Mr. Ballou was ever governed by a calm resignation to the decrees of Providence, and as it regarded the subject of his own death,—that thought which is said to make cowards of us all, that theme upon which we are too much inclined to dwell with feelings of dread and fear.

Notwithstanding we are taught by Christian philosophers that life should be a preparation for death, there are very few of us who regard this inevitable event in its proper light. Dr. Young uttered a most profound truth when he said:—

A man recognizes the certainty of this event's taking place with regard to his neighbor, his friend, and the members of his own family. He feels that the hour of separation from his aged and beloved parents must come; that the brother or sister, whose infant joys and sorrows are his own, whose sympathy has cheered his manhood, must one day be taken from him; that the wife of big bosom must close her eyes in death; that the stern messenger may at any time smite the darlings of their little flock, gathered around his knee in play or prayer; and while they are yet in life he prepares for them the last resting-place in some sheltered spot, some woodland cemetery, where the brightest smile of nature may gild the place of their repose. But he cannot realize that he himself, in the pride of his manhood, the blood coursing cheerily through his veins, a sense of vitality giving an elasticity to every movement, will be called upon to lay down this glorious panoply of life, to feel the bounding blood curdle and become as ice within his veins, and the bright vision of the world fade into nothingness before his glazing eyes. He himself, by some miracle, must be snatched from the universal doom. Thus death finds almost every man unprepared. The very criminal, upon whose ears fall the deep tones of the funeral knell, hopes for a reprieve even at the foot of the scaffold. The soldier cannot think of death as he mounts the "imminent deadly breach;"—his comrades may fall, but he must escape. Thus, in our strange, delusive sophistry, even if we think of death, we seek to alienate the idea from ourselves.

As it regarded the death of any member of his extensive family circle, what a tower of strength and consolation he ever was to the mourning hearts of his children! How calm and serene he would appear when called, in the providence of God, to sympathize with them at the loss of their little ones, near and dear to their parental hearts! However deep the distress of soul which exercised the breast of any member of his family by the solemn visitation of death, his venerable presence would always restore peace to the almost broken heart, and make the sunshine radiate once more in the mourner's bosom. He had several trials, and keen ones, too, through which he passed, of this character. His third daughter, Mrs. Whittemore, wife of Rev. Benjamin Whittemore, was called upon to lay one and another of her tender offspring in the grave, until, at last, when the third was placed there, she exclaimed, in the agony of her heart, that she could not leave the tomb where half her loved ones lay in death. But for his presence even reason might have deserted her throne; but his calm and sainted expression, his holy balm of religion, his simple words of hope, were as oil upon troubled waters. So again was he similarly exercised, through visitations of death, in the family of his eldest son, Rev. Hosea F. Ballou, and Rev. Massena B. Ballou; in the family circle of his third daughter, Cassendana, wife of Joseph Wing; and again in the home of his fourth daughter, Elmina, wife of Rev. J. C. Waldo; and also in the circle of the sixth daughter, Fiducia, wife of Abijah W. Farrar.

But more particularly was this power of consolation evinced as exercised in his own family, when the eldest daughter, Fanny, widow of Leonard Holmes, was taken from life. It was the first death that we had known in our immediate circle of brothers and sisters, and the stroke had all the power and force of a first great sorrow. Then his spirit shone forth in all the Christian beauty and loveliness of its influence. Then the majesty and holy power of his religion was evinced in letters of light. And while referring to this family,—for there were six orphan children left behind,—we might appropriately refer to the munificent bounty of his hand towards them; of a home purchased and given to them; and of much fatherly kindness and generosity towards those orphan children. This spirit of resignation he infused largely into his children, who in turn offered to his own spirit that strength of hope and divine reliance which in periods of trial he had imparted to them. This might be said to be particularly the case with Clementina, his fifth daughter, wife of Isaac H. Wright, who, without the domestic care of a family, was enabled to be much and often at home,—especially if any physical illness affected either father or mother,—and who, with others of the children, was with him night and day, constantly, during his last illness, and the closing hours of his life.

We have before referred to the grateful influence his presence exerted in the sick room, and when called upon to lift up his voice with the dying; but so prominent a trait of character, as evinced in his home relations, should not be omitted here. It may be interesting to remark, in these domestic notes, that Mr. Ballou resided, for over thirty years, with his second daughter, Cassendana, and her family, in Boston. A more cheerful and happy home it would be difficult for fancy to paint. There was no contention there,—no jealousies, no jarring of interests; everything seemed to take its hue from him; and calm domestic joy and serene contentment reigned over all. He seemed to exhale the atmosphere of peace, and no contending elements could withstand the soothing character of his presence.

Mr. Ballou's idea of death, as being but the portal to blissful immortality, may be gathered by the following, from his own pen:

"The idea of immortality makes everything in life valuable. Here we may lay up all our treasures, where neither moth nor rust can corrupt, nor thieves break through and steal. Here God's bright favor will never grow dim, nor will our love and gratitude ever decay. Do you see Hope's celestial form, leaning on her anchor, and, while the raging waves of a restless sea dash against her, she remains unmoved? Do you observe her aspect firm, and her eyes turned towards heaven? And would you wish to cast her down, and wreck her on the quicksands of dismal doubt? Go, brother, to the chamber of sickness, where life's waning embers can no longer warm the dying heart; there hear from cold and quivering lips this hope expressed: 'I long to be with Christ,—I long to be at rest!' Would you blast this amaranthine flower? Would you plant in its stead the nightshade of despair? Listen no longer to the wild suggestions of fancy and wandering imaginations, under the specious pretence of searching after truth. For Jesus is the way, the truth and the life.

"I think one thing is certain," says Mr. Ballou, in one of his last published articles, "and that is, that the opinion that we immediately enter on that state into which the resurrection introduces mankind is far more desirable, to all people, than the opinion that ages of unconscious sleep succeed our brief existence here in the flesh. * * * In conclusion, I will say that I am sensible that there are passages of scripture which seem to favor the opinion of a general, simultaneous resurrection, which appear difficult to reconcile with such as I have above noticed; but that they outweigh them I have no sufficient reason to allow. The supposition that all who have died have until now remained in an unconscious state, seems more like annihilation than well accords with our glorious hope."

