SAMUEL DREW, M.A.

THE METAPHYSICAL SHOEMAKER.

“Secure to yourself a livelihood independent of literary success, and put into this lottery only the overplus of time. Woe to him who depends wholly on his pen! Nothing is more casual. The man who makes shoes is sure of his wages: the man who writes a book is never sure of anything.—Marmontel.

“Hereafter, I believe, some metaphysical Columbus will arise, traverse vast oceans of thought, and explore regions now undiscovered, to which our little minds and weak ideas do not enable us to soar.”—Samuel Drew.

SAMUEL DREW.

The life of Samuel Drew, the author of a once famous book, “The Immateriality and Immortality of the Soul,” is in some respects as remarkable as that of William Gifford,[32] and in others even more so. For Drew, unlike Gifford, received no collegiate training, nor was he ever favored with the rudiments of education in an ordinary boys’ school. In his childhood he was sent to a school along with his brothers, but his childish indifference to learning and his removal before he was eight years of age prevented his making any progress worth speaking of. His life, published by his son, speaks of him, with perfect truth, as the “Self-Taught Cornishman.”

His reply to Paine’s “Age of Reason,” and his book on the “Immortality of the Soul,” both of which were written and issued from the press during his life as a shoemaker, brought him into notoriety, and obtained for him a name as an acute thinker and able controversialist. He afterward published several theological works of great merit, edited and wrote the chief portion of a history of Cornwall, and finally became an editor on the staff of the Caxton press in Liverpool and London. His contributions to the literature of his own religious denomination, the Wesleyan Methodists, were very numerous; and for many years he was a constant writer in the Eclectic Review. From the beginning to the close of his public life he was held in high esteem as a preacher in the “circuits” of Cornwall, Liverpool, and London. The two universities of Aberdeen and London paid him a valuable compliment; the one conferring on him the degree of A.M., and the other, through certain members of the council, requesting him to be put in competition for the Chair of Moral Philosophy.

But before all these things he was an earnest, high-souled, useful Christian man, who found his principal delight in diffusing around him the influence of a good example and a benevolent Christ-like spirit. His best memorials were inscribed on the hearts of the people among whom he spent his valuable life. His writings may now be but little read, and his name but little known outside the Christian community to which he was attached, yet he made a record as a faithful servant of God that will never perish, and obtained a memorial for his name that is safe against all the influence of time and change.

The subject of this sketch was born at St. Anstell, in Cornwall, on the 3d March, 1765. His parents were both members of families long resident in Cornwall. They were in but poor circumstances, the father being employed chiefly as a farm-laborer. Now and then he worked in connection with the tin mines of the neighborhood. Hard work, scant fare, and great economy were necessary to enable the parents to bring up their young family respectably. We may judge of their circumstances by the fact that the father found it not at all an easy thing to carry out a worthy determination he had formed to send his three children to school, where the fee for each scholar was only one penny per week. Little Sammy’s progress hardly compensated for this small outlay, for he was dull and careless and shockingly fond of playing truant. However, his school life did not last long. He was removed at the age of eight, as already stated, and put to work as a buddle-boy. The pits in which the tin-ore is washed after being broken up are called buddles, and it was the business of the buddle-boy to stir up the sediment of ore and metal at the bottom of the pit, in order that the stream of water which passed through it might carry off the sandy particles and leave the mineral behind. For this work Samuel was to receive three halfpence a week. But the poor little fellow was early taught the meaning of the terms “bad debt“ and ”failure in business.” His master kept the wages back, intending to pay them, as was customary, to the father. At the end of eight weeks the employer failed, and Samuel never received his first instalment of wages. When another man took the business, shortly after, the boys were paid twopence per week, and for the two years in which he continued at this work, the little buddle-boy never received more than this miserable pittance. It must be confessed that Samuel was a wilful, headstrong fellow. The circumstances which led to his removal from home were hardly to his credit. His own mother died when he was nine years old. She was a good woman, and took great pains to save her boy from the bad influence of low company at the tin-works. Samuel, though young and reckless, cherished a deep regard for his mother. About a year and a half after her death the father married again, and Samuel, not liking the idea of having a “new mother,” made himself as obnoxious to her as he could. This improper conduct could not be permitted, and it was especially wrong in this instance, as the “new mother” was very attentive and kind to the children.

