f JUN 3 1963 
 
 KEMINISCENCES AND EECOKDS 
 
 REV. LEONARD WOODS, D. D., 
 
 BY HIS DAUGHTER, 
 
 HARRIETTE NEWELL WOODS BAIiER. 
 
 " The memory of the just is blessed." — Solomon. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 ALFRED MUDGE & SON, PRINTEKS, 
 No. 24 Franklin Street. 
 1887. 
 
By EDGAR A. GUEST 
 
 THOUGHTS OF A FATHER. 
 
 We've never seen the Father here, but we 
 
 have known the Son, 
 The finest type of manhood since the 
 
 world was first begun; 
 And, summing up the works of God, I 
 
 write with reverent pen, 
 The greatest is the boy he sent to cheer 
 
 the lives of men. 
 
 Through him we learned the ways of God 
 
 and found the Father's love. 
 The Son it was who won us back to him 
 
 who reigns above. 
 The Lord did not come down himself to 
 
 prove to men his worth. 
 He sought our worship through* the child 
 
 he placed upon the earth. 
 
 How can I best express my life? Where- 
 in does greatness lie? 
 
 How can I long remembrance win, since 
 I am born to die? 
 
 Both fame and gold are selfish things, 
 their charms may quickly flee ; 
 
 But I'm the father of a boy who long 
 may speak for me. 
 
 In him lies all I hope to be; his splendo. 
 
 shall be mine. 
 I ,3hall have done man's greatest work i 
 
 only he is fine. 
 If some day he shall help the world Ion: 
 
 after I am dead, i 
 In ail that men shall say of him m; 
 
 praises shall be said. 
 
 It matters not what I may win of fleetin 
 
 gold or fame. 
 My hope of joy depends alone on wh^ 
 
 my boy shall claim; 
 My story must be told through him, fo 
 
 him I vt-ork and plan. 
 Man's greatest duty is to be the fathe 
 
 of a man. 
 (CotiyrlgM,101~, by Edgar A. Guest.) 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Now that I have finished these Reminiscences and Records of 
 my father, and closed my portfolio containing letters from him, 
 memoranda, and documents, which I have been collecting for 
 twenty years, I feel a pang as though the parting from him was 
 new and fresh. While writing, I have, with the eye of my mind, 
 seen his tall form before me, and his mild blue eyes gazing into 
 mine. I have felt the influence of his kind, loving, forgiving 
 heart, guiding my pen. Many and many a sentence have I 
 erased, because, on reading it over, I have felt, "this he would not 
 approve." 
 
 No reader can be more sensible of the imperfections of this 
 sketch than the writer herself has been. I am well aware that 
 there are others upon whom the pleasant task would have more 
 appropriately fallen, though I have been cheered and sustained in 
 my work, by words and letters of encouragement from kindred 
 and friends. I have been drawn to the loving employment by a 
 power I could not resist ; by a feeling that though my father exer- 
 cised love, patience, forgiveness towards all his children, toward 
 none was there such need of these virtues as toward me. 
 
4 
 
 PBEFACE. 
 
 In describing the characteristics of my father, especially in his 
 social relations, I have chosen to illustrate his love, his patience, 
 his tenderness, his forgiveness, by incidents in his life, rather than 
 to express them in the usual didactic form, even at the risk of 
 putting myself in too prominent a position. 
 
 Of my readers, I ask that, overlooking all shortcomings in the 
 preparation of my work, they -will read candidly these Reminis- 
 cences and Records of a good man, now in a world where neither 
 praise nor blame can injure him. If any one, after reading it, 
 finds his own heart more full of love to his fellow-men, more tender 
 towards their failings, more careful of their reputation, more like 
 their divine Master in the exercise of every Christian virtue, then 
 shall I be happy indeed. 
 
 H. N. W. B. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 PACE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Wachtjsett 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Birth and Boyhood 14 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 College Life 23 
 
 CHAPER IV. 
 
 Settlement in West Newbury 33 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DrvTNiTY School 38 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Connection with Benevolent Societies 49 
 
6 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 A Man of Pilvyer 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 52 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Humility .vnd Charity 54 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Benevolence 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 A Preacher 
 
 CHAPTER :XI. 
 Reverence for the Sabbath . 
 
 A Day of Sorrow . . . • 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 Punctuality 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 57 
 
 CHAPTER Xn 
 
 67 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 7 
 
 FAOK 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 As A Father 80 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Attachment to nis Friunds 89 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 His BmTHDAY 98 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 As A Counsellor 103 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 His Quick Sympathy 107 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 His Frankness and F.uthfulness Ill 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 His Temperance 119 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Miscellaneous Incidents 125 
 
8 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER XXin. 
 
 Sickness and Death 
 
 CHAPTER XXrV. 
 
 FCNEKAL AND NOTICES 140 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 List of Publications 146 
 
EEMINISCENCES AND EECORDS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WACHUSETT. 
 
 " Away back almost to the days of good Queen Bess, eleven 
 years after the landing at Plymouth, as early as 1631, Governor 
 Winthrop and compnny with him ascend* d Charles River eight 
 miles beyond Watertown, and there, standing on a very high rock, 
 they saw a " very high hill due west, about forty miles off." * 
 
 This was our grand old Wachusett, or the " Great Watchu- 
 sett " of the Indians, two hundred and fifty-six years ago. 
 
 In 1643, Governor Winthi'op again says : " At this Court, Nash- 
 acowan and Wassamagoin, two sachems near the great hill to the 
 west, called "Wuuhasset [Wachusett], came into the Court and 
 desired to be received under our protection and government ; so 
 we, causing them to understand the Articles and all the Ten Com- 
 mandments of God, and they freely assenting to all, they were 
 
 *Hon. Charles T. Russell's oration, at the Centennial celebration of Princeton. 
 
10 
 
 BEMINI8CENCE8 AND BEC0BD8. 
 
 solemnly received, and then presented the Court with twenty-six 
 fathom more of wampum ; and then the Com-t gave each of them 
 a coat of two yards of cloth and theu" dinner ; and to them and 
 their men, every one of them, a cup of sack at their departiu'e ; 
 so they took leave and went away very joyful." 
 
 In 1686, five Indians, who claimed to be the owners, sold to 
 five white men a tract of land twelve miles square, the northern 
 part of which run up to " Great Watchusett." This deed was not 
 registered till April, 1714. In 1759, on petition of the owners, 
 fifteen thousand acres lying at the bnse of the great mountain 
 were " erected into a district under the name of Prince town " by 
 au Act of the General Court. This name was given in honor of 
 Rev. Thomas Prince, then colleague pastor of the Old South 
 Church in Boston. He was by far the largest proprietor, owning 
 then or subsequently about three thousand acres, which descended 
 to his daughter, Mrs. Moses Gill. 
 
 In 1765, the district voted to send a petition to the Great and 
 General Court, asking that some thousands of acres of Province 
 laud be added to their town. Samuel Woods and two other men 
 were sent to the Court on this business. 
 
 This is the first time the name of Samuel Woods appears in 
 the early records ; but afterwards it occurs frequently in connec- 
 tion with town and church affairs. 
 
 Some time before the first school-house was built, a room was 
 
WACHUSETT. 
 
 11 
 
 hired, and Mr. Woods engaged for the sum of six pounds (about 
 twenty-seven dollars) a year to teach the children and youth. 
 Thomas Wilder, Esq., in his address at the Centennial, says of 
 him : — 
 
 " Master Woods was greeted by his appropriate appellation by 
 old and young wherever he was known. Being self-taught, he 
 understood how to teach others. Being a man of profound 
 thought, he strove to promote it in his pupils by questions suited 
 to elicit reflection, and propounding problems to be solved by 
 induction, thus giving to the mind a stimulus to develop itself 
 without artificial help. Consequently, a goodly number of intel- 
 lectual inhabitants came forward, honorable to the town and 
 country. We need look no farther than his own family for illus- 
 trations ; I might speak of numbers, but will particularize but 
 one, his oldest son, by his last wife, Leonard, whose germ, under 
 paternal culture, gave hopeful promise, and who, encouraged by 
 the means of education which at that time the public schools 
 afforded, graduated at Harvard with the highost honors of the 
 college ; and whose writings are said to be the most lucid in the 
 English language, and are read in all the enlightened parts of the 
 world." * 
 
 " Master Woods did a great deal of public business. He was 
 
 * Address of Mr. Wilder at tlie celebration. 
 
12 
 
 BEMimSCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 an excellent teacher, and trained up a number of excellent men. 
 He had two sons who were Doctors of Divinity. Abel Woods, who 
 began his ministry in 1790, and ended it in 1850, making a term 
 of sixty years that he was in active service. His son Alvah was 
 also a Doctor of Divinit}', and president of a college in Alabama, 
 and he had a daughter who married Eev. Dr. Patterson, president 
 of Newton Theological Seminary. 
 
 " Another son of Samuel Woods, Leonard, was for a long period 
 a Professor of Divinity at Andover. His son, of the same name, 
 is a Doctor of Divinity, and president of a college. He had also 
 four sons-in-law who were Doctors of Divinity, two of them pro- 
 fessors in theological seminaries. This is honor enough for one 
 schoolmaster." * 
 
 The first settlers of Princeton were religious men, and long 
 before the building of the meeting-house, maintained religious 
 worship in private houses, finding their way through the forest by 
 marked trees. 
 
 The first church edifice was reared in 1762, as the record has it, 
 " fifty foots long and forty foots wide." It will not be difficult to 
 judge of the principles of these settlers from the account given of 
 their early history by the orator before referred to: "First free- 
 dom, then an axe, then a clearing, then a house, then a wife to 
 
 * Address of Professor Everett at the Centeimial. 
 
WACHUSETI. 
 
 13 
 
 make it a home, a Bible to make it Christian, honest, loving labor 
 to give it comfort, and thenceforth everything went as regular as 
 clock-work, from the care of the dau-y to the chi'istening of the 
 children." 
 
14 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 BIRTH AND BOYHOOD. 
 
 On the iDth of June, 1774, soou after the rising of tlae sun 
 over the top of the great "Wachusett, a new life commenced. 
 This event, wliich proved in after years such a rich blessing to 
 many, occurred in a humble cottage in the picturesque town of 
 Princeton, Mass., to which reference was made in our opening 
 chapter. 
 
 It was the Sabbath, and, in accordance with the desires of his 
 godly parents, who considered it both a privilege and a dut}- to 
 present their babe at the altar, and supplicate for it the blessing 
 of a covenant-keeping God, the little one was carried the same 
 day a distance of one mile to church, and there received the seal 
 of baptism under the name of Leonard Woods. 
 
 Of his infancy and early boyhood it is difficult, after the lapse 
 of a hundi-ed years, to recover any trace ; but we may infer that, 
 as the very day of his birth was distinguished by his dedication to 
 God, his parents did not relax their efforts and prayers in his 
 behalf. 
 
 His father, Samuel Woods, mentioned in the first chapter as 
 one of the earliest settlers of the town, and his mother, Abigail 
 
BIBTH AND BOYHOOD. 
 
 15 
 
 Whitney Underwood, had each been married, and had a family of 
 children previous to their union. I can well remember that when 
 I was a child, my father smilingly gave me this puzzle: "My 
 father had fifteen children and my mother had ten, but both 
 together they had only twenty." 
 
 Of the last five, Leonard was the eldest son, and in very early 
 childhood distinguished himself not only by his sweet disposition 
 and dutiful obedience to the wishes of his parents, but also by the 
 brightness and activity of his mind. 
 
 His father, in consequence of being the schoolmaster of the 
 town, early acquired the name of Master "Woods, — a title which 
 he bore till his death. Though without a collegiate education, 
 he was a deep student and a close thinker. He was familiar 
 with the standard English authors in literature, philosophy, and 
 theology. From the frequent reference made to him in the town 
 records, it is plain that he was esteemed a man of sound judgment. 
 
 At the age of seven Leonard had learned to read, and soon after 
 commenced adding and subtracting numbers, as he heard his father 
 give out examples in arithmetic to the older scholars. 
 
 As those were war times, and there was a heavy dut}- ou slate, 
 the boys provided themselves with smooth strips of birch bark 
 from the neighboring woods The young scholar having secured a 
 supply of this article, begged one of his sisters to help him make 
 a plummet by running a piece of lead in a mould. This was to 
 
16 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND RECORDS. 
 
 serve for a pencil ; and so well did these rough materials answer 
 the purpose, that Leonard soon became an adept in arithmetic. As 
 he advanced in skill, his father gave him more difficult problems, 
 which he was required to work out without assistance. 
 
 At this period, the young student made a warm friend in one of 
 his neighbors, Lieutenant-Governor Gill, who watched the progress 
 of the bright boy with intense interest. 
 
 On one occasion, having a more than usually difficult example to 
 work out, Leonard's plummet and bark were in use every leisure 
 moment for several days. There was no key by which he might 
 at once catch the right principle. It was solid brain work that 
 was required. During this time, his mother sent him on an errand 
 to the house of Governor Gill, who inquired what he was doing 
 in his studies. 
 
 "I have a hard sum that I can't work out yet ; but I will do it," 
 exclaimed Leonard, frankly. 
 
 " That 's a brave lad," said the Governor, patting his head. 
 " Can you tell what it is ? " 
 
 Quick as thought, the boy pulled the roll of birch bark from his 
 pocket, and. with pluininet in hand, commenced explaining his 
 example, and wherein lay his difficulty in solving it. 
 
 " It's a tough one, to be sure," remarked the gentleman, laugh- 
 ing, " but you'll master it." 
 
 " Yes, sir, I will" was the emphatic reply. 
 
BIRTH AND BOYHOOD. 
 
 17 
 
 At an early hour he sought his humble couch in the attic, and 
 there, with the moon shining full in his face, he went over and over, 
 in his mind, the process of reckoning, but all in vain. With his 
 thoughts full of the subject, he fell asleep ; when, in his dreams, 
 he appeared still at work. Suddenly the right method flashed 
 across his mind. One step in the process he had omitted, which 
 had been the cause of his repeated failures. Relieved of his 
 burden, he slept the sound sleep of childhood till the dawn began 
 to streak the east. Then rising from his couch, and not waiting 
 to perform his simple toilet, he rubbed the figures from a piece of 
 bark he found near, and went through the whole example with 
 triumphant success. When his father made his appearance in the 
 barn-yard, with a huge milli-pail on either arm, our young hero 
 emerged from the house, book in hand, and, with a triumphant 
 shout, exclaimed, — 
 
 "I've done it, father ! I've done it! I found out the right 
 way when I was asleep." 
 
 This simple incident, which I have often heard him relate, illus- 
 trated the method by which his father sought to teach him patience 
 and perseverance, — traits for which he was distinguished in after 
 life. Perhaps it was to this early discipline he was indebted for 
 the power of concentration and perseverance in investigating sub- 
 jects of great moment. Indeed, I have often heard him allude, 
 with gratitude, to his father's rule of requiring his scholars to do 
 2 
 
18 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND RECORDS. 
 
 theii- work unassisted. If our young pupils of tlie present day 
 had less help from parents, teachers, and explanatory books, ponies 
 in classics, and keys in mathematics, we might see a generation of 
 more independent thinkers. 
 
 Lieutenant-Governor Gill owned a magnificent farm. Immense 
 lawns, from which it was averred not a single stone could be picked 
 up ; splendid walls, extending for miles ; sleek cattle, grazing in the 
 greenest of pastures ; noble trees, spreading their arms lovingly 
 over the velvety greensward, — called forth the admiration of every 
 beholder. In his large barns forty pleasure horses were kept, and 
 a herd of one hundred and eighty cattle. 
 
 The historian of Worcester County, in 1793, closes a glowing 
 description of the seat of Hon. Moses Gill, thus: "Upon the 
 whole, this seat of Judge Gill is not paralleled by any in the New 
 England States, perhaps not by any on this side of the Delaware." 
 
 Dr. Dwight, then president of Yale College, in 17i)7, speaks of 
 Governor Gill's establishment as "more splendid than any other 
 in the interior of the State," though the country surrounding his 
 farm was so desolate, that in attempting to make his way to 
 Rutland, " he came very near being lost for the night." 
 
 Within the house every apartment exhibited all the accessories of 
 wealth, culture, refinement, and taste ; but the large hall, devoted 
 to the library, was far the most attractive to the young student. 
 
 Mrs. Gill was the only surviving daughter of Rev. Thomas 
 
BIBTH AND BOYHOOD. 
 
 19 
 
 Prince, of Boston, and inherited with this immense farm a large 
 part of her father's extensive and valuable library. To this, in all 
 its departments, Master Woods had always enjoyed free access ; 
 and to Leonard was promised the same privilege when he was old 
 enough to appreciate it. 
 
 After Leonard's success in solving a difficult problem, he became 
 the leader of his class, all of them his seniors by some years. 
 Master Woods used often to give out examples in mental arith- 
 metic, and allow his pupils to try who would answer first. On 
 these occasions Leonard's blue eyes often sparkled with animation, 
 as he eagerly exclaimed, "I have it; I can answer, father." It 
 was seldom he answered incorrectly. 
 
 When the boy was eight years old, his father was ill during a 
 great part of the winter. Leonard, with a dutiful desire to relieve 
 him from all anxiety, took care of the horses, cows, and oxen at- 
 tached to their farm. In the spring, Master Woods one day called 
 the lad to him, and presented him with a "Barlow knife," telling 
 him that his good conduct had been the means of procuring him 
 the not inexpensive gift. This present may be thought by some 
 a trifle, compared to the labor the boy had performed ; but it must 
 be remembered that in the last century a knife with four blades, 
 for which these " Barlow knives " were distinguished, was not to 
 be found in every lad's pocket. Indeed, the possessor of one was 
 an object of attention and envy. 
 
20 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 For a year or two, Leonard worked diligently on his father's 
 farm, filling up his leisure hours with study. One of his older 
 sisters, who had inherited much of her father's strength of char- 
 acter, was his loving confidante and adviser at this period. His 
 mother, who was of a sweet, trusting spirit, watched her boy 
 closely, and in her heart began to form plans for his fulure. She 
 saw him run to his books as though he hungered for knowledge, 
 as indeed he did, so that when the providence of God opened the 
 way, she was prepared to encourage him to strive for a liberal edu- 
 cation, trusting in his Heavenly Father for the means. 
 
 When Leonard was about thirteen years old, he accompanied his 
 father and brother to a swamp, where he remained at work nearly 
 all day. A severe sickness followed, from which he recovered very 
 slowly. As soon as he was able to sit up, he called for his books, 
 and from this time studied without intermission. Governor Gill 
 saw the boy frequently, and found that his great desire was to go 
 to college. The gentleman went home from one of these inter- 
 views saying to himself, " It must be done. Yes, I shall send 
 for my philosopher at once." 
 
 The Governor was in the habit of entertaining distinguished men 
 at his house, and giving dinner parties, during which grave sub- 
 jects of church and State were discussed. When these discus- 
 sions became too deep or too warm, Governor Gill used to say, 
 " I must send for my philosopher, to give us his opinion." 
 
BIBTH AND BOYHOOD. 
 
 21 
 
 It was seldom, indeed, that the strong common-sense and quiet 
 humor of Master Woods did not settle the questions to the satis- 
 faction of all parties. 
 
 Being requested to call upon his neighbor, Leonard's father 
 obeyed the summons, and found the Governor in his library alone. 
 When the boy's desire was repeated to his father, he said with 
 great emotion, — 
 
 " Such a course is impossible. I have not the means to carry 
 him through college. You are aware that my son Abel is a stu- 
 dent, and I know the expense." 
 
 " Come, come ! " exclaimed the Governor. " ' Impossible ' is a 
 hard word. I have watched the lad. He is different from other 
 boys. Let him try to master Latin. He can recite to Parson 
 Craft. I '11 promise to help him." 
 
 Master Woods went home and repeated this conversation to his 
 wife, who went hurriedly into her bedroom to give thanks to God. 
 For some time the father held back from giving positive consent ; 
 but the mother had a firm, though secret conviction that the Lord 
 intended her son for a clergyman. This was the highest object of 
 her ambition. Could a throne have been offered the youth, it 
 would have been nothing in comparison. Leonard knew instinc- 
 tively that he had his mother's full approbation, and that when he 
 left home she would do the utmost in her power to assist him. He 
 acted upon the suggestion of Governor Gill, and when about four- 
 
22 
 
 BEAIINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 teen recited two or three times a week to Rev. Thomas Craft, his 
 pastor, walking several miles for the purpose. The necessary 
 books were supplied by his kind friend. At the age of sixteen, he 
 went to Leicester Academy for one quarter. Here he was so for- 
 tunate as to be under the instruction of Mr. Adams, afterwards 
 Professor of Mathematics in Dartmouth College. These months 
 were all the academical instruction he ever enjoyed ; and he im- 
 proved the privileges so well that he obtained the next year a 
 school in Leominster, where he gave universal satisfaction. 
 
 The money being thus obtained, he begged his father to allow 
 him at once to apply for admission to Harvard College. His 
 mother added her earnest plea, and consent was obtained, though 
 his father reminded him that he could give him but little pecuniary 
 assistance. 
 
COLLEGE LIFE. 
 
 23 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 COLLEGE LIFE. 
 
 My father was entered at Harvard in 1792, just after he had 
 passed his eighteenth birthday, and at once made himself known 
 as a diligent student. He drank deep at the fountain of human 
 wisdom, and maintained a high rank through his entire course. 
 His friend and classmate, the Rev. Samuel Dana, of Marblehead, 
 said of him : " He was decidedly the first member of the class for 
 intellectual attainment, among such competitors as John Pickering 
 and James Jackson." 
 
