Reminiscences of the life and labor of A.D. Gillette, D.D.
BX6495 .G55R4 m- fc W *• S/ •« V adft SI I 8>%\** ■ ^/'-•-•'V*' %/^w?v* *<k'&**\& fr %«** •*»»• \/ •«: W A % 4 -<-v <K. V ** 4T% »°V K^ 0* '"* *" +* *'• *W .H<»* <& „<£ Lib REMINISCENCES h OF THE LIFE AND LABOR OF J J A. D; GILLETTE, D.D. BY HIS FRIENDS AND ASSOCIATES, Hon. HORATIO GATES JONES, LL.D., THOMAS ARMITAGE, D.D.. R. S. Mac ARTHUR, D.D., GEORGE W. SAMSON, D.D. NEW YORK: WARD & DRUMMOND, PUBLISHERS, 116 NASSAU STREET. 1883. COPYRIGHT SECURED, 1883, BY DANIEL GANO GILLETTE. <$*.«< tt\ - , • THE COMPILER TO THE READER. Sometimes a remark seemingly casual, drop- ped by a man of deep thought and wide experi- ence, reveals the real conviction of men envied as the favorites of fortune. A profound writer of ancient times, a monarch at once the wisest, the wealthiest, and the greatest who has left his own record of his personal experience, wrote, when at the acme of his power, these words : " He that winneth souls is wise." In the fascinating poem of his youth which pictured a dream of domestic bliss never realized because his position robbed him of it, in the instructive teachings of his manhood whose practical direction the lure of his very fortune betrayed him into violating, and yet more in the pensive review of a long life as the rarest favorite of fortune — every- where in his youthful, manhood and aged records the same sad disappointment speaks out. Wis- dom, wealth, position, all " is vanity," yes, 4 MEMORIAL. " vanity of vanities/' even more, added " vexa- tion of spirit." The only relief to him whose books had taxed weary students, whose com- merce had exposed thousands to hardship, and whose imperial rule had laid a heavy burden on the poor whom he ought to have relieved, the only relief of the aged monarch was, that, per- chance in some act of kindly sympathy he had won a soul. There are men of genius and culture, of gen- erous and grand aspirations, who from child- hood through youth and manhood, have no other object in life than to win souls. They meet merchant-princes, statesmen and scholars, as peers ; and the pure, true mission of the Gospel herald, appreciated by such men, causes their own superficial life and influence to dwindle and pale in the comparison. They see crowds gather indeed about the coffin of the sons of fortune, but with eyes that speak no affection ; while about the grave of the preacher that won and the pastor that led them, the weeping crowds of sincere mourners cluster, till the new laid sod is watered as by a shower with falling tears. THE PASTOR'S HIGH MISSION. 5 The son of fortune, the merchant-prince, the statesman, the man of culture, seldom finds a biographer ; and New York is in this respect a monument of wonder. But the true, the hon- ored, the loved pastor, has something in his character, his life, his labor, the world wishes to remember. Not too many such find grateful biographers. One poem in a century may be wrought out which the world will "not will- ingly let die." The life of every true pastor is a poem that combines Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. The story may be simple ; but he who is drawn to read the reminiscen- ces of the friends of Dr. A. D. Gillette, will find many a page to rivet his interest. Every record from the first is drawn from or supple- mented by his own autobiographic journal. The picture of his origin, his early life, his student- years, and his entrance on his work of winning souls sketched by his son who withholds his name, the appreciative record of his Philadel- phia labors penned by one who viewed him as the envied sharer of a higher walk, the token of esteem from his New York successor in the MEMORIAL. pastoral office, the testimony as to his varied work of love by an associate in the same field, and perhaps the fond tribute of a loved intimate in all his pastorates, in Philadelphia, New York and Washington, till his work was all and so well done — it maybe each record, like each writer, will bring some added charm to the narrative. All certainly will wish with Dr. Wilkinson to bring one flower at least to deck his coffin as they read the closing record of a life so admired. I. YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD, AS TRACED FROM HIS DIARY. FAMILY HISTORY. " I HAVE fancied myself retiring from my never-ending duty as a clergyman, owning and cultivating the seven acres of my father's plot, building on it a cottage, growing a garden, put- ting out trees and shrubbery, living quietly there, gathering my dead friends there for sep- ulture, and finally lying down there in the dust myself." " There is bliss in tears, music in a groan, beauty in pensive grief, all of which I have ex- perienced and proved upon the spot where I was born ; yet others could not understand me." Thus, in 1867, wrote Dr. Gillette of his child- 3 MEMORIAL. hood home. It was only a fancy, the veriest dream ; for death touched him at his " never-end- ing duty," and he lies in the great "city of the silent," where all through