“At the age of ten and a half,” says his biographer, Samuel “was apprenticed for nine years to a shoemaker, living in a sequestered hamlet about three miles from St. Austell. His father and family at this time were not far distant, but removing soon after to Polpea, in Tywardreath, the poor lad’s intercourse with his relatives was, in a great measure, suspended, and he felt the loneliness of his situation.”

Drew’s apprenticeship life was well-nigh as miserable and unprofitable as it could be. In an account of the hardships he endured at this time he himself says: “My new abode at St. Blazey and new engagements were far from being agreeable. To any of the comforts and conveniences of life I was an entire stranger, and by every member of the family was viewed as an underling, come thither to subserve their wishes, or obey their mandates. To his trade of shoemaker my master added that of farmer. He had a few acres of ground under his care, and was a sober, industrious man; but, unfortunately for me, nearly one half of my time was taken up in agricultural pursuits. On this account I made no proficiency in my business, and felt no solicitude to rise above the farmers’ boys with whom I daily associated. While in this place I suffered many hardships. When, after having been in the fields all day, I came home with cold feet, and damp and dirty stockings, I was permitted, if the oven had been heated during the day, to throw them into it, that they might dry against the following morning; but frequently have I had to put them on in precisely the same state in which I had left them the preceding evening. To mend my stockings I had no one, and frequently have I wept at the holes which I could not conceal; though, when fortunate enough to procure a needle and some worsted, I have drawn the outlines of the holes together, and made, what I thought, a tolerable job.”

“During my apprenticeship,” he continues, “many bickerings and unpleasant occurrences took place. Some of these preyed so much on my mind, that several times I had determined to run away and enlist on board a privateer or man-of-war.” He seems to have had little inclination for reading during these unhappy days; and if he had been disposed for study there were but few books within his reach. Accident put into his hands a few odd numbers of a publication circulated in the West of England called The Weekly Entertainer. He read and re-read the histories of “Paul Jones,” “The Serapis,” and “Bon Homme Richard,” until his imagination was inflamed with the thought of joining a pirate, and leading the jolly abandoned life of a sea-rover. Such reading as this did very little good for him. The only other book he seems to have met with during these days of servitude was “an odd number of the ‘History of England’ about the time of the Commonwealth.” But this spell of reading lasted only a short time. The odd volume of history, which charmed him at first, soon grew monotonous and wearisome, and was thrown aside. “With this,” he says, “I lost not only a disposition for reading, but almost the ability to read. The clamor of my companions and others engrossed nearly the whole of my attention, and, so far as my slender means would allow, carried me onward toward the vortex of dissipation.”

Much of his time was occupied with wild companions, among whom he was foremost in daring and mischief. Bird-nesting, orchard-robbing, and even poaching and smuggling were resorted to for amusement and profit. On one occasion he nearly lost his life by following sea-birds to their haunt on the edge of a lofty cliff overhanging the sea. At another time, in the dead of the night, when he and a number of men and boys were out on a poaching expedition, he and his companions were nearly scared out of their wits by some apparition, which confronted them with large fiery eyes, and suddenly disappeared.

Spite of these doubtful amusements his life at St. Blazey was becoming intolerable. He compares his position to that of “a toad under a harrow;” and declares that his master and mistress seemed bent on degrading him. At last, when he could brook his degradation no longer, he resolved to abscond, and accordingly, at the age of seventeen, after enduring six and a half years of bondage and cruelty, he ran off, intending to go to sea. But his plans were happily frustrated. On his way from St. Blazey to Plymouth he called at his old home, and as his father was absent his stepmother refused to give him money to assist him in his mad project. He then made off for Plymouth with only a few pence in his pocket. Passing through Liskeard he chanced to meet with a good-natured shoemaker, and entered into an engagement as a journeyman. In a short time he was discovered in his retreat, and persuaded to return to his father’s roof. He agreed on condition that he should not be sent back to his old master. This being arranged, a situation was found for Drew at Millbrook and afterward at Kingsand and Crafthole.

