the roughest roads or through heavy snows, averaged, probably, from fifteen to twenty miles.  It was estimated that he had officiated at not less than 1,500 funerals, sometimes riding for the purpose forty miles.  His funeral and camp-meeting sermons included, he could not have preached less than from 8,000 to 9,000 times.  He never received a dollar of compensation for his ministerial services.  Though a hard-working farmer, his hospitality to his itinerant brethren was unbounded.  In several towns of Cumberland and adjoining counties, he was the revered patriarch, as half a century earlier he had been the youthful pioneer of Methodism.  When he departed to be with Christ, there was no better man in all the State to follow after him.

[6] One of a number of old whaling captains in her husband’s congregation, in whom she was interested greatly.  They belonged to a class of men sui generis—­men who had traversed all oceans, had visited many lands, and were as remarkable for their jovial large-hearted, social qualities, when at home, as for their indomitable energy, Yankee push, and adventurous seamanship, when hunting the monsters of the deep on the other side of the globe.

[7] Two bright girls and a young mother, who had died not long before.

[8] Her sickness lasted six weeks, dating from the day of her being entirely confined to bed.  Her life was prolonged much beyond what her physicians or any one else who saw her, had believed possible.  During the last week her sufferings were less, and she lay quiet part of the time.  Friday morning she had an attack of faintness, in the course of which she remarked “I am dying.”  She recovered and before noon sank into a somnolent state from which she never awoke.  Her breathing became softer and fainter till it ceased at half-past five in the afternoon.  Oh, what a transition was that! from pain and weariness and woe to the world of light! to the presence of the Saviour! to unclouded bliss!  I felt, and so I believe did all assembled round her bed, that it was time for exultation rather than grief.  We could not think of ourselves, so absorbed were we in contemplation of her happiness.  She was able to say scarcely anything during her sickness, and left not a single message for the absent children, or directions to those who were present.  Her extreme weakness, and the distressing effect of every attempt to speak, made her abandon all such attempts except in answer to questions.  But the tenor of her replies to all inquiries was uniform, expressing entire acquiescence in the will of God, confidence in Him through Christ, and a desire to depart as soon as He should permit.  Tranquillity and peace, unclouded by a single doubt or fear, seem to have filled her mind.  There were several reasons which led us to decide that the interment should take place here; but on the following Saturday a gentleman arrived from Portland, sent by the Second Parish to remove the remains to that place, if we made no objection.  As we made none, the body was disinterred and taken to P., my brother G. accompanying it.  So that her mortal remains now rest with those of my dear father.—­Letter from Mrs. Hopkins to her aunt in New Haven, dated Williamstown, Dec. 1, 1848.