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MEMOIR 



sriiisiiii^ ^^ '^ix^^m^mn^Q 



WHO DIED 



AT BOSTON, (Mass.) JANUARY 2, 18S0 



£ii tjjc HisStJ) 'Sttnx of 5C3 ^fle, 



PDBLISUED BY 

NO. 150 NASSAU-STREETj 
NEW-YOIIK. 



FanBbavv, Printer. 



BRi7lS 
A 7 



DISTRICT OF RIASSACHUSETTS, to wit: 

DISTRICT clerk's OFFICE. 

Be it remembered, that on the seventli day of Deceraljer, 
A. D. 1830, in tiie filty-fit'th year of tiie Independence of the 
United States of America, Peirce & Parker, of the said 
district, have deposited in this oflicethe title of a book, the right 
\vhereof they ciaim as proprietors, in tlie words following, to 
wit: 

" Memoir of Nathan W. Dickerman, who died at Bos- 
ton, Mass. January 2, 1830. In the Eighth Year of his 

In conformity to tlie Act of the Coagress of the United States, 
entitled "An Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing 
tiie copies of maps, charts, and books, to tlie authors and pro- 
prietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned;" and 
also to an Act entitled "An Act supplementary to an Act, enti- 
tled, an Act for the encouragement of Learning, by securing the 
copies of maps, charts, and books to the authors and proprietors 
of such copies during the times therein mentioned; and extending 
the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etch- 
ing, historical and other prints." 

T7v-r\ \\T T^Ai7Tct ^ Clcrk of the Bistrtct 
Ji\0. W. DAVIS, I ^j. Massachusetts 



The following Memoir was submitted in manuscript to the 
|)erusal of the Rev. Drs. Jenks and Wisner of Boston. Dr. 
Jenks returned it accompanied with the letter inserted below. 
Dr. Wisner has added his testimonial to the correctness of the 
representations. The parents of Nathan have also read the nar- 
rative twice in the course of its preparation, and have given it 
their sanction. 



Rev. Dr. Jenks's letter is as follows : 

* Boston, Sept. 21, 1830. 

• MY DEAR SIR, 

' I have perused with a deep interest, as you 
may well imagine, your Memorial of Nathan 
Dickerman. It has convinced me that I had 
judged well in urging the task upon you, instead 
of attempting, as I was repeatedly requested, 
to do it myself. Your assiduous attention, 
the frequency of your visits, your practice of 
reducing to writing the results of your repeated 
obseiTatlon — while it was impracticable for me 



IV 

to hear and understand, on all occasions, the 
remarks made when I was present, and out of 
my power to spend with the child so much time 
as w^ould, for such a purpose, be demanded — all 
these considerations strengthen my conviction. 

' What I have read is now, so far as my know- 
ledge extends, and recollection serves me, a 
plain, unvarnished statement of matters of fact. 
[ have httle to add to the detail — w^hich, I am 
somewhat fearful, may be judged, by some, too 
minute; — ^but it still seems expedient that I 
should add a httle, in order to make a few things 
more clear. 

' The dear boy was not originally a member 
of my flock, and was hence totally unknown to 
me, till his sickness, and subsequent expression 
of religious hope, had rendered him an object 
of peculiar attention to two of the brethren of 
the Church under my care, Mr. H. and Mr. 
B. These Christian brethren were teachers in 
the Sabbath School. At their request I visited 
Nathan, about the time that his desire to be ad- 
mitted to the Church appears in your Narrative. 



'You may well suppose that the expression 
of such a desire, by one so young, would excite 
deliberation and inquiry. No example had oc- 
curred in the city, of so early an admission to the 
privileges of the Church. And yet these privi- 
leges were pleaded for in terms so scriptural, and 
under circumstances so interesting, that it seemed 
inexpedient, and even cruel, to withhold them. 
"If I have received the Spirit, as Christians tell 
me they think I have," argued the dear child, 
as was reported to me, "then, * Why should 
I not profess his name ? ' " Accordingly, 
measures were taken by us for his regular ad- 
mission to the Church, and due enjoyment of 
its privileges. 

'I visited him often, yet, probably, not so 
often as he desired. He ever received me 
with the most grateful affection and respect; 
and I think I never w^as with him without being 
requested to pray, if I had not myself first sug- 
gested it. In the very first conversation, upon 
being asked. What made you first think of Christ 
and of your soul? — his reply speaks a volume 
1* 



VI 



of encouragement to the benevolent instructers 
of the young in our Sabbath Schools: " My 
teacher, sir." Yes, the teacher is happy, 
who was God's instrument in feeding this lamb 
of the flock of Christ. 

' During the period since 1 entered the pul 
pit, which is now about three and thirty years, 
I have never seen so bright and sweet an exhi- 
bition of early and efficient piety. His religion 
was not a display of mere affection, uttering 
itself in the fond expressions w^hich have dis- 
gusted the judicious in some books of devotion, 
as savouring too much of mere earthly love and 
presuming familiarity; it was a strong attach- 
ment, as intellectual as it could well be in such 
a subject, reverential, holy, devout, and yet, in 
a very remarkable degree, if not thoroughly, prac- 
tical. No sooner had he obtained a standing for 
himsejf on the tenable groundof a Christian hope, 
than he was des'rous of drawing all around him 
toward the same safe position. His father, 
mother, sisters, relations, schoolfellows, play- 
mates and acquaintances, were all encircled in 



Vll 



tlie arms of his tender, Christ-like benevolence. 
This appeal's so fully in your Narrative, that I 
hardly need to exemplify it further. It beams, 
however, most radiantly, perhaps, in the remark- 
able business-transaction of the pew. And I am 
happy to say, that from the time of Nathan's 
death to the present, that pew has been occupied 
by the family. More than this, his dear, afflicted 
mother has been led to profess her subjection to 
the faith of the Gospel, and is now a member of 
the same Church to w^hich her beloved son was 
joined. 

' My own little son, who was separated from 
us by death, in somewhat more than three months 
after Nathan's departure, was deeply interested 
in him. This fact I mention, specially, to show 
the impression made on other young minds by 
his character. " Papa," said my son to me one 
day, during his own sickness, "I suppose Na- 
than Dickerm.an loves God so much, that he 
does n't wish to get well, but had rather die and 
go to God." Such was the judgment formed of 
liim by one nearly a year younger. What effect 



of oicoorazement to the benevolent instructers 
€if the jouDz in our Sabbath Schools: '-My 
teacher, sir." Yes. the teacher is happy, 
who was God's instnimait in feeding this lamb 
of the flock of Christ. 