the days and nights of his sleeping, the stir and crash of a mighty metropolis break the stillness of every hour; and he has " lain down in the dust," far indeed from his cherished lakes and hills, but by the side of hundreds to whose death-bed he brought the peace of the Master, and at whose open graves he proclaimed the hope of the life to come. The home acres so tenderly remembered were indeed beautifully situated in the town of Jack- son, Washington County, New York, originally known as Cambridge, a district famous for its scenery. A chain of five miniature lakes shut in by high hills, thickly wooded by a virgin growth of oak, pine, and wild vines, stretched for several miles through a lovely vale. Midway of a plateau separating the two most easterly waters,, stood the humble home ; while over the farthest lake the valley reached away till the converging DR. GILLETTE S ANCESTRY. 9 lines of living green were lost in the broken hills beyond. Amid these scenes the subject of this memoir was born, September 8, 1807. He was the eighth child, and third son, born to Dr. Fidelio Buckingham Gillette, and Tabitha Dunham his wife ; who had emigrated to the Jackson Lakes from New Jersey in 1793, following the trail of pioneers from the same State who had settled in the region shortly after the American Revolu- tion. The ancestors of Dr. Fidelio and his wife be- longed to the early history of the country. Among the proscribed during the last -expulsion of the Huguenots in 1688, was Guillaume Gil- lette, from Rochelle in France ; who, to the pro- fession of medicine, added that of clergyman. He had been allowed to remain in France on condition that he should suspend the exercise of his spiritual functions. The condition imposed seemed to have been more unendurable than exile, and following his devoted people he came to America and settled in Connecticut. A bachelor, he remained un- MEMORIAL. married until quite late in life, when in 1722 he espoused Elizabeth, daughter of John Welsh. He had then become Americanized, and ap- pears in the town records of Milford, as Doctor William Gillette. He lies buried in Lyme, Conn., where he died at the age of ninety years. To him were born three children. The young- est, Elisha, became a clergyman and married Lucy, the daughter of Governor Bucking- ham, of Connecticut. Of Elisha's two children Fidelio Buckingham, born in 1 761, was the younger, and became the father of the subject of our Memoir.' He was educated at Columbia College, New York, studied medicine under Dr. Littlefield, and began the practice of his profes- sion in Piscataway, New Jersey, from whence he migrated to Cambridge, as has been already noticed. The wife Tabitha, whom he brought with him, then not eighteen years of age al- though the mother of two children, was the daughter of Jonathan Dunham and Eunice Dunn. Through her paternal line she could count three generations of clergymen until she reached the Plymouth Colony, and through HIS EARLY HOME. II her mother's line she traced her ancestry to the same Puritan source. Certainly, if a good name is more to be desir- ed than riches, Dr. Gillette was blessed ; and it will be interesting to note throughout his career, how much of personal dignity, religious feeling, patriotism, courage and refinement came to him through this long line of strong men and worthy women. It is equally certain that beyond the possibil- ities of equal worth he inherited nothing, for when his father Dr. Fidelio came to Cambridge, his household and household goods came in one lone wagon, while the dollars were few with which to found a house. The prospect of riches even did not exist. The families a physician's ministrations might reach in those days were few and widely scattered. Poor as himself they could pay but little, and that mostly in produce. Fortunately, poverty was respectable, and life began with Abram Dunn Gillette as it begins in the primitive settlements amid the democracies of pioneer labor, out of which so many strong hearts and mighty help- ers of the world have sprung. II. HIS BQYHOOD AND EARLY EDUCATION The house in which the subject of this sketch was born was, as will be inferred, of the most primitive description — a small two story frame structure with dormer windows, and a low broad piazza facing toward the south. About it were grouped apple, cherry, plum, and mulberry trees, together with a variety of shrubbery ; and, as a distinguishing feature, twelve tall Lorn- bardy poplars stood like sentinels along the line of the road which wound gracefully across the plateau in front of this picturesque home. In 1807, the year of Dr. Gillette's birth, the district had assumed considerable life. The road traversing the region was a State road and much traveled, so that the early settlers had been reinforced by others as well as by the gen- eration that had grown up since the first pio- neers from New Jersey had carved their homes out of the rugged hills. A district school had been found necessary, had been established, and HIS