Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1882-11-27
st. Paul, Minnesota.
Il Modern vie,c of ,yonatncn Es,,rards.
lStockbridge Letter to Boston Herald.

a Modern Vieac Of .Josatheas Eaacards.
lStockbridge Letter to Boston Herald
Mr.. Edwards was ostensibly a mission
airy to the Indians, but don't believe he
amounted to much as missionary. I
have been unable to find any record of any
conversion of Indians he ever made. The
fact is he spent most OF his time while in
, Stockbridge with his legs twisted into
knot under that table, wailing aloud about
his own depravity, and in the intervals of
weeping, writing for dear life about the
Scheme of Salvation" ''Often since I
have lived IN this town." he wrote to one
of his former parisllioners
at this time, Il have had
very affecting views of my own sinfulness
ana vileness, very frequently TO such an
extent as to hold me in kind Of loud
weeping, sometimes for considerable
time together, SO that have often to shut
| myself up" The narrow little alley which
he called his study was the place where he
used to shut himself up to cry and write.
What was such man good for as a mis-
sionary to the Indians? He was not a man
OF expedients. There was nothing rracti-
cal about him. He was awfuily IN earn
est. He'll seemed to him yawning to
ton which was important to him was how
a few could escape it, In the light
| OF this vast and awful problem, the mere
temporary hunger of an Indian, or the con-
duct of an Indian, Or the ignorance or
barbarity of an Indian, was Of very triAing
| moment. He kept severely away from the
Indians, and l have not the slightest doubt
that they were glad of 1t. He shuffied his
feet over that one board in his study, and
showed his pen over that one table, and
wept softly to himself, or vociferously
when he felt like it-now i'll terror
lest his own soul should be lost,
now in JOY because he thought it would be
saved. while Mrs. Edwards was patiently
raising mortgage and eleven children
out in the kitchen. If walls could listen
and recollect and repeat, know / should
hear sad voice still piping in the front
hall: Jonathan! Oh Jonathan! for heavens
sake, and all our sakes, stop crying and
| take care of these babies while I hang out
| the clothes, set that hen, feed that good
| for-nothing Injun, bake the pie, mend
Uriah's trousers, chop some wood and churn
the butterv'
He must have been as uncomfortable
person to live with as John Milton was. He
felt that he had q mission to define the
| methods and motives of redemption-an
,, he neglected everything else to fulfill it.
From my childhood up,' he says in one
| OF his celebrated works, my mind had
been full of objections against the doctrine
OF Gods sovereignty in choosing whom
he would to enternal life, and rejecting
whom he pleased, leaving them to eternally
perish and be everlastingly tor
mented in hell. It used to appear
like a horrible doctrine to me. But
remember the time very well when I
| seemed to be convinced and fully satisfied
as to this sovereignty of Gcd. . From
that day to this, I have scarcely ever found
SO much as the rising of an objection
against it. These have often appeared
to me as sweet and gracious doctrines.
They have been much my delight. AS
missionary he was a failure. His place
was among ideas, not Indians. He was
disqualified by his reserve, his contempla-
tive habits, his love for abstract specula-
ton. An Indian was of no consequence
to him unless he could be hitched on to
balance syllogism.
He was always dreamy and distracted.
An old citizen tells me a story CT MIN
which is characteristic. His only exercise
was horseback riding-out through the
fields, as there were no roads then, and if
there had been they wouldn't have led any
where, as all around was Wilderness One
day he rode out and turned toward pair of
bars, which a neighbours boy took down to
let him pass. ''Good morning, my little
man"' said the dominic. ''whose boy are
your" MIR. Sargent's,' said the boy, a
little piqued that he was not recognized
by one who saw him so often. Presently
DR.. Edwards rode back, bordering and
dreaming as he came The youth let down
the bars again for him. ''Good morning,
my little manr' said the missionary moon
ing along, ''whose boy are you!'' "Pm
the same mans boy 1 was ten minutes
ago" broke out the spirited youth, and
the old man, ceasing for a moment to soar
after the illimitable and dive after the
Questionable, cast upon the urchin a sur
prised smile.