It was during his stay at the last place that the event occurred which led to the most important change in his life. He had often engaged in smuggling expeditions during the time of his apprenticeship, these unlawful practices not being regarded as disgraceful in out-of-the-way places on the coast a century ago. The rough villagers were rather disposed to make a boast of their success in evading the law; and few, if any, of their neighbors offered any opposition or remonstrance. One dark night in December, 1784, when Samuel Drew was about nineteen years of age, a vessel laden with contraband goods made signals to have her cargo fetched on shore; and the daring youth agreed to form one of the boat’s crew for this purpose. The night was so stormy and dark that the captain of the vessel had been obliged to stand off a considerable distance from the shore. The smugglers were two miles out at sea when one of their number, in attempting to catch his hat, upset the boat. Three men were immediately drowned; Drew, who was a first-rate swimmer, managed by dint of the most violent effort to reach the rocks, and was picked up by some of his companions ‘more dead than alive,’ and carried to a farm-house, whose occupants were compelled, much against their will, to allow the half-drowned youth to be brought in and laid before the kitchen fire. A keg of brandy from the vessel was opened, and a bowlful of its contents placed to his lips. He had sense enough not to drink much, though recklessly urged to swallow it all! After lying by the fire until circulation was pretty well restored, he was able, with the help of friendly arms, to crawl to his lodgings, a distance of two miles, the ground being covered with snow.

It was a mad adventure, and nearly cost him his life, but proved, instead, the occasion of opening the way to a new life, brighter and better and happier than the one he had spent in thoughtless and sinful amusement. “Alas! what will be the end of my poor unhappy boy?” said his father, on hearing of Samuel’s narrow escape. Very wisely it was resolved to have him removed from his sinful companions at Crafthole, and a good situation was found for him under a steady master at St. Austell.

This little town was one of the numerous places in Cornwall that had derived much benefit from the ministry of John and Charles Wesley; a “society” had been formed and a chapel built. Drew began to attend the services in this chapel soon after going to live at St. Austell. Here he heard the popular young preacher, a mere stripling, Adam Clarke, afterward well known to the world as the learned commentator, Dr. Adam Clarke. The fervid discourses of this young man, combined with the effect produced by the death of a gifted and pious brother, which happened at this time, brought about that change in Samuel Drew which the Saviour speaks of as the new birth, without which, He tells us, no one “can enter into the kingdom of heaven.” The change in Samuel Drew was complete. Body, mind, and spirit shared and rejoiced in it. The latent faculties of a great mind and noble heart were awakened and developed by the heavenly light and heat which now fell upon them. He felt at once a strong passion for self-culture, and the devotion of his gifts to useful purposes. The first thing was to pick up again his almost lost knowledge of the arts of reading and writing; for describing his accomplishments in this way at the time of his conversion he says, “I was scarcely able to read and almost totally unable to write. Literature was a term to which I could annex no idea. Grammar I knew not the meaning of. I was expert at trifles, acute at follies, and ingenious about nonsense.” As for his writing, a friend compared it to the traces of a spider dipped in ink, and set to crawl on paper. In this respect, sooth to say, it was neither better nor worse than the writing of many men whose education is not supposed to have been neglected. This description of Samuel Drew’s accomplishments, or rather want of them, refers to the beginning of the year 1785, when he was in his twentieth year. It is well to note this fact, as it will show how much of his time was wasted in youth, and how great must have been his industry in the work of self-culture after this date. Practically his education did not begin until he stood on the threshold of manhood, and even then it was not carried on in any thorough and systematic fashion. He had to help himself in the matter as best he could. At first he had no counsellors, no store of books, and no well-arranged course of reading. All depended on his good fortune in borrowing; and, what proved in his case as in so many others the best thing in the world, all depended on his following his own bent and satisfying his own taste in the choice of subjects for study. This in the majority of cases proves to be the secret of success in life. For our taste for a subject is the result of our having a special aptitude for it. We like to do what comes easiest to us. The born artist, as he is termed, likes to draw and sketch because he can draw and sketch better than he can do anything else; the arithmetician enjoys working out problems in figures; the poet loves to indulge his fancy and clothe his imaginations in the guise of poetry; and the metaphysician is happiest when employed in the task of definition and reasoning.

