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ference about the same period. His first circuit was West Wheeling. The second year he was stationed in the city of Pittsburgh, under the charge of the Rev. T. M. Hudson. The third year, the station being divided, he was placed in charge of Liberty-street Church in that city. The fourth year he was appointed to Monongahela city. He was ordained deacon by Bishop Roberts in Pittsburgh, in 1835, and elder in Steubenville, Ohio, in 1837, by the same bishop.

of Cincinnati, and upon an uncle of very considerable and varied learning, who was for years in public life, either on the judicial bench or in the state senate of Ohio, and who was also an active member and a devoted friend of the Methodist Church. His intellectual training commenced very early, and he gave evidences of that precocity of mind which has characterized, more or less, most men of extraordinary powers. True mental greatness must be inherent; it is therefore, in its essential attributes, original with the man, and can be discerned more or less under any disadvantages or obscurations of his youth; its peril is the physical precocity and correspondent physical decay which usually accompany it. If this can be averted by a suitable physical education, no evil will be likely to ensue; the mind can never fail through its own activity, however early or however continuous that activity may be; the physical stamina alone can suffer under it, and thereby disable the mental activity. Dr. Simpson's western life and hardy habits saved him from this dangerous liability. While early and as-presidency of the Wesleyan University siduous in study, he also laid the foundation of permanent and strenuous health. In addition to the ordinary branches, at eight years of age he began the study of the German language, and read the German Bible through in the following year.

When about twelve years old he commenced the study of Latin and Greek, first privately, and then at an academy in his native town. To these languages he added the study of French, and an extensive mathematical course. When between seventeen and eighteen years of age he became a student in Madison College, then superintended by Drs. Bascom, Elliott and Fielding, and received the appointment of tutor. During his stay in this institution he pursued the study of Hebrew, which he had previously commenced.

In 1829 he united with the Methodist Episcopal Church, and immediately engaged in active religious duties as a Sabbath-school teacher, and shortly afterward as a class-leader. His health suffering, notwithstanding his care and good constitution, he turned his attention to the study of medicine, and having completed the usual course, was licensed as a physician in 1833. But feeling it to be his duty to preach, he was licensed as a local preacher, and recommended to the annual con

At the close of the fourth year he accepted the professorship of Natural Science and the Vice Presidency in Alleghany College, where he remained ten years, and in 1839 was elected President of the Indiana Asbury University, which became, under his auspices, one of the strongest literary institutions of American Methodism. Here he remained until elected editor of the Western Christian Advocate in 1848. Shortly after his election, he was tendered, by the faculty of Dickinson College, the presidency of that institution, but would not accept it. The

was subsequently offered him. Dr. Simpson received the title of A. M. from Dr. Ruter at the Alleghany College in 1835, and that of D. D. from the Wesleyan University in 1843. He was a delegate to the General Conference in 1844 and 1848. In the latter he had occasion to show his devotion to, and mastery in the business of the Church. In conjunction with the Rev. J. C. Collins, he projected the California Conference-a measure then much questioned, but now found to be full of wisdom.

As president of a college, Dr. Simpson was unusually successful; he sent out many of the most promising young men of education in the West. He retired from this useful sphere of labor, and accepted the editoral chair for the sake of a new mode of activity as a new means of self-development and usefulness. The Western Christian Advocate quickly showed his vigorous hand. It took a decided stand on some of the most important public questions of the day. It incurred the animadversion of the secular press for its attention to the moral bearings of political movements and measures, but vindicated itself always with a resistless logic and vigor. The action of Congress on slavery received special attention from Dr. Simp

son, and his articles on that vexed subject did much to produce the state of opinion respecting it which now prevails throughout the West, not only in the Methodist conferences, but in the community at large. There was as much courage as ability displayed in his discussions of the subject.