BOY LIFE. 1 3 was flourishing. The monotone of recitations, and the descent of the indignant birch upon the culprit's back, were familiar sounds to young Abram long before he himself became one of the pupils, as the school-house was but a short distance from his father's door. Besides his two sisters and three brothers he had no end of comrades, although the almost constant companion in his boyhood seems to have been Master David Ackly, born just one hour earlier than himself, and in the next house, circumstances which helped to make the lads fonder. The details of a boy's life are of little moment to the great hurrying world, except as they interest us in the study of character and mark the career of one who has left the impress of his life upon an ever widening circle, and in such events as will be noted in the early youth of Dr. Gillette will be found nothing complex or startling, yet in them were the springs of a sturdy faith, a tireless industry, a manliness, and a gentle spirit withal which have made his memory to those who knew him full of sweet- ness and cheer. The record of the boyish occupations of the 14 MEMORIAL. lads of Jackson reads like the story of boy life among the Indians. Bare-headed and barefoot- ed from choice, they were quite as careless and free as the red men whom their fathers had succeeded. The lakes lying so thickly about their homes abounded in fish, turtles, and reptiles, while the hills were alive with game. Until a lad was old enough to labor in the fields, his days were marked by some unusual exploit, a wreck or a rescue, an enormous fish, turtle, or black-snake, or a back-load of squirrels brought home as trophies of the day's adventures. The tall white pines on the hill-sides were festooned to their very tops with wild grapevines, and on these the children climbed and swung like monkeys. To such exercises in the boy we can attribute very much of the man — the strong nerves, the broad deep chest, the erect carriage, and the brisk, cheery enjoyment of existence which distinguished Dr. Gillette through a long and wholesome life. A great event in a boy's history .occurred to young Abram soon after the battle of Pitts- burgh and Lake Champlain. His brother, Phi- BOYISH MILITARY FAME. 1 5 lander, had joined the American army at the breaking out of the war of 1 81 2, and served upon the staff of Brigadier-General Clark Rice. On the way from Whitehall to their rendezvous at Greenbush, opposite Albany, the American troops that had been engaged at Plattsburgh marched with their British prisoners along the State road and halted in front of Dr. Gillette's door, there to part with a number of their com- rades who had enlisted from that district. Young Abram, with a flaunting feather in his cap, rushed in among the prisoners and soldiers ; when an officer playfully caught him up and thrust his head and shoulders into the mouth-of a field-piece, but, on drawing him out again, the hat and feather remained in the gun. The lad, thinking more of his cap and feather than of his head, defiantly demanded the return of his belongings. The officer reached in the gun with his sabre and securing the hat clapped it on the little white head, with the remark, " You're a little General, and a plucky one too." The title of " Little General " he long wore after that, and it helped not a little to his self-impor- i6 MEMORIAL. tance. That night his father took him to the encampment, where Commodore McDonough, the hero of Lake Champlain, placed him on his knee, and patting his head said, " Why, my son, your head is whiter than my own." Such honors were precious to the child, and even to the man were pleasant to remember. In March, 1813, circumstances occurred which changed the tide in his affairs. During the temporary absence of his parents the home, reared with so much patient toil, was utterly consumed by fire. Abram, with his brother Walter and his sister Abigail, were playing in the orchard when suddenly flames burst out around the chimney. Boy-like, and with a de- sire to save some of the treasures dear to his young heart, he rushed to the door and forcing it open was about to enter, when the added draught of the open door wrapped him in fire and he fell fainting in the doorway. Fortun- ately his brother Walter was closely following him, and seeing him fall, dragged him by the feet out of the house, not, however, until his hair had been nearly burned from his head. THE HOME IN ASHES. 