 At the time of his leaving home, Leonard, though well taught in 
 the doctrines of the Bible, had never laid hold of Christ, and, by 
 personal faith in his atoning sacrifice, made Jesus his Saviour. 
 The salutary influence which, under his father's roof, had drawn 
 him toward the good, and caused him to repel the bad, was now 
 withdrawn. He found in college life, trials and temptations of 
 which he had never dreamed. 
 
 At that time, the low state of morals throughout the country had 
 greatly affected the principles of the Harvard as well as of the 
 Yale students. The leaven of infidelity, brought to our shores by 
 
24 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND BE COEDS, 
 
 the French troops, who performed such vahiable service under 
 Lafayette aud other distinguished generals in the Revolution, had 
 worked out its legitimate results, infesting the sentiments of some 
 high in official position, and infusing its poison into the fountains 
 of learning. In Harvard, scepticism was then the fashion, and 
 experimental piety at a great discount. During a part of my 
 father's course, there was only one professor of religion in the 
 four classes. This was John H. Church, afterwards Rev. Dr. 
 Church, of Pelham, N. H. 
 
 Leonard's early training prevented him from imbibing such fatal 
 errors. When he heard scoffs at religion in general or sneers at 
 individual piety, the thought of his father's godly teachings, the 
 fervor of his prayers, the recollection of his mother's kindling 
 eye aud animated features when the holy doctrines of salvation by 
 grace were discussed, the calmness with which she endured trials, 
 sustained by divine power, made him shrink with horror from these 
 bolder attacks upon the truth. But, alas, for the iniquity of the 
 uni-egenerate heart ! The subtle reasonings of Priestly, which 
 exalt man in the same ratio that they depress God, gradually 
 gained a power over his mind. But though among his classmates 
 he was known to be an admii-er of Priestly and his school of free- 
 thinkers, yet he never could rid himself of the feeling that the 
 doctrines of grace, though humbling to human pride, might, after 
 all, be the true revealings of the Word of God. He knew how 
 
COLLEGE LIFE. 
 
 25 
 
 precious these doctrines were to his parents and to other godly 
 friends. He saw the fruit of humble reliance on God in the daily 
 walk and conversation of young Church, and confessed to himself 
 a desire to enjoy the same serenity and peace conspicuous in his 
 friend. A few weeks before his graduation, an event occurred 
 which gave intensity to this desire. He one day 'accompanied 
 some classmates to Charles River, where, in a retired spot, they 
 were in the habit of bathing. After a vigorous plunge into the 
 water, he waded out some distance from his companions, when 
 they were suddenly startled by a loud shriek of distress, and per- 
 ceived with horror that he had sunk out of sight. They hastened 
 to his assistance, but he had gone down for the third time before 
 he was rescued, and then, at the risk of life to the rescuers. He 
 had fallen into a sand pit, which at high tide was completely 
 hidden from view. 
 
 Never shall I forget the emotion with which he described this 
 scene. It is as vivid as though I had been present. " I suppose," 
 said my father, " that from the time I left my companions to the 
 time I was laid senseless on the bank, it could not have been over 
 five minutes ; but oh ! the thoughts of my past life which flashed 
 through my mind with the rapidity of lightning, — memories of 
 my childhood, youth, and riper years, long since forgotten, dis- 
 obedience to my parents, unkinduess to my brothers and sisters, 
 sins against my Heavenly Father, ingratitude to my Saviour, my 
 
26 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AKD REC0BD8. 
 
 low and sordid aims, my pride in my moral character, my ambition 
 for the future, all ended now ! I even thought of my graduation , 
 of the fond hopes of my mother that I should acquit myself in an 
 honorable manner. I thought of her disappointment as she heard 
 the heavy tidings of my untimely death, and knew that the nice 
 suit of clothes prepared for that occasion by her own hands, with 
 so many tender memories of her boy, would be returned to her 
 unused. I thought of life, which was over for me ; of death, 
 judgment, and eternity, to which I was hastening. I tried to lay 
 hold of Christ as an all-sufficient Saviour. Then consciousness 
 left me." 
 
 Vigorous measures and long-continued efforts were necessary in 
 order to restore life in the drowning man. He always adverted to 
 the circumstance with the deepest gratitude that he was not tlien 
 taken from the world while yet unreconciled to God. 
 
 During most of his college course he alternately believed and 
 doubted the doctrines of grace. To quote his own words: " My 
 heart often rose in rebellion against the divine requirements, 
 especially those which commanded me to renounce ever}- method 
 of salvation except thi-ough a crucified Saviour. My mind," he 
 says, " is like the troubled sea, tossed about on the waves of 
 speculation and doubt." " Through all this dark period," he 
 says, " the Lord Jesus Christ was my ideal of virtue. AVhether 
 he be man, angel, or God, there is something in the character of 
 
COLLEGE LIFE. 
 
 27 
 
 Jesus Christ which attracts and warms the soul. I had rather fol- 
 low him, or be like him, than to excel the most illustrious name in 
 the history of the world." 
 
 In regard to his conversion : — 
 
 " No experimental means were tried upon him ; no excited 
 assembly operated upon his mind and heart, but in the anguish 
 of his spirit he knelt down, and clasping his Bible, he raised it 
 over him, as did John Huss, and cried, ' O God, my Lord, and 
 master of my life.' Henceforth Christ was to him all in all ; the 
 beginning, the middle, and the end of his theology and his 
 life." * 
 
 He was graduated in 1796, bearing with him the first awards of 
 scholarship. At Commencement he had the highest appointment, 
 and delivered an oration on the subject, " Envy wishes, then 
 believes," which was received with great applause. 
 
 Three years later he took his second degree, when, as before, ,. 
 the first oration was assigned him. Both these productions were 
 published, and are still preserved in the archives of the library 
 in Cambridge. A popular newspaper of the time, called the 
 Columbia Centinel, thus speaks of the latter oration : — 
 
 " The best performance of the day was the oration on Atheism 
 
 * History of the Essex North Association. 
 
28 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 by Rev. Mr. Woods. lu this half-hour sketch, the existence and 
 attributes of a Supreme Intelligence were demonstrated by in- 
 vincible argument, and displayed with dignified eloquence. His 
 remarks were pointed, but thej' were not severe ; his precepts 
 pious, but liberal, and his eloquence dignified and energetic, but 
 not boisterous. In short, he was a champion in the cause of his 
 Redeemer and country. He received the liberal plaudits of a 
 grateful auditory." 
 
 At this period, writes one who knew him well: "Mr. AVoods 
 was six feet two inches in height, perfectly erect and well pro- 
 portioned, and possessed a dignity and grace of manner which 
 impressed every one in his favor. His black hair, which curled 
 slightly, was worn long, according to the fashion of the times. 
 His pleasant, earnest, blue eyes, his animated countenance, and 
 his exquisite teeth, which to his dying day never made acquaint- 
 ance with a dentist, were a letter of recommendation to him 
 wherever he went. In disposition, he united the strength of 
 his father's character with the sweet, loving, trusting nature of 
 his mother." 
 
 Through the kindness of some of his classmates, I have been 
 able to add to the reports I have received of the college records, 
 in regard to my father's course in Harvard. From Dr. James 
 Kendall, of Plymouth, Mass., I copy the following letter, which 
 will explain itself : — 
 
COLLEGE LIFE. 
 
 29 
 
 Plymouth, Sept. 9, 1854. 
 
 Mrs. Leonard Woods : 
 
 Dear Madam, — Please excuse the liberty I have taken, with 
 only a transient acquaintance, to intrude upon the sacredness of 
 domestic bereavement, with a view to express my sympathy and 
 condolence with you in the recent departure of your revered and 
 beloved husband. My apology, if an apology be necessary, is 
 my long and intimate acquaintance with Dr. Woods, commencing 
 more than sixty years ago ; an acquaintance of uninterrupted sat- 
 isfaction and pleasure, and an intercourse, so far as I know, of 
 unbroken harmony. 
 
 Although our theological inquii'ies and associations may have 
 led to something of different results, yet as respects the spirit and 
 character necessary to fit us for acceptance with the Father, and 
 an intercourse with the spirits of the just, I am confident there 
 was no difference. 
 
 It is among my most pleasant memories to look back upon an 
 acquaintance which commenced when we were candidates for ad- 
 mission to Harvard University in 1792, without recollecting a 
 single instance of unkind feeling, or an unfriendly utterance 
 between us. No two scholars in the class were more intimate 
 than we were, and, if we take the opinion of the College Gov- 
 ernment at the time for a standard, no two ranked higher ; that 
 
30 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND BECORDS. 
 
 is to say, the two English orations, the highest parts given 
 out at our Commencement, were assigned to Dr. Woods and 
 myself. 
 
 I well remember the gratification I felt in being thought worthy, 
 as a scholar, of holding rank as second to him. I mention this 
 incident merely to show that our relative position as scholars 
 awakened no unpleasant rivalry, nor interrupted for a moment the 
 harmony and mutual kindness between us ; and I will add in this 
 connection that I have no recollection, during our collegiate course, 
 of a single act of his life, or a single utterance of his lips, that he 
 or his friends would have wished to have been otherwise. This, I 
 am aware, is saying a good deal, but if there had been anything 
 very noticeable I should have remembered and regretted it. Our 
 security under Providence might have been owing in part to our 
 being a little in advance, as respects age, of most of the under- 
 graduates ; Dr. "Woods having entered college in his nineteenth 
 year, and I in my twenty-third. We both went to college for the 
 purpose of an education, and at no time, I believe, were in much 
 doubt as to the choice of a profession. At our age, there was less 
 temptation to join in the follies and improprieties which sometimes 
 mark the course of an under-graduate in college. Of one thing I 
 am quite sure, for I have a distinct recollection of the fact, that 
 neither of us was subjected io fine, to admonition, or the sUcjhtest 
 reproof, even, for delinquency in our college studies, or disregard 
 
COLLEGE LIFE. 
 
 31 
 
 of the rules and requirements during our connection with the 
 university. 
 
 It may be some satisfaction and comfort, in this hour of your 
 trial, to have this testimony of an intimate friend and classmate 
 to the purity and correctness of your beloved husband's character 
 during this interesting period of his early life. Of his character, 
 fidelity, and labors as a Christian minister and theological pro- 
 fessor during the last half-century, you need not the testimony of 
 a personal friend. You are compassed about hy a clotid of wit- 
 nesses, who are ready to testify to his fidelity and successful labors 
 in the service of the Master. 
 
 Soon after his graduation, he went to Medford, Mass., where he 
 had accepted an invitation to teach, hoping in this manner to earn 
 funds sufficient to carry him through his professional studies. He 
 remained in Medford till August, 1797, when he went to Princeton. 
 
 At his mother's knee he had learned the answer to this question, 
 "What is the chief end of man?" "To glorify God, and to 
 enjoy him forever." How shall I best glorify God? was the ques- 
 tion which now was ever present to his ardent mind. His Heavenly 
 Father did not long leave hii^ in doubt concerning his will. In an 
 affecting interview with his parents, he announced to them the new 
 hopes which animated his breast, and the earnest desires he experi- 
 enced, to devote himself to the work of preaching the gospel of 
 
32 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 salvation to his fellow-men, receiving theii- cordial approbation and 
 their prayers for his success. 
 
 He repaired to Somers, Conn., and placed himself under the 
 care of Dr. Charles Backus. This gentleman was an eminent 
 divine, whose reputation as a teacher drew about him some of the 
 most prominent students in New England. 
 
 The three months passed in Somers were most happy ones, 
 always referred to with a kindling eye, as among the most profit- 
 able of his life. 
 
SETTLEMENT IN WEST ^EWBUEY. 
 
 33 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 SETTLEMENT IN WEST NEWBURY. 
 
 In the spring of 1798, he was licensed to preach by the Cam- 
 bridge Association, and a few months later was called to settle 
 over the Thu'd Parish in "West Newbury, Mass., from which Dr. 
 Tappan had recently been removed, to become HoUis Professor in 
 Harvard College. It was not, however, without much hesitation 
 that he accepted the call, arising from conscientious scruples in 
 regard to their creed. His frankness led him to make a full state- 
 ment of his reasons of delay in acceptiug theu- call. The personal 
 attachment of many members of the parish to Mr. Woods, and the 
 influence of some prominent neighboring clergymen, led to a modifi- 
 cation of their views, and they renewed the call, which he accepted. 
 
 The ordination took place Dec. 5, 1798, Dr Osgood, of Medford, 
 Mass., preaching the sermon. I quote one paragraph, which has 
 particular reference to the young clergyman : — * 
 
 " Your present choice, in the esteem of all who are acquainted 
 with the man, does honor to your discernment. I am persuaded 
 that one so amiable will not disappoint your just expectations." 
 
 * Copied from letters in History of the Andover Seminary. 
 
34 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND RECORDS. 
 
 A friend residing in New Hampshire assures me that her mother 
 rode on horseback a distance of sixteen miles to the ordination, 
 and on her arrival found, to her great disappointment, the house 
 so crowded that she could not obtain admittance. The terms of 
 settlement, as copied from the church record, sound singularly to 
 us in these days. They were as follows : — 
 
 "The parish voted to give Mr. Woods four hundred dollars 
 annually ; also five hundred dollars by way of settlement, with the 
 use of the parsonage land by the meeting-house, and eight cords 
 of wood annually, with the liberty of going to see his parents for 
 two Sabbaths every year," 
 
 At the present day this sum appears to us ridiculously small ; 
 but his devoted people took care that he should never want. A 
 box of new butter, fresh eggs, or a heave shoulder, often carried 
 to the pastor, testified to the affection of the parishioners. 
 
 In October, 1799, my father was married to Abby Wheeler, 
 daughter of Rev. Joseph Wheeler, a graduate of Harvard College 
 in 1757. He was ordained in the town of Harvard in 1759, but 
 his settlement and usefulness there were suddenly cut short by the 
 loss of his voice. Soon after the commencement of the Revolu- 
 tionary War, Mr. Wheeler zealously engaged in the cause of his 
 country, and was chosen a member of the Provincial Congress, 
 representative to the General Court, and a member of the Com- 
 mittee of Correspondence. The night before Bunker Hill battle 
 
SETTLEMENT IN WEST NEWBUBT. 
 
 35 
 
 he volunteered, with five others, to go to the hill, and they staked 
 out the ground for the intrenchment which was thrown up during 
 the night. After the arrival of General "Washington at Cambridge, 
 Mr. Wheeler was chaplain of his staff. After the war he was ap- 
 pointed Justice of the Quorum for AVorcester County, and Eegister 
 of Probate, which offices he held till his death. 
 
 " Mr. Woods's marriage and settlement in his own home were 
 made the occasion of a great festival in Newbury. Forty couples 
 in forty ' shays,' the fashionable vehicle of the period, set out to 
 meet their pastor, and escort him with his bride to their new home. 
 The lady, dressed in corsage and trailing skirts of blue lutestring 
 silk, white satin cloak trimmed with ermine, with jockey hat, blue 
 tipped feathers, high-heeled shoes of blue kid, and brightly bloom- 
 ing cheeks, with sweet gentleness and warmth of manner, took all 
 hearts by storm. 
 
 " On reaching the new home, where nearly all the parish had 
 assembled, the guests alighted and welcomed the bride, after which 
 all partook of a lavish feast provided by loving hearts for the 
 occasion." 
 
 At this distance of time it is difficult to gather much in relation 
 to Mr. Woods's settlement in West Newbury. A letter kindly sent 
 me, found in the possession of Mrs. Lydia Poore, grandmother of 
 Benjamin Perley Poore, assures me of his faithfulness as a pastor, 
 who watched for the souls of his people as one who must give an 
 
36 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND BEGORDS. 
 
 account. One aged gentleman now living, in relating what he 
 remembered of his earliest religious teacher, says: "I went to 
 school with his two oldest boys, aud to his catechising on Saturday 
 afternoons. When we pulled ears or quarrelled during the week, 
 we had to be hauled up for it at the catechising." 
 
 An incident which occurred during his residence in West New- 
 bury has been vouched for by a distinguished New England 
 clergyman : — 
 
 " In the early part of Dr. Woods's ministry, he was one of an 
 ansociation of clergymen convoked to examine a young candidate 
 for the sacred office. AVhen the young theologian had been 
 questioned, and had satisfied the examiners in regard to his literary 
 qualifications, they proceeded to inquire relative to his personal 
 experience, and his motives for desiring to enter the ministry. He 
 went on for some time until the moderator asked what the High 
 Hopkiusians called ' the test question ' : 'I should like you to 
 state definitely, sir, whether you ai'e willing to be damned, should 
 such be foreordained to be your doom.' 
 
 "The candidate hesitated; his face blanched. He could not 
 answer in the affirmative. What should he say? 
 
 " Mr. Woods, perceiving the embarrassment of the young student, 
 said in his usually calm manner : ' Perhaps I can put the question 
 in a little different form, aud in a way that will relieve the candi- 
 date. Will you state, sir, whether you would be willing, under 
 
SETTLEMENT IN WEST NEWBUBY. 
 
 37 
 
 the circumstances mentioned, that the moderator should be 
 damned?' 
 
 " ' Perfectly, sii-, perfectly, if such is God's will.' 
 
 " Such a declaration must have been considered sufficiently 
 orthodox, for, after a hearty laugh, the association proceeded to 
 vote that the candidate be licensed." 
 
 During the ten years of his residence in West Newbury, Mr. 
 Woods's pen was not idle. Among his letters I find the following 
 from Dr. Spring, of Newburyport : "I take this opportunity to 
 express my deepest gratitude for the wise and masterly manner in 
 which your question was considered yesterday before the San- 
 hedrim." 
 
 In 1803, the Massachusetts Missionary Magazine was com- 
 menced, when Dr. Spring solicited and obtained aid from the pen 
 of the young pastor. 
 
 In 1805, Dr. Morse, of Charlestown, projected a monthly maga- 
 zine, to be called the Panoplist, and of this journal the pastor at 
 West Newbury was appointed joint editor. The spirit with which 
 he entered on this latter task can best be described by a note he 
 addressed to Dr. Morse on the issue of the first number : — 
 
 " To-day Panoplist is born, and I hope it will live to grow up 
 and be a good man. I hope and pray that there may not be a 
 spice of ill-nature in it. This does not belong to the Christian 
 armor." 
 
38 
 
 EEMINISCENCES AND REC0BD8. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DIVINITY SCHOOL. 
 
 But his Heavenly Father had still more important work for his 
 young servant. In brief, it may be said that both Dr. Spring and 
 Dr. Morse were projecting plans for a school, where young men 
 could be trained for the ministry ; and each of these gentlemen, 
 unknown to the other, fixed on the Newbury pastor as suitable for 
 the chair of Theology. It is impossible, in a brief sketch like 
 this, to give any account of the long and tedious delays before the 
 final result of the two schools, with their two sets of founders, was 
 reached. It is suflScient hei-e to say, that at length everj' question 
 was happily settled, and the new seminary, surmounting all ob- 
 stacles, went into operation Sept. 28, 1808. To quote from the 
 Columbia Centinel: " Prof essor Woods delivered his inaugural ora- 
 tion on the Glory and Excellence of the Gospel. The assembly, 
 convened from various parts of the country on this most interest- 
 ing occasion, was numerous and highly respectable. The day was 
 delightful, and the satisfaction generally expressed gave great 
 pleasure to the friends of the institution." 
 
 In 1810 the young Professor received the degree of Doctor of 
 
DIVINITY SCHOOL. 
 
 39 
 
 Divinity from Dartmouth College ; also, the same year, from the 
 College of New Jersey. 
 
 Of the sentiments of affection and respect entertained for the 
 memory of Dr. Woods by his former pupils, I have such abundant 
 proof that I can only make a selection here and there. In a letter 
 I have received from an able clergyman iu Maine, he says : " Dr. 
 Woods was one of the most evenly balanced men I ever knew. . . . 
 His mind was equally massive and powerful. Trained to theo- 
 logical thought, he had traversed the whole ground of biblical 
 teaching, and had well-considered opinions on all subjects pertain- 
 ing to the lecture-room and the pulpit. He did as much, and per- 
 haps more, to shape the course of theological thought during the 
 days of his prime and vigor, than any other man then living in 
 New England. ... So well had he considered all the points of 
 the subject of which he was treating, that he had a reply to every 
 objection, an answer to every question, a solution for every doubt, 
 and light, if there was any, for every dark spot. Whenever, as 
 was sometimes the case, a student with the skill of a gladiator 
 attempted to annihilate him, or push him into a narrow place, he 
 was always sure to floor his antagonist, and leave no opponent 
 before him. Then the class would laughingly say afterward, 
 ' The doctor can't be cornered.' " 
 
 "I am not given," wrote Dr. William Goodell, missionary to 
 Constantinople, " to strong professions in the line of paying hom- 
 
40 
 
 BEMINISCENGES AND RECORDS. 
 
 age to fellow-mortals, but I can honestly say, that I think I was 
 never so much in danger of something approaching idolatry, in 
 regard to the character and teachings of any man, as in regard to 
 Dr. Woods. To call him a model and a master as a theological 
 teacher, is but a very moderate compliment to one who, in my 
 estimation, had no compeers, and will not soon be likely to have 
 them." 
 
 It is with difficulty I turn from letter after letter, from among 
 the most eminent divines of that time, expressing and re-enforcing 
 the above sentiments. 
 