' During the period since I entered the pul 
pit, which is now about three and thirty years, 
I haye neyer seen so bright and sweet an exhi- 
bitioQ of early and efficiait piety. His religion 
was not a display of mere affection, uttering 
its^ in the fond expressions which haye dis- 
gusted the judicious in some books of derotion, 
as savooriDg too much of mere earthly love and 
presuming familiarity; it was a strong attach- 
ment, as intellectual as it could well be in such 
a subject, reverential, holy, devout, and yet, in 
a very remarkable degree; if not thoroughly, prac 
ticah No sooner had he obtained a standing for 
himself on the tenable ground of a Christian hope, 
than he was desirous of drawing all around him 
toward the same safe position. His father, 
mother, sisters, relations, schoolfellows, play- 
mates and acquaintances, were all encircled in 



the anns of his tender. Christ-like benevolence. 
This appears so fully in your Xarrative, that I 
hardly need to exemplify it further. It beams, 
however, most radiantly, perhaps, in ihe re ni li- 
able business-transaction of the pew. And I am 
happy to say. that from the lime of Nathan's 
death to the present, that pew has been occupied 
by the family. More than this, his dear, afflicted 
mother has been led to profess her subjection to 
the faiih of the Gospel, and is now a member of 
the same Church to which her beloved son was 
joined. 

' My own little son, who was separated from 
us by deadi, in somewhat more than three months 
after Nathan's departure, was deeply interested 
in him. This fact I mention, specially, to show 
the impression made on other youns minds by 
his character. ** Papa,'' said my son to me one 
day, during; his own sickness. **I suppose Na- 
than Dickerman loves Gi:)d so much, that he 
does n't wish to set well, but had rather die and 
go to God/' Such was the judgment formed of 
him bv one nearlv a vear vouns;er. ^Vhat efiect 



Vlll 



it had, we are not permitted to know — but it 
could have been no otherwise, it would seem, 
than salutary. 

'As you have related, I was present on the 
morning of Nathan's death. Mr. B. came to 
inform me that an alteration had evidently 
occurred the preceding night; yet stated that it 
w^as feared Nathan w^as not fully sensible how 
near his departure might be. His mother, 
therefore, washed me to communicate it to him. 
I need not say how delicate the task seemed to 
be, and yet how necessary. But I foimd him 
so prepared for the intelligence, that it gave 
him, apparently, no shock whatever. 

' I was not present at the funeral, being 
detmned that day by the peculiarly critical 
situation of my own son. But it was a day of 
deep interest at Braintree; and I cannot but 
hope and expect, that impressions then made, 
under not only the solemnities of the scene 
itself, but the administrations of Rev. Messrs. 
Storrs and Perkins also, will be found of 
eternal benefit to souls not a few. 



IX 



'Hoping aiid praying that the Great Head 
of the Church will render your labor useful to 
the rising generation, and instrumental in the 
salv'ation of very many souls, 
I am, my dear sir, 
Respectfully and affectionately. 

Yours, Wm. Jenks ' 



Tlie testimonial of Dr. "Wisner, is as foIloAvs: 

'I am well acquainted with tlie writer of the 
following Narrative, and with nearly all the per- 
sons from whose accounts of their visits to the 
subject of it the work has been chiefly compiled. 
During Nathan's sickness, I visited him twice, 
and often conversed with otliers who saw him 
more frequently. I have read the whole of 
the Narrative in manuscript, and I have no 
hesitation in saying that it is an unvarnished 
account of real facts. 

B. B. Wisner.' 

Boston, Sept. 24, 1830. 



Tlie parents have expressed theii sanction in tlie following' 



" Boston, Sept. 29, 1S30. 

'We take pleasure in stating that we have 
been well acquainted, during the past year, with 
the compiler of this memoir of our son. He 
was accustomed to call almost every day, and 
sometimes more frequently, to see Nathan du- 
ring the last few months of his sickness. The 
memoir we have read, and it is correct accord- 
ing to our best recollection; and it meets our 
approbation in every respect. 

NATHAN DICKERMAN. 
REBECCA A. DICKERMAN. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

r^fatlian's father and mother. His character when a little 
boy. Goes to Sabbath School. Anecdotes. His interest 
in religion. He is sick, and goes to visit his grandmo- 
ther in tlie countiy. Anecdotes. What he diought of bad 
boys on die Common. He returns to Boston. His love 
for his physician, l>r. Gorham. Dr. G's death, and Na- 
than's sorrow. Nallian is very sick, and is very much 
iiiraid tliat he shall die 13 

CHAPTER II. 

Many persons visit Nathan. Journals and Memoranda. 
Mr. Shedd. The Author's fii'st visit. Various anecdotes. 
Desires to profess Christ. He tall^ about it with his grand- 
mother, his modier, and Dr. Jenks. The hymns whicli he 
liked to hear 25 

CHAPTER HI. 

Account of his Admissiox to the church, which he calls 
* the Meeting.' Hvmns. He is wearied widi company. 
His sickness and suffering increase. He is very patient. 
Various anecdotes. His desire to give the Author a keep- 
sake. Conversation. He gives the Autiior several little 
books and tracts 44 

CHAPTER IV. 

Conversation with Dr. Jenks about * the 3Jeeting.' Various 
anecdotes and conversations. Prayer. His tliwights about 
?dr. P. who first led him to Sabbath School. 5Ir. A. 
the Autlior, reads and explains a chapter in tlie Bible. 
The Communion Service, in his chambf^r. The Au- 
llior talies leave of him fo)- a time 63 



12 CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER V. 

Various visiters during the Author's absence. Anecdotes. 
Dr. Wisner's visit. Nathan's nfTection for his sister. 
Anecdotes fiirnii-hed by several individuals. His conver- 
sation with tlie Doctor. A Sabbatli School teacher and 
his class go to see Nathan. His conversation witii dietn. 82 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Audior retimis. Nathan's proposal about a little school. 

His great suffering. Symptoms of approaching death. 

Devotional exercises. He gives away jiis playthings and 
. other little property. He invites a little girl to go to Sab- 
• badi School - .... 103 

CHAPTER VH. 

His usual position in bed. A lady reads the prayer for a sick 
child from the Church Prayer Book. Nathan's inteiest in 
it A painter takes his miniature. Interesting convers;i- 
tion with Iiis father. He converses cheerfully about his ap- 
proaching deadi. He gives his knife to his father, and a 
book to his mother, for diem to remember him by. His last 
eoaversations. Hisdeatii and funei-al. ..... 116 



CHAPTER I. 