We are not aware that Bishop Simpson has given to the public any other products of his pen than his editorials. His talents are evidently those of the preacher and the practical workman. His style, as a writer, shows no extraordinary traits; his power with the pen is purely that of strong sense and clear decisive logic. He has not probably practiced much the art of "composing," with a view to the elegancies or effectiveness of style-attributes which, though but secondary to such intellectual vigor as his, are nevertheless indispensable to any extended and permanent literary success. Methodism is so practical, so exigent in all its tendencies, that it hardly allows any of its sons to seek the kind of culture which secures influence and sway to the pen. The times are changing with it, however, in this respect, and there are indications that before many years it will take a leading place in the rapidly developing literature of the country.

Dr. Simpson's face is expressive of calm decision, of persistent energy and discriminating sagacity. He looks as if he ought to be a capital business man, a shrewd and safe manager, and a first-rate presiding officer. A writer in one of the Church papers thus rudely drew him, in charcoal, during the session of the Boston General Conference, some days before his election to the Episcopacy:-" He is editor of the Western Christian Advocate, and sits a few pews in the rear of his confrere of New-York. The doctor, like our humble self, may very appropriately thank Dr. Watts for that sublime stanza,

'The mind's the standard of the man,' &c.

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is rather slight in form, but evidently lithe and strenuous; his mien is not commanding; he stoops a little; his facial contour is a sharp, small triangle; his forehead is a cap-ital refutation of phrenology. In fine, the doctor is one of those characters whom all men of unfortunate faces glory in as living vindications of their whole class, for he is unquestionably a man of decided intellectual strength. He has delivered sermons and speeches in Boston which have excited no little interest." He was very popular, it is said, among the farmers in the far west during his presidential days-nearly as much for his coarse or uncouth clothes, as for his powerful talents. In his peregrinations through the country they flocked to hear him with enthusiasm, and delighted to recognize him as "one of themselves."

The superiority of Bishop Simpson is of that intrinsic character which marks a great man in anything that he undertakes. He is generally very effective in the pulpit-sometimes transcendently so; and he is so in spite of some very obvious defects. His voice is not good, and it usually assumes a shrill monotone, (the result, apparently, of too high a pitch,) which would be pronounced, by any critic in oratory, utterly incompatible with true eloquence; yet is he eloquent in defiance of the critics. The monotonous, declamatory tone, so common in the pulpits of Methodism, and one or two other of the most zealous denominations of this country, is the greatest detraction from their otherwise powerful ministrations. It would be laughed down, without ceremony, in the legislature, or any other assembly than the Church. Its mischief is, that it is unnatural—a bad habit; and on that very account usually an inexorable one. "Action," said Demosthenes," is eloquence;" but the "action" of the voice-its natural modulations—must be included. Once get on a high declamatory monotone, and you lose the possibility of right, variable modulations. A public speaker should be as natural as in conversation-the vocal manner in which he would address a small group of friends around him, extended in force or loudness enough to be heard by a large group, that is by a public assembly

that is the true oratory; and it should be conducted with all possible ease, selfpossession, and naturalness. The bishop's manner is fixed, unalterable, we suppose;

and we are not certain that it does not arise, partly, from a natural or constitutional (but yet defective) peculiarity; still, as bishops are usually models for imitation among the younger clergy, the latter may properly enough be advised of some of their liabilities. It would be well for them to recollect that Cicero tells us of a great cotemporary orator who, notwithstanding his superb powers, had some very grotesque grimaces, &c.; and that the young oratorical aspirants of the day, in endeavoring to imitate him, copied all his faults, but none of his excellences. Nature takes delight sometimes in resenting, with ridicule, the mental coxcombry of men who would be great, as monkeys would be men, by putting on the mere external dress of their superiors.

In spite, we repeat, of his peculiar defect of voice, Bishop Simpson is one of the most powerful preachers now extant among us. He follows the old plan of "homiletically" dividing and sub-dividing his subjects; his "skeletons" or "plans" are usually very thoroughly defined, and the parts taken up seriatim with nice precision. His verbal style is clear, direct, and rather plain; he throws abundance of apt and brilliant illustrations over his subject; (this is, in fact, one of his most striking excellences;) his emotions kindle and glow, brightening the declamatory monotone of which we have spoken more and more, and sweeping over the audience like an increasing gale on the bending grass of the prairie. There is a heart-subduing emotion with it also, that gives it a profoundly devout effect; the hearers, from the first, look eagerly at the speaker; they soon begin to wipe their eyes; and before he is through, you will be very apt to hear not a few outspoken, spontaneous responses to the stirring appeals of the preacher - especially in a western audience.