Drew’s capacity, and therefore his taste, lay in the direction of metaphysics, and it is curious to notice how the future logician and theologian manages to make his most ungenial and untoward circumstances as a shoemaker in an obscure country town serve his purpose and help him forward to the accomplishment of his life-destiny. All this was partly the result of natural gifts and partly the fruit of strenuous application and toil. Men who have done notable things in the world have been spoken of as belonging to two classes. There is the man who “seems to have what is best in him as a possession;“ and the man who ”seems to show that what is regarded as an inspiration may come as the result of labor.”[33] This is but another method of stating the old distinction between “genius and talent.” If Samuel Drew must be classified at all, we should certainly place him in the former category. What was best in him was indeed a possession, not an acquirement. Yet, like all men of mark, he owed much to close study and hard work. Without these his fine natural gifts would have been useless.

Drew’s master at St. Austell combined the three somewhat kindred businesses of saddler, shoemaker, and bookbinder. His shop was also a regular meeting-place for the gossipers of the town; and as St. Austell was then in a ferment of religious excitement, most of the talk ran on religious topics. The Calvinist and Arminian divided the field between them, and in their contests, sometimes as arbiters, and sometimes as the champion of a party, Drew was often called in to contribute to the discussion. Here he found the first arena for the exhibition of his natural powers as a debater, and gained for himself no small renown.

About this time also a book came in his way, which seems to have made a revolution in his mind. This was Locke’s famous “Essay on the Human Understanding,” a copy of which was brought to Drew’s master’s to be bound. The young shoemaker had read nothing of the kind. It opened to his mind a world of thought that was new to his experience, yet one that seemed familiar on account of his natural aptitude for such studies. He read the luminous pages of the great philosopher with the utmost avidity. Henceforth reading became with him an intense appetite. Nothing came much amiss, but such books as led him into the ample domains of philosophy and religion afforded the greatest delight. He says, “This book (Locke’s Essay) set all my soul to think.... It gave the first metaphysical turn to my mind, and I cultivated the little knowledge of writing which I had acquired in order to put down my reflections. It awakened me from my stupor, and induced me to form a resolution to abandon the grovelling views which I had been accustomed to entertain.”

For two years after the change we have noticed Drew continued working industriously at his trade, and filling up all his spare moments by reading such books as came to the shop to be bound, or any others he could borrow from friends. Attracted by one science after another, and finding, as most eager minds do, a charm in each, he finally settled to metaphysics, because, as he sometimes shrewdly observed, among other recommendations it has this, that it requires fewer books than other branches of study, and may be followed at the least expense. “It appeared to be a thorny path; but I determined nevertheless to enter and begin to tread it,“ he remarks; and adds, ”To metaphysics I then applied myself, and became what the world and Dr. Clarke call a Metaphysician.”