Mr. Ballou's mind was ever made up to meet death at any moment; and, with implicit reliance on the goodness and fatherly care of Him in whose hand we all are, and who does not permit even a sparrow to fall to the ground without his knowledge, he left all to the wise decree of Heaven, and loaded not his soul with fear of the result. He conversed but little upon the subject; but when he did so, it was with a cheerful spirit and contented mind.

His profession was such as to make him familiar with death in all its forms. It was no strange subject to him; but, on the contrary, one which had engaged much of his thought and earnest consideration. With so full and implicit a reliance in the complete sovereignty of the Almighty as his religious belief imparted, he could have no fear or doubt as to the perfectness of the decrees of Providence. He literally argued everything for good, and that nothing transpired without a purpose of the Director of all things; and in that purpose he recognized but one principle, which was the good of the children of men. These premises once established in his mind, what fear could he possibly entertain of death? It is a part of the Divine economy,—that was enough for him. Applied to any dispensation of Providence, or to tenets of faith, this same reliance will be found evinced in all his ministrations and life. He says:—"We have ever this pleasing reflection,—this sublime, this instructive lesson,—that the wisdom which constitutes the vast frame of the universe, and which organized all nature,—the power that raised this glorious superstructure upon its basis,—has ever been directed, and ever will be directed, towards the good and benefit of mankind. That there can be no such thing as partiality, or anything like cruelty, in all the system of God, as the moral governor of the world, is as plain a proposition as can possibly be stated. There is not in the bosom of our Father in Heaven any principle but goodness to his children. There is not in the bosom of our Heavenly Father, nor can there be, anything like cruelty or partiality; but his eternal wisdom is ever working for the benefit of his creatures."

He held the grave to be a calm, safe anchorage for the shattered hulls of men,—the portal through which the spirit passes to God who gave it. Concerning this subject there are a few lines from his pen so applicable in this connection, that we cannot refrain from transcribing them here. In common with those pieces which we have already given the reader, there is no effort at grandeur in the piece; the beauty and propriety of the poem is undisguised by metaphor, being put down in the tender and persuasive language of a Christian heart, pleading for the good of man, and the honor of its Maker. Mr. Ballou's poetical productions are such an index of his soul, his real character, that we are induced again to refer to the fact. They are ever like himself, simple, yet forcible, and never without a purpose, and most incontrovertible argument, expressed or implied. The following poem was written in his seventy-third year, and is entitled

There is a lesson here that it would be well for us to remember, a principle that should be planted and nurtured in our breasts. Death has been too long looked upon as "the great enemy of our race," while it is in truth but the calling home of the spirit by the Great Shepherd. 'Tis but the wedding of the soul with Paradise, the starting post for heaven. These were the sentiments entertained by Mr. Ballou, and which governed his mind even to the last.

He says, relative to this deeply interesting and important subject to us all:—"We are as pilgrims and strangers on earth, as were all our fathers. The places which now know us will shortly know us no more. How reasonable, then, is it, that we should often bring this great truth under serious consideration! If duly considered, it will exert a favorable influence in relation to the estimates we may make of all temporal things, and give a favorable direction to our purposes and determinations. Our fleshly bodies, like the grass of the earth, are composed of the elements of nature; these elements support both the grass and our fleshly bodies; and as the grass finally withers and returns back from whence it came, is decomposed and joined with the elements of which it was composed, so do our bodies return to the earth from whence they came. Dust we are, and unto dust we must return. The certainty of our mortality is as apparent to us all as it can possibly be made. However seldom we may think on the subject, however we may endeavor to put it out of our minds and thoughts, however we may endeavor to drown the subject by devoting our attention to worldly objects and worldly pursuits, we know that in a short time we must be called to leave all this bustle of life, close our eyes on all earthly things, and return to the bosom of our common mother, the earth, from whence we came.

"As the question whether man should exist or not was not submitted to him, no more is it left to him to say whether he will continue in this state forever, or depart out of it. 'All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass; the grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away.' So hath the Creator appointed and ordained; and it is not in the power of man to prevent this withering of the grass, and this falling of the flower of grass. However endearing are the ties of consanguinity, however tender and affectionate are kindred hearts towards each other, with whatever longings and fond desires fathers and mothers may look on their sons and daughters, and with whatever devotion they may nourish these flowers and watch over them, they are altogether like the grass and the flower of grass. They are perishable. It is not in the power of children, however affectionately they may love their fathers and mothers, and however they may desire the continuance of such kind friends, to prevent that waste of constitution and strength which time and disease are sure to bring. The whitened locks, the wrinkled face, the tottering frame, the palsied limbs and faltering voice, are sure indications that the time of departure is at hand.

"How wonderfully beautiful is the full-grown grass, with its blushing and fragrant flowers! We cast our eyes over the luxuriant meadow; with pleasure we behold its beautiful flowers, seeming to vie with each other in glory; and though we may fancy a preference for this or for that, no person ever beheld a blossom that was not beautiful to the eye. So we behold the society of man in health and in the prime of strength; and how pleasing is the sight! Look at these sweet babes! we may fancy a preference for the beauty of this or that, but no one can help admiring every such endearing object. Look around and behold the sparkling eye and blushing cheek of youth and beauty; but remember these are flowers gathered for the tomb! Whether we see them or not, Time has wings; whether we realize it or not, his flight is rapid. What is time when it is past? Nothing!"

