inferred from his discipline in the old homestead at Plymouth, he was more successful in the exact sciences than in the belle-lettres. At his graduation he received the valedictory honors, not so much on account of a scintillating fancy, or a profound logic, as on account of his punctilious observance of college rules, his patient, uniform, exemplary diligence, his completeness of mental and moral development. One of his classmates and roommates at college was Reuben Tinker, the devoted missionary to the Sandwich Islands. Another was Rev. William P. Paine, D.D., of Holden, Mass., who thus writes concerning his long tried friend: "He was exceedingly methodical and minute in all plans and details, and he then [at college] foreshadowed what he has since exhibited, a remarkable skill in historical and statistical investigations. He was made the class secretary, and continued to hold this office until his death."

HIS SEMINARY LIFE AT ANDOVER.

A few weeks after his graduation at Amherst, in 1827, he entered the Andover Theological Seminary. Although he first joined the class of 1827-30, he remained in it only a twelvemonth, and having devoted the year 1828-9 to his old employment of teaching, he returned to the seminary, and spent his last two years there in the class of 1828-31. During these years he wrote some of his most elaborate essays. One of them, delivered before the Society of Inquiry, on "the Missionary Spirit of the Pilgrims," is noticeable as pre-intimating his future course. In the seminary, as in the college, he aimed at a various culture of his powers, and, with this intent, he labored more than his classmates were aware, in the criticism of the English poets. He prepared for the Rhetorical Society a most carefully studied paper, of fourteen quarto pages, on the literary "Remains of Rev. Charles Wolf." So frugal was he of his time that, during one summer, when

he had made an agreement to go through the practical exercises of elocution with the writer of this sketch, he could find no hour for the task, except in the early morning, between half after four and half after five. At that dewy hour we walked into " Colton's Woods," or over the “Indian Ridge," and made such" explosive utterances as encouraged Dr. Porter. Indeed, there were few men in whom Dr. Porter felt such complacency, as in Mr. Clark. Method, symmetry and early rising were the delight of teacher and pupil. The time-saving habits of Mr. Clark never left him. While a secretary of our Charitable Associations, he remembered his seminary habits, and often rose at four o'clock in the morning, to pursue his allotted labors. Dr. John J. Owen, the commentator, was one of Mr. Clark's Andover classmates, and writes: He was uniformly "genial and modest,—open to conviction, and ready to give up his own opinion, when it was shown to be errone-His influence in the Seminary was very great. If any measure was to be carried, it was deemed highly important to obtain for it his countenance and support."

ous.

The journals and letters of Mr. Clark indicate his filial and abiding interest in the Andover Seminary. While busily occupied as an instructor, he kept a list of subjects for which he was to pray, morning and evening: "Saturday Morning; Humility, and to do good in my calling. Evening; my sister Sarah, and the Theological Seminary, Andover." When at a great distance from Massachusetts, in the Middle, or in the Western States, he would write: "I must hasten home in order to be present at the Amherst and Andover anniversaries." He was the Secretary of the Society of the Andover Alumni, from the death of Prof. Edwards, in 1852, until his own decease. For nine years he prepared, with toil and skill, the annual necrology of the Andover graduates, and his public recital of it was esteemed one of the most valuable

exercises of the anniversary week. When he died, it was a common remark, that scarcely another man had filled, by his various labors, so many niches in the community, and that it was difficult to find a substitute for him in even so humble a duty as that of preparing the obituary notices of our deceased alumni, or of rectifying our Triennial Catalogues.

HIS RELIGIOUS HISTORY.

Not so much in his literary as in his religious life, did our friend exhibit his foresight, caution, and honest Puritanism. When he was four years old, Rev. Seth Stetson was ordained pastor of the Church in South Plymouth; and fourteen years afterward, in 1818, Mr. Stetson became an avowed Unitarian. Then, the Orthodox part of the Society withdrew from his ministrations. The father of Dr. Clark was liberal in his tendencies, and remained with Mr. Stetson. The mother, "for the sake of peace," went with her husband to the old meeting-house, where her favorite doctrines were disowned. The children, at that time, sympathized with the father; and Joseph, especially, was a good Unitarian." When, in 1819, he expressed his hope that he had been regenerated, he was carefully examined by the minister of the Orthodox Church, then recently formed in the parish; but young convert could not, even at that time, believe in the divinity of Christ. At what period of his life he did accept this doctrine, is not now precisely known. He did not connect himself with the Church until June 9, 1822. His narrative of his early religious thoughts was written in October, 1825; and it is invested with a peculiar interest by the above named facts, which, however, it does not even mention. The following

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ing thus given me to the Lord in baptism, my pious mother was not unmindful of her obligation to train me up in the fear of God. She endeavored to teach me the duty of prayer. As I advanced in years, I made it an invariable custom to offer up my prayers to God on each night before closing my eyes to sleep, though with such indifference that I not unfrequently dropped to sleep while engaged in this solemn exercise. This practice I continued till about the age of twelve, when I abandoned it entirely, under the impression that it was an abomination thus to attempt prayer."