1 7 Reviving in the open air, he "took his little sister on his back and carried her to his grandfather Dunham's, while Walter ran on ahead to alarm the neighbors. But assistance came all too late, and in a few minutes nothing remained of the house or its contents but the old iron mortar in which his father ground his medicines. A home, a useful and by no means insignificant professional library for the times, instruments, medicines, and the countless belongings, gath- ered during twenty years of patient professional labor, had, in less than half an hour, mingled with the elements, and life stared the settlers in the face again as it had a score of years before. To add to the distress, Cornelia, the eldest daughter, a beautiful girl of twenty, sickened, and in nine days thereafter they buried her on the very day she was to have been married. Houseless and heart-broken, it had been too much had not the neighbors opened their homes to the stricken ones. In the general helpfulness Abram came in for a new suit of blue clothes with bell buttons, giv- en him by Judge Wendels of Cambridge, while, a 1 8 MEMORIAL, nearer neighbor, Jifdge McLean, donated an old beaver hat to complete the outfit. A home he found and other comforts, so that he confesses to some regret when orders came, late in the sum- mer, to move into the new house which had been erected near the site of the old homestead. But the father's hands were palsied. He had been obliged to sell his horses in order to help build his house, and this narrowed his practice to such patients as he could visit on foot. The loss of his books and instruments further re- stricted his usefulness, while the death of his favorite daughter took the courage out of his heart. It therefore became necessary that such of the children as could earn their living should do so ; and so, when the struggle became too hard, the home circle was broken never again to be united. The brothers, Philander and Walter, went to their friends in New Jersey, while Abram, then nine years of age, entered the home and service of his grandfather Jon- athan Dunham. Here he did the chores of house and farm with very little respite, chop- ping wood, driving cattle to and from pasture, HIS FATHERS DEATH. ig milking, and in the summer and fall working in the field ; confident, as he afterward delighted to say, that he earned all he ate and wore — his only compensation. From his grand-father Dunham's he went to a similar field of duty at his Uncle Abram Dunham's farm at Bat- tenville, three miles west of his former home. With this uncle he spent two years, tending three hundred sheep and many cattle, cutting wood for two fires, and, as at his grandfather's, earning only his board and clothing. In November, 1818, while at his uncle's, word came that his father had died under circumstan- ces most distressing. He had gone out in the night to visit an invalid neighbor, and was found in the morning within sound of home, dead by the road-side. There were no signs of violence, but every indication that death had come after prolonged agony of mind and body. It was no common bereavement to the boy, as no lad ever had a kinder or more loving father. In the following April, after alternating in service between the farms of his grandfather and his uncle, Abram packed his bundle, bade 20 MEMORIAL. adieu to his home, and with but fourteen cents in his pocket, trudged through the rain to the village of Hartford — where he entered the ser- vice of Major Calvin Jillson, a tanner by trade. Mrs. Jillson had buried two children and was ever after childless. Nothing could exceed the tender, loving care of this lady, and the orphan lad found at last a home. Although but four- teen years of age, he was installed in a responsi- ble position, yet not under pay. Such education as he had been able to acquire was gotten in a desultory sort of way at the district school, when his farm duties permitted him to attend, but beyond the merest rudi- ments of knowledge he knew little of books, or methods- of study. He however made the little, of use to his employer, so that he was lifted from the drudgery of farm and house labor to a desk where he kept accounts, attend- ed to sales, receipts and purchases, and handled the cash of the concern. As an evidence of the confidence reposed in him, Mr. Jillson sent him at one time fifteen miles in a cutter alone with $2,000 in silver, the first payment on a HIS ORPHAN TRAINING. 21 real estate transaction. When the payee count- ed the money it was found to be twenty-five cents in excess of the expected sum, which ex- cess he was proud to return to Mr. Jillson. His life at Hartford gave him excellent social opportunities, as Major Jillson was both a mili- tary man and a politician, entertaining largely. To every privilege of the home Abram was admitted as freely in all respects as though he were a son. More than all to him was the opportunity for reading which his evenings af- forded, and the advantages of the school taught by Major Daniel Brown, an old friend of bis father's, who took a special interest in his stud- ies. So rapid was his progress and so well known had he become in the community, that Governor Pittcher offered him an appointment at West Point ; which, however, after many objec- tions on his mother's part, he declined. When in his sixteenth year, the desire for an education took full possession of him. It was useless, he thought, to study in a half-hearted way, dividing his time between business and books, with his duty to his benefactor para- 22 MEMORIAL. mount, and as far as he could look ahead he saw no further progress