 " His wi'itten works are in five octavo volumes. His unwritten 
 works are woven into the character and wisdom and labors and 
 success of his many pupils, scattered all over the world. The 
 portrait in the first volume gives you a true but faint idea of that 
 calm, gentle, patient, and thoughtful face, into which we so often 
 guzed. He was tall in stature, finely proportioned, with a mild, 
 pure, blue eye. When I first knew him I was a boy, and was 
 always delighted with the privilege of hearing his genial, enlighten- 
 ing, and often mirthful conversation. He seldom told a story ; 
 but when he did, it had point and power. 
 
 " When we were 'Juniors,' we dreaded to leave the enthusiasm 
 of Professor Stuart for the cool lecture-room of Dr. Woods. We 
 thought his presence would make the atmosphere uncomfortable. 
 But when we came near him and to know him. we loved him as a 
 
DIVINITY SCHOOL. 
 
 41 
 
 teacher, and revered him almost as a father. We found him not 
 surprising us by startling originality, or new theories, or giving 
 new names to old things. He never cultivated prongs, but we 
 found his thoughts clear as distilled water. There was no color 
 in his light, but he had the power of throwing off all that was ex- 
 traneous to the subject in hand, then of holding it up patiently 
 and carefully in the light of the Bible, and, unemotionally, urging 
 his views with logic unsurpassed. This power of discarding all 
 that was not relevant would have given him a high position as a 
 lawyer had he chosen that profession. Most patiently would he 
 wait for the slowest battalion of the army ; and for patience in 
 listening to every possible objection, and then candidly meeting 
 and answering them, I have never met his equal. 
 
 "He read human nature admirably. I recollect that when my 
 class came to the subject of baptism, there not happening to be any 
 Baptist brother in the class, we appointed one to present the Bap- 
 tist side of the question. This he did, and so strongly that the 
 Professor requested the class to appoint a man to reply. The 
 class concurred, but referred the appointment back to him. He 
 immediately appointed the same man to meet his own arguments ! 
 The recitations of the class were suspended a week to give the 
 man time to prepare himself. The answer was deemed satis- 
 factory to the class, and this wisdom of Dr. Woods not unlikely 
 saved the j'oung man from taking sides, and becoming a Baptist ! 
 
42 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND BECOEDS. 
 
 The key to the power of Dr. Woods (and his was a mighty power) 
 was : — 
 
 " That he patiently and prayerfully adopted his belief. 
 
 " That he plainly and fully taught that belief. 
 
 "That he gave, clearly, his reasons for it ; and then showed 
 how he met, obviated, and removed objections and difficulties. 
 
 " It will readily be inferred that when every pupil had the liberty 
 to state any objection or doubt or difficulty he felt, there could be 
 but a few theological corners that were not explored or but a few 
 phases which were not presented. We often wrestled with him, 
 and knew that we were wrestling against odds, but the giant would 
 lay us on the ground so gently that there was no mortification in 
 the fall. 
 
 " He was the professor of theology in Andoxer thirty-eight years. 
 His works show what theology was taught there during these 
 years ; and his pupils who have honored him and the seminary, 
 as pastors, missionaries, presidents of colleges, professors in sem- 
 inaries and colleges, and the like, have all, consciously or uncon- 
 sciously, felt his power through all their lives. Few men ever 
 handled so much error, aud had so little of its dust cleave to 
 them. 
 
 " The reverence that Dr. Woods paid to the Bible was deep and 
 earnest. He ever taught that what the sun is to the earth, — light 
 find heat, — that the Bible is to the church. I cannot too earnestly 
 
DIVINITY SCHOOL. 
 
 43 
 
 recommend the works of Dr. Woods to all my young brethren in 
 the ministry as a wonderful model of pure English, as a specimen ' 
 of fair, manly argument, an example of logic not ' set on fire,' 
 but pure as quicksilver, and a mine of the old Bible theology of 
 New England. To be sure, there is no Jehu-driving ; there is no 
 effort at originality ; but there is the power of conviction, of clear 
 statement, and of Bible truth. 
 
 " Did he. in his good old age, have any forebodings of evils 
 coming upon the church? Old men usually have such. I think 
 he betrays a little of it in the admirable dedication of his 'Works ' 
 to his former pupils ; but such clouds did not hang over him 
 long, and he felt like Joseph : ' I die ; but God will surely visit 
 you.' 
 
 " As a controversialist, for candor, gentleness, and patience, I 
 know not how he could be excelled. If the reader can find any- 
 thing in this line superior to his ' Letters to Dr. Ware,' I know not 
 where. They completely meet every objection and difficulty ; so 
 completely that Dr. Ware plainly told his readers that if Dr. 
 Woods seemed to be master of the field, they must attribute it to 
 his skill, and not to the views he advocated ! He never transfixed 
 his opponent by hurling the spear of Ulysses through him, but 
 bore down with logic, till his opponent was ready to cry out with 
 the honest Quaker, ' O, argument, argument ! The Lord i-ebuke 
 thee ! ' 
 
44 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 "• These mature life-thoughts may not be in fashion to-day. 
 We want phosphorus and the sparkling shadows of thought ; but 
 the time will come when the prophet's bones will again impart life, 
 and the influence of such men shall have a resurrection, — perhaps 
 many, — and their influence come out a living power from their 
 tombs, again and again." 
 
 One illustration of his method of dealing with men who insisted 
 on getting from him such answers as he did not think it best to 
 give, I have received from his successor in the chair of theology. 
 
 Lecture-Room. Student. "Do not your arguments for the 
 immortality of the human soul prove the immortality of brutes ? " 
 
 Dr. Woods. "The argument would still be a good one, if it 
 did prove the immortality of brutes." 
 
 Student. " But do you believe that brutes are immortal? " 
 
 Dr Woods. " I do not say that they are immortal. I only say 
 that my argument would be a sound one, if it proved their immor- 
 tality." 
 
 SiDDENT. "But is it not absurd to suppose that brutes are 
 immortal ? " 
 
 Dr. Woods. " No ; it is not absurd." 
 
 Student. " Hut do you not treat them as if you disbelieved 
 their immortality?" 
 
 Dr. Woods. " No ; I always mean to treat them in such a way 
 
DIVINITY SCHOOL. 
 
 45 
 
 that if they should meet me in the other world, they would have 
 no cause to reproach me." 
 
 , Another time a pupil, equally persistent, asked, — 
 
 " Do you say that a free agent never does choose a smaller 
 
 rather than a larger good ? " 
 
 Dr. Woods. " Yes ; he never does." 
 
 Student. "But, suppose that he should choose a good repre- 
 sented by one, rather than a good represented by four? " 
 Dr. Woods. " He would not choose it." 
 
 Student. " But have I not a right to suppose that he would? " 
 
 Dr. Woods. " Oh, yes ! But if he should choose as you sup- 
 pose he would, then he would choose as I suppose he never 
 would." 
 
 Student. "But what would you think of a man who should 
 choose the least of two goods? " 
 
 Dr. Woods. " Well, I should think that as far as the will was 
 concerned, the man was decidely spavined.'' 
 
 It was especially during the earlier years of his professorship in 
 Andover that Dr. Woods was pressed into the work of publicly 
 refuting some errors in doctrine, particularly the German theory of 
 inspiration as unsettling to the faith of Protestant Christians. 
 His letters, in answer to these urgent pleas that he would enter on 
 the work of controversy, prove that he shrank from the task. It 
 
46 
 
 REMmiSCENCES AND BECORDS. 
 
 was uncongenial. He begged to be excused, — urged that others 
 undertake it ; but the spirit manifested in his replies proved to 
 them that he was the one. He would speak the truth fearlessly, 
 and he would speak it in love. 
 
 His own theory was, that the Bible, and the Bible alone, was 
 the standard of faith and practice. He believed in plenary inspi- 
 ration, which was, that the Holy Spirit's superintendence of the 
 divine record was such as to preserve the writers from all error of 
 statement, while at the same time, not overriding their liberty of 
 thought and expression. 
 
 The German theory, which he was combating, was the opposite 
 extreme from verbal inspiialiou, and was essentially rationalistic, 
 in that it made the individual reason the supreme judge of the 
 contents of the Holy Scriptures. 
 
 When his conscience told him that duty demanded his voice or 
 his pen, he stepped at ouce into the ranks, nor did he flinch until 
 he had done all he could to vanquish those he considered enemies 
 to truth. But though he used every fair argument to enforce the 
 views he beUeved taught in the "Word of God, toward the opponent 
 himself he cherished none but the kindest feelings. This could 
 scarcely be otherwise, since he never sent out a controversial letter 
 until he had committed it to God in devout and earnest prayer. 
 
 His discussion with Dr. Ware was with regard to the true and 
 proper deity of our Lord .Jesus Christ. This doctrine he defended 
 
DIVmiTT SCHOOL. 
 
 47 
 
 strongly in New England. He held the Catholic faith on this sub- 
 ject of the Church of the Nicean age. His work as a pacificator 
 of various schools of Calvinists was mainly in connection with 
 these latter controversies. In regard to the spirit manifested 
 in one of these controversies, Dr. Elias Cornelius wrote: "Dr. 
 "Woods's letters to Dr. Ware rank among the best specimens of 
 controversial writings, because baptized with the Spirit sent down 
 in answer to the prayers of the writer." 
 
 During the height of the controversy just alluded to, Dr. Woods 
 attended the Commencement at Cambridge, and was shown to a 
 seat on the stage next his opponent. A literary gentleman in the 
 audience, greatly interested in the letters passing between these 
 two divines, but not personally acquainted with either of them, 
 inquired of a friend, " Who are those two sitting side by side who 
 are so intimate? " When told that they were the public exponents 
 of the two most prominent religious parties of the day, his sur- 
 prise at their cordiality and friendliness was great. 
 
 John Pye Smith, in the London Eclectic Review, says of another 
 controversy, at the close of a long article on the subject: "The 
 soundness of Dr. Woods's argument is not the only merit which 
 these letters possess. They afford an excellent example of the 
 close and pressing pursuit of an antagonist, without, as we can 
 perceive, the slightest improper feeling. There is no vaunting, no 
 contempt ; there are no anathemas and no imputations, but mauy 
 
48 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND RECORDS. 
 
 serious and seasonably cautious words, — the fruit of experience 
 and sound piety." 
 
 To quote from his own words in regard to the spirit of contro- 
 versies : "I have seen," he said, " that it has so often injured the 
 beauty of men's characters and cooled the ardor of their piety, that 
 I have earnestly endeavored to avoid the danger." 
 
CONNECTION WITH BENEVOLENT SOCIETIES. 
 
 49 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CONNECTION WITH BENEVOLENT SOCIETIES. 
 
 To quote from Rev. John Todd, D. D., in the Recorder: "Dr, 
 "Woods belonged to a generation who had to think calmly, deeply, 
 carefully, as they laid those plans which embraced theological 
 seminaries, foreign missions, home missions, the education of the 
 young for the ministry, the Bible, the tract, the colonization and 
 the temperance societies, and all those grand schemes which en- 
 circle the globe in theii- results." Dr. Woods was the confidant 
 and adviser of the first four young men whose hearts turned toward 
 a ministry to the heathen. In the spring of 1810, they made a 
 formal statement of their wishes and the motives which prompted 
 them, which statement they presented to my father, and which, he 
 says, "inexpressibly touched my heart." The June following, the 
 General Association of Massachusetts was to meet in Bradford, 
 and my father suggested that a written application be made to 
 them for advice and direction. This resulted in the institution 
 of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions. 
 When, on the 6th of February, 1812, these young men took leave 
 of kindred and country to carry tidings of a Saviour to the farthest 
 
50 
 
 BEMINISCENCE8 AND BECOBDS. 
 
 ends of the earth, he preached the sermon, giving them their part- 
 ing instructions. 
 
 He wrote the memoirs of Harriet Newell, of blessed memory, 
 and gave the avails of the publication to the society. He made 
 sacrifices of time and money to help forward the glorious cause. 
 He followed the "dear missionaries" to then- separate fields or 
 labor with letters of affectionate counsel and advice. He was an 
 influential member of the Prudential Committee till 1834, when 
 the pressure of other duties caused him to resign, though never 
 till the end of his life did he lose his interest in its objects. 
 
 In regard to the memou- of Harriet Newell, one of the earlier 
 missionaries to India writes: "The 'Life of Mrs. Newell,' by a 
 widely extended influence, has done more good than she would 
 probably have effected in a long life of usefulness." 
 
 In 1814, the American Tract Society was formed. Dr. Woods 
 was immediately elected a member of the Executive Committee, 
 upon which he served for four years, when he resigned, but after- 
 wards consented to serve one year. When, at a later date, the 
 Doctrinal Tract Society was formed, he was elected its president, 
 and continued in that oflSce till his death. 
 
 In 1846, Dr. Woods retired from his professorship, having 
 labored arduously in connection with its duties for thirty-eight 
 years, and from this time was engaged in prepariug for the press 
 his theological lectures and a portion of his miscellaneous writings. 
 
CONNECTION WITH BENEVOLENT SOCIETIES. 51 
 
 They were published in 1849-50. It would fill many pages of a 
 sketch like this to quote from the letters of regret caused by his 
 resignation, and by the warm, enthusiastic welcome given to his 
 published volumes. 
 
 In an account of liim, published soon after his decease, one of 
 his former pupils says: "Dr. Woods has been called to preach 
 more sermons on public occasions and has had more sermons 
 printed than any other man in his day." 
 
52 
 
 MEMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A MAN OF PRAYER. 
 
 Dr. "Woods was eminentl}' a man of prayer. It is safe to say 
 that no duty was undertaken without the blessing of God being 
 invoked. In joy or in sorrow, in prospejnty or in adversity, the 
 Father's hand was recognized, and his guidance sought. " Many 
 a time," says one of his daughters, " I have listened, while waiting 
 at his study door, and heard a low voice in earnest supplication, 
 his tone rising with the intensity of his emotions. When admitted, 
 I have been struck with awe at the calm serenity, the holy ele- 
 vation of his features. This was a lesson not soon forgotten." 
 His trust in the efficacy of prayer is well illustiated by an incident 
 which occurred in connection with the ordination of Dr. Hawes, in 
 Hartford, 1818. Dr. Woods was invited to preach the sermon. 
 It was in the spring of the year, and he was delayed by the bad 
 travelling. When, at length, he reached the Connecticut River, 
 the bridge had been carried away by the freshet, and the floating 
 ice made crossing extremely dangerous. At the edge of the river 
 he fouud a boatman, who reluctantly consented, in such an emer- 
 gency, to attempt to get him across. Then he went to an old 
 house, which stood near, and asked the privilege of a retii-ed room 
 
A MAN OF PBAYEB. 
 
 53 
 
 for a short time. There he knelt and sought direction from God 
 concerning his duty. Then committing himself to the Divine care, 
 he returned to the river, crossed in safety, and reached the church 
 just in season for the service he had engaged to perform. 
 
 From one of my father's pupils, a clergyman, occupying a high 
 position in the church and in a theological seminary, I have re- 
 ceived the following incident, which illustrates the statement that 
 Dr. Woods was eminently a man of prayer. He says : — 
 
 " The little incident, known only to myself, I hesitate to divulge 
 to any one, but it will not be without interest to you, as showing 
 your father's devotional habits. 
 
 "Atone of the anniversary gatherings, the professors' houses 
 were unusually crowded. At that time, I occupied an upper room 
 in your father's house, but vacated my chamber on the arrival of 
 additional and unexpected guests. As night approached, I found 
 my way to the barn, sleeping quite comfortably on the hay. Very 
 early the next morning, — before daj'light, I think, — some one 
 came quietly through a side door, and, after a short pause, the 
 voice of prayer was heard. It seemed that a very busy day could 
 not be begun without a season of communion with God, though at 
 an unusual time and place. To me it explained the secret of my 
 revered teacher's sanctified self-control." 
 
54 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND EECORDS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HUMILITY AND CHARITY. 
 
 In looking over files of letters, one cannot help being impressed 
 with the deep humility of the subject of our sketch. Indeed, 
 there is no trait more conspicuous than his sense of his own un- 
 worthiness in the sight of God. " I feel myself," he writes, " a 
 poor, perishing sinner. If I am ever received into heaven, I shall 
 be astonished at the grace which can save such an one as I am. 
 When I compare my low aims, my sordid ambitions, with the 
 character of an infinitely holy God, I am bowed to the dust." 
 
 This sense of his own imperfections led to great charity to- 
 ward the failings of others. As a public man, and living in the 
 times of controversy, he certainly was not included in the curse, 
 " Woe unto you, when all men shall speak well of you." He was 
 often attacked in the public journals, his motives maligned, his 
 smallest acts misrepresented. When these abusive remarks were 
 brought to his notice, he only smiled, or brought forward some 
 excuse for the accused. I have before me several letters from 
 students, who in real penitence have acknowledged their fault. 
 From one I quote : " I do not know whether you ever heard of my 
 
HUMILITY AND CHABITT. 
 
 55 
 
 unkind or unjust remarks. If you have, your kindness to me has 
 been exactly what I ought to expect from one of yom well-known 
 character for forgiveness. It is a saying among us, 'If you want 
 Dr. Woods to be your best friend, give him something to forgive.'" 
 Like Sigismund, an illustrious monarch, Dr. Woods's sentiment 
 was, " Do I not effectually destroy my enemies when I make them 
 my friends?" Had I space, I could, from papers before me, give 
 many instances where he, in this Christian manner, won many 
 warm friends. 
 
 Dr. Woods was methodical in his habits, especially in his studies. 
 It was his custom to retire to his study directly after breakfast, 
 and after a short season of devotion, he took his seat in his arm- 
 chair, his goose-quill making rapid progress on the sheets before 
 him. Occasionally, in winter, when the wind whirled too boister- 
 ously around his corner, he would bring his arm-chair to the sitting- 
 i"oom. Here sat his wife and five daughters ; the mother busily at 
 work, while at the same time she tried to keep within bounds the 
 buoyant spirits of her young girls. " On a similar occasion," says 
 his daughter, " father sat with his back partly turned to us, seem- 
 ing so engrossed in his writing that he did not notice our presence, 
 when, from the mere sight of each others' faces, there was a slight 
 explosion of laughter. He turned around, met ten eyes dancing 
 with merriment, and, laying down his pen, said, in a good-humored 
 
56 
 
 BEMimSCEKCES AND BECORDS. 
 
 tone, ' Well, girls, have a good hearty laugh and let off the steam. 
 Come, now ! ' He waited a moment, but we only looked foolish, 
 when, with a very funny expression on his face, he resumed his 
 writing." 
 
BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 57 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 For a man of his means, Dr. Woods gave largely to benevolent 
 objects. It was a part of his religion, like that of the Jewish 
 tithes. The secret of his ability to do this was in the economical 
 habits in which he was trained, and which, from principle, he 
 carried through life. Our diet was simple but abundant, and 
 though seldom without guests, we welcomed them to such as we 
 had. We dressed plainly ; our house was furnished with comfort, 
 but without luxury. Yet when there were real advantages in ques- 
 tion, there was no stint. A letter before me recalls one method 
 he used to encourage his children to make sacrifices for benevolent 
 objects. " It was during a year of great financial pressure," says 
 his daughter, " and the American Board were suffering from a 
 lack of funds, that father presented the case to us. It was 
 directly after family prayers, when we younger ones were present, 
 he explained this to us, adding that it was his earnest desire to 
 give a thousand dollars toward making up the deficiency, — a 
 large sum for a man with a salary of fifteen hundred dollars, and 
 ten children to educate. Father added, that he could not do this 
 without the co-operation of his wife and children. Mother quickly 
 
58 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 responded, and pledged her aid. Father then explained to us 
 little ones that it would teach us self-denial and sacrifice, and he 
 wanted us to take time to consider the subject. We were all eager 
 to promise, but not for a day or two would he allow us to give him 
 a final pledge." 
 
AS A PBEACHEB. 
 
 59 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 AS A PREACHER. 
 
 The author of my father's funeral sermon has so aptly described 
 him in the pulpit, that I shall quote his words : — 
 
 "Dr. Woods did not, as some stiU do, divorce religion from 
 reason, faith from philosophy ; but he made theology the queen of 
 the sciences, and employed philosophy and all other sciences to 
 give point and force to the purely Gospel message. If his preach- 
 ing, in the early part of his ministry, was not so rich and compact 
 in thought as later, it was yet peculiarly fresh, suggestive, and 
 sometimes startling. It did not let the heai'ers sleep in their pews, 
 and often not on their pillows, till compunction had been followed 
 by confession and amendment. 
 
 "His themes awakened new ti-aius of thought, and his manner 
 of treating them, logical, lucid, and illustrative, impressed them 
 strongly upon his auditors. They reflected on his sermons ; they 
 talked about them ; they debated among themselves the ' hard 
 sayings' which they contained; they searched the Scriptures to 
 see whether these things were so ; and after this, the people and 
 the preacher generally came into pretty close agreement. 
 
 "In his earnest pressing of man's great sin and God's greater 
 
60 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND BEC0BD8. 
 
 salvation, on the dead ear of the world and the dull life of the 
 church, youthful fire often kindled his mild blue eye into a mag- 
 netic eloquence, and wrought his whole manly figure into a glow 
 of simple but graceful action. This gave to his sermons, at 
 times, the might of a living Gospel." * 
 
 The style and scope of my father's sermons varied at different 
 periods of his life. While a pastor, he was emiuently practical. 
 After his connection with the theological seminary, he was called 
 to preach at ordinations, installations, and at the funerals of dis- 
 tinguished men. Ou such occasions he was wont to take high 
 themes, and thus, in later years, he became more known as a 
 doctrinal preacher. His sermon ou "The Province of Reason in 
 Matters of Religion," delivered in the course of the Murray Street 
 lectures. New York, won for him great fame. 
 