Nathan's fal5\er and mother. His character when a little boy. Goea 
to Salibuth Bcliooi. Aiiecdotus. His interest in religion. He is 
sick, .iiid jroes to visit his grandmother in tlse country. Anec- 
dotes. What he tlioiight of bad boys on tiie Comtiion. He re- 
turns to Boston. His iove for his pliysician, Dr. Gorham. Dr. 
G's death, and Nathan's sorrow. iS'athan is very sick, and is 
very luach afraid that he shall die. 

Nathan W. Dickerman was born in Boston, 
the 26th of March, 1822. He died in the same 
city, the 2d of January, 1830. Jle had two sis- 
ters, — Maria, a little older, and Rebecca, a few 
years younger, than himself. 

Mr. and Mrs. Dickerman had alv/ays lived in 
Boston, and little Nathan, their son spent al- 
most all his days in that city. He was a pleas- 
ant boy. When quite young, he was very lively 
and playful. He v/as very fond of his parents. 
It gave him a great deal of pleasure, to go with 
his father when he went upon his busmess; and 
as he was an only son, it was very natural for 
his father to love him very much. 

At an early age, his parents placed him at 
school, and he there became so good a scholar, 

2 Dickerman. 



14 MExMOiR OF 

and Afas generally so attentive and diligent m 
his studies, that he was not only beloved by his 
instructress, but was esteemed by all who knew 
him. His manners, too, were so becoming, and 
he was so affectionate in his behavior towards 
his playmates, that he was loved by all the boys. 

Nathan in his earlier years received but little 
religious instruction. He and his sisters were 
only taught by their mother to say their prayers^ 
to speak the truth, and to use no wicked words. 

Although Nathan was a pleasant boy, and a 
good scholar, and amiable in his disposition and 
manners, like a great many other amiable chil- 
dren and good scholars, he often said and did 
what was wrong. But as he had been taught 
that it was wicked and vulgar to speak falsehood, 
or to use bad language, he was not often found 
guilty of such shameful conduct. Yet it appears, 
from what he once said to his grandmamma, that 
he sometimes committed even these great sins. 
However, he was generally very careful about 
falling into such wicked practices, which other 
})eople, as well as God, would see; and some 
persons supposed that he was an uncommonly 
good little boy. 

But his parents, as much as they loved him, 
think he was like other children, — sometimes 
obedient to them, true to his word, diligent and 
faithful, mild and affectionate with his sisters 
and associates — and sometimes not so. 

Little Nathan had many friends who loved 
him very much, and who remember well, now, 
although he is dead, how he studied his book at 
school — and played at home — and did errands 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAX. 15 

for his parents. But especially his teachers 
and friends at the Sabbath School, remember 
his attentive appearance there; and those who 
had the privilege of visiting his sick chamber 
and his dying bed, delight to remember how 
patient he was when suffering, and how happy 
when expecting to die and go to heaven, and to 
think upon many things which he said, when 
they were with him. 

Of Nathan's thoughts and feelings about re- 
ligion, before he was five years old, we know 
very little. He doubtless lived and felt like most 
boys of his age, who are exposed to the bad 
influence of others at school, and meet many 
temptations in the streets to do wrong. 

When he was about five years old, a gentle- 
man, interested in the Hawkins Street Sabbath 
School, called upon his mother, and requested 
her to send her son. The parents cheerfully 
accepted the invitation, and the next Sabbath, 
Nathan, for the first time in his life, was a Sab- 
bath School scholar. 

Previous to this time, he had never attended 
church on the Sabbath, or any other religious 
meeting, and we have no reason to think he ever 
said or thought much about religion. 

But the instruction which he now began to re- 
ceive from his Sabbath School teacher, awaken- 
ed his attention. He became deeply interested 
in what he heard and learned. His mind was 
so much occupied in thinking about it, that he 
appeared differently at home during the week, 
so that his parents and the neighbors noticed the 
change. 



16 3IE3I0IR OF 

A remark ^vhich he made to his mother one 
day, alter returning from school, strikincrly ilhis- 
trates this. The superintendent had addressed 
the scholars on the necessity of a neiu heart, in 
order to please God, and be happy. Nathan, 
after giving at home an account of the address, 
added, " and I am sure, mamma, he meant me, 
for he looked right at me." 

His fondness for the Sabbath School, and his 
attachment to the teachers often appeared dur- 
ing the week. If at any time he met in the 
street the superintendent, or any teacher, he 
seemed very happy to see him, made his bow 
and spoke to him, and afterwards told at home, 
whom he had seen. Often since his death, have 
different teachers alluded to the pleasant smile 
with which little Nathan greeted them, when- 
ever they chanced to meet him, out of school. 

Soon after having entered the Sabbath School, 
he began to go to Dr. Jenks's meeting, and was 
there very attentive to the preaching and the 
prayers. He discovered the same affection for 
his minister, that he did for his teacher, and in 
the same way, always telling with great delight 
at home, if he had met him in the street. 

He was very careful to remember the instruc- 
tion he received on the Sabbath, either at meet- 
ing or at school, and used often to repeat at home, 
not only the texts, but what was said by the 
minister, or by his teacher or superintendent. 
Sometimes he has, in a most affectionate manner 
reproved those at home, who said or did anything 
which was wrong; and when asked how he knew 
it was wicked has said, " The minister said so," 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 17 

or," my teacher said so," or, ''the Bible says 
so." 

He used to stop on communion Sabbaths, and 
on such occasions, was much interested in the 
exercises; as he was also in the public admis- 
sion of members to the church. 

It is very evident, that his interest in religious 
truth was gradually increa.sing, although no per- 
manent impression seemed to be made on his 
mind until after several months. An incident, 
which occurred when he had been three or four 
months at school, shows clearly how strong an 
influence truth was gaining over him. 

One Sabbath, Mr. D , the superintendent 

in his address to the school, spoke of the duty of 
secret prayer, and urged upon all to begin im- 
mediately to kneel before God, and pray, in their 
chambers, morning and evening. When Nathan 
came home, he told the family that they all ought 
to pray ; and the next morning, as he slept in the 
same room with his parents, he rose early, and 
went to his mother's bedside. He touched her 
elbow. She awoke and found him standing in 
tears. She said to him, 

What do you want, Nathan ? 

"Mamma," said he, "where shall I kneel?'* 

What for, Nathan? said she. 