toward his cherished ideal so long as he remained in Hartford. Already he had determined upon his profes- sion, although as yet there had .been no special awakening of religious feeling within him. A preparation for that work was imperative, and the need was no sooner appreciated than the determination came to accomplish it. He planned a secret flight to the home of his uncle, Daniel Gano Gillette, at Patchogue, Long Island, who had arrived at honors and wealth, and who had written to have him make his home with him upon learning of the death of his father. The lad, 'on counting his savings, found the goodly sum of six dollars. More deliberate and solemn preparations for a flight were never made. By working odd hours in the evening, he manufactured a leather satchel in which he carefully packed his extra clothing — not forget- ting a loaf of bread, some butter, and a piece of dried beef. An invitation to an entertainment at South Hartford afforded the long-looked for HIS STUDENT ADVENTURE. 23 occasion to steal away under cover of the night. Ke lingered behind the rest of the party, arriv- ing some half hour later. Concealing his satchel in the barn adjoining the hotel in which the company had assembled, he entered the hall and engaged in the dance, actually leading out for that purpose no less a personage than his kind friend Mrs. Jillson, whose loving heart he was about to wound. During the evening he called his three particular friends, Robert Hyde, De Witt Clinton Austin and William Porter, out into the air, and showing them his satchel, con- fided the purpose of his heart. A long consul- tation in the moonlight ended in the verdict that nothing could be more noble and self-sacri- ficing; and after an interchange of gifts and kisses, the council adjourned with pledges of secrecy until the fugitive should be heard from by letter. Seven miles that night brought him to Argyle, where he slept with the son of the tavern-keeper, resuming his journey" at sunrise. All day he trudged over icy, frozen roads, till night again overtook him at Schaticoke Point. At noon 24 MEMORIAL. of the following day he arrived at Lansingburg, where he met a quondam acquaintance, one Prindle, a tavern-keeper, who offered him the position of bar-keeper. The proposition, al- though politely declined, started a train of thought which became more vivid and intense as the march to the southward drew on. He crossed the Hudson on the ice to Troy, and thence to Albany. At the village of Wa- terford where night overtook him, he began seriously to reflect, that he had never seen his uncle Daniel, that Long Island was chiefly in- habited by sailors and fishermen, and probably as barren of educational advantages as Hartford. In his eagerness he had not thought of that, while his first opportunity for employment since leaving his friends had been a kindly-meant offer to peddle rum. He resolved to return to Hart- ford and ask his friends the Jillsons for freedom to study, so that he might fit himself for teach- ing. At sunrise he began his march homeward and at eleven o'clock the same night he stole into his old home and into his bed, tired, foot- sore, and repentant — a march of fifty-three miles HIS ADVENTURE WITH LAFAYETTE. 2$ in sixteen hours. He was awakened in the morning by the kisses of Mrs. Jillson, to whom he related the cause .of his flight and his return. There were no reproaches in that dear home, nothing but love, that saw the anxious heart of the boy and the dear wish that lay so near to it. There was less charity in the village, however, where his flight had created not a little excite- ment ; and it was months before he ceased to be consulted about the scenery and products of Long Island. In 1825, and while living at Hartford, young Gillette was not a little honored, although in a chance way. He had for two years and more belonged to a militia organization, and during the visit of General Lafayette to this country in that year, he was detailed as one of twenty-four, each representing a State of the Union, whose duty should be to act as a body-guard to the nobleman who had given so much to liberty. Abram was representing his State in the brave attire of the rifle company of which he was a mem- ber. The horse of Major Gibbs, the Marshal of the occasion on the reception of Lafayette, became 26 MEMORIAL. unmanageable, dashing into and confusing the line of the body-guard. In the struggle to keep his feet young Gillette swung suddenly about, bringing his rifle with a pretty forceful blow against the hero of the hour. Hat in hand he rushed to the General's side with profuse apolo- gies. Lafayette, laying his hand on the young man's bare head, said in broken but very dis- tinct English, " God bless you, my son. May you never do more harm than you have done." It was an honor he did not soon forget. Shortly after the return of the fugitive, the Jillsons removed to West Granville, and took their protege with them. It was an advanta- geous change for the ambitious youth in many ways. In Granville