Touching the matter of death-bed scenes as they refer to religious belief, and the influence that such scenes and circumstances exerted over his own mind, he says:

"It has often been said, by the enemies of the doctrine for which I have contended, that it would do to live by, but not to die by; meaning that it would not give the mind satisfaction when sensible it was about to leave a mortal for an immortal state. As to the truth of the assertion I cannot positively say; that moment has not yet been experienced by me: and as those who make the remark have never believed the doctrine, I cannot see how they should know any better than I do. Thus much I can say: I believe I have seen, and often heard, of persons rejoicing in the doctrine in the last hours of their lives; but I do not build my faith on such grounds.

"The sorrows or the joys of persons, in their last moments, prove nothing to me of the truth of their general belief. A Jew, who despises the name of Christ from the force of his education, may be filled with comfortable hopes, in his last moments, from the force of the same education. I have no doubt but a person may believe, or pretend to believe, in the doctrine of universal salvation, when he knows of no solid reason for his belief, but has rather rested the matter on the judgment of those in whom he has placed more confidence than he has, in reality, on the Saviour of the world; and I think it very possible that such Universalists may have strange and unexpected fears, when the near approach of death, or any other circumstance, should cause them to think more seriously on so weighty a subject.

"What my feelings might be concerning the doctrine which I believe, was I called to contemplate on a death-bed, I am as unable to say, as I am what I may think of it a year hence, should I live and be in health. But I am satisfied, beyond a doubt, that if I live a year longer, and then find cause to give up my present belief, I shall not feel a consciousness of having professed what I did not sincerely believe; and was I called to leave the world and my writings in it, and at the last hour of my life should find I had erred, yet I am satisfied that I should possess the approbation of a good conscience in all I have written."

That Mr. Ballou felt fully prepared to die, there can be not the least doubt, though he did not say so in the exact words that would express this state of mind. He frequently, during the last two or three months of his life, made use of expressions, as relating to current events, in a way that led those about him to see that he was striving, particularly, to have every matter of business, or family arrangement, so completed as not in any way to be contingent upon himself. Then his frequent observations relative to the idea that he was nearly worn out; and in his sermons, too, his often repeating at this time how near he was to the brink of the grave, and that those who heard him might realize the honesty of his reasoning and the sincerity of his doctrine, since, with so short a span of existence left to him, he could not in any instance bring himself to support what he did not most solemnly and religiously believe to be the gospel of Christ, and in full accordance with the word of God; the caution already referred to as given to his wife, and various other simple but expressive tokens that he evinced during the few weeks previous to his decease,—all go fully to show that his mind was made up to die, and that he foresaw, as it were, the approach of his demise, with almost prophetic vision. The philosophy, or sophistry, therefore, as to looking upon death as the inevitable visitant to others, but as something which must miraculously pass him by, did not exist in his mind. He looked upon death as "the messenger of God, commissioned from on high;" and he held himself calmly ready to answer the blessed decree of Heaven.

Though almost constantly engaged at his study of the holy text, or in other reading and writing, still, so domestic was Mr. Ballou in his disposition and feelings, that he always took a lively interest in all the arrangements of the family, and in each one's well-being, seeking to cause as little unnecessary labor as possible on his own account. No motives other than those of the kindest character could possibly have induced this thoughtfulness, on his part; for all those about him, even the servants, always deemed it a pleasure to serve him in his slightest expressed desire, while his children ever sought to anticipate his wishes. In his directions to those called upon to attend him, there was none of the austerity or sternness of a master evinced in his manner of speech. The order direct we never heard from his lips, but, in giving directions, it was ever in the form of permission,—"You may do this, or you may hand me that;" and the appropriateness of this mode of speech was most apparent, since it was a privilege to us all to fulfil his desires.

With profane history, ancient and modern, he was well acquainted; and at the age of seventy-four, five and six, he devoted some considerable time to the reviewal of both, and particularly to the history of our own country. With Rollin, Plutarch, Smollet, Hume, Prescott, Bancroft, etc., he was perfectly familiar. At this period he was engaged, as we have said, in re-perusing the works of his library, treating mainly upon profane history. As may be supposed, to one of his disposition, home was very dear, and he was always happiest with his family.

During the whole of his public ministrations and professional career, he never labored with more evident effect and general influence than at this time. The ripened harvest of his experience was poured forth in the most simple and touching truthfulness, and his discourses were redolent of holy manna to the souls of his hearers; the sober arguments of conviction obtained even more fully than in former years, when the vigor of ripened manhood added its physical powers to the balance. Persons who had sat under his preaching for many years would listen with the most absorbed attention, as well as with surprise, to hear the easy flow of eloquence that seemed to come from an inspired heart, bearing witness to his quick, sure discernment, and boundless fertility of invention,—the truth and exemplifications of divine goodness were ever so fresh and abundant in the feast he spread, the arguments so logical and convincing. He was endowed in many respects with the great requisites for a lawyer, possessing a mind exceedingly active, capable of constantly commanding its own resources, and a faculty of tenaciously pursuing his argument with exceeding force and power.

It really seemed, latterly, that, realizing how brief must be his labors, and how near he was to the end of his earthly mission, he labored with increased zeal, and consequent success. His eyes, when in the desk, seemed to kindle with superhuman fire, his thoughts to flow with inspired eloquence; and those who heard him must have entered most thoroughly into his own spirit, for we have heard, from all directions where he preached, very earnest remarks of the striking effect produced by his discourses. And this effect was by no means confined to the laity; many of his ministering brethren have told us that they had never heard him discourse with more power, nor ever with such decided effect, as was the case within the last two years of his life. It was impossible for him to answer all of the demands upon him, but neither ordinary inconveniences nor distance ever caused him to decline to respond to those who, at this late period of his life, sought his counsel. In vain did we beseech him to consider his bodily comfort, and not risk his health and try his strength so much, at his advanced age, by these constant travels. "I am vain enough," he said, "to believe that I still do some good, and I am never so happy as when exercised by such a realizing sense; but, whether at home or abroad, I am still in my Maker's hands, and he will do with me as to him seemeth good."