" To pray, mamma, for a new heart," he re- 
plied. 

Another little anecdote shows the bent of his 
mind. About this time, while going on an er- 
rand for his school-mistress, he was caught out 
in a violent storm of wind and rain. It was so 
severe, that he had some difficulty in getting 



18 MEMOIR OF 

safely home. He succeeded, however, although 
pretty thoroughly drenched in the shower, and 
almost out of breath. 

His mother asked him where he had been. 

" I've been on an errand, mamma," said he; 
" and I '11 tell you what I thought. — I was think- 
ing, that God sent that wind and rain upon me, 
because I was so wicked." 

Why Nathan.'' said she. 

" Because 1 was so wicked, mamma," he re- 
peated. 

At another time, he slipped away from his 
mother, and she did not notice his absence im- 
mediately. She soon, however, had occasion to 
call for him, and did so several times. In a few 
minutes he came from some secret place, out 
of her sight. She said, Where have you been, 
Nathan^ — 1 have been calling for you, some- 
time. 

"I have been praying, mamma," said he, 
"for a new heart; and I prayed for you, too, 
mamma." 

He was sometimes laughed at, for his serious- 
ness, and his religious remarks, but he never 
seemed, in the least degree, irritated or angry, 
though he often burst into tears, and afterwards 
said to others, he should pray for those who 
laughed at him. 

About this time, he came into the house one 
day, having left a company of boys in the street, 
and said, " JMamma, I sha'nt play with those bad 
boys any more, they speak such bad words." 

Nathan began to go to the Sabbath School, in 
March 1827, when he was just five years old. 



NATHAN ^\'. DICKERMAN. 19 

He continued to attend until July, 1828, a little 
more than a year, — by which time he was six 
years and four months old. And it was during 
this year that what is related above occurred. 

But he was now taken sick. An inflammation 
in his chest occasioned so severe an illness as to 
deprive him, for several months, of the privilege 
of attending public worship and the Sabbath 
School. During this time, while confined at 
home, he often discovered considerable serious- 
ness. His mother remembers that he very fre- 
quently asked her to read in the Bible to him 
and talk with him. She once asked him, What 
shall I talk about, Nathan? 

"About Heaven, mamma," he replied. 

After he had been sick three or four months, 
he went, in Oct. 1829, to spend a few weeks with 
his grandmother at Braintree ; his friends hoping 
that a visit in the country would benefit his health. 

His grandmother describes his appearance, 
while v.-ith her, as quite serious, and in every re- 
spect becoming. He often made remarks upon 
religious subjecfs, but they never attracted her 
attention particularly, until one day, when the 
following incident occurred. 

He was sitting with his grandmother and aunt 
at the dinner table, and w^hen they had linished 
their meal, Nathan said, 

"Now grandmamma, let us all rise from the 
table together." What for, Nathan ? said she. 

"To pray over the table, grandmamma, — all 
good people do." 

While in the country, he was able sometimes 
to go a visiting. One day, after he had returned 



20 MEMOIR OF 

from a visit to one of his aunts, he was asked 
what his aunt said to him. 

" She said," he replied — " / believe she said, I 
must come and see her again, but I don't remem- 
ber certainly; that is n't telling a lie, is it grand- 
mamma?" When his grandmother had answer- 
ed the question, he waited a little, very thought- 
fully, and then said, " How many of the boys 
tell lies and say wicked words. It 's a great 
while grandmamma, since I said any, and I don't 
remember when I told a lie." 

One evening, he had been sitting by the side 
of his grandmother, at the window, when she 
left him for a i^ew moments. On returning to 
her seat, she found him on his knees in the cor- 
ner. She v/as much surprised, and she waited 
sometime in silence after he arose, wishing him 
to speak first, that she might know what he would 
say of his own accord. But at length, as she 
.expected some one would come in and interrupt 
them, she asked "\vhat he had been doing. 

" I have been praying," said he, " for a new 

heart, grandmamma, do ydu think I shall 

have it?" 

At another time, as she was conversing with 
him about prayer, she asked what he prayed for. 

He told her, he prayed, "that his sins might 
be forgiven, and for his parents." 

He was very anxious to go to meeting while at 
Braintree.- But as he went away from home 
rather unexpectedly, and it was uncertain how 
long he would be absent, his mother did not 
send his Sabbath-day suit of clothes; and his 
grandmother told him that she thought his clothes 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN 21 

were not suitable, and that his mother would be 
unwilling to have him appear at meeting so. 
But she could not prevail upon him, on this ac- 
count, to stay away. He said, 

"Well, grandmamma, I'll put on my great 
coat, and wrap it tight around my pantaloons, 
and nobody will know it." 

The kind, aflectionate, yet earnest manner in 
which he sometimes tried to persuade others to 
attend worship, would seem to be almost irresist- 
ible. He said, one Sabbath, 

"Now, grandpapa, you will go to meeting to- 
flay, won't you } You '11 go this afternoon, won't 
you, grandpapa?" 

He was very much grieved when he heard or 
saw anything that was wicked. He was once 
found weeping bitterly, after something of this 
kind had occurred, and being asked what made 
liim cry, he answered, 

" They are so v/icked, and God keeps a book 
of rem.embrance." 

When he saw any word denoting a spiritual 
object, he would say, 

" O, grandmamma, what a o'oocZ word that is." 

One day he came into the house, and said, 
*' Grandmamma, I can't bear to hear the boys 
speak such bad words; it makes me shiver — it 
makes me think of the wicked people on the 
Common."* 

* On the 4th of July, and on many otlier public occasions, 
Boston Common, a large and Ijeautlftil green, almost surroimded 
by trees, is covered will) tliousands of people, who come to- 
getlier for amusement, and Natlian knew that many of tliem 
were veiy wicked and very profane. 



22 MEMOIR OF 

He was once in a situation where he expected 
a person would come home in the evening who ■ 
used profane language. And he asked to be 
put to bed before the person came, that he might 
not hear wicked words. 

Nathan returned to his parents at Boston on 
a Saturday, about the last of November, much 
better than when he went away. He was very 
much pleased and benefited by the religious 
conversation and advice of his grandmother. 
His mother distinctly remembers his pleasant 
countenance and smile, as he came into the 
house, on his return, and ran to her arms, very 
glad indeed to see her, but he said, ''Mamma, 
I 'm only come home to see you, and stay a little 
while, and then I 'm going back to stay v/ith 
grandmamma: mayn't I, mamma?" After- 
wards, when he became very sick in Boston, he 
wanted to have his grandmother come in and 
see him. And when she was expected, he often 
said, "Oh! how I long to see grandmamma! 
What good meetings we will have." 