was a flourishing academy, presided over by Salem Towne, LL.D., a man of learning and an experienced instructor. Under his influence literary societies were formed com- posed of both young men and old, of which Abram became an active member. A circula- ting library also existed, from which the young student obtained the most ponderous of vol- umes, Robertson's History of the United HIS ADVANCED SCHOOL-LIFE. 27 States, and devoured it from preface to colon. He was still the clerk of Major Jillson, and still without wages. His longing eyes were fixed on the academy the while he plodded on in un- remunerative toil. The literary and debating societies gave him a chance to be heard, so that he soon became an important member, well known for his facility in speaking. Although a tanner's clerk he numbered among his friends the very best of the people, and enjoyed the dis- tinction of membership in the advanced Ly- ceum, in which such citizens as Doctors Searles, and Bigelow, Judge Parker and Counsellor Gibbs were prominent. At their houses also he was a welcome visitor, and this companionship brought his aptitude and desire for study in such manner to their notice that in the autumn of 1826, he entered as a student under Doctor Towne. A few months of tireless application made the doctor his friend as well as his pre- ceptor, and at the doctor's solicitation the young student presented himself for examin- ation before the school trustees for appointment as .-principal of the village school. He was sue- 28 MEMORIAL. cessful, and began his duties and his first employ- ment under pay, $17 per month, with the privilege of boarding around. During the winter of his first year of teach- ing, he attended a course of thirteen lectures on English grammar, language, and literature, from which he derived untold benefit ; but except these few helpful occasions, his education went on alone, and at hours when the rest of the world were sleeping. He wrung the lore of books out of the busy day, and won his weapons in a hand to hand fight with iron fortune. It was his special pride to remember that from his earliest knowledge of things to do, he wrought daily for the bread he ate, the clothes he wore, and the shelter that covered him. Never one dollar in charity, or as a nobler gift, did he re- ceive, while every penny saved or spent repre- sented some specific service rendered. The compensation for his early struggles came in the strong will, the honest persistence and self-reliance that eventually placed him on a height from which the rugged steps he had trodden stretched backward into the pleasant valleys, while the future was nearing the sun. III. EARLY RELIGIOUS LIFE. It would be difficult to fix upon any particu- lar period of Dr. Gillette's life when he was especially exercised in spiritual things. In him there were no sudden tempests of the soul, no supreme dejection on account of sin, original or acquired. The stateliness of the Puritan walk, the cruel self-reproach, the hard unyielding of the Puritan conscience, the fierce contests with the almost visible spirit of evil, had softened through three generations of godly ancestors, and left in both his father and mother an untroubled faith and an unwavering hope as calm and beautiful as an Eastern twilight. The foundations of his pa- rents' belief had never weakened ; they were grandly Puritan, and as firmly rooted in their in- telligence as in their hearts ; but beneath their roof-tree there was no harshness in religious 30 MEMORIAL. duty, no task in pious observance ; and worship was as much a part of each day as the labor which brought them bread. The spirit of the beautiful in godliness per- vaded the community of Jackson like a grand friendship. The Sabbath was hallowed by the restfulness of blessings all its own, while the hymns, the prayers and discourses, which made up its ceremonials, crowned each week with joy. Again, with the exception of the Bible, books were rare. Contemplation therefore took on a religious phase as God's dealings with his people were oft-told tales. The histories of David and Solomon, Daniel and Joseph, Samuel and the Christ-child, filled up the measure of nurse- ry lore, and left the young imagination as wholesome, pure, and exalted as though it had walked with angels. Add to such influences the tenderest of motherly ministrations, the large- hearted help and companionship of a just and loving father, and you have an atmosphere so purified and clear that there are no fierce passions to wreck and tear hope and life into shreds. HIS GRADUALLY OPENING PIETY. 