portentous preliminaries, brought to their feet the venerable pair that for many years had occupied that humble dwelling; who, thus suddenly startled from peaceful sleep, echoed and reëchoed the fearful salutation they had received, and finally demanded an explanation of the intruder, whether he was a robber, or (as the pious lady suggested) an angel sent to announce the judgment day!

An explanation followed; apologies were made, pardon was solicited, old acquaintance was renewed, and, declining an invitation to remain over night, James, mortified by this exhibition of his folly, started for his home, fully determined never again to run from the misty and unsubstantial conjurations of his own brain.

Under the influence of the most vivid recollections of that ludicrous and yet most painful experience, he related to the writer, during one of our last interviews in Providence, this incident, with a force of eloquence which the above sketch but feebly represents.

Having completed his first trial term as teacher with credit to himself, he resumed his studies in the spring, and pursued them with unabated zeal until the ensuing autumn. At this time, the reputation which he gained as

teacher the previous winter secured for him an invitation to take charge of the principal school in the beautiful village of Camillus, some three miles distant from his former location. Here he continued for two terms (winter and summer), and then abandoned the service of school teaching for the more important duties of the ministry.

A friend writes us from Camillus, "The pupils of Mr. Cook, with whom I have conversed, speak of him in the highest terms of respect, and many declare that he was decidedly the best teacher ever engaged in the school." Rev. N. Brown, who is familiar with this field of his early labors, thus writes: "Bro. Cook was what might be termed a natural born Universalist. From early childhood he loved Universalism, and endeavored to live the doctrine. For several years before I first saw him, he had been engaged a portion of the time in school teaching. Yet he never felt it his duty to disguise his religious sentiments, or to compromise his independence. He was rarely, if ever, drawn into serious difficulty by this course, though I have been informed that in numerous instances his youthful enthusiasm leḍ him to discuss with his patrons the merits of Universalism with much ardor and ability. He was always successful, however, as a teacher, gave excellent satisfaction wherever he taught, was a great favorite with his scholars, and won numerous warm friends and admirers among all classes and denominations."

We have already said that, on account of his youth, James sometimes evaded questions relating to his age. He did this, not because he was ashamed of his age, but

"On one occasion,

because he would not unnecessarily prejudice the minds. of his pupils against his discipline. however," writes his widow, "a pious old lady, fond of delineating Scripture characters, was not to be put off with his usual mode of answering that he was old enough to be wiser and better than he was,' and therefore pressed her inquiries with an earnestness that demanded an acknowledgment of his youth, or a more scriptural evasion. Remembering her passion for exhibiting her knowledge of Bible characters, he turned upon his venerable friend and asked, Why, don't you think I look as old as Abner?' Not wishing to betray her ignorance of this personage, so familiar to the record, she answered, La, yes! I thought you was as old as Abner. Let me see,—well, O, certainly, Abner was about twenty-two!" "

Thus easily satisfied for the time with a Scripture answer, she never renewed her inquiries respecting his age, but quietly endured the struggles with her curiosity which was evidently kept alive by her failure to ascertain, after many efforts, the age of Abner.

CHAPTER VII.

THE VOICE OF DEATH.

THE father of Mr. Cook, after a lingering illness of a most painful character, fell asleep in the arms of Jesus, July 2, 1837. He died as he had lived, in the full assurance of that faith which he had cherished for more than a quarter of a century.

The circumstances of his sickness and death were somewhat peculiar, and well calculated to make a deep and salutary-impression on the hearts of his children. For several months previous to his departure, he was almost entirely helpless. All his physical energies seemed to be completely paralyzed. The nerves of the tongue sharing in the general prostration, he was unable to speak intelligibly for several weeks preceding his death. Of course, to those who had known and loved him as he was known and loved by his family, he presented a most melancholy spectacle, a spectacle of utter helplessness. He had been a man of great physical strength. Up to the time when the fatal disease seized upon him, in this respect he recognized few superiors in the whole circle of his acquaintance. He was celebrated for his powerful and commanding voice. a contrast! Every nerve is paralyzed.

But now, what

He cannot, to

save him from death, command the power to raise a hand or move a foot. His voice is gone. Not an articulate sound can he utter. He talks by signs, which can be interpreted only by her who for thirty years had shared every emotion of his manly heart. Thank God, to the last he is understood !

To one of James' susceptible nature this decline of life, and the death scene which followed, was an influence never to be forgotten. Wherever he was it affected him. Asleep or awake, it colored his thoughts and his dreams, his waking and his somnambulic utterances.

In a letter on the subject of his father's death, James' thanks God that he was "moved by some irresistible impulse, at an earlier hour than usual on the day of his decease, to dismiss his school and go home." He thus providentially reached the house in time to be rccognized by his father, and to receive his dying benediction — a smile. Already was that father satisfied that his hour was come; and, if his countenance was any index to the emotions of the spirit within, he rejoiced in the conviction. Long had that spirit struggled for its emancipation from the fetters of mortality, and now, as it approached the confines of the immortal world, it seemed to catch glimpses of its destined glory, and to rejoice in the prospect of its final deliverance.

James watched the varying aspects of his father's countenance with peculiar interest. Times without number had he been told that "Universalism will never do to die by." Many of the neighbors, given to a repetition of this oft-refuted prediction, were desirous of seeing it verified in his case. With less courtesy than zeal for