The very next day he was in his class at the 
Sabbath School again, and his looks showed 
how happy he was to be there. 

He seemed almost every week to be more and 
more interested in what he was taught. His 
parents and friends noticed the change in his 
appearance more distinctly than ever before. 
One day he said to his mother, 

"Mamma, I wonder why I cannot pray as 
they do at the Sabbath School ? I can only say, 
* Our Father.' " He then asked, "Mamma, if 



NATHAN W. DICKBRMAN. 23 

I should say besides that, Lord Jesus give me a 
new heart, — would that be praying? " 

Many other interesting incidents occurred 
during this second period of his attending the 
Sabbath School, which are not remembered 
now. He continued to attend regularly and 
punctually every week, till the first Sabbath in 
January, 1829, which was the last day he ever 
went. He was now not quite seven years old, 
and the inflammation in his chest returned and 
settled upon his heart. He was confined to the 
house most of the time until May, when his 
physician allowed him to be sent again, to spend 
a few weeks with his grandmother. But his 
disease grew worse, and he returned home about 
the first of July. After this, he went out of the 
house but very little, if at all. He pined away 
gradually, until he died, January 2d, 1830. 

Dr. Gorham attended him until his own death. 
But afterwards, he received visits from many 
other eminent physicians. No one conversed 
With him, personally, on the subject of religion, 
until after Dr. Gorham's death. 

He was very strongly attached to Dr. Gorham. 
He seemed to love him, almost as a parent, and 
used to count the number of his visits. 

When it was told him that Dr. G. was dead, 
Nathan burst into tears and exclaimed, "Oh, I 
hope he has gone to heaven." Soon afterwards 
he almost fainted; so that they were obliged to 
apply cordials in order to revive him. 

After this, his anxiety about his own salvation 
was much increased. Previously on one occa- 



24 MEMOIR OP 

sion, his grandmother made known to him her 
fears about his recovery, and asked him ii' he 
thought he should get well again. 

He replied, crying, "I don't know; some- 
times 1 think 1 shall, and sometimes I think 1 
sha'nt." 

He nov/ became very deeply engaged in reli- 
gious subjects, v/as very desirous of having his 
teachers come and pray with him, and very 
often requested his mother to read the Bible and 
talk to him. 

Not unfrequently has she found him in tears, 
and on inquiring into the cause, he has answered 
to this effect: 

"I don't think I shall ever get well, and I 
want a new heart." — " I should n't fear to die, if 
I thought I could go to that good place." 

At this time, he manifested great fear of 
death. And in conversation on the subject, he 
sometimes became so agitated that it was with 
no little difficulty they could calm his feelings. 

When, however, he found "hope and peace 
in believing," he was accustomed to say, *' I 
have no fear of death now," — " Death has no 
terrors for me now." 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 25 



CHAPTER II. 

Many persons visit Nathan. Journals and Memoranda Blr, She(i(l, 
'J he Author's first visit. Various anecdotes. Wishes to pru« 
fc'ss Christ. Ke tallcs about it with his Grandmother, his Mother, 
and Dr. Jeniis. The hymns which he liked to hear. 

My yoimg readers have read in the last chap* 
ter, the account of little Nathan's life, up to the 
first of July, 1829, which was six months before 
he died. He was at that time only a little more 
than seven years old. 

Almost all that remains to be told about this 
good little boy, relates to what took place during 
these last six months. In this time a great many 
people visited hmr and conversed with him, and 
have remembered what he said. 

Among those who were most interested in Na- 
than, and who for a time visited him most fre- 
quently, was the Rev. Mr. Shedd of Abington, 
Mass. Abington is a town not far from Brain- 
tree, and Mr. Shedd became acquainted with the 
little sufferer there, and continued his acquain- 
tance, and his visits after the boy returned to 
Boston. 

Nathan became very much attached to this 
minister, and it was intended that this Memoir 
should have been prepared by him. All the pa- 
pers and memoranda were, after Nathan's death, 
put into Mr. Shedd's hands for this purpose. 
He commenced the work; but in a very few 
days he was taken sick; and obliged to lay aside 
the labor. He hoped soon to be able to resume 

3 Diokcrman. 



26 MEMOIR OF 

it; but he was disappointed. His health was 
not restored. He lingered many months in sick- 
ness and pain and then sank into the grave. 

Some persons wrote dov/n afterwards what 
they saw and heard in his sick chamber. Some 
kept a kind of journal, or regular account of visits 
which they made him, writing every day, imme- 
diately after they saw him, how he appeared. I 
have now before me variouo writings of this kind^ 
which have been received from different individ- 
uals. They are Letters, Journals, Memoranda, 
&c., which I shall transcribe, as nearly as pos- 
sible, in the order of time in which they are 
dated. 

The first is the journal of the writer of these 
pages, who visited him, regularly, with few in- 
terruptions almost every day, from the last of 
September, until within a fortnight of his death. 
He had been making visits to Nathan, a short 
time before he commenced his journal. This 
explains those cases, where Nathan refers to a 
previous interview or conversation, of which no 
record is made. 

The journal begins as follows: 

Sept. 29, 1829. A short time since, a lady 
invited me to call with her and visit a little boy, 
who was said to be very sick. He is about seven 
years old. Soon after I went in to-day, he be- 
gan to talk about the Sabbath School, and asked 
me whenever I should see any scholars, to talk 
with them about the Saviour. I asked him what 
he thought was the best way to talk with others; 
— to tell them of their sins, and of their dreadful 



f^ATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 27 

danger as sinners, while they refuse to repent, — 
or to tell them of the love of the Saviour, and of 
wlvdt He had suffered in their stead, that they 
might be forgiven? 

He replied — ' I should like to tell them both.' 

He said something about Sabbath School 
books, and I named several to him that were 
particularly interesting, and appropriate to his 
case. I mentioned also a little tract, which I 
thought would please him; it was called — • 
'Lead me to the Rock, that is higher than I,' 
and I asked him, if he knew what that text 
meant. He hesitated a moment and then re- 
plied, 

' Yes sir, I think I do.' 

What do you think it means ? 

'Jesus Christ,' he answered. 

Once to-day, Nathan was left alone, with his 
mother, and the following conversation, as relat- 
ed by her to me, took place between them. He 
had been looking towards his mother with much 
affection for sometime, and then asked, 

' Mamma, if I die, shall you cry ? ' 

His mother, surprised at the question, hardly 
knew what to say, but at length replied, 

I don't know — why, Nathan? 