 I had once the pleasure of an interview with a distinguished 
 jurist, who gave me an account of an ordiuation sermon preached 
 by my father, in 1811 : — 
 
 "Mr. Richard Hall, one of the first graduates from the new 
 seminary, had accepted a call from the church and society in New 
 Ipswich, and had requesti d his theological professor to preach the 
 ordination sermon, I was invited to be present, and went to the 
 place in due season. There was great excitement at the thought 
 
 * Rev. E. A, Laurence, D. D. 
 
AS A PEE AC HER. 
 
 61 
 
 of hearing the new professor, whose fame had reached that quiet 
 spot. Expectation was on tiptoe ; little else was talked of. 
 When he entered the meeting-house and walked up to the pulpit, 
 every eye was upon him. I remember how he looked as well as 
 though it were yesterday, — how stately ; taU and erect as a pine 
 in its native forest ; dignified, but unassuming. He stood a 
 moment, looking around on the audience as they came crowding 
 in, his handsome face beaming with animation. His dress, too, 
 was remai'ked upon, so neat, so suitable, so exactly in harmony 
 with the man. I can see him as though he now stood before me." 
 
 " Do you recollect the subject of his sermon? " I inquired. 
 
 "No, I've been trying to think; it's a good many years ago. 
 But I do remember what attention he received. He made a great 
 impression ; every eye was filled. The raised expectations were 
 fully realized." 
 
 During the latter part of my father's life he was in the habit of 
 dividing his sermons into two parts, preaching one in the morning 
 and the other in the afternoon. His delivery in his later years 
 was more moderate than when he was a pastor. This arose partly 
 from the fact of his lecturing for so many years to those who 
 were taking notes, and from an amiable desire to aid them in 
 every way in his power. 
 
62 
 
 REMimSCEKCES AND RECORDS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 REVERENCE FOR THE SABBATH. 
 
 To my father the Sabbath was truly a holy day, — a day of 
 rest from worldly cares, studies, and toil. The first thought that 
 impresses my mind, when I look back upon my childhood, is the 
 Sabbath stillness. I remember that we walked softly about the 
 house ; that, with the exception of the morning hymn, — 
 
 " Welcome, sweet day of rest," 
 
 we did not sing even sacred songs until after sundown. How 
 often on this day did my father read the precious psalm of David, 
 commencing, — 
 
 "How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of Hosts! My 
 soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord." 
 
 And truly lie did love the courts of the Lord. Never, in my 
 entire recollection of him, did he absent himself, unless by some 
 providential detention ; and by his whole manner he proved to 
 those about him that attending public worship was not a mere 
 form. By his countenance, his voice, he showed that, with David, 
 the language of his heart was, — 
 
BEVEBENGE FOB THE SABBATH. 
 
 63 
 
 "Blessed are they that dwell in thy house; they will be still 
 praising thee." 
 
 "While in the house of God, my father's appearance was devout. 
 There were times when the heat of the chapel, the length of the 
 services, exhaustion, and fatigue might have made him drowsy ; it 
 is true that many of the sermons by the young students had been 
 revised and re-revised by his pen, and could not, therefore, have 
 had to him the freshness of new discourses, but he resisted the 
 inclination to sleep with all his might. He used to keep a pin 
 stuck on the sleeve of his coat, and when Nature asserted herself 
 too strongly, I have many a time seen him stick the pin into his 
 finger till he drew blood. 
 
 In the singing he always joined with his heart and voice. We 
 used to have rare music in those early days, when Schaulfler made 
 his flute yield such heavenly sounds ; or when Dana and Gregg and 
 Webster and C'ushman were members of the Lockhart Society ; but 
 I recollect listening, above them all, for the sweet voice of my 
 father, and the almost rhapsodous, if I may use such a word, 
 chanting of Professor Stuart in the slip next to ours. 
 
 In our family devotions on Sunday afternoon, we usually read 
 around in turn, each two verses, sometimes a whole book, like 
 Ruth, or a connected historj-, like that of Joseph or of Daniel On 
 these occasions, father's prayers were unusually fervent and ten- 
 der. It used to seem to me that because it was God's own day, my 
 
64 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 father drew nearer to the throne, — that he enjoyed more intimate 
 communion with God than on other days. Never were his confes- 
 sions of sin more humble and abundant than now, when he seemed 
 to feel their effects on his own heart, and on the human race ; and 
 when the plan of redemption by Christ appeared so infinitely pre- 
 cious and wonderful. I do not remember ever hearing him pray at 
 the family altar without asking the blessing of God on his children ; 
 but on the Sabbath evening, his petitions for the forgiveness of our 
 sins, his pleas that the Holy Spirit might lead us to accept the 
 offers of mercy made us by Christ, were so earnest, so deep and 
 tender, that they often made me quake with fear. " If I do not 
 repent and begin to love Christ," I used to say to myself, when, in 
 an agony of remorse, I had retired to weep alone, "if I do not 
 become a Christian, these prayers, instead of proving life unto 
 life, will be death unto death to my immortal soul." 
 
 Soon after breakfast (we first had family prayers) my father's 
 habit was to go into his stud}- and remain there until the ring- 
 ing of the second bell for service in the chapel. When he joined 
 us, I have often noticed and wondered at a peculiar elevation of 
 countenance which caused a feeling of awe to steal over me. I 
 know now that lie had been enjoying close communion with his 
 Father in heaven ; that he had been behind the veil and, with the 
 eye of faith, had caught a glimpse of his sacrificed Savi<-ur, now 
 risen, glorious, sitting upon his throne on high. 
 
BEVEBENCE FOB THE SABBATH. 
 
 65 
 
 When I was about six years old, I recollect that father and I 
 were both too sick to go to church. We stayed alone, and father, 
 calling me to him, said, — 
 
 "Bring your high chair close to me, and we will have a little 
 meeting at home." He read a cliapter in the Bible, and then we 
 sang a hymn to the tune of " Mear." When we had finished it, 
 I, after the first line, having carried the treble alone, he turned to 
 me with a smile, saying, " You sing almost as well as your mother, 
 my dear." This was the highest praise he could have given me, 
 and I have never forgotten it. After a prayer, he kissed me and 
 told me I might go back to my book. 
 
 I have mentioned the grove of walnut-trees in the rear of our 
 orchard. Here, in pleasant weather, my father used often on the 
 Sabbath afto'noou to pace back and forth, his hands clasped 
 behind his back, while he meditated on high and holy themes. 
 Occasionally, he used to invite one of us little ones to accompany 
 him. When I was to go, I know not whether there was more of 
 pleasure or pain in the interview. It was indeed delightful to 
 follow him in the narrow path trodden down in the clover field, 
 and see the grasshoppers jumping and skipping from leaf to leaf, 
 and hear the robins warbling then' evening song of praise to G(k1. 
 It was sweet, when we reached the wider path in the shelter of the 
 grove, to take his hand and see his face lighted up with smiles, 
 and hear his voice so loving and tender ; but ah ! there were emo- 
 
66 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 tions also far from joyful. When he told me of the love of my 
 Saviour, who had taken the form of man on purpose to sympathize 
 with my griefs, who had suffered cold and hunger and every priva- 
 tion out of his tender love and pity for me, how he had hung on 
 the cross, pierced with cruel nails, with the weight of my sins upon 
 him, I was seized with such an agony of grief at my hard and 
 impenitent heart that would not let me love him as I ought, that 
 I could not be comforted. When he, with a father's love, urged 
 me, like Bunyan, to throw my burden at the foot of the Cross, 
 when he repeated the gracious words, " Come unto me, all ye that 
 labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest," I could only 
 sob until my head and heart were alike ready to burst with grief. 
 Still, I humbly hope that in the last great day, when the secrets of 
 all hearts shall be revealed, it will be seen that, in my case, my 
 father's prayers and his faitlifiil Sabbath admonitions were not 
 wholly in vain. 
 
A BAY OF SOBBOW, 
 
 67 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A DAY OF SORROW. 
 
 Far, far back in the past comes the memory of a day when the 
 joy of our sweet home seemed suddenly extinguished, when a deep 
 gloom shrouded the house and all its inmates. My father, whose 
 vigorous frame had always seemed to defy the encroachments of 
 disease, was seized with a dangerous, a mysterious malady. The 
 doctors came, and went quietly up into the chamber. Not a sound 
 could be heard outside the closed doors. We longed, yet feared, 
 to know what dreadful events were occurring there. TVe yearned 
 for one word of comfort from mother, but a glimpse into her 
 blanched face made our hearts beat with increased alarm. In 
 terror, in sorrow, in joy, we had always rushed to our father's 
 arms. Om- hearts almost stopped beating at the thought: our 
 father may leave us ; what can we do then ? 
 
 The few hours that passed, seemed an age of sorrow. At 
 length mother came softly into the room, where we had all 
 assembled to weep together, and motioning to my brother, said 
 with a smile, yet with quivering lip, " Your father is somewhat 
 relieved of his terrible suffering. He wants you all to kneel, and 
 
68 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND BECOEDS. 
 
 thaiik God for his goodness." She was gone before we had time 
 to ask more. 
 
 From that day for several years, n\\ fatlier suffered from similar 
 attacks, though 1 do not remember any that were as severe as 
 this. 
 
 The doctor informed us that it was heart disease, and directed 
 that his patient should abandon the use of coffee, which he did for 
 manj' years ; also, that he should avoid excitement of every kiud, 
 such as running or even walking fast. 
 
PUNCTUALITY. 
 
 69 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 PUNCTUALITY. 
 
 One lesson which my father taught his children was to be i)unc- 
 tual in the performance of every duty. This he enforced by Ids 
 own example. In these days of making and breaking appoint- 
 ments, I am frequently reminded of my father's promptness in 
 meeting his engagements. Whether it was the summons to dinner, 
 or the chapel bell calling him to his lecture-room, or to service on 
 the Sabbath, he was invariably in his seat on time 
 
 It was the custom in our house to have family prayers before 
 breakfast. There was a first bell designed to awaken us, and we 
 knew our father wished us all promptly to answer the second bell, 
 and be in our seats when he commenced reading. He always on 
 these occasions sat in a particular chair in one part of the room, 
 and from this seat his eye could note the tardiness of any of us. 
 
 Occasionally, slumber rested too heavily on my eyelids, and the 
 first bell was disregarded. When this was the case, oh how I 
 dreaded to meet my father's sorrowful eye, fixed upon me as he 
 paused for one moment in his reading ! It always seemed to me 
 to say, " Harriette, don't you love mc? Don't you know I wish 
 you to be punctual ? " 
 
70 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND BEGOBDS. 
 
 I used to step very softly on such occasions, and after opening 
 tlie door with the utmost care, slip into the first seat I could find. 
 
 During the thirty-eight years of my father's connection with the 
 seminary, I have often been told that in two or three instances 
 only he was behind time in meeting his class, and then it was in 
 consequence of a providential detention. "When the bell had 
 stopped tolling, the students were sure to see him sitting in his 
 arm-chair, ready to commence the duties of the hour. He was 
 equally prompt in fulfilling all his appointments. If he had a 
 meeting of the Prudential Committee of the American Board, or 
 an engagement v. itli any of the various benevolent societies with 
 which he was connecled, nothing short of a providential detention 
 prevented his being on liniid, and at exactly the right moment. 
 
 A clergyman, who is a member of tlie American Doctrinal Tract 
 and Book Society, has given me the following incident: — 
 
 "It was during the earl}- history of this society that an annual 
 meeting was called at No. !) Cornhill, up-stairs. 'Dr. Ide, of 
 Medway, the vice-i resident, SewoU Harding, secretary. Dr. 
 McClure, and other members liad assonibled. At this time a sharp 
 controversy was going on in New iMighmd in regard to the origin 
 of moral evil, and the Doctrinal Tract Society, and, of course, their 
 president, were involved in the discussion. 
 
 " After some conversation among those present on the subject in 
 question, a gentleman remarked, — 
 
PUNCTUALITY. 
 
 71 
 
 " ' It may be that on account of the excitement having reached 
 its height, Dr. Woods will absent himself.' 
 
 " 'On that very account he will not fail us,' eagerly remarked 
 Dr. McClure. 
 
 "Dr. Ide took out his watch, saying, ' It wants two minutes to 
 the hour. We may depend that Dr. Woods will be here.' While 
 he was speaking, the tall form of the president was seen advan- 
 cing to his chair. His entrance, much to his surprise, was greeted 
 with a shout of laughter." 
 
 I have already said that it was my father's habit, during the 
 spring and fall vacations, to accompany his family on a journey. 
 As long as his aged mother lived, he went at least once a year to 
 Princeton, at the foot of the Wachusett Mountains, to visit her, 
 taking with him my mother and some of the children. On such 
 occasions he made definite plans weeks beforehand, and wrote 
 his mother, his sisters, and other relatives at exactly what hour he 
 should expect to be at their houses. They well knew that the 
 weather had nothing to do with his plans. The only alternatives 
 were the words in his letter, " God willing " If he had written, 
 "Atone o'clock I shall be with you to take dinner," they were 
 sure that, rain or sunshine, cold or heat, would not prevent him. 
 
 "I used to reach Princeton," he said, " generally about four 
 o'clock in the afternoon, and at that hour, on winding my way 
 
72 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 slowly up the long hQl, T have seen my aged mother standing at 
 the door, her eyes shaded from the sun by her hand, waiting to 
 welcome me. If the weather was unfavorable, and any member 
 of the family ventured to hint that I might be delayed, her answer 
 was always the same, spoken in her calm, decided tone, ' Leon- 
 ard wrote me that he should be here.' " 
 
AS A HUSBAND. 
 
 73 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 AS A HUSBAND. 
 
 No reminiscences of Dr. Woods, however brief, would be com- 
 plete without touching on his character in his home relations ; but 
 here my pen falters as I recall his love, his patience, his tenderness, 
 his forgiveness. From files of letters lying before me I read words 
 so full of tender sympathy, so sweet and loving, so discreet in 
 counsel, so wise in administering reproof, that my eyes overflow. 
 One thing was particularly noticeable in my father and mother : 
 this was their perfect unanimity. I do not recollect a single in- 
 stance in which their views did not coincide in respect to the wel- 
 fare and comfort of their family. As children, we well knew that 
 if one of them approved or disapproved of any particular course, 
 the other was sure to do so. 
 
 While attending the anniversaries in New York in 1836, my be- 
 loved mother was seized with paralysis ; my father, whom pressing 
 engagements had prevented, for the first time in many years, from 
 being present, was instantly summoned. She was in great danger 
 when he reached New York. Her state and his feelings he de- 
 scribes in a letter to my sister Sophia, kindly forwarded me for 
 
74 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 insertion : "I hope you have received the two notes which I have 
 sent you. Your mother is sensibly better than she was when I 
 wrote last. She is truly happy, cheerful, and contented. She has 
 rest of soul. ' Oh, the beauty and blessedness of the Christian 
 spirit ! I find that wherever I go, and whatever I behold, the 
 thought of your dear mother is connected with it. When I walk in 
 the steamboat, I think of times past when I have walked with her ; 
 whether in the house of God or in a private dwelling, I think con- 
 tinually of my dear wife, now so feeble and afflicted." 
 
 My father's affection for my dear mother was beautifully exem- 
 plified dm-ing the long sickness which followed this attack. For 
 the period of ten years, during which she suffered from repeated 
 shocks of paralysis, his attention to her never tired. By the most 
 unwearied tenderness, by the most affectionate sympathy, and by 
 the most devoted love, did he strive to soothe her pain and alle- 
 viate the restlessness which always accompanies a complaint like 
 hers. 
 
 Often have I been excited almost to tears at the sight of her 
 brightening face, as she listened for his well-known footsteps, or 
 welcomed his approach. His first visit on entering the house was 
 always to her, while his cheering smiles and words of affection be- 
 guiled many an hour of suffering. 
 
 On his return from his daily walk he frequently brought her a 
 bunch of bright leaves, or a f i agant flower, which he presented her 
 
^^S- A HUSBAND. 
 
 75 
 
 with the grace and tenderness of a young and ardent lover, and 
 which she could not be induced to part with until it had withered 
 and decay e<l. 
 
 For several years during her sickness my mother was able to at- 
 tend church, and as it was difficult for her to get into a carriage, 
 she preferred walking. My father generally started with her fif- 
 teen or twenty minutes before service, and with tlie utmost care 
 guided her steps to the very door of the pew, where he had pre- 
 pared a comfortable seat for her by his side. 
 
 Afterwards, when needing the exercise, but unable to walk, my 
 father made use of the low carriage he had once contrived for me. 
 To this he had an arm-chair attached, and himself drew her about 
 the home grounds, sometimes with help, to the grove of walnut and 
 oak trees, beyond our fruit orchard. 
 
 In reference to my father's unwearied care at this time, Hon. 
 B. W. Harris, one of the Massachusetts representatives to Con- 
 gress, says : — 
 
 "It was certainly among the holiest lessons of my youth to see 
 your father's tender solicitude of his sick wife. It was when I 
 was a member of Phillips Academy, that I used to stand and look 
 over the fence to see that venerable man, occupying such a prom- 
 inent position at the head of the theological seminary, dragging 
 with his own hands, about his grounds, the carriage in which he 
 had seated his wife." 
 
76 
 
 BEMINISGENCES AND BECORDS. 
 
 In a letter from my father to me, dated Jan. 25, 1844, he refers 
 to these rides : — 
 
 ..." Your mother is quite comfortable, and-, cold as it is, I 
 have just been taking her down to the grove, and given her what 
 we call a sleigh-ride. T have made a good seat at the back part of 
 my large sled, and put up a side ; then I put down a cushion, and 
 spread, over all, my old thick wrapper; and she sits, happy as a 
 queen, and happier, too, and awa}- she goes, honored, as you know 
 the great ones of the earth sometimes are, who are drawn by human 
 beings instead of beasts. She has had several rides since the 
 snow was hard enough to bear up ; but I get somewhat out of 
 breath, and should be glad of a stronger team to go up hill." 
 
 My mother was born on the 29th of February, and, therefore, her 
 real birthday only came once in four years ; on other occasions, 
 we celebrated it on the 28th of the month. 1 find a letter from 
 my father, dated Feb. 28, 1845 : — 
 
 My dkar Wifk, — I would render thanks to God that you 
 are brought in so much comfort to another of your birtlidaj's. 
 Many have been your trials during the past year ; but your mercies 
 are far more numerous, and far greater than your sufferings. This 
 you delight to remember. 
 
 And now, dear wife, we have lived together forty-six years, and 
 those have been happy years. I began to love you when you were 
 
^-S- A HUSBAND. 
 
 77 
 
 in the bloom of youth, and I love you none the less now that you are 
 in feeble health and advanced in life. Nay, my love is deeper, and 
 I believe purer, than it was in former years. And I doubt not it is 
 so with your love to me. My heart is with you, and ever will be. 
 Your joys are my joys, and your sorrows are my sorrows. Let 
 our affections be on heavenly things ; and let us labor and pray 
 that we and all our children and all our grandchildren may be 
 numbered with the followers of Jesus, and have a place in the 
 paradise of God ! 
 
 Your ever affectionate husband, 
 
 Leonard Woods. 
 
 In regard to my dear father's tenderness and care of my sick 
 mother, I well remember a remark of our deceased friend, Mrs. 
 Samuel Farrar, of Andover. 
 
 " I have often wondered," she said, " why God allowed so good 
 a man as Dr. "Woods to be so much afflicted in his family ; but 
 now I see that our Heavenly Father has a gracious design in it 
 toward the young men connected with the institution. He thus 
 gives them an example of the most unwearied conjugal love." 
 
 I must close this chapter, upon which I could write a volume, by 
 a quotation from Dr. George W. Blagden's address at the fiftieth 
 anniversary of the seminary. He says : — 
 
 " During all my acquaintance with Dr. Woods, as one who en- 
 
78 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND BECORDS. 
 
 joyed the privilege of occupying a room in bis own dwelling-house, 
 for the three years of my course in the seminary, the loveliness 
 and faithfulness of his domestic character were continually devel- 
 oped, and excited my admiration and esteem. He was a most 
 affectionate and faithful husband and father. 1 have seen him in 
 times of domestic affliction and trial, and when I think of him 
 as he appeared then, I am reminded of what my imagination pic- 
 tures to me of Abraham himself, walking forth with Isaac, or 
 buying of the sons of Heth a burial-place for his beloved Sarah. 
 He had much of the dignity aud the tenderness of the ancient 
 patriarch." 
 
 During the latter part of the year 1845, the health of my be- 
 loved mother sensibly failed. She lost her appetite, and, indeed, 
 could not swallow without great difficult}'. We were informed, 
 early in February, 1846, of her feeble condition and paid her a 
 visit on the 14th, when she was cheerful as usual, but felt that 
 her life was drawing to a close. She sent love to each of our 
 childi-en by name, with a message that grandmother loved them, 
 and hoped they would be good boys. 
 
 On the morning of the 21st, we received a few hastily written 
 lines from our afflicted father. 
 
 " Your mother has fallen sweetly asleep in Jesus." 
 
 In reference to this severe affliction, his own words best express 
 his grief : — 
 
AS A HUSBAND 
 
 79 
 
 "Oh, ray poor stricken heart! I cannot bear up under my 
 thoughts. Away I must go to the blessed world where the object 
 of my love shines in perfect beauty, and glorifles God with a 
 heavenly activity and fulness of joy." 
 