Mr. Ballou's manuscript was always remarkably plain and correct, being, in many respects, very characteristic of himself. It was regular, exceedingly neat, and well executed, yet unostentatious, and in no degree ornamental. For our own part, we would give more for a scrap of the hand-writing of one whom we had never met, or even of him whom we had casually seen, to enable us to judge of the general characteristics of the individual's disposition, than for the testimony of many an intimate friend. It is, of necessity, in a very great degree, a sample of the man; and when we look upon it, and think that it was the work of his hand, the emanation of his brain, mechanically and mentally his, it possesses peculiar interest.

Mr. Ballou was sometimes addressed, by letter, from a distance, from those who were strangers to him, and sometimes by brethren in the ministry, who would request him to reply to certain queries which they proposed, that they might reap the advantage of his wisdom. These letters were various in their character; some related to religious questions, some to his own history, and some as to its bearing upon his belief in the tenets of faith. One who professed to have read his numerous works, and who was also an ardent believer in the doctrine of universal salvation, converted through his writings, sent the following queries to him in a letter some time in 1847, during his seventy-sixth year. Having the letter and reply, we subjoin the spirit of the former, and give the latter to the reader entire.

"Queries.—With what feelings do you look back upon your past life, its influence and results, its commencement and its end? As it regards your published works and writings, has experience strengthened the opinions and points laid down in them, or have you after years of study and reflection found cause for change? What is the present end and aim of your life, and how does it differ from the morning of your existence?

"Reply to Query 1st.—When I survey the course of my past life, as I often do, I am filled with wonder; and a clear conviction that, as a whole, it has been appointed and directed by Infinite Wisdom, all but reduces me to nothing. True, I can simply realize that I exist; and can compare myself to a drop of water in the midst of the ocean, dependent, as I always have been, on that Being who holds the unmeasured deep in the hollow of his hand. I am fully satisfied that none of the eventful incidents of my life would have been what they were, had not an overruling Providence disappointed my own plans and purposes in many instances. Pursuant to these considerations, in viewing the apparent 'influences and results' of my labors, I should be quite at variance with the conviction of my own understanding, should I indulge a feeling to credit them to myself. With such views of the past and present, I feel satisfied, and even thankful.

"My childhood and youth were, like most of others, full of vanity. My public life commenced with no extensive prospects. I do not know that the thought ever entered my mind that my public labors would ever procure me a livelihood.... My main desire now is that it may please Him whose I am and whom I serve, so to direct that what remains of my fleeting days may in no way dishonor, but promote, the cause of his truth, to which I have so long been devoted.

"Reply to Query 2nd.—All the important doctrinal points contained in the several works which I have published are still my honest convictions; and as they were widely different from the views generally entertained by theologians, I examined them with all possible care, and have never seen cause to rescind them. And I can add, that I have never, in my public labors, allowed myself to present to my hearers any sentiment, or to expound any portion of scripture, but in accordance with the sober convictions of my understanding.

"Reply to Query 3d.—The main object by which I was actuated at the commencement of my public labors was to understand the true doctrine of the Scriptures, and by all possible means to convey conviction of its truth to the understanding of all who had ears to hear; and my present aim is to finish, in the best manner I can, these labors, by persuading people, not only to understand the true nature of the gospel, but to cherish its blessed hopes, and to faithfully practise its precepts."

During a visit of the author of this biography to the Southern and Western States of the Union, in the summer of 1846, he had an opportunity to witness the most evident token of the popularity of Mr. Ballou in these sections, and the high esteem in which his writings are held. This was particularly the case in the State of Ohio, the most distant point from his home that Mr. Ballou ever visited. Here, in passing through the state, we had frequent occasion to register our name and place of residence, which often led to our being asked whether we were a connection of Hosea Ballou's; and when the existing relationship was made known, there were no bounds to the hospitality that was urged upon us. In Cincinnati, it so happened that an original lithographic print of Mr. Ballou was being struck off just as we left the city, and we were kindly furnished with the first dozen impressions taken from the stone. This lithograph is from a crayon drawing taken from life, at Akron, Ohio, during the visit of Mr. Ballou to that town in 1844, by an artist sent up from Cincinnati for the purpose. The likeness is a good one in many respects, but much inferior to several taken in Boston, both as it regards likeness and as a work of art.

During the summer of 1847, Mr. Ballou visited his eldest son, Rev. Hosea F. Ballou, at his residence and farm in Whitingham, Vt., where for several days he applied himself to labor on the land; reaping, mowing, and the various departments of farming, during the week, and to public services in that and the neighboring towns on the Sabbath. These few weeks of healthy toil invigorated him to a most surprising degree, and, though more than seventy-five years of age, I was assured by those who were on the spot that he did the work of a day-laborer with ease, and that his hand wielded the scythe with the steadiness and effect of early years. He told us afterwards himself how sweet his food tasted, how refreshing his bed felt, and how clear and invigorated his brain was, by this homely labor, and the sweat of the brow. He would sometimes sigh at the constraint of his town life, and eulogize the green fields and verdant hill-sides. He says: "All of us have our prescribed duties, and the economy of nature requires certain tastes and temperaments that will apply themselves to the various concerns of life. We find the mechanic, the farmer, the minister, the artisan, the lawyer, all endowed with some prominent qualities, which particularly fit them for the proper discharge of their peculiar calling; and this is necessary, that all things may be done well and harmoniously. But, of all the business occupations of life, it has always seemed to me that the farmer's employment must be the most agreeable. The country is real, the city is artificial; one is nature, the other is art. In the earlier portions of my life, I gathered some experience in tilling the soil; in boyhood and early youth, it was almost my sole occupation. Even as late as my residence in Salem, I was accustomed to plant and cultivate a portion of ground. The great charm of the farmer's element is that it brings him in such close contact with nature; his labor, so healthful and invigorating, being performed to the soft hymns and sacred melodies that creation ever chants in open fields and woodlands."