His neglected and inferior personal appearance adds, by contrast, to the strong impression of his discourse. The newspapers report that some time since, traveling east, he arrived in Lancaster-a place in which, personally, he was unknown-on Saturday evening, and being unwilling to travel on the Sabbath, he remained until Monday. On Sunday morning he set out from the hotel to find the Methodist Church. On his way he happened to inquire of one of the members

going to it. As they were walking together, this brother discovered that he was a preacher, though, from his appearance, he supposed a local one from the country. On arriving at the church, he introduced him to the pastor, Rev. William Bishop. Although Mr. Bishop heard the name, he never for a moment thought who it was. Hesitating whether to ask him to preach, lest he should be ashamed of the effort of one whom he supposed to be a country farmer, he at last gave the invitation, and the bishop consented. All fears of him were dispelled while he offered his first prayer. During the sermon he enjoyed peculiar "liberty," and such a heavenly influence rested upon the congregation that almost every soul was melted, subdued, or carried away on a tide of exultant joy. Mr. Bishop was perfectly astonished. Soon after the bishop had taken his seat and the intensity of feeling had a little subsided, the pastor said to him :"Are you a traveling preacher, brother?" "Yes; I have been an itinerant for several years, and now travel a very large circuit."

"What conference do you belong to ?" "I did belong to the Pittsburgh, but I cannot say that I am now attached to any particular conference."

"What did you say your name was ?” "Simpson."

"Simpson! Simpson! not Bishop Simp

son?"

"Why, they call me bishop sometimes," was the reply.

In the excitement of the moment the pastor sprang to his feet and informed the congregation that they had had the pleasure of listening to Bishop Simpson. The day will not soon be forgotten by the Method ists of Lancaster.

But we have not designed to prolong these sketches. Dr. Simpson ought never to have been elected bishop. We helped by our own vote to make him such; but we have twinges of conscience whenever we think of the fact. If our repentance could undo the wrong we then did him, we would vote down our old vote; but, alas! some sins are irrevocable. The doctor is not at all the man for such a place; but so grave a charge requires proof, and we cannot detail ours here; we must defer it till our sketch of Bishop Ames, against whom we must bring the same charge in our next number.

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fond parent! How tenaciously the endearing manner in which the little one answered your call clings to the memory, and how fondly yet sadly all his little sayings and doings are recalled, none but those who have experienced the loss of a sweet child can realize. Satisfied though you may be that the one whom you so tenderly loved is in a brighter habitation than the wealthiest of monarchs, who dwell here below, can possess ; that his companions are angels and himself an angel, still it is natural to mourn the demise of one whom you had loved with a father's love or cherished with a mother's holy affec

As closed thine eye;
Tears of our anguish may not tell

tion. It was this fine feeling that in- | Despair was in our last farewell,
duced the sweet poet, Moir, to write the
beautiful poem which we here present
to our readers, on the death of a child
whose pet name was "Casa Wappy," and
whose early departure was a source of
deep grief to the poet.

AND hast thou sought thy heavenly home,
Our fond, dear boy-

The realms where sorrow dare not come,
Where life is joy?

Pure at thy death as at thy birth,
Thy spirit caught no taint from earth;
Even by its bliss we mete our death,

Casa Wappy!

When thou didst die;
Words may not paint our grief for thee,
Sighs are but bubbles in the sea
Of our unfathom'd agony,

Thou wert a vision of delight
To bless us given;
Beauty embodied to our sight,

A type of heaven;

Casa Wappy!

So dear to us thou wert, thou art
Even less thine own self than a part
Of mine and of thy mother's heart,

Casa Wappy!

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