80 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AS A FATHER. 
 
 Though to every one of his childreu my father was gentle, for- 
 giving, and full of love, yet toward no one of them did he have 
 occasion for such patience, such tenderness, such unwearied devo- 
 tion, as to myself. 
 
 Unlike many professional men, Dr. Woods never refused his 
 children admittance to his study, even during his busiest hours. 
 Seated in his large arm-chair, with the leaf attached, bordered by a 
 compartment for the inkstand, sand-box, and wafers, his long 
 goose-quill in his hand, he would turn a cheerful face to the slowly 
 opening door, generally with the question, " What does my little 
 girl want? " 
 
 How well 1 remember an occasion on which my father met my 
 rash zeal with the tenderest forbearance ! It was connected with 
 his study-table. This was, from the beginning to the end of the 
 year, covered with books and papers ; to ^n unsophisticated child, 
 as I was, presenting an appearance of the greatest disorder ; to 
 him, who could, almost in the dark, put his finger on any paper or 
 book of reference, the very height of order. 
 
 One morning, when he was in Boston, I was seized with a strong 
 
AS A FATHER. 
 
 81 
 
 desii'e to^'a; up the study, and thus give my father a pleasant sur- 
 prise. Without waiting to consult my mother, I at once proceeded 
 to sweep and dust, without recollecting that I ought to cover the 
 table with a large cloth kept for the purpose. At the end of an 
 hour and a half, I had finished, and stood gazing about me, a 
 glow of self-complacency flushing my cheek. The table, which 
 usually stood in the centre of the apartment, I had with some 
 difficulty pushed back against the wall. Every book on it had 
 been returned to the shelves ; but where were the papers ? At first, 
 I had thrown them on the floor, but suddenly recollecting that they 
 might be of importance, I had gathered them up into a drawer in 
 the closet, usually containing waste paper. For the first time in 
 my life, I saw the table cleared from what I called " that old 
 rubbish." 
 
 I cast one glance back, as I was going out, to announce my tri- 
 umph to my mother. I confess 1 was startled. It looked so bare, 
 so desolate, — as if somebody was dead. For the first time, doubts 
 as to the propriety of my conduct obtruded themselves. 
 
 " "Will father like it? " I asked myself, with a beating heart. 1 
 went up to mother's room, and said, — 
 
 " Will you please come down to the study, a moment?" 1 can 
 tell by her actions, I thought, what he is likely to think of my 
 morning's work. 
 
 " Why, Hatty ! what have you done, child? " cried mother, lift- 
 
82 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 ing up her hands. " Did n't you know that your father wishes his 
 books and papers to be undisturbed ? " 
 
 I began to cry, sobbing out the words, " I thought he 'd like to 
 see it look nice." 
 
 Mother soothed me, by saying she was sure I meant to do right ; 
 but I could see she was greatly troubled, and anxious about the 
 result. 
 
 When father came home, instead of running to meet him, I 
 locked myself into my chamber, crying as though my heart was 
 broken ; for my sisters and brother had spared no pains to set 
 before me the enormity of my crime, each of them repeating over 
 and over the exclamation, — 
 
 " Oh, what will father say ! " 
 
 At length some one called me. 
 
 " Harriette, father wants you to come to the study, right 
 away ! " 
 
 A more abject, hopeless child than I was, I trust, never existed. 
 Such a summons foreboded dreadful evil. I turned the handle to 
 the study-door, quaking in every limb. What did I*"expect to see ? 
 
 My dear, forgiving, patient father sat in his usual place, having 
 pulled his chair out from the wall. I cast one glance into his grave 
 but loving face, and, seeing no anger there, I ran and threw myself 
 into his outstretched arms. For a minute or two he let me cry, and 
 then I sobbed out — 
 
AS A FATHER. 
 
 83 
 
 "I didn't mean to be naughty, father, I thought you'd like 
 it. I thought you 'd smile and say, ' Good girl ' ; I 'm so sorry, 
 father." 
 
 "What do you think I sent for you to come to me for?" he 
 asked, putting his hand under my chin and lifting my tear-stained 
 face. "I want to thank you, dear, for doing what you thought 
 would please me. Your mother says you worked very hard ; she 
 says you did n't understand why I keep my table covered with 
 books and papers. Now, let me tell you, my dear, where you did 
 wrong. You should have consulted your mother ; she would have 
 told you that it would not be a kindness to me, as you intended ; 
 that it would give me great and lasting trouble. I am afraid to 
 think how many weeks, perhaps mouths, I shall have to labor to 
 get my notes and references in order again. If you have destroyed 
 the papers, which, I suppose, seemed useless to you, it will be a 
 more serious lo^s than you can conceive of." 
 
 " I have n't destroyed them, father, I saved every little mite of 
 a scrap. I know where a good many of them were stuck in be- 
 tween the leaves of the books. May I help you put them back ? " 
 
 He sighed, and I now saw he looked very anxious. " I 'm afraid 
 that will be impossible, my dear ; I waut you to learn a lesson from 
 this." 
 
 I pulled out the drawer and brought it to him. While he picked 
 out his important references, which had, perhaps, taken him weeks 
 
84 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 to prepare, I ran to the book-shelves and began hurriedly to take 
 down one volume after another. 
 
 *' There, father, a blue paper, all written over, was stuck in here, 
 just so." 
 
 My voice was so eager, father could n't help smiling, though he 
 said, seriously, — 
 
 " When your mother first told me, I was afraid I should n't make 
 up the loss of labor for months." 
 
 Many and many a time, even since I commenced writing these 
 reminiscences, with my table covered with memoranda and dates, 
 with old letters filed and placed in piles according to the subjects, 
 with old sermons and books of reference, have I thought of my 
 father's study-table and wondered at, while I admired, his forbear- 
 ance and ready forgiveness of my involuutary error. I am sure 
 any theologian will sympathize with Iiim. 
 
 One of the early recollections of m3' childh'joii, in connection 
 with my father, is his taking uiy hand and introducing me to General 
 Lafayette, then, in 1824, on a visit to this country. My father, 
 as acting president of the theological seminary, had made arrange- 
 ments at the Mansion House (a building erected on the hill, by 
 Governor Phillips) for the reception of the di-tinguished guests. 
 Theological students, members of Phillips Academy, and others 
 were there to receive and welcome one who had been so true a 
 friend in the time of our national struggle. I recollect that my 
 
AS A FATHEB. 
 
 85 
 
 sisters and myself, with the children of the other professors, were 
 arranged on one side of the room ; my youngest sister, Sophia, being 
 placed in a prominent position, where she stood on a chair. I well 
 remember how proud I was of my father, of his commanding- 
 height and graceful ease of manner, as he escorted General 
 Lafayette into the room, and introduced him to the ladies and gen- 
 tlemen inside the parlor. Among those on the general's staff was 
 Major Josiah Quincy, of Boston, conspicuous by being in full mil- 
 itary costume, with gold epaulettes and bright buttons. Lafayette, 
 on the contrary, was arrayed in a plain blue coat and nankeen 
 pantaloons. 
 
 When my father, in passing around the room, came to us, an 
 incident occurred which made quite a laugh. My little sister, 
 scarcely five years old, was much attracted by the magnificence of 
 Major Quincy's appearance, and when Lafayette kindly took her 
 hand, she snatched it away and put it behind her, exclaiming, " I 
 don't want to shake hands with you, I want to shake hands with 
 that man, there," pointing to Major Quincy. This frankness so 
 much pleased Lafayette, that he bent down and kissed her. 
 
 In the winter following my fifteenth birthday, in consequence of 
 a fall upon the ice, on my way to school, my health was seriously 
 affected. After a few weeks, I was placed under the care of a 
 most skilful physician in Boston, who ordered that I should be 
 kept in bed until the inflammation of the spine was removed. 
 
86 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 For more than a year I lay exhausted by suffering, and by the 
 loss of blood from cupping and leeching. During all this time the 
 devotion of my dear parents never flagged. My father's first visit 
 on entering the house was to my bedside, his cheerful countenance 
 lighting up my room. "^^Tien able to hold a pen or pencil, I used 
 to amuse myself by writing little notes to him, which no press of 
 business prevented him from answering. 
 
 He went far and near to obtain little delicacies to tempt my 
 appetite. He sang to me ; he prayed with me. In his notes now 
 before me, he repeatedly says, " You are seldom long absent from 
 my mind." " I have thought of 30U almost all day." I insert 
 here a letter, which he sent up to uie from his stud}' one day, when 
 I had been suffering intensely : — 
 
 My dear Haeriette, — But little time passes without turning my 
 thoughts to you. God is showing you great kindness in giving you 
 loving parents to watch over you, and especially such precious con- 
 solations of his Spirit. While under this visitation from the hand 
 of God, I hope you will be striving after higher attainments in 
 submission and meekness, and trust in God. Oh ! you have 
 reason forever to love your Heavenly Father with all your heart. 
 And now you may honor him more, perhaps, than you ever have 
 before. His design in this affliction is merciful and gracious, and 
 the fruit of it will be precious indeed, if youi- heart looks to God 
 
AS A FATHER. 
 
 87 
 
 and seeks spiritual blessings. How happy, if our bodily disorders 
 may promote our spiritual health ! Labor, my dear child, after a 
 constant sense of the presence of your blessed Saviour, and make 
 known to him all your desires, and thank him for all your favors. 
 
 I trust you will have no feelings of impatience because you do 
 not get well at once. Remember that word, "It is good for us 
 not only to hope, but quietly to wait for the salvation of the 
 Lord." 
 
 As ever, your affectionate father, 
 
 L. Woods. 
 
 At the end of a year, contrary to the expectations of my physi- 
 cians, I became convalescent. My father's joy was expressed in 
 his countenance, his step, his whole manner. " I find myself 
 making plans," he said, " for your benefit. Do not be discouraged 
 about your studies ; you are young yet. When you are better, you 
 shall have every advantage that I can give you." 
 
 At length my physician allowed me to begin to take exercise. 
 My father contrived a low wagon (which I have kept to this day), 
 upon which a narrow mattress could be placed, so that I could be 
 drawn through the rooms in the second story, the arrangement of 
 our large house being such that I could be taken from my own 
 chamber round through the four square rooiias to my apartment 
 again. My father invariably assisted in removing me from my 
 
88 
 
 BEMimSCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 bed to the carriage, and he himself drew me round and round as 
 long as I could endure it. Before this he had purchased a piano 
 for my use 1 had heen tal<:ing- lessons in music previous to my 
 illness, but he would not allow the instrument to be unloel'.cd until 
 I was able to be carried down stairs. la every possible way he 
 endeavored to cheer and comfort me during my severe aftliction, 
 while in his letters he urged me to improve the time bj' a more 
 entii'e consecration to God. 
 
ATTACHMENT TO HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 89 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 ATTACHMENT TO HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 My father's attachment to his friends was ardent and unchange- 
 able. His affection for John H. Chinch commenced in 1792 at 
 Leicester Academy, and in after years grew stronger and stronger. 
 Never shall I forget the delight of my father, manifested in every 
 feature, when the old-fashioned " shay," containing the good man, 
 drove up to the south door. Father and mother hastened to 
 receive and welcome him, and show him to the seat of honor at 
 our table. 
 
 Often as a child have I sat and gazed in that face, whose chief 
 beauty was the expression of goodness stamped indelibly on the 
 homely features, the forehead entirely concealed by the gray hair 
 combed over it, and cut straight above the eyebrows. I have 
 gazed, and wondered why my father loved this man so dearly, and, 
 — shall I confess it? — while I gazed, I have become thankful that 
 my father was a handsome man with beautiful white teeth, looking 
 so attractive when he smiled, as he was smiling now. 
 
 "Brother Church" was my father's loving name for this dear 
 Christian friend. When the holy man had folded his hands for 
 the last time, and his bereaved brother had said words of respect 
 
90 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND RECORDS. 
 
 and affection over his inanimate body, he felt that one strong tie 
 to earth had been sundered, — there was one more silver cord 
 drawing him to the mansions above. 
 
 For his coUeages in the seminary my father always cherished an 
 ai'dent attachment.* Brother Stuart, Brother Porter, and Brother 
 Emerson were household names more familiar to his daughters than 
 those of earlier and later date : Professor Porter, whom my father 
 often compared to the beloved disciple ; Stuart, who, in his zeal and 
 impetuosity, resembled Peter ; and Emerson, who, like Nathaniel, 
 was an Israelite without guile. 
 
 Of these tlu-ee, I knew and loved Professor Stuart the best. I 
 loved to listen to my father when he talked of him, and to notice 
 how proud he was of his colleague's acciuisitions and success ; how 
 he delighted in his usefulness ; how pleased to quote from his pub- 
 lished works, even though there were shades of difference in their 
 opinions. 
 
 The eccentricities of Brother Stiuxrt were a source of great 
 amusement to my father. T n coUect one day, when he returned 
 from his usual walk to the village, that he came in with a broad 
 smile on his face. It was a raw, chilly day, and his long surtout 
 was buttoned up to the chin. 
 
 * Many letters, proving my lather's devoted love to liis friends, which I had 
 copied into my book, have since been omitted, they having been introduced into 
 his History of the Theological Seminary, lately issued. 
 
ATTACHMENT TO HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 91 
 
 " I met Brother Stuart in the village," he said, " he looked 
 pinched and blue with the east wind. 
 
 " ' It's too raw for you to be out without a thicker coat,' I said 
 to him. 
 
 "Facing suddenly about he inquired sharply, 'Who made you 
 Governor? ' and not waiting for any further conversation, he walked 
 off at a rapid pace." 
 
 There was a close friendship between them which lasted till 
 death. On one occasion, when Professor Stuart thought my father 
 submitted too meekly to a suggestion of a younger member of the 
 faculty, long since deceased, he burst out, — 
 
 " Brother Woods, why don't you rebuke him? " Theu, turning 
 to the offender with ineffable scorn, he exclaimed, Who are you 
 that dare to talk so to your betters ? You are n't fit to unloose the 
 latchet of his shoes." 
 
 There were others too, eminent Christian men, with whom my 
 father delighted to take sweet counsel, — Spring, Morse, Worcester, 
 Evarts, Wisner, Hewett, the two Danas, Nettleton, whose visits 
 always gladdened my father's heart, Cornelius, Tyler, and many 
 others, — between whom and my father were ties of Christian confi- 
 dence and affection, — ties, blessed be God, which even the King 
 of Terrors has no power to break. 
 
 Then across the water there were hearts closely bound to his, 
 Chalmers, John Pye Smith, Wardlaw, Burder, and many more, — 
 
92 
 
 BEMimSCENCES AND BECORDS. 
 
 men of God with whom my father had frequent correspondence, 
 whom having not seen he loved. With all this company and the 
 great cloud of witnesses before the throne, how delightful will it be 
 to recount the wonderful plan by which they, and others of the 
 human race, were saved from the consequences of their own sins ! 
 Will not the name of the crucifi(!d, glorious Saviour sound sweet 
 in the ears of these believers ? 
 
 When Drs. Reed and Matheson came from England as a depu- 
 tation to the churches in the United States, we were so privileged 
 as to entertain them for some time at our house. For these 
 gentlemen, particularly the first, my father formed a tender at- 
 tachment. As one day after another passed, this love became so 
 closely cemented that they began to realize how painful it would 
 be to separate. 
 
 On the morning of the day when our visitors must leave, father 
 invited Professor Stuart, and I think also Professor Emerson, to 
 his study for a short season of communion in prayer before they 
 parted, probably never more to meet until they met in the presence 
 of their Saviour. 
 
 An hour later I was in the upper hall, just going to descend, 
 when with the word, "Hush ! " a hand was laid on ray shoulder to 
 detain me. 
 
 Nfiver shall 1 forget the scene I then witnessed. The stage- 
 coach was at the door, and the parting hour had come. My father 
 
ATTACHMENT TO HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 93 
 
 and Dr. Reed, of whom I have previously spoken, had just entered 
 the lower hall from the study, when, with a sudden burst of emo- 
 tion, they fell on each other's neck, kissed each other, and wept 
 aloud. Professor Stuart and Dr. Matheson then followed, and a 
 similar scene took place. Besides myself there were many other 
 spectators, but I suspect not a dry eye among them. 
 
 The painfulness of the scene was a little relieved when Dr. Reed, 
 on his way down the walk to the coach, said hurriedly, " I shall 
 wish to visit Niagara, can't I take New Orleans on my way?" 
 
 "My dear friend," said my father, a smile breaking through 
 his tears, " you have little idea of the size of our country. 
 
 You had better get Dr. to mark out your course for you. 
 
 Farewell ! " 
 
 From the published account of the tour of Drs. Reed and 
 Matheson through the country, I extract the following para- 
 graph : — 
 
 " Happily, I was near Andover when the storm came on, and on 
 reaching the dwelling of Dr. Woods I at once found the kindest 
 reception, and the opportunity of relieving myself of wet gar- 
 ments. My arrival was the more pleasant as I met with so many 
 of my former friends, and among them the Lieutenant-Governor 
 Armstrong and his wife, Dr. Codman, and others. . . . At the com- 
 mencement exercises, Dr. Woods, who presided, looked to me to 
 offer the concluding prayer and benediction. The people showed 
 
94 
 
 BEMimSCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 that they could unite the spii-it of true devotion with the avocations 
 of the day. . • . The silence was affecting. It gave to our last 
 acts great solemnity. 
 
 " On returning to Dr. "Woods's we found ourselves in the bosom 
 of a large and affectionate family circle. We closed our intercourse 
 with an act of domestic worship, which was delightfully solemn, 
 aud then sought repose from the fatigues of the day. Though 
 thus hasty, I know of no visit that has been more delightful. The 
 Woods family is full of sweet, natural affection. Dr. Woods is 
 greatly blessed in his childi'en, and they in their father. On every 
 side, indeed, there was an overflow of kindness, and the remem- 
 brance of Andover will be sweet and sunny to me ! " 
 
 One incident connected with mj' father's friendship and corre- 
 spondence with Dr. Wardlaw, of Edinburgh, I must relate : — 
 
 When my father's published works were ready for distribution, 
 he sent one of the first sets to this valued friend. In due time he 
 received an answer which gave him great pleasure. Dr. Wardlaw 
 wrote that upon receiving the packet, he gazed upon the engraved 
 likeness of my father, in the first volume, with considerable sur- 
 prise. Suddenly, he started off with it to his wife and family. 
 Covering the name, " Leonard Woods," at the bottom, he held the 
 picture before them. "Why, how good!" "It is perfect!' 
 "When did you have it taken?" were questions eagerly and smil- 
 ingly asked by one aud another. It was afterwards frequently 
 
ATTACHMENT TO HIS FBIENDS. 
 
 95 
 
 remarked by mutual friends, that the likeness between Dr. Ward- 
 law and my father was very remarkable. 
 
 The ardor of my father's affections gave a coloring to his whole 
 character. No one could witness his warmth of greeting, his 
 kindling eye, and animated features on meeting a friend, without 
 feeling convinced that his heart was in the right place. 
 
 In his letters to us I find continual reference to loved and 
 esteemed friends : — 
 
 " I have just had the gladness of hea^t to meet Dr. John Rice, 
 from Virginia. He and his wife received me with open arms. I 
 hope they will return with me and make us a visit." 
 
 " Saw and conversed with Brother Nettletou, truly a man of 
 God. Had precious commuuiou witli him. He will spend some 
 days with us next week." 
 
 " Had to-day the pleasure of dining with my esteemed friends, 
 Drs. Miller and Alexander, from Princeton. I Iiave invited them 
 to go up to Andover, which they will probably do on Saturday. 
 Their engagements forbid a long stay. The meetings of the 
 Board are very interesting. Pray for us and for the missionaries." 
 
 " "We have just had a precious privilege in the visit of Joseph 
 John Gurney, an English Quaker, who has published an excellent 
 treatise on the Sabbath. He came to our house accompanied by 
 Mr. Boyce, a gentleman of his own denomination, from Lynn. It 
 is delightful to think that we shall have the friendship and society 
 
96 
 
 BEMINI8CEXCE8 AND BECORDS. 
 
 of many such men in heaven. It warmed and animated my heart 
 to talk with this holy man." 
 
 My father's attachment to his friends is also exemplified in his 
 intercourse with Samuel Abbott, Esq , one of the founders of the 
 seminary, who endowed the professorship of Christian theology*, 
 and nominated my father to fill it. At the funeral of this worthy 
 man, he said, — 
 
 "I owe it to the memory of my2'«<''0Ji and friend to declai'e 
 that I have considered it one of the most precious privileges of my 
 life to enjoy his paternal affection, and to be near him in his feeble 
 and languishing state." 
 
 Of Dr. Morse he thus speaks in his sermon at the installation of 
 his successor : — 
 
 " You are to take the place of one with whom I have been inti- 
 mately connected in the most important transactions of my life ; 
 who has been endeared to me by a thousand acts of friendship, and 
 whom I would never cease to love and honor." 
 
 Ill his address to his pupils he sums up his counsels in these two 
 maxims : — 
 
 First of all, both in regard to your own personal welfare and 
 to your usefulness in the service of Christ, I urge upon each one of 
 you the importance of making high attainments in holiness; also 
 the Christian duty of lovijig one another tvith jmre hearts fervently. 
 Be of the same mind. Be perfectly joined together in the same 
 
ATTACHMENT TO HIS FB1END8. 
 