During the subsequent years of his childhood, our friend was frequently agitated with fear in regard to his future welfare. He writes:

"I have fresh in my mind the state of my feelings at school one winter, when there was some excitement among my school-mates. Our pious instructor warned us to "flee from the wrath to come," and choose the good part while we had it in our power to choose. With an uncommon degree of excitement, I went to a solitary room one day, to ponder upon what my instructor had been telling me at school. He had been enforcing the duty of repentance, and pointing out the causes of alarm to us. I

thought intently upon my ways, until I found that I was in a sad condition indeed; but just at that instant the thought occurred to my mind that, by being alarmed, I was obeying the injunctions of my teacher, and was thus in a fair way to obtain religion. No sooner had this reflection entered my mind, than all my anxiety fled, and with it all thoughts about getting religion."

"One day while bathing in company with two of my companions, it was proposed to swim to a small island at a little distance from the shore. The proposal was no sooner made than agreed to; though I, being the least skilled in swimming of the three, felt some fears of failing in the attempt. Ashamed of being outdone, I set out with the rest; but when about half way over to the island, I began to sink. Never shall I forget the horrors which filled my mind when I found myself sinking. I expected in a moment to open my eyes in hell, which I considered my inevitable doom. But by the unusual courage of one of my companions, who hastened to my succor and caught my arm when going down, I was borne up and succeeded in getting to shore. Shocked at this event, I began to reflect upon my ways, and found myself utterly unprepared

for death. . . . That night I attemped to pray; but no sooner were my eyes closed for this purpose, than awful fears terrified my mind, lest when I opened them I should behold Satan standing by to resist me. This terror accompanied every attempt, and I abandoned the practice for no other reason. From this time to the nineteenth year of my age, I continued sinking deeper and deeper in sin, without experiencing anything uncommon."

In the summer of 1819, there was an unusual religious excitement in South Plymouth. It was attended with some physical developments, like those of the recent revival in Ireland. Several of Joseph's young friends participated in the scene. He attended one of the meetings. Disgusted with what I saw," he writes, "I sat in pain all the evening. I beheld with madness many of my companions weeping and lamenting." But his sympathetic heart induced him at length to mingle with his friends in their anxieties. He says:

"I began to pray for the remission of my sins, and expected soon to pass that sudden and enrapturing change which I saw wrought in others. One meeting and another passed, one day and another fled, in which one and another of my comrades were taken, but still I was left. Now, hard thoughts of God rushed into my heart, and I could see no justice in his dealings. But I soon found that my burden was not so much occasioned by sorrow for sin, as fear of punishment. Then did I try to work myself into the frame of a true penitent, but found sin and selfishness at the bottom of all I did. I saw that I was a helpless sinner, and could do nothing myself. I could contemplate God only as a Being of inflexible justice, and myself as an object of his awful vengeance. The time at length arrived, when I resolved to abandon all further efforts of my own, and repair, I trust, empty handed to the Saviour. Much I had heard of the unbounded mercy of God, and his compassion for the chief of sinners; and as the last resort, I determined to throw myself upon his mercy, and if I must perish, to perish there. Accordingly I retired to a solitary room, with my Bible, to make the surrender. With an overflowing heart, and feelings which I could no longer suppress, I fell on my knees, before God, and poured out my complaint to him. Before I arose, I resigned myself, sincerely, I since think, to the

Lord, and besought him to compel me into submission. I felt somewhat different, especially when I opened the Psalm Book, and accidentally cast my eyes on the 130th Psalm. I looked out from my window, and all nature seemed to wear a new aspect. Still, I knew not to what cause to attribute the change; and I began to fear that my convictions were forsaking me. I pondered upon the state of my feelings, and the character of God, and found a peace within, and thought I saw a glory in the character of God which I had never before seen. Gradually the light of the glory and excellency of God shone into my soul, and I felt, whatever the Lord might do with me, I lence to others. But soon my serene sky was would then praise him and speak of his excelovercast with clouds, and doubts arose in my mind as to the sincerity of my soul. These have been dissipated at times, and again returned, from that day to this. Since the time when I vowed to be the Lord's, I have daily done enough to provoke his vengeance and exhaust his forbearance; yet still I hope, and, trembling as is that hope, it affords comfort,

and should not be abandoned for ten thousand worlds beside."