By the advice and help of friends he resolved, in January, 1787, to commence business on his own account. His savings at this time amounted to only fourteen shillings. He was therefore compelled to borrow capital, or remain a journeyman. It was not difficult, however, to find a man in St. Austell who was willing to trust the now steady and hard-working shoemaker. A miller advanced him £5 on the security of his good character, saying, “And more if that’s not enough, and I’ll promise not to demand it till you can conveniently pay me.” Fortunately for him, at this time Dr. Franklin’s “Way to Wealth” came into his hands, and impressed him deeply with its sage maxims and sound principles of business and thrift. On one maxim, though severe, he often at this time acted literally, “It is better to go supperless to bed than to rise in debt.” The account which he gives of the hard work and rigid economy, and the good fruits they bore, during his first year’s experience of business, is highly creditable to him, and will be best told in his own words: “Eighteen hours out of the twenty-four did I regularly work, and sometimes longer, for my friends gave me plenty of employment, and until the bills became due I had no means of paying wages to a journeyman. I was indefatigable, and at the year’s end I had the satisfaction of paying the five pounds which had been so kindly lent me, and finding myself, with a tolerable stock of leather, clear of the world.” This wise resolve to pay his way and to live within his means, so vigorously carried out from the very beginning, was of the utmost service to him all through life, and saved him from the worry and discredit by which so many men of genius and literary gifts have been hampered and thwarted in their work. When once the resolute shoemaker had made a fair start and conquered the difficulties of early business-life, he was always at liberty to devote his mind to his favorite pursuits. He was poor enough, it is true; but he was comparatively independent, for he was free from debt. Nor did he forget others in their need. Many stories are told of his generosity. He was never rash and prodigal in his giving, but acted on the best rules of common sense and high principle. He would not give while he was himself in debt, sticking closely to the rule, “Be just before you are generous,” yet never making that wise adage a cloak, as some do, for stinginess. Nothing could be more characteristic of his wisdom and kindliness than the story told by his sister of his coming home after being invited to dinner with a friend, and saying, “The people at the place where I have been very kindly invited me to dinner; I can now honestly give away my own. Bring out what meat you have left; cut from it as much as you think I should have eaten, and carry it to Alice H.“ At another time he observed a poor woman, ”with an empty basket on one arm and a child on the other, looking wistfully at the butchers’ stalls;“ and adds, ”I guessed from her manner that she had no money, and was ashamed to ask credit: so as I passed her I put half a crown into her hand. The good woman was so affected that she burst into tears, and I could not help crying for company.” Having been enabled to start in business by a loan of money, he showed his gratitude by helping others in the same position, and, strange to say, a change of fortune having overtaken his old friend, the miller, Drew had the satisfaction of helping him in his time of need.

An incident which happened about this time will show to what dangers his social disposition and fondness for debate exposed him, and how slight an incident saved him from the snare. He had become enamoured of political matters, and discussed them very vigorously with his customers and others who made his work-room a meeting-place where they might hear and debate the latest news. Sometimes these discussions drew him from home into the house of a neighbor, and so absorbed his time that he found himself at the end of the day far behind in his work, and obliged to sit up till midnight in order to finish it. One night, however, he received a severe rebuke from some anonymous counsellor, which effectually put a stop to this bad habit. As he sat at work after most of the neighbors were in bed, he heard footsteps at the door, and presently a boy’s shrill voice accosted him through the keyhole with this sage remark: “Shoemaker, shoemaker, work by night, and run about by day!“ ”And did you,” inquired a friend to whom Drew told the story, “pursue the boy and chastise him for his insolence?” “No, no,” replied Drew, who had the wisdom to see that there was more fault in himself than the boy, and had also the moral courage and firmness of character to turn the annoyance to profitable account—“No, no. Had a pistol been fired off at my ear I could not have been more dismayed or confounded. I dropped my work, saying to myself, ‘True, true, but you shall never have that to say of me again!’” Right well did he keep to his resolve, and with what results we shall see.