 97 
 
 judgment ; and whether you live in the same neighborhood or 
 country, or in distant parts of the world, strive by mutual sym- 
 pathy, by brotherly correspondence, and by intercessory prayer to 
 alleviate each other's sorrows, to encourage each other to persever- 
 ing fidelity, and in all respects to promote each other's welfare. 
 The Lord grant that you may know the happiness of being thus 
 united in love. 
 
 " The I'emembrance of you, and my intercourse with you, will 
 always be a source of pleasure to me. It is the desire of my heart 
 and my prayer to God, that you may grow in grace, that you may 
 see the pi'osperity of the church, and that the peace which Jesus 
 gives may be yours in life and in death. And if you and I may at 
 last have a place among the holy and happy in the kingdom of 
 God, how sincerely shall we ascribe our salvation to the praise 
 of the glory of his grace ! 
 
 " Finally, brethren, farewell. ' Be steadfast, immovable, always 
 abounding in the work of the Lord. The grace of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit 
 be with you all. Amen.' 
 
 " Leonard Woods." 
 
98 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND REGOBDS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 HIS BIRTHDAY. 
 
 As my father's sixtieth birthday approached, his children 
 resolved to celebrate it in an unusual manner. Two older sisters 
 were closeted with mother, and came forth from their retirement 
 with an au* of mystery, very aggravating to us younger ones. 
 They kept their secret two days, then, needing our help, they un- 
 folded the project to our astonished ears. 
 
 All, however, was to be kept from father, which was hard 
 indeed, as he was the usual repositor}' of all our joys and sorrows. 
 When he was gone to lecture, wagons of evergreen came up to 
 the back entrance, and disappeared in a twinkling behind the 
 parlor doors ; a large clothes-horse, which folded together in three 
 parts, was also confiscated for the grand occasion. Sarah and I 
 were sent to the houses of the professors with notes of invitation 
 to tea on the nineteenth day of June, 1834, which invitations, I 
 may say here, were accepted on the spot. 
 
 In the mean time, from the kitchen the sound of egg-beating, 
 steps huiTying to and fro, the odor of roasted coffee, and, on open- 
 ing the great Rumford oven, also, of delicious cakes, tarts, and 
 biscuit, gave evidence that we were on the eve of some unusual 
 
HIS BIBTHDAY. 
 
 99 
 
 event. Father passed through the halls, trying to conceal a smile, 
 without a word of inquiry. We thought at the time that his ab- 
 straction of mind was most providential. I think now that mother 
 had given him a private hint as to his conduct. 
 
 Certainly, every part of our plan prospered in a most won- 
 derful manner, and the afternoon of the expected 19th at last 
 arrived. It was also my sister Sarah's birthday. Either then 
 or earlier she greatly amused father by saying, "You and I, 
 papa, are just as old as each other, 'cause our birthdays are 
 together." 
 
 Fortunately for us, father had a lecture at four o'clock, so that 
 we had a fine opportunity to prepare the study for the first recep- 
 tion of the guests. To the mysterious room on the other side of 
 the wide hall no one, not initiated, was to be admitted until after 
 tea. 
 
 A little past five, my father returned from his lecture, accom- 
 panied by Professor Stuart, Dr. Thomas H. Skinner, and his other 
 colleagues. Every seat at the long table was occupied. Not a 
 word was said of any further celebration of the birthday, to which 
 allusion was frequently made during the repast. When thanks 
 for social and other blessings had been returned, two of my sis- 
 ters went to father and asked him to go to the parlor. Mother, 
 then taking the arm of one of her sons, invited all the guests to 
 follow. 
 
100 
 
 BEMINISCENCE8 AND BECOBDS. 
 
 When the parlor door was thrown open, a novel and interesting 
 scene awaited us. A beautiful arbor of evergreen, trimmed with 
 roses, was in full view, within which were two chairs, to which 
 seats of honor our parents were immediately led. Mother had 
 made some objection to being placed in so prominent a position, 
 but we soon overruled it by the plea, — 
 
 "You know, mother, that father won't enjoy it at all if he has 
 not you by his side." 
 
 The company being dispersed about the room, the children 
 and grandchildren present formed a group by themselves. Pres- 
 ently, the children commenced singing the following words, com- 
 posed for the occasion by my youngest brother, Daniel, then 
 a student in the seminary : — 
 
 CHILDREN, 
 
 Upon this happy natal day 
 Of early youth and threescore years, 
 
 Joined here in heart by those away, 
 We bring our thanks to Him wlio hears. 
 
 And next to Him our tliaidis are due 
 To those who loved us first and best, 
 
 Our parents here, before them view 
 Their chilcU-en rise and call them blest. 
 
HIS BIBTMDAT. 
 
 101 
 
 GRANDCHILDREN. 
 
 Four childish voices then sang the words arranged for them : — 
 May God, whom, you have told us, 
 
 Beholds us from above, 
 In a rich, constant shower 
 Shed down his peace and love. 
 
 With sadness we would mention 
 
 Those in the cold damp ground, 
 A father, brother, sister, 
 
 Alas ! are nowhere found. 
 
 Perhaps their spirits o'er us 
 
 Hover on angel's wing ; 
 The loved ones stoop and listen, 
 And hear us pray and sing. 
 
 CHORUS BY ALL. 
 May heaven its choicest treasures 
 
 Shed ever on your way ! 
 And may your sunset hours 
 
 Be like the closing day ! 
 
 Melt in sweet peace away. 
 
 Reference is made in the preceding lines to my sister Sarah's 
 birthday occurring annually at the same time as my father's ; also 
 to the decease of my brother Joseph, who died just as he was about 
 
102 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND BECOEDS. 
 
 to enter on the work of the ministry, and to my nephew and niece, 
 Leonard and Julia, infant children of my sister, Mary G. W. 
 Smith. 
 
 When the singing had ceased, little Mary, then the youngest 
 granddaughter, carried up to father a handsomely bound Bible, on 
 the cover of which was printed in gilt letters these words : ' ' Pre- 
 sented to the Rev. Leonard Woods, D. D., on his sixtieth birthday, 
 by his affectionate children, June 19, 1834"; on the reverse: 
 " His children rise up and call him blessed " ; on the fly-leaf : " Our 
 dear father is requested to accept, on his sixtieth birthday, this 
 Holy Book, which has been the guide of his youth and the comfort 
 of his middle age, with the fervent prayer of his affectionate chil- 
 dren that it maj' be the light and staff' of his declining years. 
 Audover, June 19, 1834." 
 
 My father's lip quivered with emotion when he read these words. 
 He leaned forward, and kissed the cm-ly-headed child wlio stood 
 before him, then passed the l)'jok to mother. 
 
 Children then pressed forward to give him his birthday kiss ; 
 after this an hour or two was passed by all present in the mutual 
 exchange of kind sentiments and feelings. 
 
 A few minutes before nine o'clock the doxology was sung to 
 the excellent tune of "Old Hundred," and the pleasant party was 
 closed with prayer ottered In' one of the professors. 
 
AS A GOUNSELLOB. 
 
 103 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AS A COUNSELLOR. 
 
 On one occasion my father's strong sympathy hi the cause of 
 justice led him to act as a legal counsel for a widow, and plead hei" 
 cause before a court of referees. These gentlemen were Hon. 
 Linus Child, Gov. "William Washburn, and Hon. Uriel Crocker. 
 
 Unknown to my father, the opposing party had employed a 
 lawyer to present their cause. He expressed his surprise at 
 this cii'cumstauce, on being requested by the court to open the 
 case. 
 
 " I came here as a friend to Mrs. ," he said, to make a 
 
 plain statement of facts to these gentlemen, feeling sure we all 
 wish to do exactly what is right. I had no idea a lawyer was to 
 appear against me. I am little used to the shrewd practice of 
 
 lawyers ; however, 1 feel sure that Mr. , for whom I have a 
 
 great esteem, has the same end in view, — a desire for justice." 
 
 He then proceeded to a full and clear statement of the case, a 
 minute report of which has been kindly forwarded me by one of 
 the referees. 
 
 It was my privilege to be present during the three days of the 
 session of the court, and never shall 1 forget the expression on my 
 
104 
 
 BEMINISCENGES AND BECOEDS. 
 
 father's face when, on being called as a witness, he was requested 
 to hold up his right hand and take the customary oath. 
 
 Addressing the referees, he said, with considerable emotion, — 
 
 " My taking the oath will make no difference in what I say. I 
 am perfectly willing to do so if it is necessary ; but I thought we 
 were all Christians ; and that it was a matter of course that we 
 should tell the truth." 
 
 His tall, commanding figure, the expression of perfect guileless- 
 ness on his open countenance, impi'essed all present. The lawyer, 
 however, repeated his request, and raising his hand, my father 
 took the oath with a solemnity I never saw equalled. 
 
 During the progress of the trial, one of the witnesses expressed 
 surprise at some fact which came out, at which my father's eyes 
 opened wide with astonishment. He knew nothing and cared 
 nothing about the quibbles of law. He had taken his oath to tell 
 the truth, and ihe whole truth, and nothing should prevent him 
 from keeping his word. He arose at once and said earnestly to 
 the witness, — 
 
 "Why, Mr. , don't you remember how you and I have 
 
 often talked of it . . . and lamented it ; and how you said — " 
 
 " Out of order," called the lawyer, motioning father to his seat. 
 
 At this moment the faces of the referees would have been a 
 study for an aitist. There was such an effort to maintain proper 
 dignity, while their features were convulsed with mirth. It was 
 
AS A COUNSELLOR. 
 
 105 
 
 certainly unusual to appeal to the opposing party for corroboration 
 of the most important facts in the case ; but my dear, frank father, 
 never dreaming he had done anything out of the way, quietly pro- 
 posed that the next witness be called. 
 
 Toward the close of the third day the lawyer opened the defence, 
 and, to quote from the paper of the referees, " built up a high 
 structure, but Dr. Woods, in a very skilful manner, while closing 
 the defence, pulled out the underpinning, and the building fell to 
 pieces." 
 
 The referees then requested to be by themselves. Father and 
 the opposing counsel went out of the room together, when the 
 lawyer with a laugh exclaimed, — 
 
 " Dr. Woods, 1 '11 never be in a case with yow. again, unless we 
 are on the same side." 
 
 My father and I had scarcely reached home, in a drenching rain, 
 when he was sent for to return. He told me that the referees 
 warmly complimented him on his maiden plea, and informed him 
 that he had won the case. 
 
 They afterwards said that his perfectly fau", ingenuous, unso- 
 phisticated manner of dealing with witnesses and testimony would 
 be ruinous to any legal opponent. 
 
 On another similar occasion, when my father was called upon as 
 a witness, he gave his testimony in what seemed to the hearers 
 such a frank, open, and unguarded manner that the judge, before 
 
106 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND RECORDS. 
 
 whom the case was being tried, went to him in private, and 
 said, — 
 
 " You tell too much, my friend. When you are cross-examined, 
 the lawyers may be able to trip you up." 
 
 "I don't understand you, sir," exclaimed my father, fixing his 
 mild blue eyes full upon the speaker's face. " Of course, the more 
 they cross-examine me, the better I shall like it. I have bound 
 myself, by a solemn oath, to tell the whole truth as far as I know 
 it. If my memory fails me in regard to any fact, I can refer at 
 once to my opponent, who certainly, whatever his shortcomings, 
 is an honest, ti'uthful man." 
 
 "But," exclaimed the judge, laughing heartily, "your oppo- 
 nent is not bound to corroborate your testimony, when it impli- 
 cates himself." 
 
 " I can see no better way to get at the exact truth," remarked 
 my father, decidedly. 
 
 And this course he really pursued. Entirely unconscious that 
 he was departing from the usual method, two or three times, 
 during the trial, he appealed to the opposite party to correct him 
 should his statements not exactly correspond with the facts. In 
 vain the counsel on the other side shouted, *' Not allowable ! Inad- 
 missible ! " The harm had been done, and could not be taken back. 
 But they all agreed that with his views of the solemnity attached 
 to an oath, the less they had to do with him in court, the better. 
 
QUICK SYMPATHY. 
 
 107 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 QUICK SYMPATHY, 
 
 My father was a man of keen, quick sympathies. Suffering and 
 sorrow, in every form, found a ready response in his breast. The 
 little griefs of his children were never too small or too trifling to 
 receive his notice How quickly they often disappeared, when we 
 had poured them into his ear, and received his pitying caresses ! 
 The trials and afflictions of his pupils weighed upon him, and 
 brought a cloud over his usually serene face. 
 
 In some cases, his quick sympathies led him to bestow aid upon 
 those who were unworthy ; but even when he found he had been 
 imposed upon, he could not learn a lesson from the fact. There 
 was a freshness and simplicity in his feelings, in this respect, truly 
 wonderful. He was a very child in some things ; his filling eye 
 and trembling lip, when listening to a tale of suffering, oh, how 
 well I can recall them ! Ever after I knew my father, until within 
 a few years of his decease, he never read fiction. When he was 
 preparing his theological works, my mother, for the relaxation of 
 his mind, used occasionally to read aloud a work of this character. 
 At one time she read " Oliver Twist." The trials and struggles 
 of the poor child made a deep impression on his mind. Poor 
 
108 
 
 BEMimSCENCES AND RECORDS. 
 
 Oliver needed a friend. He longed to be that friend ; to encour- 
 age him to be honest, and faithful to his own convictions of 
 right. 
 
 One evening when there seemed great danger that the friendless 
 boy would be led into sin, my father, to whom the scenes were 
 all as real as those passing before his eye, actually carried the 
 little orphan to the throne of grace, and pleaded, by God's promises 
 to the fatherless, that he would befriend the desolate child, and 
 keep him from all evil. 
 
 At the annual exhibition of Phillips Academy it used to be 
 customary to have two or more dialogues ; the speakers acting 
 their parts as well as they were able. I remember being present 
 on one occasion, when the exercises were of an uncommonly thrill- 
 ing nature. My father, with some of his colleagues, occupied 
 prominent seats on the platform opposite the stage, they being quite 
 as conspicuous as the actors. A scene commenced, in which a 
 father, for some political offence, was banished from his home and 
 country, separated from his wife and only son, and confined in a 
 dungeon, in some foreign land. Years passed ; the son grew up 
 without being aware, I think, of the existence of his father, when 
 circumstances drove him also from home to the very country where 
 that father lay a hopeless prisoner. At last, for some fancied 
 crime, he too was thrown into prison. Parent and child met face 
 to face, but, alas, as strangers ! Companions in misery, the sound 
 
QUICK SYMPATHY. 
 
 109 
 
 of the young man's voice at last recalled loved scenes. The 
 poor prisoner started wildly to his feet, his arms thrown over 
 his head. 
 
 I was not the only one whose attention was divided between the 
 well-acted play and the evident restraint my father was placing on 
 his feelings. He had entered into the sorrows of the poor father 
 with his whole soul. His foot moved up and down in his own 
 peculiar manner. His lip quivered. When the two rushed into 
 each other's arms, the excitement was more than he could endure. 
 With a sob, which he could not repress, he rose hastily and left 
 the room, followed by the gaze of sundry among the trustees who 
 had been watching his emotion with an amused smile. 
 
 Hon. B. W. Harris, member of Congress, informed me that 
 he once sat in the chapel, in Andover, where he could watch my 
 father during one of Gough's famous lectures. He said that 
 father's interest and emotion during the relation of Gough's stories 
 were so intense and childlike, it was worth more to watch him than 
 to listen to the lecturer. 
 
 Shortly after the burning of the Charlestown nunnery, my father 
 was one evening sitting in his study, when the door was suddenly 
 thrown open, and a young girl arrayed in the garb of a nun, 
 shrouded from head to feet, rushed to his side, and thi'ew herself 
 on her knees before him. 
 
 "Save me, oh, kind sii" ! save me!" she cried. "I have 
 
110 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND BECORDS. 
 
 escaped from the convent. My pursuers are close after me. Save 
 me ! Save me ! " 
 
 My father, throwing down his pen, rose suddenly, every feature 
 blanched, and only saj-ing, "My poor child, I will befriend you. 
 Come with me to my wife " ; led her out to the sitting-room. 
 
 Crouching upon the floor, with her face hidden in her hands, the 
 nun remained, while father hurriedly requested my mother to con- 
 ceal the poor wanderer in her chamber, and attend to her personal 
 comfort. 
 
 I shall never forget the sympathizing tenderness in my father's 
 pale face ; the anxious care that she should be in safety before 
 the threatened pursuers came in view ; nor the indignation which 
 quickly succeeded these emotions when he found the appeal had 
 been false, his sympathies had been imposed upon. 
 
 From the first moment of the nun's entrance into the sitting- 
 room. I thought, notwithstanding her disguise, there was some- 
 thing strangelj' familiar in her appearance, and while she covered 
 her face, took the liberty to draw aside the veil. As I half sus- 
 pected, the ci-devant runaway was my most intimate companion, 
 Elizabeth Stuart. 
 
FBANENE8S AND FAITHFULNESS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 FRANKNESS AND FAITHFULNESS. 
 
 My father was the frankest man I ever knew. This qualitj' he 
 especially adrnked in others ; and he took great pains to cultivate 
 it in his children. 
 
 He often sat silent when some subject was discussed until his 
 opinion was asked, when he gave it frankly, though invariably 
 with the kindness and courtesy which were a part of himself. 
 
 Especially was this frankness evident in his method of dealing 
 with his pupils. They were invited to the study and were called 
 upon to take a very sweet pill ; but they were not dismissed until 
 their sins were set in such order before them that they could see 
 them without a microscope. One student, Henry Lyman, the 
 martyr missionary, told me that his pill was so covered with pre- 
 serve that at first he could n't taste the bitter ; but when the bitter 
 came, it was so bitter he quite forgot the sweet. "After all," he 
 said, " I can't help loving Dr. "Woods, for it is so evident that he 
 tells me my faults for my good ; and then he puts them to you in 
 such a way you can't help acknowledging they are faults." 
 
 When I was a child, there was seldom a week that my father did 
 not have letters making inquiries concerning candidates for the 
 
112 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND RECORDS. 
 
 ministry, and requesting that he would recommend some one suitable 
 for the parish under consideration. 
 
 The following incidents, illustrating my father's frankness and 
 faithfulness, I quote from the Congregationalist : — 
 
 " On one occasion, a church had been blessed for years with a 
 good, faithful preacher who did not hesitate to declare all the 
 counsel of God ; but the man was unfortunately small, and had a 
 feeble voice. His people at length resolved to get rid of him. One 
 of the committee, therefore, wrote father, asking to have a young 
 man sent from the senior class. ' "We want,' said the gentleman, 
 ' a tall man with a good voice.' The return mail carried the fol- 
 lowing answer : — 
 
 " ' Dear Sir, — I have spoken to Mr. , who will preach for 
 
 you next Sunday. He exactly answers to your list of qualifications, 
 being six feet two inches in height, and with a powerful voice. 
 
 " ' Leonard Woods.' 
 
 *' Mr. suited the people to a T. He was called and ordained 
 
 a few weeks after he graduated. But a short time passed, however, 
 before the more serious part of the congregation began to feel that 
 the}' were being starved. They longed for tlie spiritual food so 
 abundantly dealt out by their former pastor. The dissatisfaction 
 spread rapidly, a meeting was called, and a committee, consist- 
 
FBANENESS AND FAITHFULNESS. 
 
 113 
 
 ing of the two deacons, was sent to Andover to consult with my 
 father. 
 
 " ' The man you sent us is not giving satisfaction,' Deacon A 
 commenced. 
 
 " ' Is not he tall enough? ' inquired my father. 
 
 " ' Yes — yes — sir, that is to say — ' hesitating. 
 
 " ' Perhaps his voice is not as good as you expected ; or,' he 
 added kindly, seeing the discomfiture of his guests, ' it may be 
 that the Lord has dealt with you as he did with the children of 
 Israel. He gave them their request, but sent leanness into their 
 souls.' 
 
 " ' That is just our case, doctor,' answered Deacon B, with great 
 emotion. ' We have sinned in this matter. We ought never to 
 have dismissed our old pastor. We begin to hanker for strong 
 meat.' My father then took occasion to state frankly his views 
 in relation to the subject, telling the deacons he had expected ex- 
 actly such a result. He advised them, however, to take occasion 
 to talk with their minister, and especially to pray for him, that he 
 might give his heart to the work of saving souls." 
 
 "At another time a young clergyman went from Andover to a 
 parish where il was intimated to him that the church would like to 
 give him a call, but that they first proposed to write to Dr. Woods 
 for advice in the pi'emises. Feeling very confident of the friend- 
 
114 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND RECOBDS. 
 
 ship of his professor, Mr. X suifered no anxiety in regard to the 
 result. But a few weeks later, he presented himself at the door of 
 the doctor's study, in a state of great excitement. 
 
 " ' I called,' he explained, his voice trembling with anger, ' to 
 
 ask the reason of your letter to the committee at W .' Then, 
 
 without stopping to receive an answer, he went on with unseemly 
 agitation : — 
 
 " ' Doctor, I thought you were my friend. If I had not read your 
 letter, I would not have believed that you would have treated a 
 pupil so unhandsomely. I must say, doctor, I think your — I 
 think that letter was abusive. Of course it has had the effect that 
 you intended, and prevented my getting a call to W .' 
 
 " ' What did I say?' inquired my father, mildly. 
 
 " * You said there were reasons why it would not be best that I 
 should be settled there.' 
 
 " ' Nothing else? ' 
 
 "'Yes ; you said that I was of a nervous, excitable temperament.' 
 
 " ' Is not that the truth? If I had doubted it before, I should 
 not after this interview.' 
 