During this season Mr. Ballou travelled considerably in the New England States and New York, in accordance with letters of invitation sent to him from every direction. During the month of August he preached at numerous places in the vicinity of Montpelier, Vt., and the route thither from Boston. This journey was peculiarly gratifying to his feelings; everywhere he was received with that warmth of heart and real sincerity that invigorate the soul. Meeting-houses were abandoned as too small, and temporary pulpits were erected in the open air, from whence he addressed the thousands who came from far and near to listen to his words. His name was so well known, and his character so beloved, throughout the order, that the simple announcement of his presence drew multitudes together, who listened with the utmost avidity to his words, which carried with them the "clear running wine of conviction."

Here let us pause for a moment, and ask the reader to consider what a powerful and godly influence the life of such a man must have exerted upon community, and those persons with whom he was brought into frequent contact. There was such perfect harmony, such a beautiful consistency, between his pure Christian life and the religion he taught, that the most thoughtless could not but observe and note it. We heard an old man say, but a few days ago,—"Before I knew your father I heard that he was one of the vilest of men; that he was intemperate, profane, vulgar, and, in short, everything that was bad. But when I saw him, meek, unostentatious, gentle, reverential, and preaching such glorious truths, I said to myself, so was his Divine Master reviled and persecuted!" This was the false report that was raised against him thirty and forty years since. The subject of this biography did not answer these calumnies; he lived them down, and manifested as strong an argument in favor of his doctrine by his every-day life, as by his oral communications from the pulpit. His writings, too, evincing the same spirit as his personal career, manifesting so much sincerity, and logical force of argument, garbed in such simple language, and yet conveying such sublime truths, and these so largely enforced by a personal knowledge of their author,—at least throughout a large portion of the eastern states,—must have exerted, and will continue to exert, an influence of almost incalculable extent.

It is in perfect unison with the analogy of nature that the sunset of life should be more cheerful and joyous than the meridian. The sweetest notes of the nightingale are heard at evening, the woods put on their most cheerful aspect in the autumn of the year, and the sun is the brightest when about to sink beneath the horizon. It was at this period of life that Mr. Ballou seemed to have arrived at the goal of his ambition, actuated only by

The principles which he had so long and so strenuously advocated prevailing beyond all precedence, his family happily settled in life about him, and himself respected and beloved by an entire denomination as a faithful disciple of Christ and a true Christian. In a conversation with him upon the comforts and troubles of old age, we asked him, one day, about this period, what was his greatest trouble. He facetiously referred us to the reply of Fontenelle, who was asked, in extreme old age, what inconvenience he experienced, when he replied, "None, but that of existence," signifying by this answer how really happy and contented he was.

For the last twenty years of Mr. Ballou's life, it was not an uncommon occurrence for strangers from a distance to call on him and introduce themselves, as desirous of looking upon him and making his acquaintance. "I have read your works, and it has seemed as though I knew you well already, for they are like familiar conversations." This would be the purport of their language. "Your books," they would say, "have made me a Universalist; and I could not feel satisfied until I had seen personally one to whom I am so much indebted, and whom I so highly respect." This was the case in more than one instance, at different periods, when Englishmen declared that it was the great purpose that had influenced them in visiting the Union. In such cases they met with a cordial and hospitable welcome at his house and table, and hours of pleasant discussion would ensue upon the doctrines of the Scriptures, and congenial themes. Many were the visitors from various parts of the country with the same avowed purpose, and similarly influenced.

In the latter part of 1848, owing to some unfortunate exposure to the weather, he was most violently attacked with ague in the face, so severe as to cause the whole face to swell so much as to close one of the eyes entirely. The attack lasted in its effects for several days, and was exceedingly painful. Though moved with the keenest regret at the pain we knew he must suffer, still we could not but admire the strength of mind and calm philosophy with which he endured it. Not a murmur escaped his lips, and intervals occurring between the most severe moments of his suffering were devoted to writing or study, while the constant kind offices of those about him, and more particularly those of his dearly-beloved partner and children, were ever received with grateful words, and tokens of a full appreciation of the warm love that prompted them.

In the summer of 1847, the School-street Society requested of Mr. Ballou, through its standing committee, that he would sit for a full-length portrait, to be the property of the society, and to be hung in Murray Hall, adjoining the church. Mr. Ballou agreed to their proposition, and granted the requisite sittings, and a magnificent portrait was produced. The picture is as large as life. The preacher is represented standing in the pulpit of the School-street church, the fingers of the right hand inserted in the Bible, the left slightly extended. The likeness and expression are perfectly life-like, and true to the original. From this excellent painting several copies have been taken for his family and friends.

This painting was the source of a great degree of satisfaction to the society and Mr. Ballou's friends generally, for, in common with many others left of him, it is excellent as a likeness, and therefore is a pregnant page in his history; for, of the three principal channels of judging and arriving at the knowledge of character, namely, looks, words and actions, the former is the most faithful. Professions pass for nothing, actions may be counterfeited, but a man's looks he cannot hide. A modern writer, in language perhaps too forcible, says:—"A man's whole life may be a lie to himself and others, and yet a picture painted of him by a great artist would probably stamp his true character on the canvas, and betray the secret to posterity." Subscribing in a large degree to this principle, we consider that the paintings, busts, medallions, and likenesses generally, of Mr. Ballou, may be highly valued as speaking his true character in the expression, and telling a faithful story of the original.

As it regards the likeness which the publisher has placed in the commencement of this biography, to those who have not seen the subject of the picture within the last few years, it may look perhaps a little too aged; but in this respect it is the most truthful of any likeness of him extant. He has been often represented, as the reader is aware, at almost every period of his life since his thirtieth year; and with more or less correctness, in each instance, as it regarded his expression and formation of features at that time; but it strikes us that those who have been familiar with Mr. Ballou's face to the last of his career will esteem this engraving, aside from its superior artistic excellence, as transcribing for us the last looks of his dearly-loved face.