No sooner had this Puritan disciple entered on his Christian life, than he turned his natural thoughtfulness into a strict watchfulness over the flow of his feelings. He was fond of "Edwards on the Affections," and was confirmed by it in his habit of scrutinizing his most hidden motives. Throughout his course at Amherst, he was jealous over himself, lest his interest in the classics, or in science, should withdraw his aflections from the Bible

and from prayer. "My own heart is my most potent foe, and the closet should be the principal scene of action" for me: "Dear Lord, if indeed I am thine, make thy Sabbaths a greater delight to my soul, and help me to worship thee without distraction":- such were the habitual breathings of his spirit during his residence at Amherst. And while at Andover he wrote bitter things against himself: "I have felt for some days strong conflicts between sin and holiness. When I look within, I seem to see nothing but mutiny, sedition, rebellion. And what is worse, this war is waged at a time when I am

unguarded, ungarrisoned, unarmed. How strangely have I departed from duty, and forgotten my God. I might have known that the enemy would seize the opportunity to assault my soul. Captain of my salvation to thee I look;-On thee I call;-Grant me deliverance."

His earliest writings at Andover are characterized by a zeal for the conversion of the world, and are apt illustrations of his general spirit:

"April 14, 1828. I have everything necessary for making me happy," he writes to his home; "good health, good friends, a good chum, and business enough. My room-mate, W. G. Schauffler, is a German by birth, but has spent most of his days in Odessa, (South Russia,) and came to this country some fifteen months ago. He talks five different languages with fluency, and reads eight or nine-a good

scholar and a devoted Christian. What time I can gain from my regular lessons I devote to the study of French with him."

"I am at times half persuaded that, if God spares my life to complete my studies, it will be my duty to become a missionary to the heathen. I have, for some years, thought of the thing; but as the time is drawing nigh, in which I must decide the great question, and act accordingly, my mind has been led to contemplate that last request of our blessed Saviour: 'Go ye into all the world,' &c., as a request which intimately concerns me, as well as every other professing Christian. As I should not wish to determine such a question without consulting the feelings of those to whom I owe so much affection and regard as to my father's family, I intended to state my own feelings, and some circumstances which led to them, and to request a disclosure of their views on the subject."

June 4. Found four letters in the Post Office. I knew one to be from my father, which I opened and read. It contained his reasons for not giving his consent to my inquiry: Are you willing that I should become a foreign missionary?' His last reason was, the agony of bidding me a last farewell, to see me no more on earth. I then broke the seal of the next, and behold, the tidings of my father's dangerous illness!"

"June 5th. This morning took the stage at four o'clock for home, with trembling apprehensions that I should not arrive in time to see my father alive. Did not reach home till after sunset, and had the painful lot to realize

my apprehensions. My father was a corpse. He departed this life about past 12, P. M. Oh! the solemnity of the occasion! It was the first instance of mortality which had occurred in the family. All my brothers and sisters had assembled. I was the last. While standing by the death bed, and gazing on the cold remains of a beloved father, I felt a full conviction that this was the doing of God, who does all things well, and I was composed. Just and true are thy ways, thou King of Saints.' Who shall not fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy name!' 'So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.''

It must not be supposed that his mind expatiated on prospects of distant and future beneficence, while he failed to do good near his own door, and at the passing hour. The following is one characteristic description of his every day toil :

"Andover Theol. Sem., Nov. 1829. It was my privilege, a short time since, to spend a few weeks of vacation among my friends in the town of Plymouth. Having been for several years engaged in Sabbath School instruction, and feeling a lively interest in the object, I began to cast about me to see if anything could be done to further the cause in that place.. There is in the town a pond of considerable dimensions, situated about three miles from the place of my residence at this time, on the borders of a large forest. On the further side of this pond is a cleared spot of land, occupied exclusively by a few families of blacks. They are the feeble remnant of an Indian tribe who lived there when the town was settled, and this small tract of land was reserved for their use. . . . Having been excluded, or rather, having excluded themselves from all kinds of instruction, vice found a shelter among them, especially that of intemperance. The silence of midnight was frequently disturbed by their nocturnal carousings. Very little had ever been attempted among them by way of moral and religious instruction; for they never came to the house of God on the Sabbath, and only three or four of their number could read, if any one gave them religious books.

...

"With a number of suitable tracts in my hat, I went to this spot, one day, to see if nothing could be done to rescue the children, at least, from vice and ignorance. No measure seemed to promise so much hope of success as the establishment of a Sabbath School among