 " Mr. X was very angry. Ho caught his hat, and was about to 
 leave, when my father's voice detained him. 
 
 " ' Sit down, ni3^ son ; I have something more to say. Try to 
 feel toward me, as I am sure you always have felt, that I am 
 your friend, auxious for your best good. 
 
FRANKNESS AND FAITHFULNESS. 
 
 115 
 
 " ' These are the circumstances of the case. About a week ago 
 the mail brought me letters from two parishes, each in regard to a 
 
 candidate for settlement. One was from W ; it was l\Ir. A's 
 
 letter concerning you. The other was from the large and flour- 
 ishing church in M , requesting me to send a man whom I con- 
 sidered suitable for them. The parish in W , though wealthy, 
 
 is a difficult one They are in the habit of having trouble with 
 their minister. On many accounts,' he added, with a smile, ' I 
 considered it a bad place for one of your excitable nerves. After 
 serious consideration and pi'ayer, I have this morning answered the 
 letter from M.' 
 
 " He took his unsealed epistle from the table as he spoke and 
 read it aloud. 
 
 " ' Dear Sir, — I know a man whose talents and acquirements, 
 and, above all, whose ardent piety, eminently fit him for usefulness 
 in the church of Christ. His name is X. I cordially recom- 
 mend him to your people. May God bless you and him, is the 
 prayer of, 
 
 " ' Yours truly, 
 
 " ' Leonard Woods.' 
 
 " Mr. X sprang from his seat, caught my father's hand, wrung 
 it ardently, and rushed from the room without a word. 
 
116 
 
 REMINISCENCES AND RECORDS. 
 
 "The same evening a fellow-stndent came to the door with a 
 note. It was from Mr. X, and read as follows : — 
 
 " ' Beloved Teacher, — I am overwhelmed with shame and con- 
 fusion on account of my conduct this morning. Since I left your 
 study, the hours have been passed in self-examination, and in a 
 depth of humiliation such as I have never known before. Dr. 
 Woods, I have deceived myself. I am imfit to preacli Christ. My 
 heart is too full of sin. I see now that my anger toward you arose 
 from a consciousness that you spoke truth. I cannot sleep until 
 I confess to the best and kindest of teachers, that I indulged 
 toward him the most undutiful sentiments. But no doubt my con- 
 duct made you aware of that. I need not ask 3 0U not to forward 
 
 the letter to M . What you saw of me would convince you I 
 
 am unfit for such a trust. But at any rate, I would not have it 
 sent. The last hour has revealed to me so much of self, and so 
 loathso.re is the sight, that nothing but the thought of God's 
 abounding grace in Christ Jesus keeps me from despair.' 
 
 " Nevertlieless, after another interview with Mr. X, the letter 
 was sent, and on the strength of it, the young clergyman received 
 
 a call to M , where he labored earnestly and successfully for 
 
 his Master, for more th.-m twelve years. During all this time, he 
 cherished towards his former professor an affection as warm and 
 
FRANKNESS AND FAITHFULNESS. 
 
 117 
 
 tender as that of a child. Even during his last sickness he referred 
 to the circumstances I have written, and said in regard to the 
 kindness of Dr. Woods during that never-to-be-forgotten inter- 
 view, and on subsequent occasions, ' He was so tender, so loving, 
 and so faithful, that I took courage and began to preach, begging 
 God to help me.' " 
 
 " At one time, many years ago, Rev. Mr. W came to Andover 
 to ask my father's advice concerning his parish. 
 
 " 'My people are dead,' he explained. 'Our social meetings 
 are almost deserted ; I am often tempted to omit, them altogether,' 
 
 '• As my father did not reply, Mr. "W went on, — 
 
 " 'I received a call from a few of my parishioners last week. 
 They complain that they find it more difficult than ever to raise my 
 salary. It is done by subscription, and not by a tax on the pews.' 
 
 ' • ' Did they state why they found this difficulty ? ' 
 
 '• ' No, sir. Indeed, I did not encourage them to free conversa- 
 tion. I had made up my mind to come to you, and I wishi d your 
 advice first.' 
 
 ' ' ' Were the persons who visited you the most devout of your 
 people, or otherwise?' 
 
 ' ' ' They were the most reliable men I have. Always on hand at all 
 meetings appointed by the church ; and though I differ from them in 
 politics, I must do them the justice to say they are exemplary men.' 
 
118 
 
 BEMimSCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 " ' Ah ! May I imiuire what subjects you have been preaching 
 upon of late ? ' 
 
 " ' Well, sk, I may as well confess that I have been pretty 
 thoi'oughly into what are called the reforms of the day. I have 
 preached on temperance and abolition.' 
 
 " ' How many men or women have you in your church and parish 
 who are in the habit of drinking to intoxication ? ' 
 
 " ' None, sir ; none that I know of.' 
 
 ' ' ' How many who sustain the relation of slaveholders ? ' 
 
 "With heightened color, Mr. W auswered, decidedly, — 
 
 " ' Not one.' 
 
 " 'Then, my young friend, I advise you to go home and preach 
 Christ and him crucified. Seek your closet and ask your Heavenly 
 Father to give you the wisdom necessary to lead these souls to 
 their Saviour. You are under solemn vows. Seek by a new con- 
 secration to warm your own heart. Paul indeed preached temper- 
 ance, but he also preached righteousness and judgment to come.' 
 
 "Mr. W returned home, and took counsel with his own heart. 
 What he found there, I do not know ; but he afterwards wrote his 
 professor, thanking him most heartily for his advice, and closing 
 with the words, — 
 
 " ' I never enjoyed a Sabbath as I did the last one ; and by the 
 appearance of my people, I think they enjoyed it, too.'" 
 
mS TEMPEBANCE. 
 
 119 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 HIS TEMPERANCE. 
 
 Long before the birth of temperance societies, my father became 
 convinced that the use of alcoholic liquor as a beverage, so com- 
 mon in the early part of this century, was injurious to health and 
 morals. He eagerly welcomed the primary movement calling atten- 
 tion to this subject, and was one of the first who enrolled his name 
 as a member of the temperance society. 
 
 I well remember, when I was quite a little child, hearing him 
 talk with a brother clergyman, whose views were opposed to his 
 own. This gentleman, whom I will call Mr. A, stoutly urged that 
 it was a command of the Scriptures to " use a little wine for his 
 stomach's sake and his often infirmities," ending with the asser- 
 tion, "At any rate, doctor, I could n't write sermons nor preach 
 them without the excitement produced by a glass of good wine or 
 brandy." 
 
 " If that is the case, brother, I'm afraid for you, — I'm terribly 
 afraid," returned my father, with his usual frankness. " That is 
 a kind of slavery I would never consent to. I hope you '11 make 
 it a subject of earnest consideration, whether it would not be 
 better for you to give up such artificial stimulants altogether." 
 
120 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND RECORDS. 
 
 Mr. A was angry. This was a subject ou which his feelings 
 were tender. 
 
 " Every one must judge for himself," he replied, sharply. " No 
 one has ever seen me the worse for liquor." 
 
 " There you are mistaken, brother." My father's voice was as 
 gentle as though dealing with a beloved son. " I am sorry to 
 remind you, that at our last clerical association you drank so many 
 glasses of wine and brandy at dinner, that you would have fallen 
 from your chaii' had not I assisted you to bed. I felt so much 
 for you, that I went privately to Mr. B, at whose house we met, 
 and begged him not to set wine before you, seeing it was a tempta- 
 tion you could not resist. I resolved, then and there, that I would 
 never be guilty of helping my brethren in the ministry to make 
 drivelling fools of themselves." 
 
 A short time after this conversation, a country clergyman, travel- 
 ling from one town to another, put up with his horse at my father's, 
 it being at that time the custom to use a brother minister's house as 
 a hotel, except in one particular, — the payment of the biU. 
 
 My mother being ill in bed, my father attended to the entertain- 
 ment of his guest. 
 
 " I wish to start away as soon as it is light," said the traveller, 
 " and shall want a hot breakfast before I go." 
 
 This was in May ; and at five o'clock a cup of steaming coffee, 
 with bread and cold meat, was on the table for the guest, he 
 
HIS TEMPEBANCE. 
 
 121 
 
 having been awakened by my father, as requested, half an hour 
 earlier. The visitor came to the breakfast-room, glanced at the 
 table, seemed ver}' uneasy, and finally exclaimed, — 
 
 " I must have a glass of brandy and water to give me an appe- 
 tite. I should n't be worth anything without it." 
 
 " I cannot gratify you," was my father's reply. 
 
 " Cannot ! Why not, I beg to know ? " 
 
 " Brother B," said my father, putting one hand on the visitor's 
 shoulder, "do you know that you are in danger of becoming a 
 drunkard ? It is already a subject of remark that your frequent 
 drams befog your intellect, that your sermons are without power. 
 I say this to you in all kindness. You can give up intoxicating 
 drink now ; in a year or two, it may be too late." 
 
 And it was. Mr. B died of apoplexy a few mouths after this 
 frank warning. 
 
 It was the observation of facts like these which led my father 
 to refuse wine or other liquors when attending a funeral, and on 
 any public occasion. 
 
 When General Jackson occupied the Presidential chair, he, with 
 his cabinet, made a tour thi'ough New England, visiting Andover 
 Seminary, among other places of interest. I remember well that 
 my sisters and myself, with Professor Stuart's daughters, were 
 dressed in white with garlands of flowers over one shoulder, and 
 that we stood in the gallery of the chapel to receive the President. 
 
122 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 It was a great occasion ; the honor of seeing and shaking hands 
 with a real, live President was almost beyond belief. I confess 
 to a feeling of disappointment on finding that he was but a man, 
 and that he seemed to me not half as handsome or dignified as my 
 father. A great dinner was prepared at the Mansion House for 
 the distinguished guests, on which occasion General Jackson, 
 being an invalid, took dinner in his room, where he was waited 
 upon in state by Mira Squawcombush, the only descendant of 
 Ham the quiet town of Audover then afforded. 
 
 ]My father, therefore, took his seat at the head of the table, 
 with Vice-President Van Bureu, instead of President Jackson, at 
 his right hand. Some of the guests called for wine, others for 
 brandy, which was brought on in decanters and set by their plates. 
 
 At length, Van Bureu, turning to my father, asked, — 
 
 " Will you take a glass with me, Dr. Woods?" 
 
 A smile ran around the table at this question, for the temperance 
 society had lately been formed, and the name of Leonard Woods 
 was one of the first on the list. But my father, in no degree dis- 
 turbed, bowed, saying, with a smile, "If you will allow me to 
 choose my liquor." Then, while every one suspended his dinner to 
 look on, he took the wineglass Van Buren pushed toward him, tilled 
 it from a pitcher of water which stood near, touched his neighbor's 
 glass, and with his own peculiar smile gave as a sentiment, — 
 Andover, the cradle of the temperance society ! " 
 
HIS TEMPEBANCE. 
 
 123 
 
 There was a perfect shout of laughter at the graceful act, and 
 even Van Buren expressed his admiration of the consistency dis- 
 played by it. 
 
 When my father was more than seventy years old, he visited 
 his native town of Princeton. A part of the journey was per- 
 formed in an old-fashioned stage-coach, the vehicle, of all others, 
 most favorable for conversation. Among the passengers was an 
 old man, whose ruddy features shone with a glow that was not all 
 health. For an hour or more there was a good-natured discussion 
 between my father and the old man in regard to the advantages 
 and disadvantages of alcoholic drinks. My father affirmed that, 
 according to his long experience and observation, man (an intem- 
 perate woman being, fortunately, unheard of in those days) was 
 far more vigorous in mind, more healthful in body, without the use 
 of these stimulants. 
 
 His opponent maintained a contrary opinion, citing his own case 
 to prove that the moderate use of rum, gin, and brandy was bene- 
 ficial. At last the carriage approached the town, and the tired 
 horses crept slowly up the long, steep hills, which form a part of 
 the mountain range 
 
 " Come," urged my father, " I am six months older than you, 
 let us test this question of bodily vigor. I am a cold-water man ; 
 you drink your grog daily. We are near the top of a long hill ; 
 let us get out and race." 
 
124 
 
 BEMINISCENCE8 AND BECOBDS. 
 
 Rather reluctantly the old man assented, being urged to comply 
 by the other inmates of the coach. 
 
 " Now," said my father, laughing gayly, " let us start fair. The 
 one who runs down this hill and up the next, wins." 
 
 Off they started, side by side, the passengers shouting their 
 encouragement. But, alas, for the owner of the red nose ! The 
 bottom of the hill had not been reached before he began to puff 
 and blow ; then, finding his companion was far ahead, he stopped 
 short, succumbing to an inglorious defeat. 
 
 When, at the top of the next hill, my father paused for the 
 stage-coach to come up, the passengers shouted, merrily, — 
 
 ' ' Hurrah ! Three cheers for the cold-water man ! Hurrah ! 
 Hurrah ! Hurrah ! " * 
 
 * Printed in the CongreyaUonalist. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS INCIDENTS. 
 
 125 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS INCIDENTS, 
 
 Some writer has well said, " A good auecdote is the better part 
 of a biography," ehicidatiug and illuminating it. This is particu- 
 larly true in the narrative of my father. He had a vein of muth- 
 fulness in his character which rendered him a very genial companion. 
 He well enjoyed a good joke. I can see him now, with his eyes 
 shut, making no noise, but fairly shaking with merriment. 
 
 From Rev. Dr. John Todd, I received the following incident, 
 which occurred many years ago : — 
 
 " I recall the first time, I ever saw your father. It was at Mr. 
 Evarts's (oh, how much warmer friends were then, than it is fash- 
 ionable to be now) . He was telling the story of a young lady 
 who came to him for advice. It seems that a theologue was 
 smitten with her charms, was very attentive, and, I think, engaged 
 to her. ' When he got away off up into Vermont,' said Mr. 
 Woods (he was not doctor, then) , ' the cold climate seemed to 
 affect him, and he became cold also. He wrote her a letter so cold 
 that it grieved the ])oor girl. So she wrote back a warm, com- 
 plaining epistle, almost entreating him. 
 
126 
 
 BEMINISCENGES AND BECORDS. 
 
 " ' " Oh, child, I would not send that letter ; nor would I put 
 myself so much into his hands as that. It is not best for a lady 
 to do so." 
 
 "'"Yes; but oh, Mr. Woods!" and tears fell fast and hot, 
 " what can I do? I don't believe I shall ever have a husband as 
 long as I live ! " 
 
 "'Well, Mr. Woods,' I inquired, when I found that his story 
 had suddenly ended, ' what could you say to her ? ' 
 
 "'Oh!' he answered, with an arch smile, 'I gave her great 
 credit for her candor.' " 
 
 From Dr. Alva Woods, of Providence, R. I., I quote the fol- 
 lowing : — 
 
 " His mind was habitually cheerful and hopeful, and mirthful- 
 ness was a marked feature I recollect oue instance of this trait 
 which I have, I think, seen in print. 
 
 '•With a smiling countenance and twiukliug eyes, he said 
 to me, one day, ' I was dining with a company of gentlemen, 
 in Cambridge, after the Commencement exercises A young- 
 Unitarian minister, who sat next me, alluding to our new semi- 
 narj-, said, "I understand. Dr. Woods, that you have a machine 
 in Andover, into which thoy put pumpkins and grind out min- 
 isters." 
 
 " ' " Yes, sir," 1 replied. " Would you like to try it?"'" 
 
MISCELLANEOUS INCIDENTS. 
 
 127 
 
 From a clergyman in Washington. D. C, I have received the 
 following incident, which bears so evidently the stamp of truth 
 that I transcribe it : — 
 
 In the earlier years of the seminary, evening prayer in the chapel 
 was followed directly by supper in commons. At this service the 
 professors usually officiated in turn. On one occasion, thi'ee 
 young students waited upon my father, and stated that they came 
 as a committee from the whole. After a little hesitation, one of 
 them said, — 
 
 " We have called, Dr. Woods, to ask a favor of you ; but first, 
 we wish to say that we have no fault to find with Professor 
 Stuart or, indeed, with any of our professors. We enjoy his 
 services at prayer exceedingly, but sometimes, of late, he has 
 been rather long in his prayers, and we have been late to sup- 
 per, and thus late in other engagements. We are aware of the 
 close intimacy between you and Professor Stuart ; and, as it 
 would be a delicate matter for us to speak of, we have come to 
 request you to give him a hint, in such a manner as you may think 
 proper." 
 
 " Professor Stuart is extremely gifted in prayer," was the reply ; 
 " it is a privilege to hear him pray, but," with a smile of peculiar 
 significance, " I will accede to 3-our request, gentlemen." 
 
 With many thanks, the conniiittee took tlieir leave, and pro- 
 ceeded to the house of Professor Stuart, where they made the 
 
128 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 same prefatory remark, and the same request of him in regard to 
 my father's prayers. 
 
 "Yes, yes ; I know," answered Professor Stuart, with a laugh. 
 *' "Well, I '11 speak to him." 
 
 A few da3S later, father directed his steps toward Brother 
 Stuart's domicile, where he found the gentleman vigorously plying 
 his saw in his wood-house ; this being his favorite exercise. 
 
 "I have had a call from some of the students," father began, 
 " in reference to evening prayers in the chapel. They say that 
 they enjoy your services greatl}- ; but, sometimes, they are rather 
 long. 1'hey felt a delicacy in making any complaint to you, and 
 requested me to do it for them." 
 
 "Do they say that of me?" asked the professor, laughing. 
 "Well, the committee came to me with the same request in regard 
 to you. They think yours too long ! " 
 
 With a hearty laugh over the occurrence, the professors sep- 
 arated. 
 
 I am sure my father must have enjoyed the joke. 
 
 One more incident, which illustrates my father's quick discern- 
 ment of character and motives has been related by his successor in 
 office. 
 
 Miss ]{, a lady intimate in the familv of Dr. Woodti, and in 
 the habit of going frequeutl}" to his house, made an earlj- call 
 
MISCELLANEOUS INCIDENTS. 
 
 129 
 
 there, one morning, and found him in his study, his face covered 
 with lather, and a razor in his hand. Her errand seemed to be 
 urgent ; for, begging that she might not interrupt him, she hur- 
 riedly took a seat, and said, with some embarrassment, — 
 
 ' ' I have come to you for advice. I want to know what you 
 think of Mr. C, of the senior class." 
 
 " I think well of him." 
 
 "But, Dr. Woods, this is a very solemn subject to me, — very 
 solemn, indeed. Do you think Mr. C would be one — would be 
 a suitable person for rae? Would he make me a good husband?" 
 
 Suspending the operation of shaving, the professor fixed his 
 eyes keenly on her face, as he quietly inquired, before answering 
 her question, — 
 
 " Are you engaged to marry him?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I am." 
 
 With a smile, he resumed his shaving. After this avowal, 
 there was no need for him to give any views on the subject. 
 
 During the spring and fall vacations in the seminary, my father 
 was in the habit of going long journeys in his own carryall, taking 
 his wife and as manj^ children as he could pack into the carriage. 
 At one time, he stopped for dinner at a country tavern. In the 
 common parlor, to which the travellers were shown, a woman sat 
 making a coat. My father addressed her kindly, and soon in- 
 
130 
 
 BEMIXISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 quired concerning the different churches in the place, ending with 
 the question, — 
 
 " To which church do you belong? " 
 
 " I joined the Orthodox Congregatioualists, sir, but T left them, 
 a year ago, for the Methodists." 
 
 "Why did you make the change?" inquired my father, per- 
 ceiving the woman had more to tell. 
 
 With a peculiar expression in her bright gray eyes, she an- 
 swered, — 
 
 " The Orthodox were not willing I should take up my cross." 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I felt it to be my duty, sir, to speak in meetin', — to take up 
 my cross, you know, sir ; and they objected." 
 
 "My good friend," said father, in his kindest tone, " would it 
 not be well for you to inquire whether it would not be more of a 
 cross for you to keep still? That may be your cross." 
 
 It was a habit of many of the students to come to my father for 
 advice in regard to subjects of personal interest. I perfectly well 
 recollect, when I was a little child, sitting on a stool, behind the 
 old-fashioned, open Franklin stove, hearing my father tell a story 
 to his Brother Cluirch, as he always called tliat eminent man of 
 God. It was an account of a student who had paid particular 
 attention to a lady, until he succeeded in calling forth some affec- 
 
 ( 
 
MISCELLANEOUS INCIDENTS. 
 
 131 
 
 tion on her part. " Now," said my father, " the poor fellow is in 
 trouble. He came to me, to-day, with a request that I would allow 
 him to walk with me when I take my exercise. He has engaged 
 to marry the lady, and now cannot tell whether he loves her 
 enough. He seems conscientious, and wants me to direct him as 
 to his duty. I inquired whether the lady was aware of the change 
 in his feelings. She is, and is willing to leave the whole decision 
 in her suitor's hands. He went on very volubly describing the 
 state of his heart, when I stopped him, — 
 
 "' My dear young friend,' I said, 'love is a tender plant. If 
 you are continuall}' pulling it up, and anal3'zing it to see whether 
 it has taken deep root, don't you see you are in danger of destroy- 
 ing it? If Miss is of such a character as you describe, I 
 
 think you may safely leave your happiness in her hands Beyond 
 this I cannot advise you, except to say that I have always consid- 
 ered it vei'y mean and unchristian for a gentleman to win the 
 affections of a lad}', and then leave her.' " 
 
132 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 SICKNESS AND DEATH. 
 