In a notice of the large painting now hanging in Murray Hall, which appeared in the Trumpet of Sept. 4th, 1847, the editor says:—

"He (Mr. Ballou) is now in excellent health, firm, erect, and preaches vigorously; his mind is unimpaired; he is strong in the faith to which the labors of his life have been given, and we do not see why he will not be able to preach for ten years to come, should his life be spared. He can preach three sermons with but little fatigue, while some of the middle-aged can hardly find strength to preach twice of a Sunday."

In the fall of 1847, Mr. Ballou, then in his seventy-seventh year, attended the Universalist convention in New York city, where he delivered a sermon before the brethren assembled there, which created no small degree of notice, and was pronounced by those who heard it to be one of extraordinary power and force. Some of the brethren at once called upon him for a copy for publication; but when he told them that he had no copy himself, and that it was entirely extemporaneous, their surprise was great. That one of his advanced age could deliver a discourse of so remarkable a character, with every point arranged in the most exact order, abounding in powerful and well-sustained argument and varied phases, unless assisted by notes, seemed almost impossible.

So much sensation did this discourse create, that Mr. Ballou acceded to the earnest solicitations that besieged him, and wrote it out for the press, and it was published in pamphlet form. He remarked to us, concerning the matter, that it was much harder for him to write it than it would have been to have written two sermons from a given text, since he had to recall what he had spoken extempore weeks before. But this was done so exactly as to create surprise in those who had listened to it from the pulpit, for its correctness and likeness to the oral delivery.

We subjoin a short sketch from this sermon, because it is so characteristic of the spirit that actuated Mr. Ballou at all times; a spirit of the utmost simplicity,—one of the striking peculiarities of real genius,—both in his public teachings and private life, and also as a specimen of his purity and force of style at this period of life. The contrast drawn between the gospel of Christ and the polished creed of the schools is striking and obvious.

"With all the pomp, with all the glory, with all the wealth, and all the learning of the schools, among both Jews and Gentiles, let us, for a moment, compare the simplicity that was in Christ. Born in a family which was supported by mechanical labor, brought up in laborious habits, destitute of wealth and the honors of the schools, he commenced his public labors. To assist him in the ministry of his doctrine, a few fishermen, and others of useful occupation, were chosen. The doctrine which Jesus taught was as simple and easy to understand as the common affairs of life. His sermon on the mount, containing the sublimest beatitudes, and all the duties of life, requires but ordinary talents to understand. His manner of teaching by the use of parables communicated truth in the most simple manner. When he justified his favor to publicans and sinners, of which he was accused by the Pharisees and Scribes, how simple was his method! 'What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it? and when he hath found it he layeth it on his shoulder, rejoicing. And when he cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neighbors, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost.' And how sublimely simple, if I may so say, was his application of his parable! 'I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance.' On foot, see him travel from city to city! Fatigued and weary of his journey, see him resting himself by Jacob's well at Sichar; and mark the simplicity of his conversation with the woman of Samaria! To set his disciples an example of humility, behold him who gave sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, healing to the sick, soundness to the maimed, and life to the dead, gird himself with a towel, and wash their feet!

"How poorly has the simplicity which is in Christ been maintained by the Christian church! Read its history, in which we learn its conformity to such worldly institutions and customs as are pleasing to human ambition, and all the vain pride and corruption which characterized pagan idolatry. That subtilty with which the serpent beguiled Eve is constantly at work, persuading us to seek to render religion popular in the eyes of the world. That spiritual wickedness may be maintained in high places, high places must be established and supported. So deeply is the love of popular esteem rooted in the heart, that it is to be feared many are inclined to concede to opinions and customs inconsistent with their better judgment, for the sake of that shining phantom."

We remember an incident which occurred to Mr. Ballou in January of 1848, which he related to us at the time. He had occasion to enter an omnibus to proceed from one extreme of the city to another, when, having scarcely become seated, an elderly woman, who was occupying a seat immediately opposite, said to him,—"Mr. Ballou, do you not constantly preach to your congregation, 'O ye generation of vipers! how can ye escape the damnation of hell?'" Mr. Ballou turned his keen, piercing eye upon her, and seeing that some bigoted and fanatical individual had recognized him, and desired to commence an argument, replied,—"No, madam; that class do not attend my church!" The woman had not anticipated so decided an answer, and, shading her eyes with her hands, contemplated the floor of the coach the remainder of the passage.

So little self-pride had Mr. Ballou, and so little comparatively did he think or care about having any biographical sketch appear of him after his death, that it was with the utmost difficulty that we persuaded him to attempt a manuscript of even a few pages, that a more authentic record might be preserved for the aid of the subject when it should be taken in hand. But all that we were able to procure from him the reader will find duly credited in these pages. Mr. Ballou had an ambition, however, that his written works should be preserved after him; for in them he had labored for the good of mankind, and he hoped those labors might not prove unavailable. His wish was highly gratified, in this respect, during his life, by the very wide circulation they attained, and the numerous editions of them which were published, showing that they were largely read and valued by the Christian world.

Having partially yielded to our reiterated solicitations for some few pages of manuscript, if only relating to the simplest affairs, he sat down, and commenced a sheet of paper in the same humorous vein in which he was always sure to treat the idea of writing of himself. This commencement was as follows:

"I have never learned that there were, before my birth, any prophecies delivered by any one, or that any one had dreamed anything concerning myself. If there happened, at the time of my birth, an earthquake, or the appearance of a comet, or any other phenomenon of nature which indicated anything relative to me, or signified what manner of person I should become, in what employment my life should be spent, whether I should become useful to society or a nuisance, the fact has never come to my knowledge."

The life of Mr. Ballou is so intimately woven with the annals of Universalism that the account of the one must be an almost complete life of the other. He nursed the first dawn of belief in impartial and free grace to all mankind, and lived to see the blessed doctrine grow and spread over the land, like the day, from its breaking to the meridian. He was the pioneer, the leader, the propagator, of Universalism.

During April, 1848, he visited and preached in Philadelphia, New York, &c., and on his return expressed himself as he always did of the brethren in those cities, and that he had been made most happy in his communion with them.