3 1. In such an atmosphere. Dr. Gillette was born and reared. Spiritual life with him was a growth. It belonged among the dearest tradi- tions of his house and moved along with its his- tory ; so that when a! the age of twenty, he publicly professed his faith, it was as much a part of him as any attribute of his being, wholly of him and in him, as the brain with which he weighed it and the heart in which it was cherished. It is not to be understood that he was always religiously inclined, that he maundered listless- ly through his youth in a dreamy ecstasy of pious emotion (for although never a rugged boy yet life through his veins flushed and hurried with all the speed of health and merriment) ; but with him always was a reserve force of right thinking, an honest intent and purpose that made dissipation loathsome and abhorrent. He was not without temptations, resistance to which tends so greatly to the formation of strong character, yet he always found help to resist and master them continually, as he con- fesses, urging himself on toward a standard of 32 MEMORIAL. manliness he had set up for himself. To such an individuality there are no great upheavals and sudden revulsions of feeling. Changes in moral structure come to such an one only after a demonstration of their inherent need ; therefore we find him when only a boy of fourteen, cry- ing aloud, " God helping me I will preach the Gospel," and then moving cautiously toward the fulfillment of his pledge to heaven ; yet not until six years thereafter openly professing his belief. Fortunately his advantages for religious in- struction had not been so meagre as his oppor- tunities for study ; for at the school-house near his home, at Jackson, he had frequently listened to the teachings and discourses of such pastors as Rev. Dr. Alex. Bullions, Dr. N. S. Prime, Dr. Toombs, William M. Culloch, Edward Barker, and Thomas Baker. These and others were frequent visitors at his father's house, usually accepting his hospitality on the days they were to conduct the services at the school- house. An invalid neighbor, Mrs. Marsh, who moved THE EARLY SUNDAY-SCHOOL. 33 about in a wheeled chair, inaugurated a Sunday- school in her house, at which the children of Jackson faithfully attended. Mrs. Marsh and her granddaughter were its only teachers. It was the first Sunday-school in the settlement, and it flourished for twenty years. Out of it came several clergymen, and many good men and women. In this school young Gillette was introduced to a curious collection of books, con- sidered in the light of our modern appliances for young students of the Christian evidences : the "Religious Primer," "New England Prim- er," the " Shorter Catechism," and the " Child's Instructor;" but the book he most read was the Bible, and it was not unusual for him to retire by himself and after reading a portion of Script- ure, to utter a prayer. It was not the custom of those days for pastors to address children par- ticularly on subjects of religion ; but he remem- bers that Rev. Thomas Baker made the first direct and personal appeal to him to give his heart to the Lord Jesus. He was but a boy of eight years, but the blessing of the aged pastor with which he touched the boy, made a deeper 3 34 MEMORIAL. mark than he thought, for the child went im mediately to the carriage house, and there prayed fervently with weeping eyes and a ten- der heart. Dr. Gillette records of these boyish days, that it was his* custom when at work alone in the barn, on the farm, or in his own room, to call upon God as upon a parent. There was never any dread of God's displeasure when he approached him, and his prayers were more the instinct of worship than any special plea for needs or forgiveness under an impending sense of fear and dread of so good a father. During these days there were, on occasions, considerable renewed interest in religion, and the Sunday services were frequently concluded by a baptism of one or more in the lake near the school-house. Of these ordinances he was always an interested witness, and frequently found himself wishing that he might be one of the happy company who were thus following Christ. From the gallery of the old meeting- house at Battenville he witnessed the ordinance of the Lord's Supper, when the same longing for fellowship with Christians possessed him. PREACHERS THAT WON HIM. 35 Occasionally with friends he would attend the old white meeting-house at Cambridge where Rev. Dr. Prime preached ; and again, at times, at the preaching of Rev. Dr. Bullions ; from both of whom he became inspired with the dignity and manliness of the Christian life, as these men were of commanding powers and presence. But the pastor to whom his love went most fervently out, was the Rev. Mr. Baker, of the little Bap- tist church near home. He was rich in children, but otherwise poor indeed ; yet a faithful work- man whose hands raised in prayer showed the stains of daily toil as a cobbler. But toil helped him to brotherhood with labor, and the compan- ionship wrought out the salvation of many souls. At this time, Dr. Gillette records, " It would have been my privilege and duty to have been baptised and united with Christ's people then ; but my feet trod many slippery paths ere I was pub- licly consecrated to my Master's work." When Dr. Gillette was about thirteen years old, his brother Philander, who had been study- ing theology with Rev. Dr. Staughton of Phila- delphia, paid a visit home, and frequently 