*I should n't like to have you cry,' said he; 
' and I should n't think you would, when I am 
going to a better world. Mamma, why can't you 
be good?' 

I don't know, Nathan, — she replied, I can't. 

'Why yes, mamma, you can; only repent, 
and believe in the Lord Jesus Christ.' 

Oct. 3. Found Nathan, this evening, more 



28 MEMOIR OF 

comfortable. Soon after I went in, he asked 
his mother to get the Bible, and wished me to 
read a chapter to him. I inquired if there was " 
any particular part he would prefer. His mother 
replied, that since my last visit he had selected 
a chapter for me to read when I should come 
again 

When his mother had brought the Bible, Na- 
than took it before him, as he sat up in the bed, 
and holding it in his lap, turned over the leaves 
to the 116th Psalm, beginning, 

' / love the Lord, because he hath heard my 
voice and my supplications .' 

He read over aloud and slowly the first verse 
and then handed the book to me. 

When I had read the third verse, ' The sor- 
rows of death compassed me, and the pains of 
hell gat hold upon me; I found trouble and sor- 
roiv,' I made some remark, on the dreadful sor- 
row and trouble of those who refuse to repent 
while they have life and health, and come to a 
death bed unprepared. He interrupted me, say- 
ing, 

' I heard of a man who died lately, — he died 

dreadfully; he was a wicked man, — and 

made a mock of religion, — and when he died, 
he shrieked dreadfully.' 

And while I was reading one of the following 
verses, he spoke again of his own accord, say- 
ing, 

' When I think of the people, who will not 
come to God, it makes me feel dreadfully, — it 
seems as though I could cry, almost.' 
. Oct. 4. Sabbath Evenins:. Went to see Na- 



NATHAN W. DTCKERMAN. 29 

than. He had been quite free from bodily suf- 
fering during the day. I asked him, if he had 
felt happy. 

'Yes sir,' said he, 'but I have had some 
wicked thoughts.' 

Presently, in the course of conversation, I 
asked if he had been distressed with fear that he 
was not prepared to die. 

' Yes sir,' he replied, ' sometimes I have, — 
and I wanted to talk with somebody, to know 
whether I v)as prepared,' 

Pretty soon, one of his little sisters came into 
the room, and while I was talking a few moments 
with her, I could hear him, as he lay on the pil- 
low with his eyes closed, repeating to himself, 
several times over, in a low whisper, 

* Begone unbelief, my Saviour is near;' 
' Begone unbelief, my Saviour is near.' 

Before I left him, he asked to have prayers. 
I read the account of Paul and Silas, in the 
16th chapter of the Acts. While reading, he 
would now and then make a remark, showing 
that he had read the chapter before. 

As I attempted to explain how it was, that they 
while bound in prison, could sing praises to God, 
— and how all that really love the Saviour can be 
happy, even in affliction and severe bodily suf- 
fering, his countenance lighted up, as if he could 
bear witness, that 

' they whose hearts 

Are stayed on God, are kept in peace^ 
Though troubles rise.' 



30 MEMOIR OF 

When I had finished the chapter, he said, 
'Don't you think that the jailor and the fam- 
ily must have felt dreadfully, when they first saw 
themselves sinners?' 

Before prayer he opened the Village Hymn 
Book, to find a hymn to be read, and spoke of 
two, which had given him 'a great deal of com- 
fort.' 

* Begone, unbelief. 

My Saviour is near ; 
And for my relief. 

Will surely appear,'' 

And, 

' 'T is. a point I long to know, 
Oft it causes anxious thought. 
Do I love the Lord or no, 
Am I his, or am Inotl ' 

Oct. 14. Nathan was much more feeble to- 
day than I have ever seen him. He was very 
pale, excepting a little spot of hectic on his 
cheek. His limbs had been very painful all day, 
and his feet, particularly, were swollen, as in the 
last stages of consumption. He was, however, 
perfectly pleasant and mild, although too sick to 
be cheerful. He was unable to talk much, but 
said, with very great interest, soon after I enter- 
ed:— 

' Dr. Jenks has been to see me to-day, and 
talked and prayed wiih me.' 

I asked him, if he had been happy, when suf-o 
fering so much pain. 

Pretty comfortable,' he replied; ' it seem- 
ed to me that my Saviour was near.' 

What do you love to think about most, said I; 
when you are in pain.'' 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 31 

* The Lord Jesus Christ,' he answered. 
Soon after, as I was looking silently at the 

sweet expression of his countenance, admiring 
the lovely image of piety and peace, he looked up 
with a gentle, pensive look, and drawing a long 
breath, almost with a sigh, and evidently in pain, 
said, 

' Oh! I long for heaven.' 

It was not often that Nathan was able to engage 
in a connected conversation. The influence of 
disease was such as to prevent the close attention 
of his mind to any subject for any length of time. 

Sometimes, however, I tried to converse with 
him, and confine the conversation to some par- 
ticular subject, in order to see whether his views 
were clear and distinct. One day I went to see 
him, wishing to ascertain what he thought about 
sin. The following conversation took place. 

' Have you ever thought, Nathan, how long 
you might expect to live.'' ' 

He did not seem very ready to answer, and I 
could not understand what he said. 

Well, Nathan, should you feel willing to go 
to-night, if it were God's will.'' 

' Yes sir.' 

Do you ever feel any anxiety, lest you should 
be deceived, and think you were prepared to die, 
when you were not } 

* Yes sir, sometimes I do ; and I feel as though 
I should like to know, whether I was ready — 
whether I was going to heaven or not.' 

Well, I should like to have you tell me what 
your feelings were, when you first thought of the 
subject, and what first led you to think of it. 



32 MEMOIR OP 

' My teacher told me about the goodness of 
heaven, and I thought I never could go there- 
for he said, we must be prepared, or go into ever- 
lasting punishment.' 

What made you think that you could not go 
to heaven? 

' Because I was wicked.' 

How did you know you was wicked? 

* They told me I had a wicked heart, and that 
it must be changed.' 

Did you think you was wicked, for any other 
reason than because they told you so? 

' Yes sir, I felt that I had a wicked heart.' 

And what did you do, when you felt this? 

' I prayed for a new heart.' 

And do you know, Nathan, how long it was, 
after you began to think you was a sinner, and 
prayed for a new heart, before you hoped that 
God had answered your prayers? 

He hesitated. 