About this period, an infatuated preacher of future punishment, somewhere in the northern part of New York State, while in a high state of excitement, declared to his audience that Universalists and Infidels always renounced their belief before they died, and absolutely instanced old Hosea Ballou, as he termed him, who had lately died, penitent and fully repentant for his evil life, entirely refuting all his former belief, and praying to be saved from the wrath to come. Equally ridiculous allusions were made to his wife, who was said to have showed more consistency, and to have died stubbornly adhering to her old principles. This ridiculous assertion was reported in a paper published in the vicinity, and a copy marked and sent to Mr. Ballou.

We asked him if he had not better address a brief letter to the editor, just to confound the propagator of the falsehood. "No," said he; "I have learned, by experience, that libels, if neglected, are forgotten; if resented, they too frequently pass for merited satire."

In the month of June, 1849, Mr. Ballou visited Troy, N. Y., for a few weeks, and preached there and in the neighborhood, with his accustomed vigor and mental power. His clear, musical tones of voice were as perfectly modulated as ever, and his mental and physical vigor was the occasion of remark by all who listened to him.

One of Mr. Ballou's latest impromptu efforts at versification was elicited by a request for his autograph, by a young lady, who presented her album for this purpose, and in which he wrote the following lines:

As late as December, 1851, and January, 1852, Mr. Ballou passed five weeks in the city of New York, preaching to the societies there frequently three times of a Sabbath, and at conference meetings during other days of the week. He was often called upon for lengthy remarks, which he most cheerfully and heartily gave. He was never so happy, never so well, as when engaged about his Master's business; and though, at this age,—eighty-one,—his form was a little bent, and his step less firm than of yore, yet in the pulpit he stood as erect as at fifty. His whole soul seemed to dilate, and his firmness of voice and body to be like iron; so much so, indeed, that it was usual to hear remarks to this effect, from all quarters, wherever he appeared.

During this his last visit to New York, he wrote to us as follows:

"Maturin: A kind Providence brought me safely hither in due course, and I have already made several appointments and promises relative to my services while I tarry here. As in years gone by, I find the same cordial hospitality here, and brotherly love extended towards me still. I need hardly say how grateful this is to my feelings. We grow, perhaps, more sensitive, as we advance in age, as to these little kindnesses and attentions, that unitedly go to make up the quiet peace and happiness of private life.

"Our Heavenly Father has smiled upon the sacred cause in this place, and the churches flourish here exceedingly. Even now I am about to proceed to New Jersey, to dedicate a new temple, raised to the service of the living God. To me, the increase of the denomination with which I have so long been identified is a source of peculiar satisfaction. My bodily health is fully as good as when I left Boston; and, by the blessing of Divine Goodness, I trust again to be at home in a brief period, to enjoy the society of those near and dear to me. Please tell your mother to duly regard her health, and remember me kindly to all the family.

"Affectionately,
"Hosea Ballou."

"After the singing of another anthem," says the correspondent of the Trumpet, in a letter from Newark relative to the dedication referred to, "came the sermon, by our venerable and beloved Father Ballou, from the fitting words recorded in 1 Chron. 16: 29. The audience was not large, but respectable in number; and from the first moments when the gray-haired speaker stood up before the people till he sat down again, the most marked and almost breathless attention was given. The speaker believed that 'the name of the Lord' expressed all the attributes of His adorable character. He proceeded to notice some of those attributes, with wonderful power and simplicity, enforcing the truth that goodness must be coËxtensive with wisdom in the Divine character. He illustrated the workings of the law of love, as opposed to the law of fear, by the examples of the grateful offerings of our people to the beloved Washington and Lafayette. The people honored them, not because a terrible penalty was threatened should they refuse to yield the tribute, but because they loved them. Worship, true worship, cannot be bought; it must be free. It can be offered only to a God infinite in goodness and mercy. Father Ballou affectionately exhorted the people to give unto the Lord, in the neat temple they had reared, the glory so justly due for all his revelations of good will to the children of men. As children, filled with gratitude, should they come into his courts. A severe, yet kind-spirited rebuke, was administered to those who go to church simply to display fine apparel, or because it is fashionable. In doing our duty, we are happy, we offer unto the Lord; while they who serve fashion and popularity have just their reward, and no more.

"I have never listened to this aged servant of God with greater delight and profit than on that occasion. It hardly seemed possible that so clear, and forcible, and eloquent a production, could come from the mouth of one who has borne the brunt of eighty-one years."

At the age of four score, Mr. Ballou preached before the New York Convention of Universalists, at Boston, in September, 1851. Concerning this occasion, Rev. A. C. Thomas, in the autobiography before quoted from, says: "He (Mr. Ballou) is an exception to the 'labor and sorrow' affirmed of those who, by reason of strength, attain that period of life. He was, indeed, feeble in body; but 'his eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated.' He saw as clearly as ever into the 'root of the matter,' and largely exemplified his peculiar force of argumentation. Was there ever a clearer or more forcible illustration than the one he presented regarding a mother and her child?—'Your child has fallen into the mire, and its body and its garments are defiled. You cleanse it, and array it in clean robes. The query is, Do you love your child because you have washed it, or did you wash it because you loved it?'"

Mr. Ballou's contributions to the press largely increased during the latter years of his life, and the articles he wrote, at various times, during this period, will bear the most critical examination, as it regards the soundness of their doctrinal points, the excellence and purity of their style, and the Christian spirit they invariably show forth in every line. These contributions to the press have appeared mainly in the "Trumpet and Universalist Magazine," the "Universalist Quarterly," and the "Christian Freeman."

In 1851, at the solicitation of Rev. Mr. Usher, book publisher, Mr. Ballou edited a collection of his sermons, and wrote some original articles, which were published under the title of "A Voice to Universalists." This book also contained a collection of Mr. Ballou's fugitive verses, published many years since, and written for the poet's corner of his paper. We can, perhaps, give no better review or reference to this book, than by copying Rev. Thomas Whittemore's published review of it, which we subjoin.