In 1791, at the age of twenty-seven, he married Honor Halls of St. Austell, and now, fairly settled in his domestic affairs, he devoted his attention and leisure time, such as he could snatch from intervals of work, to careful reading and thought on philosophical and religious subjects. His first literary productions were, according to rule in such cases, in the shape of poetry. “An Ode to Christmas,” dated 1791, and “Reflections on St. Austell Churchyard,” dated 1792, appear to have been his earliest attempts. Though he had fine poetic feeling and considerable readiness in expression, he was not destined to shine in this field of literature. His first venture in print was entitled “Remarks on Paine’s ‘Age of Reason.’” This infidel work by the notorious Tom Paine had many readers and great influence among the working class at the close of the last century. It appears that a young surgeon who had been in the habit of visiting the thoughtful and well-read shoemaker, had procured a copy of the “Age of Reason,” and had read and endorsed its atheistic doctrines. He strongly urged Drew to read the book, in order that they might discuss its contents together. The two disputants met night after night, the shoemaker attacking and the surgeon defending the principles of the famous infidel book. At length the discussion came to an end by the surgeon giving up his faith in Voltaire, Rousseau, Gibbon, Hume, and Tom Paine, and accepting the teaching and consolation of the religion of Jesus Christ. The young man died soon after this occurrence, and confessed to the great service which had been rendered him by Samuel Drew in removing doubt and laying the basis for Christian faith. On showing his notes of this discussion to two Wesleyan preachers then stationed at St. Austell, he was advised to publish them, and did so in 1799. This pamphlet had a rapid sale. It was, as we have said, Drew’s introduction to the world of literature, and it brought him no little fame and credit in the religious world of his day. Great was the astonishment evinced when it was known that the writer of what was deemed a masterly piece of argument in good, clear, forcible English was a “cobbler” and an entirely self-taught man. The flattering reception and notice given to this pamphlet emboldened him in the following year to venture on the publication of an ode on the death, by accident, of an influential townsman. A literary friend, who had praised his first attempt very highly, spoke so plainly yet kindly of this production that Drew very wisely abandoned the muse and stuck to metaphysics and prose. In the same year also he wrote a pamphlet which, in the locality of St. Austell, at all events, sustained his fame. This was a reply to some aspersions cast on the Wesleyan Methodists by a clergyman, the then vicar of Manaccan, Cornwall. So completely did the worthy Methodist local preacher disprove the statements of the clergyman, and withal in so temperate a spirit, that the latter eventually not only confessed his defeat in a generous and manly spirit, but very gracefully acknowledged his obligations to his humble antagonist. Drew had now a greater task in hand which was drawing near its completion. For several years he had occupied his mind with the subject of the immortality of the soul, having read every book he could procure on the subject. None of these books quite satisfied him. “He imagined,” as he says, that the immortality of the soul admitted of more rational proof than he had ever seen. Accordingly in 1798 he resolved to make notes of his thoughts on this vast theme. In 1801 these were fully prepared for the press and submitted to the judgment of the judicious friend referred to above—Rev. John Whittaker, of Ruan Lanyhorne, in Cornwall. By his advice Drew committed the work to the press, with the title, “The Immateriality and Immortality of the Soul.” It was published by subscription; “the best families” in the county giving their names as subscribers. The first edition numbered 700 copies, of which subscriptions were entered for 640. A few weeks after its publication, Drew received a letter from a publisher in Bristol asking the author to state his terms for the copyright. Twenty pounds and thirty copies of the new edition was all he asked, so little did he suspect the popularity his work would attain, and so low did he rate his own abilities as an author. A pleasing circumstance deserves mention here in connection with the appearance of the first edition of this essay. A highly favorable review of it appeared in the Anti-Jacobin, which Drew afterward discovered to have been written by no other than Mr. Polwhele, the clergyman whose pamphlet anent the Wesleyans Drew had so resolutely and successfully attacked. Such an act of grace was infinitely creditable to the critic as well as gratifying to the author. In regard to the history of this essay, the following note, written by Samuel Drew’s son,[34] is full of interest: “After passing through five editions in England and two in America, and being translated and printed in France, the ‘Essay on the Soul,’ the copyright of which Mr. Drew had disposed of on the terms just named, and which, before its first appearance, a Cornish bookseller had refused at the price of ten pounds, became again his property at the end of twenty-eight years. He gave it a final revision, added much important matter, and sold it a second time for £250.”