Perhaps you do not remember, I added. 

* No sir, I don't,' he replied. 

Do you remember what first led you to hope 
that God had given you a new heart! 

' No sir.'* 

At another time, I asked him, in conversation 
on the same subject, how a little boy might com- 
mit sin. 

' He might swear and steal, and other things,' 
said he. 

* Once wlien his grandmother asked him a similar question, 
he said, * I was praying, granihuamma, and while I prayed I 
was iiappyi and I have been happy ever since.' 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 33 

But suppose he does not do anything wrong, 
can he sm in any other way? 

' Yes sir, in wicked thoughts and words,' he 
rephed. 

Oct. 15. TJw.rsday Evenino;, l-2pasf8. Cal- 
led three-quarters of an hour since, upon Nathan, 
and fcfund him asleep. His mother thought he 
had had a pretty comfortable day ; but only a few 
moments after I entered he appeared very restless 
and uneasy, as he lay upon his pillow. He sud- 
denly started up, — apparently still in his sleep, 
then laid himself down again. His mother went 
immediately to his bedside, and as she bent down 
over him, he burst into tears, and cried out most 
bitterly. We were quite alarmed at this; for he 
had never been known to appear so agitated at 
any time, however severely he might be suffering. 
Mrs. Dickerman tried to compose him, and he 
soon became calm and easy. I said, Put your 
trust in the Saviour, Nathan. He will be a very 
present help in every time of need. 

'Yes sir,' he replied immediately, smiling 
through his tears. 

He then raised his arm gently around his moth- 
er's neck, and said, 'Please to rock me;' and 
when rocking in her arms, looked sweetly at me 
and said, 'Will you please to read a passage?' 

I read the account of our Saviour's suffering 
in the garden, as related by three of the Evan- 
gelists, comparing the accounts together. When 
I came to the verse in Matthew xxvi., — 'My soul 
is exctcding sorrouful, even unto death/ he whis- 
pered, in a low, still tone, each word before I 
pronounced it. 



34 MEMOIR OF 

* Mij — soul — 15 — exceeding — sorrowful — even — 
unto — death.' 

And when the verse in the 22d of Luke wag' 
read, — ' JVevertheless, not my luill, but thine be 
done,' he said, 

' Yes sir, I often say that to myself 

After he had listened to the next verse,' — 

' ^Mnd theix appeared an angel from Heaven 
strengthemng him, ' — 

He was reminded that there were many prom- 
ises of assistance from above, to us, in the hour 
of affliction. 

' Yes sir,' said be, 'I know it. — The Bible 
says afflictions are needful — and it is good /o?' me 
that I have been afflicted; — it is needful for us; 
but God will sanctify it — to some people — to 
those that love the Saviour.' 

Afterwards, while I was looking at him and 
watching the struggle which he made to keep 
quiet, in his severe pain, he turned to me, and 
said, 

'Oh! how we ought to praise the Lord, that 
there are Sabbath Schools, — and the Bible, and 
a Savioui . Mr. P. was the first one who asked 
mamma to let me go to the Sabbath School. — 
Oh! Mr. A., Dr. Jenks is going to let me know 
whether he will come and baptize me, and if you 
will come in this evening, I will let you know.' 

He had often spoken w4th the greatest in- 
terest of his professino- Christ, both when alone 
with his mother, and when others were present. 
His grandmother came into the city, about this 
time, to see him. He named the subject to her, 
and asked her questions about it. During their 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 35 

conversation she asked what first made him think 

of joining the church. 

He replied, ' Why I saw it in the Testament, 
grandmamma.' 

It will, however, be remembered, that he wit- 
nessed the celebration of the Lord's Supper often 
at church, after he began to attend public worship. 

One day, as he was asking- his mother, if she 
was willing that he should join the church, she 
replied, ' I think you had better not say anything 
more about it, Nathan. You are so young, 1 don't 
think it would be proper.' 

' But, m.amma,' said he, looking up into her 
face, ' Jesus said, " Suffer little children to come 
unto me, and forbid them not ; for of such is the 
kingdom of HeavenP ' 

He was very careful and desirous to obtain his 
parents' consent and approbation, in all that he 
wanted ; and, at another time, as he was rocking 
in his mother's arms, Avhile they were alone, he 
asked her again if she was willing. She tried to 
dissuade him from it, and said to him, in substance, 
as follows ; 

' Now, Nathan, had n't you better give up the 
idea of joining the church, and not think any 
more about it ? You may perhaps get well, yet, 
and if you should, and should go to school again, 
the boys might laugh at you ; and should n't you 
teel ashamed then ?' He instantly replied, 

* Oh ! no, mamma, if I should be ashamed of 
Jesus, when I come to die he will be ashamed of 
me.' 

And after thinking in silence a moment, he 
added, before his mother spoke again, 



36 MEMOIR OF 

* Ashamed of Jesus ! that dear friend 
On whom my hopes of Heaven depend ! . 
No! when / blush, be this my shame : 
That / no more revere his name.' 

At another time, just after this conversation, 
a gentleman, Mr. H., was reading to him the ac- 
count of Philip and the Eunuch in the 8th of Acts, 
When he had read the 37th verse, 

* A7id Philip said, If thoii believest icitk all 
thine heart, thou mayest. And he answered and 
said, I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of 
God' 

Nathan turned to his mother and said, 

' Well, mamma, just so I believe, and why 
can't I profess Christ before men ? 

On another occasion, a person conversing with 
him, offered some objection to his professing re- 
ligion ; and he answered one of the remarks, say- 
ing, 

' Why, / believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and 
why should I not /" 

Dr. Jenks, writing on this subject, says as 
follows : 

You may well suppose that the expression of 
such a desire, by one so young, would excite de- 
liberation and inquiry. No example had occur- 
red in the city, of so early an admission to the 
privileges of the church. And yet these privi- 
leges were pleaded for in terms so scriptural, and 
under circumstances so interesting, that it seem- 
ed inexpedient, and even cruel to withhold them. 
' If I have received the Spirit, as Christians tell 
me they think I have,' argued the dear child, as 
was reported to me, 'then why should I not 



NATHAN VV. DICKERMAN. 37 

profess his name ?" ' Accordingly, measures 
were taken by us, for his regular admission to the 
Church, and due enjoyment of its privileges. 

Oct, 19. Monday Evening. Nathan is very 
sick to-night. His heart is beating most violent- 
ly and rapidly, while the pulse can hardly be 
perceived at the wrist. But he says he is more 
happy than usual. I asked him why. He re- 
plied, * Because my Saviour is nearer.' 