"The 'General Epistle to Universalists' is itself worth the price of the book. Tell us not that this might have been published in tract, or any cheap form. It would never have served its mission thus to be read and thrown away. It should have been where it is, in a large, splendid book, to grace our centre-tables, and to be taken thence and read as often as once a month.

"The same remarks may be made in relation to the 'Advice to Young Men who design to enter the Ministry.'

"The 'Short Essay on Universalism,' 'The Doctrine of Universal Salvation shown to be included in the Divine Commands,' and 'The Utility of Evil,' are likewise valuable mementos of their author; and so are the two Convention Sermons.

"And then, in respect to the metrical compositions, we could not spare them from this book. True, the author, as he modestly says in a note to the reader, makes no pretensions to being a poet; yet his poetry is to us exceedingly precious. It is in this we discover more clearly the moral likeness of the man. In the frontispiece we have a satisfactory likeness of the outer man; and how should we consent to tear from the book this no less accurate likeness of the soul? In these hymns we see the author in his characteristic meekness of spirit, self-abasement, pure and ardent devotion, and all-sustaining faith in the wise and perfect government of God. Here, too, in these hymns and poems, are specimens of the author's clearness and precision of intellectual discernment, and his argumentative acumen. The work shall go down to posterity as a memento of Father Ballou."

The article in this book entitled the "Utility of Evil" is one of great power and force. Mr. Ballou's theory is, that what we call evil does not exist without the wise permission and appointment of the infinitely good and gracious God. In the article on this subject he says:

"Reader, do not be offended at the title of this short article, and call it impious. Will you say you never before heard that evil is useful? Will you say the suggestion is wicked, and could be made by no other than one who is wicked? Well, suppose all which you imagine be true, may it not be well to be calm, and deliberately consider that, though you have never before heard of this thing, it may, notwithstanding, be a divine truth? If you will be candid, and bring your mind into a suitable condition to be reasoned with, we will call you to the consideration of questions which, if properly answered, will lead us into the true light of our subject. 1st. Is evil self-existent? If no one will allow this, there is no need of argument to disprove it. It follows, of course, that evil had a cause which produced it; this is self-evident. 2d. Is it not equally self-evident that the cause which produced evil is good? If we say that the cause which produced evil was evil, we thereby say that evil existed before it existed! When these several points are understood, we are prepared to state the following axioms:

"1st. That which had no beginning had no cause to produce it. 2d. If we should say that good had an origin or a cause, We should be compelled to say that that cause was evil! 3d. If we allow that evil had an origin or cause, we must allow that the origin of evil is good." pp. 115, 116.

From the commencement of 1852 until within a week of his death, we find him constantly active, with the weight of fourscore years and more; yet he never for a moment faltered in his mission. During the last year of his life he preached in seven different states, and in about forty different places. His pen was still as busy as ever. One Sunday found him in Maine, the next in New Hampshire, the third in Vermont; now he is in New York, New Jersey, or Rhode Island, preaching the word with unabated zeal and surprising effect in all directions. The copy of the Trumpet that announces his death contains two articles from his pen, commending to the order two lately published biographies, showing forth as illustrations of what a true and noble aim will empower the soul to do amid the humblest circumstances, one of the strongest illustrations of which is his own life. His last paragraph reads thus: "We need not look forward to the good time, for it is now come, when ministers are esteemed for their knowledge of divine truth, and their ardent love for the same, together with their faithfulness in dispensing it to the people, and their living and walking in the precepts of Jesus." At the time of his death he had two appointments already arranged, one in Massachusetts and one in New Hampshire, besides several under consideration.

"Verily, he was at his post to the last," says Rev. T. B. Thayer, in his eulogy upon Mr. Ballou; "and when the messenger came, he was ready. He fell in the full armor of God, with the helmet of salvation on his head, his spotless heart covered with the breastplate of righteousness, his feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace. In one hand he held the shield of faith, and in the other the sword of the spirit, which is the word of God,—the sword which he had for sixty years wielded with such success in his multiplied battles with error and sin, and by which at last he was, through Jesus Christ, made conqueror, and more than conqueror, over death and the grave. Verily, the old man died, as he had lived, faithful, courageous, serene, victorious, to the last."

It was in these ripened days of his experience that his counsel was eagerly sought by all, laity and clergy, in private and in public. His activity and anxiety to be about his Master's business carried him constantly into the midst of all important denominational assemblies; and here he was ever received, both his presence and his counsel, with profound respect. If there was contention, misunderstanding, or difficulty of any sort, all eyes were turned upon him who sat so quietly and thoughtfully in their midst; he was their peace-maker, his calm voice stilled the tempest, his finger pointed the way towards the right. As Mr. Thayer says in the eulogy just quoted from:

"It will be a long time before we shall get accustomed, in our associations and conventions, to the absence of that venerable form, those gray hairs, and that voice of wisdom, and gentleness, and love, which came like oil on the troubled waters of debate, and drew out the entangled threads of thought, and by quaint queries, by questions which answered themselves, questions plainer than most men's answers, penetrated to the heart of every subject, and showed us, as by a flash of light, the exact point where the truth lay. We shall often desire in our councils his presence, his clear thought, his persuasive language, his gentleness of manner, and his conclusive logic."

Mr. Ballou had a most remarkable faculty of seeing through any abstruse question or subject that came up for discussion before any body with which he was sitting in fellowship, and could at once seem to set all right in their midst, by a few shrewdly-uttered words. Another brother has said of him in this respect:

"It was wonderful how he would put the needle in amid the tangled skein of reasonings, in a debate, and untie the knot just where the whole might be wound off without any difficulty; and how he would hold to the essential point in an important discussion, and dissipate every obscuration that threatened to darken and eclipse it, was astonishing, and showed where his power as a master reasoner lay. Such was the man."

We must now turn from these desultory remarks and references, to describe the end of his earthly mission.