The literary reputation of the metaphysical shoemaker was now established. Journals and reviews spoke in terms of high praise. Literary men, clergymen, and ministers of various denominations, wrote in congratulatory terms, and proffered friendship and assistance. The best libraries in the locality were placed at his service, and invitations or visits came so thick upon him, that the modest shoemaker was at times fairly bewildered by them. A little book, issued in 1803, the year after Drew’s essay appeared, brought his circumstances before the public. It was entitled, “Literature and Literary Characters of Cornwall,” and was edited by the above-named Mr. Polwhele. To this book Drew, by request of the editor, sent a short autobiographical sketch. “His lowly origin,” says his son, “and humble situation being thus made public, the singular contrast which it presented to his growing literary fame attracted much attention. St. Austell became noted as the birthplace and residence of Mr. Drew, and strangers coming into the county for the gratification of their curiosity did not consider that object accomplished until they had seen ‘the metaphysical shoemaker.’” Referring to those flattering attentions, he once shrewdly observed: “These gentlemen certainly honor me by their visits; but I do not forget that many of them merely wish to say that they have seen the cobbler who wrote a book.”

The following picture of the literary shoemaker during this period of his life must not be omitted here, for it gives us a glimpse of his method of working at this time when employed on his double task of making boots and books. It recalls the sketch given in the life of Bloomfield, much of whose poetry was composed under similar conditions. Indeed, it were hard to say who had the worst of it, the poet in the crowded garret or the theologian in the noisy kitchen. The first paragraph is written by Samuel Drew himself, and the second by his son.

“During my literary pursuits I regularly and constantly attended on my business, and I do not recollect that through these one customer was ever disappointed by me. My mode of writing and study may have in them, perhaps, something peculiar. Immersed in the common concerns of life, I endeavor to lift my thoughts to objects more sublime than those with which I am surrounded; and, while attending to my trade, I sometimes catch the fibres of an argument which I endeavor to note, and keep a pen and ink by me for that purpose. In this state what I can collect through the day remains on any paper which I may have at hand till the business of the day is despatched and my shop shut, when, in the midst of my family, I endeavor to analyze such thoughts as had crossed my mind during the day. I have no study, I have no retirement. I write amid the cries and cradles of my children; and frequently when I review what I have written, endeavor to cultivate ‘the art to blot.’ Such are the methods which I have pursued, and such the disadvantages under which I write.”

“His usual seat,” adds his son, “after closing the business of the day, was a low nursing-chair beside the kitchen-fire. Here, with the bellows on his knees for a desk, and the usual culinary and domestic matters in progress around him, his works, prior to 1805, were chiefly written.”