 During the last years of my dear father's life, those who saw 
 him most, observed in him such constant growth in grace, such 
 an earnest endeavor to obey the inspired precept, and to " add to 
 faith, virtue ; and to viitue, knowledge ; and to knowledge, temper- 
 ance ; and to temperance, patience ; and to patience, godliness ; and 
 to godliness, brotherly kindness ; and to brotherly kindness, chai'- 
 ity," that they felt his divine Master was fast fitting him for his 
 heavenly home. 
 
 " In the latter of these graces," says one who knew him well, 
 " he was certainly far beyond an}' Christian I ever met." 
 
 Indeed, I once heard the remark made concerning him by a 
 good minister, that he carried these traits so far as to be a weak- 
 ness. 
 
 "When he heard any unkind remarks which one Christian brother 
 made of another, they gave him great pain. He often said, "It 
 makes my heart sore. I want to live in an atmosphere of love." 
 
 Some time after my mother's decease, my father, being left 
 entirely alone by the marriage of his daughters, married Mrs. 
 Lucia J. Ives, widow of the late Dr. Ansel G. Ives, of New York. 
 
SICKNESS AND DEATH. 
 
 133 
 
 At the time of her marriage to my father, she had seven sons liv- 
 ing, two of whom accompanied her to Andover. 
 
 The relation proved in every respect happy. Toward her chil- 
 dren he manifested the affection of a tender father, an affection 
 they fully reciprocated, while she took to her heart all who were 
 dear to him. 
 
 During his distressing illness, her devotion to him never wearied. 
 Her sons left their business to minister to his comfort. It was 
 among the expressed causes of his gratitude to God that he had, 
 aside from his own, such sons to be with him in his liom- of trial. 
 
 It was an inexpressible comfort to my dear father that, between 
 his children and the children of his second wife, there was such a 
 marked affection. 
 
 In these last days he talked and wrote much of his wish that his 
 children should continue to love each other. 
 
 In a farewell address to them, left by him to be read to them 
 after his decease, he earnestly expressed this yearning of his heart. 
 In closing he wrote : — 
 
 " It is also my desire and prayer that my children and the chil- 
 dren of my dear wife may ever cultivate, as they have done, the 
 kindest affections toward each other. 
 
 " The Lord grant that this our family circle may all be united 
 in love to Christ and love to one another, and through the abound- 
 ing gi-ace of God may at last be united in the everlasting employ- 
 
134 
 
 BEMimSCENCES AND RECOBDS. 
 
 ments and joys of that happy world, where there is no sin, nor 
 sorrow, nor death. 
 
 " And it is my desire and prayer that all my grandchildren and all 
 my future descendants may love the Holy Scriptures, and be followers 
 of Jesus ; that they may be adorned with the beauties of divine grace, 
 and that they may be lovely and useful in life, and happy forever. 
 
 " The Lord, in infinite mercy, grant that I and all my descend- 
 ants may thus be saved from sin, and at last inherit the kingdom 
 of heaven, and all to the glory of divine grace." 
 
 My father's delight in the Scriptures, which had been his study 
 for fourscore years, increased with each revolving season. 
 
 During the latter period of his life, when he and my present 
 mother constituted all of the family at home, it was his habit at 
 morning and evening prayers to read chapter after chapter in the 
 Bible. Often she, fearing it would fatigue him, asked, — 
 
 " Shall we stop now? " 
 
 He replied, " One more chapter" ; and then, " One more." 
 The simple word of God, without comment or remark, was 
 indeed meat and drink to him. 
 
 My lamented father spent the Fourth of July, 1854, with us at 
 our seaside home, where we had a happy, though unexpected 
 meeting of many dear brothers from a distance. For a long time 
 I had not seen father so vigorous and his spuits so cheerful aa 
 
SICKNESS AND DEATH. 
 
 135 
 
 during this never-to-be-forgotten visit. He had now just passed 
 his eightieth birthday. He could read in fine print without glasses. 
 His hearing was as acute as ever. His teeth perfect in number 
 and beauty. His nerves unshaken and firm. He accompanied my 
 mother and myself down to the beach, and even waded barefoot 
 into the surf while we plunged into old ocean's arms. On our 
 return he sat smilingly watching me as I was arranging on paper 
 some flowers of the sea, repeating two or three times, as he gazed 
 on the delicately colored mosses, Wonderful ! wonderful ! " 
 
 On the 5th, he returned to Andover. The heat of the day was 
 intense, and he was greatly exhausted. After a day or two, being 
 recruited, he went out to take his usual exercise in the garden, 
 when, it is supposed, his fatal illness commenced. Upon return- 
 ing to the house, he was so much distressed that he took medicine, 
 from which he found temporary relief. 
 
 The result of the post-mortem examination proved that the vio- 
 lent exercise he then took caused the lower part of his heart to 
 expand, and rendered the valves useless, so that the blood rushed 
 through it in a tumult. The upper part appeared to have been 
 diseased for years. 
 
 For sevei-al days he was comfortable, though distressed at times 
 for breath, especially at night and upon lying down. Yet he 
 walked out daily, accompanied by my mother, and went as usual 
 to church on Sunday, though I think but a part of the day. 
 
136 
 
 BEMINISOENGES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 He soon, however, grew rapidly worse, and when I went to 
 Andover on the second day of August, I found him in such agony 
 as I can hardly endure to think of. From this time until the day 
 of his death, with one or two exceptions of an hour, he was unable 
 to lie down. For a few days he used ether freelj', which seemed 
 to abate his distress, but which made him " dreamy," as he ex- 
 pressed it. It rendered him also so drowsy, that he dropped to 
 sleep the moment he was relieved, resting his poor, wearied head 
 on our hands as we stood before him. But we were obliged to 
 awaken him, having received orders to do so from his physicians. 
 
 After some days the ether ceased to soothe him, and it required 
 no small degree of fortitude to witness his sufferings. Indeed, 
 there were few who could be calm enough to watch over him and 
 minister to his wants, as we were assured by his physicians that 
 any agitation in those ai'ouud him might cause his instant death. 
 
 Dm-ing all these days and nights of weariness and agony, he 
 never uttered a word of complaint. Twice I heard him pray, 
 " Lord, give me patience and submission to the end." When 
 partially relieved, as he sometimes was for an hour or more, he 
 attended to letters of business connected with the different benevo- 
 lent societies with which he had long been associated, dictating 
 replies of advice or encouragement. He literally died with the 
 harness on, being interested to the last in the great enterprises of 
 the day, and also in the minutest events connected with the family. 
 
SICKNESS AND DEATH. 
 
 137 
 
 He made all the arrangements for his funeral, and gave directions 
 about his private business as if he were going on a journey. I held 
 the paper while he wrote a few lines to "his son-in-law, who was to 
 preach his funeral sermon, expressing his wish that all extravagant 
 eulogy should be avoided. In connection with this wish, he had 
 prepared a simple epitaph to be inscribed on his tombstone, and 
 which was left among the directions in his will. 
 
 On the Sunday before his death, his sufferings, for want of 
 breath, were very acute, and he was also afflicted with a severe 
 pain in his eyes. Sometimes he pressed his hands upon them as if 
 he could scarcely endure the distress ; yet he bore it without a 
 murmur. I had been applying a poultice to see if that would 
 afford him relief, when he said, softly, — 
 
 "Harriette, 1 don't like to have you spend your Sabbath in the 
 care of me ; it takes too much time from your religious duties." 
 
 Jtfst at night, we drew him from the front room into his own 
 chamber and toward the window, where he could see the gorgeous 
 sunset ; and there, at his request, I sang to him a few verses from 
 his favorite hymns, — 
 
 *' Jesus, lover of my soul, 
 Let me to thy bosom fly " ; 
 
 and, 
 
 " Tliino earthly Sabbaths, Lortl, we love, 
 But there 's a nobler rest above." 
 
138 
 
 BEMINISGENCES AND BEGORDS. 
 
 With his eyes most of the time closed, he thus listened to the 
 last song he ever heard until the sound of the anthem of the blessed 
 broke upon his ear. 
 
 When asked, on Wednesday night, Aug. 23, what special re- 
 quest should be made for him in prayer, he replied, "None but 
 the prayer of the publican expresses my wants." 
 
 The next morning he fainted and was laid upon the bed, where, 
 for the first time during his sickness, he remained thi'ough the day. 
 After this he was somewhat relieved in his breathing, though the 
 water was still oozing from every pore of his poor, swollen limbs. 
 
 "You are almost home," said one of those who stood by his bed. 
 
 " Blessed home ! " he softly murmured. 
 
 When asked by another, whether in view of death and eternity 
 there was any change in his views, he responded, feebly, — 
 
 "No change." But presently, looking up with a smile, he 
 added, " Yes, there is a change ; those truths appear to me more 
 truthful, more precious, more weighty than ever." 
 
 At half past seven he suddenly revived, said he felt thhsty and 
 would like some coffee. This beverage, which he had not taken 
 once during his illness, was speedily brought to him. 
 
 " It is good ! " he said, sipping from the cup held to his lips. 
 
 This reviving was, however, only like the flash of a flickering 
 caudle before the light expires. At half past eight, when his 
 sight had gone, he asked, feebly, — 
 
SICKNESS AND DEATH. 
 
 139 
 
 Are you all here?" and with scarcely a struggle, calmly re- 
 signed his soul to God. 
 
 It was my peculiar privilege to be with my father and to hold 
 him by the hand in the hour of his conflict and his victory. My 
 step-mother, my husband, and four step-sons were also kneeling 
 around his bed when he thus fell sweetly asleep in Jesus. 
 
 In closing my imperfect account of my beloved father's life, I 
 cannot do better than to quote the words of one of his pupils. 
 Rev. George W. Blagden, D. D., delivered at the fiftieth anni- 
 versary of the founding of the seminary : — 
 
 " I conceive that amid the many whom we have all knoivn and 
 loved on earth, and whom we hope to see and greet among the 
 redeemed there, who shall meet around the throne, the glorified 
 form of him of whom I have spoken so unworthily shall be beheld 
 by aU of us, near unto the throne ; and as he bows in his humility, 
 as all unworthy of the. blessings bestowed upon him by grace, 
 Jesus the Master shall say, graciously but emphatically, unto him, 
 'Thou shalt walk with me in white, for thou art worthy.'" 
 
140 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND RECORDS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 FUNERAL AND NOTICES. 
 
 During my father's severe illness, bulletius were issued daily, 
 both by the religious and secular press, as to the progress of his 
 disease. After his decease, the afflictive event was noticed in all 
 the principal papers of the country. I shall copy a few of these 
 notices from the abundant material before me, to show in what 
 estimation he was held by all denominations. 
 
 [From the Boston Evening Transcript, Aug. 25, 1854.] 
 "DEATH OF THE VENERABLE DR. WOODS. 
 
 " The Rev. Leonard Woods, D. D., P^meritus Professor of Chris- 
 tion Theology in the Andover Theological Seminary, died at his 
 residence, last evening at half past eight o'clock. From the ad- 
 vanced age and high official position of the deceased, he was prob- 
 ably more widely known thi-oughout the Union than any other 
 American clergyman. The students who have been prepared for 
 the C hristian ministry during the thirty-eight years that Dr. Woods 
 has been connected with the seminary are now scattered in all 
 quarters of the habitable globe. The young, the middle-aged, and 
 
FUNERAL AND NOTICES. 
 
 141 
 
 even the ' fathers ' now in the ministry have received instniction 
 from his lips, and will ever cherish his memory. Dr. Woods was 
 born in Princeton, Mass., June 19, 1774. He was graduated at 
 Harvard College in 1796, in the class with the late Hon. John 
 Pickering and Judge Peter O. Thacher and other eminent men. 
 After a settlement of ten years in Newbury, Mass., he was in- 
 stalled Professor of Theology at Andover, at which place he has 
 since resided. In his last days, and through a painful illness, he 
 was surrounded by troops of friends, and by his beloved children. 
 
 " A correspondent from Andover writes : 'He has been a great 
 sufferer during his sickness, but his pains were borne with Chris- 
 tian resignation. The same Gospel which he has preached and 
 taught during a long life was his solace and support in the time of 
 his extremity.' " 
 
 [From the New York Journal of Commerce.'] 
 
 "We are pained to announce the decease of that venerable 
 Christian patriot, Rev. Leonard Woods, D. D., of Andover, 
 Mass., who for a long period flUed a prominent professorship in 
 the Theological Seminary at that place with eminent ability and 
 usefulness. He died Aug. 24, 1854, of an affection of the heart, 
 to which he had been more or less subject for many j'ears, at the 
 age of fourscore. He completed his eightieth year in the month 
 
142 
 
 BEMimSCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 of June last. Few men have passed off the stage leaving a higher 
 reputation for every virtue and every good work which adorn the 
 Christian character and life. His cheerful benignity in old age, 
 when most men are peevish, made him an agreeable companion 
 even to the young and the gay. 
 
 ' ' Dr. Woods united in his personal character great wisdom and 
 piety with the most childlike and humble simplicity of manners. 
 His heart ovei-flowed with charity, and the words of encourage- 
 ment and acts of love which he bestowed unsparingly upon others 
 were ever accompanied by tears of tenderness which won the heart, 
 and were the means of saving many souls. There were solemn 
 themes to which he never could refer without emotion, and sacred 
 names which would cause his countenance to brighten, his heart to 
 swell, and streams of eloquence to pass from his lips." . . , 
 
 [from the Annual Report of the Massachusetts Home Missionary Society.'] 
 
 " Dr. Leonard Woods was one of the illustrious thirty-nine 
 founders of this society. He put his -name to the constitution 
 fifty-six years ago this evening, and it is not known that he was 
 ever absent from an annual meeting tiU God took him from us on 
 the 24th of last August. It is certain that he presided at every 
 public anniversary since his appointment to that office in 1822. 
 Long has he come to our annual gatherings as the only representa- 
 
FUNEEAL AND NOTICES. 
 
 143 
 
 tive of those honored pioneers in the home-missionai-y work. . . . 
 Yet in our bereavement are we solaced with the thought that the 
 influence of such men does not cease when they * rest from their 
 labors.' " 
 
 [^From the Annual Report of the Massachusetts Colonization Society.] 
 
 "Our thoughts are solemnly drawn to the loss of one of our 
 oldest friends, the Rev. Leonard Woods, D. D. He was one of 
 those who on their own responsibility called the meeting at which 
 this society was formed. He was its oldest vice-president, and for 
 ten years had also been president of the parent society. But his 
 interest in our cause was of much older date. He deeply sympa- 
 thized in those inquiries, consultations, and prayers of his pupils, 
 which, combining with other influences, led to the formation of the 
 parent society. He never, even for a time, deserted the cause he 
 so early loved, and in his will classed it with the cause of missions, 
 of ministerial education, and other favorite objects, by bequeath- 
 ing to each a legacy, as a token of his continued regard. Is it 
 certain that his active participation in our labors has ceased with 
 his mortal life ? Or may we believe that the privilege of promot- 
 ing, by higher and holier methods than we can comprehend, the 
 good works which he loved while on earth is now a part of his 
 exceeding great reward?" 
 
144 
 
 BEMINISGENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 [From the Report of the Southern Aid Society, by Rev. Dr. Stiles.] 
 " We cannot close this report without reflecting that during the 
 year death has summoned to their reward two of the most cher- 
 ished officers of this society. The first is the Rev. Leonard 
 Woods, D. D., of Andover, a vice-president of this institution. 
 A sounder theologian, a simpler Christian, a purer philanthropist 
 he scarcely left behind him. The Southern Aid Society lay near 
 the heart of this great and good man. He loved the South, her 
 bond and her free, and he longed to persuade the North to 
 cherish a spirit of Christian kindness toward our Soutliern 
 brethren. Many, many j-ears ago, he himself projected such a 
 society as this. He hailed the formation of our body, therefore, 
 with great interest and delight. The views of his judgment and 
 the beatings of his heart concerning our enterprise, as recorded in 
 oiar documents, his own considerate hut prayerful donation, espe- 
 cially his hearty wish that he were able to add hundreds and 
 thousands of dollars to our funds, we shall ever cherish as a 
 precious legacy. Those holy feelings, those pra3'erful donations, 
 man may soon forget, God never will ! " 
 
LIST OF PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 145 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 LIST OF PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 " Envy wishes, then believes," oration delivered at Commence- 
 ment in Harvard University, Cambridge, 1796 ; two sermons on 
 " Profane Swearing," delivered on the day of the annual Fast, 
 1799 ; " A Contrast between the Effects of Religion and the Ef- 
 fects of Atheism," oration delivered at Commencement of Harvard 
 University, 1799 ; A discourse on " Sacred Music," delivered be- 
 fore the Essex Musical Association, 1804 ; " A Discourse at the 
 Funeral of Mrs. Thankful Church," 1806 ; "Artillery Election 
 Sermon," 1808 ; " A Sermon at the Ordination of Messrs. Newell, 
 Judson, Hale, and Rice," as missionaries to the East, 1812 ; "A 
 Sermon on the Death of Samuel Abbott, Esq.," 1812 ; " A Sermon 
 before the Massachusetts Missionary Society," 1812 ; " A Sermon 
 at the Ordination of John W. Ellingwood," 1812 ; "A Sermon in 
 Remembrance of Mrs. Harriet Newell," to which were afterwards 
 added memoirs of her life, 1814 ; " A Sermon at the Ordination of 
 Rev. Joel Hawes," 1818 ; "A Sermon at the Funeral of the Rev. 
 Samuel Spring, D. D.," 1819 ; "A Sermon at the Installation of the 
 Rev. Warren Fay," 1820 ; " Letters to Unitarians," 1820 ; "A Reply 
 
146 
 
 BEMINISCENCES AND EECOBDS. 
 
 to Dr. Ware's Letters to Trinitarians and Calvinists," 1821 ; "A Ser- 
 mon at the Ordination of B. B. Wisner," 1821 ; "A Sermon occa- 
 sioned by the Death of the Rev. Samuel Worcester, D. D.," 1821 ; "A 
 Sermon at the Ordination of the Rev. Alva Woods," 1821 ; "A Ser 
 mou at tlie Ordination of Thomas M. Smith," 1822 ; " Remarlis on 
 Dr. Ware's Answer," 1822 ; "Course of Study in Christian Theology 
 in the Theological Seminary," Andover, 1822 ; " A Sermon before 
 the Convention of Congregational I\Iinisters in Massachusetts," 
 1823; "A Lecture on Quotations," 1824; " A Sermon at the 
 Ordination of Benjamin Woodbury," 1821; "A Sermon on the 
 Nature and Influence of Faith," 1826 ; " A Sermon occasioned by 
 the Death of Moses Brown, Esq.," 1827 ; " Lectures on Infant 
 Baptism," 1828 ; " Lectures on the Inspiration of the Scriptures," 
 1829 ; " Fatal Hindrance to Prayer " ; "A Sermon in the Mational 
 Preacher," 1830; " The Province of Reason in Matters of Reli- 
 gion," a sermon preached in Murray Street, New York, 1830 ; 
 "Letters to the Rev. Nathaniel W, Taylor, D. D.," 1830; "A 
 Sermon at the Installation of the Rev. Nathaniel Hewett, D. D.," 
 1830 ; "A Sermon at the Installation of the Rev. T. M. Smith," 
 1831 ; " A Sermon on the Death of Jeremiah Evarts, Esq.," 1831 ; 
 " A Sermon before the American Board of Foreign Missions," 
 1831 ; " A Sermon at the Ordination of Leonard Woods, Jr.," 
 1833; "A Sermon at the Funeral of the Rev. Ebenezer Porter, 
 D. D.," 1834 ; "A Sermon on the Death of Lyman Monson and 
 
LIST OF PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 147 
 
 Others," 1835 ; " Prize Essay on Native Depravity," 1835 ; " A 
 Sermon at the Ordination of Daniel Bates Woods," 1839; "A 
 Sermon at the Funeral of Dr. JohuH. Church, D. D.," 1840 ; ' An 
 Examination of the Doctrine of Perfection, as held by the Rev. 
 Asa Mahan and Others," 1841; "Reply to Mr. Mahan on the 
 Doctrine of Perfection," 1841 ; " Lectures on Church Government, 
 containing Objections to the Episcopal Scheme," 1843 ; "Lectures 
 on Swedenborgianism," 1846 ; " A Sermon at the Funeral of Mrs. 
 Phebe Fatrar," 1848 ; " Theology of the Puritans," 1851. 
 
 Besides the above, Dr. Woods wrote several tracts for the 
 Doctrinal Tract Society, and was a liberal contributor to some of 
 the most prominent religious periodicals of his day. Several of 
 these ai-ticles may be reckoned among the ablest and most elabo- 
 rate of all his productions. Many of these, together with a consid- 
 erable number of sermons preached in the chapel of the Theological 
 Seminary, at Andover, and never before published, are included in 
 his works referred to below. He wrote, also, the sketches of Dr. 
 Backus, of Somers, Conn., and of Dr. Church, of Pelham, N. H., 
 for Sprague's "Annals of Trinitarian Congregationalists." 
 
 In 1846 he retired from his professorship, and from that time 
 was eugaged for several years in preparing for the press his theo- 
 logical lectures and a portion of his miscellaneous writings. These 
 were published in five volumes, octavo, in 1849 and 1850, and 
 have gained a wide circulation and great popularity. During the 
 
148 
 
 REMimSCENCES AND BECOBDS. 
 
 last four years of Lis life, he was occupied in writing the History 
 of the Theological Seminary, with which he had been so long con- 
 nected. It was left in an unfinished state, to be completed by his 
 son. — Spracjue's Annals of Trinitarian Congregationalists.