36 MEMORIAL. preached in the churches and private dwellings. This was to the younger brother a constant source of wonder and delight ; and doubtless out of it grew the yearning to follow in the foot- steps of this the sixth of the line who had been clergymen. Neither Major nor Mrs. Jillson, with whom he went to reside at Hartford after the death of his father, were religious people, but they en- couraged their protege in his inclinations toward a good life. At Hartford he attended regularly at both church and Sunday-school; and it was while living there that one day, sitting in the gallery of the Presbyterian church the convic- tion that he should preach the Gospel came upon him. Out of it came also the cry " God helping me I will preach the Gospel." It was uttered audibly with suppressed voice intensified by supremest feeling. Along with this new determination came the no less intense appreciation of the need of an education ; and it is amusing to note with what inconsistent activities he immediately began to fulfil his pledge. These were none other than FIRST CONFESSION OF FAITH. 37 stealthy preparations to desert his friends the Jillsons, and run away by night to Long Island, where his uncle was a Judge and would help him. In the preceding chapter has been re- corded the details of this absurd flight and its still more ludicrous result ; yet could those who scoffed at the boy have gone down into his soul and there seen the pleading, anxious out-reach- ing of every need of his life toward the hope that was in him, they would have mingled their tears with his own at the pathetic picture of the lad fleeing from friends and love out into the frozen night to find the voice that was calling him to the service of Christ. At Granville, to which place his friends mov- ed, the chances for study and religious instruc- tion ran side by side. Here he began his stud- ies at the Academy amid somewhat different social and religious influences. He associated himself with several societies for mental culture, and also with churches, Sunday-schools, and evening meetings for prayer at private houses. At a social meeting held at the residence of Deacon Graves, Dr. Gillette made his first pub- 38 MEMORIAL. lie acknowledgment of his interest in religion, by rising from his seat and stating his wish to become a Christian. - It was a surprise to all but himself. Even the pastor, Mr. Savage, seem- ingly amazed, said aloud, " Why ! Abram, what is the matter ? " But it had been no new thought with him. He had previously given his heart to the Saviour as he knew, but the opportunity which to him seemed most fitting had never before occurred. The whole process of regen- eration in him had been wrought out in the years gone since his boyhood. He had even settled the question as to which church his con- victions urged him, so that Dr. Savage, the Presbyterian pastor at whose meeting he first confessed his interest in spiritual things, ended a conference one day by telling him he should see Dr. Dilloway, the Baptist pastor. He did see Dr. Dilloway ; and one Sunday in May, 1827, Dr. Dilloway led him down into the waters of the Granville River and baptised him into the blessed likeness of his Redeemer. Up to this time he had never intimated to any one his purpose to become a clergyman, and did not CONVICTIONS AS TO THE MINISTRY. 39 until several months after his baptism, when Dr. Dilloway, whose attention had been called to him by his facility in speech and prayer in the social meetings of the church, kindly questioned him as to his convictions of duty. To him he confessed the wish nearest his heart when the way seemed brighter before him and the long cherished hope nearer. Soon after these conversations, Dr. Gillette began his duty as teacher of the village school. Absolved from the necessities of less congenial employment, his studies progressed rapidly ; and in October, 1828, the church called him before its committee and members, and requested a statement from him as to his convictions and reasons for wishing to enter the ministry. It was a trial at which he seemed tongue-tied.' He remembers to have said so little and that so imperfectly, after all the years of longing and expectancy, that, utterly discouraged and heart-broken, he went into the cemetery while the committee was deliberating, and knelt weep- ing over the grave of a young pastor, a friend, who had recently died. All his fondest hopes 40 MEMORIAL. seemed cast in an untrue balance which found him wanting, and he almost prayed to lie in the grave with his friend. His fears were ground- less, for when he was summoned for the verdict, he was informed that the church had unani- mously agreed that it was his duty to enter the ministry, and furthermore had fixed upon a day when he was to preach before them his trial sermon. The day came and the sermon was preached, with every one he had ever known staring up into his face, except his preceptor, Dr. Towne, who with kindly delicacy forbore to embarrass the young preacher by his presence. 