Butte record., 1856-01-19
Jbt 5torq.
THE OLD PASTOR.

He was an Old man. A very old
man. Net that so many winters and
summers had passed over him-not
that he had seen SO many changing
suns and winter consultations. From
very childhood he counts on dates of
JOYS and sorrows. and eagerly hastens
forward to or shridks back from com
ing hour.
He was man of medium height
not tall nor yet short, nor thin nor yet
very heavy, not quick in his move
ments, nor was he feeble or slow. He
was very delicate in all he said and
did, with one only exception, which was
this:
When in the pulpit on Sunday he
was a different man from any other
day. Then all was activity, eloquence,
iervor. His whole soul was in the
work of the day, and he looked like a
different being.
His parsonage tit was his own; the
church built one, but he used his own
house) was the perfection of simple
comfort. His library it was luxury
&c enter. All the fathers looked ouV
from oak shelves, and all the learning
Of all ages were there with them.-
Many a rare old volume that it would
please an antiquary or book collector
to pay a small fortune for, was there,
in the quiet and unpretending collec-
ton Of the village pastor. He had no
mania for Old books, but he loved them,
and he loved to take one III hand that
he never saw before, and sit down for
an hour and talk with the author, long
since dead and forgotten.
But the social qualities Of the Doctor
were the most winning. Where he
received his doctorate | did not for
long time know, as there was no mani
fest mducement to any college to con-
fer it; for there was no money, and
there were no students like y to come
from our village, and we all know that
one or the other of these expectations
IS ordinarily necessary to lead college
board to confer degree. But | learn
cd, at length, that it was one Of the
Oldest institutions in that country
which. fer once, was led to honor talent
and learning, and that astonished the
pastor in his quiet village home with
the official letter that announced to
him that they had seen fit to recon-
mend him to the world as fitted to
teach the mysteries of sacred theology.
He was widower, but no one knew
his wife. He had been the pastor Of
that church for forty years, but no
one had ever heard him name her. He
came there a man oi middle age. They
asked him if he were married, and
he replied that he was widower.
That was the only time it was ever
spoken of. He had ministered to them
for long time; he had baptized their
children and buried their fathers +; he
had married their young maidens, had
counseled their erring sons. had been
father, brother, fri nd, in JOY and sor-
row; had been the constant, steadfast
visitor in days of afiiiction; had watch
ed with them many nights Of agony;
had pointed them often to the far-off
heaven, where alone there was rest and
peace for even the dwellers of that
peaceful village, and yet no one had
penetrated the old mans soul, or knew
from what fountain in his own breast
he drew those consultations which ex-
perience alone can supply.
1t is not necessary to relate the
manner in which | became acquainted
with the early history of Doctor Phil
lip Winslow. The old man, think,
never knew that | had heard it; and
after had became acquainted with 1t,
| could appreciate great many quiet
things that he said, and many more
that he did.
could understand his long evenings
in the still moonlight, his lonesome
walks along the bank Of the river, his
smiles while he sat thinkjng, his paus-