Samuel Drew’s life as a shoemaker came to an end with the year 1805. It will not be possible for us to give in detail the events which fill up the remainder of his honorable career. Nor is it needful; the chief interest of his history lies in that portion of it which shows us the self-taught Cornishman plying his lowly craft while he lays the foundation for his fame as a theologian. His preaching engagements were very numerous from the time when he was first put on the Wesleyan preachers’ “plan,” and they were never suspended until within a few weeks of his death. His status as a local preacher was of the very best, and frequently brought him into the company of the leading men of his denomination. His friendship with Mr., now Dr., Adam Clarke, one of the leading men among the Wesleyans, had been maintained from the time when Clarke was on the St. Austell circuit. The good name acquired by Drew as a literary man, and his high standing among his own religious society, led to his appointment under Dr. Coke, the founder of the Wesleyan Methodist Missions. The shoemaker now abandoned the awl and last for the pen, and devoted himself, as a secretary and joint-editor, entirely to literary work. He assisted Dr. Coke in preparing for the press his “Commentary on the New Testament,” “History of the Bible,” and other works. In 1806, through Dr. Adam Clarke’s influence, Drew began to contribute to the Eclectic Review. Before he had abandoned the shoemaker’s stall the materials for another theological work had been collected and partly prepared for publication. Having treated the question of the Immortality of the Soul, he had wished, and was strongly urged by several clerical friends, to take up the subject of the “Identity and Resurrection of the Human Body.” A work bearing this title appeared in 1809, having been submitted in manuscript to his old friends the Revs. Mr. Whittaker and Mr. Gregor, and to Archdeacon Moore. It was not a little remarkable that men of this class should have been the foremost to patronize and aid the Methodist shoemaker in his literary enterprises, and that one of them should call himself “friend and admirer,“ while another spoke of feeling ”a pride and pleasure in being employed as the scourer of his armor.” The most extensive work Drew ventured to publish was entitled “A Treatise on the Being and Attributes of God.” This was undertaken at the earnest solicitation of Dr. Reid, then Professor of Oriental Languages at the Marischal College, Aberdeen, as a competition for a prize of £1500 offered for the best essay on that subject. Though this work failed to gain the first place in the list, it stood very high, and, certainly, it was no small testimony to its worth that it should have been deemed worthy to rank as a close competitor with the successful works of Dr. A. M. Brown, Principal of Marischal College, and the Rev. J. B. Sumner, afterward Bishop of Chester and Archbishop of Canterbury. Drew’s treatise was not published till 1820, when it came out in two octavo volumes. In 1813 he published a controversial pamphlet on the Divinity of Christ, which had a large sale, and for which, such was the value now set on his writings, his publisher, Mr. Edwards, paid as much as he had previously given for the Essay on the Soul. Under the direction of F. Hitchens, Esq., of St. Ives, Drew now took up a laborious task which had been in that gentleman’s hands for several years, and brought it to completion. This was the publication of a History of Cornwall. It appeared in 1815-17, and consisted of 1500 quarto pages, all of which “was sent to the printer in his,“ Drew’s, ”own manuscript.” At the request of the executors of Dr. Coke, Drew published a memoir of his friend, which appeared in 1817. This task made a visit to London necessary. Here the learned shoemaker met with the Rev. Legh Richmond, author of “The Dairyman’s Daughter,” and with Dr. Mason of New York. He was, of course, asked to preach in several London “circuits,” where his fame as a writer had preceded him. His “uncouth and unclerical appearance,” for he wore top-boots and light-colored breeches, excited no small curiosity; but his excellent preaching and delightful simplicity and modesty of manner awoke universal respect. The preacher was fifty years of age (1815) when he paid this visit to the metropolis, and it was the first time he had travelled more than a few miles from the locality where he was born.

But a journey of more importance still was taken in 1819, when he went down to Liverpool to negotiate for the editorship of a new magazine to be issued from the Caxton Establishment, then in the hands of Mr. Fisher. Drew was finally engaged as permanent editor on this establishment, and the publication of which he had the management, bearing the title, The Imperial Magazine, became a complete success. Though sold at one shilling, it had a circulation of 7000 during the first year. The destruction of the premises by fire compelled the removal of the Caxton Establishment to London, where Drew remained at the post of editor for the rest of his life. In 1824 the degree of A.M. was conferred on him by the Marischal College, Aberdeen. We have alluded to the request made by some members of the Council of the London University, that he would allow himself to be nominated for the Chair of Moral Philosophy. This request was made in 1830; but Samuel Drew, who was now sixty-five years of age, was beginning to feel the effects of his long life of hard work, and to sigh for rest. His chief wish was to end his days in his native county, among the scenes of his boyhood and youth, and amid the associations that clustered round the place where he had first learned to think and write, and make for himself a name in the world of letters. This wish was hardly fulfilled; for, holding on to his daily routine of office work from year to year in the hope of retiring with a competence for himself and his children, he was at length compelled on 2d March, 1833, the last day of his sixty-eighth year, to lay down his pen. His life-work was now over. Within a few days he left London for the home of his daughter at Helston in Cornwall, where on the 29th of March he died. It was his comfort, during the last days of his life, to be surrounded by a circle of deeply attached relatives, and on several occasions, when his head was supported by one of his children, he repeated the lines of his favorite poem, the “Elegy” by Gray:

His faith in the doctrine of the Immortality of the Soul, which he had so ably advocated, afforded him profound consolation in his last hours. On the day before his death he said, with all the eagerness of keen anticipation, “Thank God, to-morrow I shall join the glorious company above!”

Monuments to his memory were erected over the grave in Helston Churchyard, and in the Wesleyan chapel and parish church at St. Austell. On each of these the inhabitants of his native town and county bore strong testimony to the affection and regard felt by all who knew him for the “self-taught Cornish metaphysician.”