Well, Nathan, said I, it seems as though 
you were near to your home ; your pains must be 
nearly ended, and how does Heaven appear to 
you now.^ 

He replied with a lovely smile, ' Blessed.* 

After exchanging a few words with him, he 
said, 

' Oh, I have learned these two hymns — 



And, 



" One there is above all others 
Well deserves the name of Friend, 



*' The day is past and gone. 
The evening shades appear." * 



I had sometime before carried in to him Net- 
tleton's Village Hymn Book, with which he seem- 
ed very much pleased. Some of the hymns he 
committed to memory, and sometimes took great 
pleasure in repeating them. The two just named 
were particular favorites, as will be seen here- 
after. 

This hymn book has been shown to many 
Sabbath Schools since Nathan's death. The 

4 Dickerman. 



38 MEMOIR OF 

marks which he put in, and the leaves turned 
down, at-his favorite hymns," are still preserved as 
Nathan left them. 

Oct. 21. Found him, this day-noon, suffering 
from a very severe headache, and a white hand- 
kerchief was bound tightly around his forehead, 
to alleviate, if possible, the great pain; he looked 
however, as smiling and liappy as usual. I asked 
him how he felt. 

' Rather easier,' said he. 

Presently he said, 

' Mamma, will you take me up,' and while 
she was removing him from the bed to the rock- 
ing chair, he underwent, apparently, the most 
intense suffering, but bore it all with the greatest 
patience. 

His cough was so violent, that he could not say 
much, but soon asked for the hymn book and de- 
sired the hymn to be read. 

' Jesus at thy command, 
I launcli into die deep , 
And leave my native land, 

Wiiere sin lulls all asleep ; 
For Thee, I fain would all resign, 
And sail to heaven with Thee and Thine. 

Thou art my Pilot wise ; 

My compass is tjiy word ; 
My soul each storm defies, 

While I have such a Lord ! 
I trust Thy faithfulness and power, 
To gave me in. the ti7ing hour. 

Though rocks and quicksands deep. 

Through all my passage lie; 
Yet thou wilt safely keep, 

And -{uide me v.ith thine eve: 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 39 

My anchor, hope, shall firm abide, 
And I each boisterous storm outride. . 

By faith, I see tlie land, 

The port of endless rest ; 
My soul, thy sails expand, 

And fly to Jesus' breast. 
Oh ! may I reach tlie heavenly shore. 
Where winds and waves distress no moro 

Whene'er becalmed I lie. 

And storms and winds subside ; 
Lord, to my succor fly. 

And keep me near thy side ; 
For more the treacherous calm I dread. 
Than tempests bursting o'er my head. 

Come, heavenly wind, and blow, 

A prosperous gale of grace, 
To waft me from below. 

To heaven, my destin'd place; 
Then in full sail, my port I '11 find, 
And leave the world and sin behind. 

I asked, What makes you feel so happy to- 
day, Nathan.^ 

'Thinking of my Saviour.' 

Then you still are happy, although you are in 
pain. 

' Yes, sir.* 

What have you thought about most, to-day } 

' About dying.' 

It was about this time, that I was sitting by 
his bedside one pleasant afternoon. The sun 
was just going down. The window of his 
chamber opened towards the clear red sky of 
the west. I saw that he was looking out of the 
window, and gazing intently upon a solitary 
cloud which was slowly passing by. I asked 
him if he loved to look at the sky. 



40 MEMOIR OF 

'Yes, sir,' he replied, but made no farther 
remark. 

It was, either on this occasion, or some evening 
very much like it, that he asked if I should not 
like to hear him repeat the Evening Hymn. And 
he pronounced the verses, with the greatest 
propriety, now looking out, upon the clear west- 
ern sky, and now closing his eyes, if the verse 
or line expressed a sentiment peculiarly suited 
to him. 

THE EVENING HYMN. 

The day is past and gone. 

The evening shades appear; 
Oh, mav I ever keep in mind, 

The night of death draws near. 

I lay my garments by, 

Upon my bed to rest ; 
So death will soon disrobe us all. 

Of what we here possessed. 

Lord keep me safe this night, 

Secure from all my fears ; 
May angels guard me while I sleep. 

Till morning light appears. 

And when I early rise, 

And view th' unwearied sun; 
May I set out to win the prize. 

And after glory run. 

And when my days are past, 

And I from time remove. 
Lord, may Tin thy bosom rest, 

2'Ae bosom of thy love. 

He then asked, ' How long are you going to 
stay in town.'" 



KATHAX W, DICKERMAN. 41 

Until next week, I expect, said I. And I 
suppose I cannot hope to see you many times 

more; ^your friends cannot expect that you 

will, or hope that you may, continue long. 

' Well,' said he, with a trembling voice, 'I 
hope we shall meet in a better world, and then 

we '11 tune a sweeter ' his voice ceased, — 

he could say no more. 

I asked him, presently, if there was anything 
he should like to have me tell little boys and girls 
after he was gone, and especially Sabbath School 
children. 

' Yes sir,' said he — and after hesitating a 
moment added, ' Tell them to love the Saviour, 
— and pray to Him, and read the Bible, audnot 

PUT IT OFF.' 

I inquired if there was any particular hymn, 
which he liked very much, saying, — I shall love 
to think of you after you are gone, — and to re- 
member your favorite hymn often. He thought 
a moment, and repeated the first lines of the 
hymn: 

* One there is above all others, 

Well deserves the nane of Friend ; 

His is love, beyond a brother's, 
Costly, free, and knows no end. 

Which of all our friends to save us 
Could or would have shed his blood ; 

But this Saviour died to have us 
Reconciled in him to God. 

When he lived on earth abased. 

Friend of sinners, wa? his name; 
Now, above all glory raised. 

He rejoices in the same. 

4* 



42 MEMOIR OP 

Oh, for grace our hearts to soften ! 

Teach us Lord, at length to love ; 
We, alas ! forget too often, 

What a Friend we have above.' 

He afterwards, in conversation with his moth- 
er, when they were alone, desired that this hymn 
might be sung at his funeral. 

Oct. 22. Found Nathan very feeble, though 
relieved, in a great measure, of his cough. I 
asked him how he was. He replied with a smile, 

* I am more comfortable to-day.' 

He gave me the Sabbath School Prayer Book 
for Children, which a lady had carried in to him. 
He opened it, and turning over the leaves to the 
following hymn, looked up to me, expressing, 
by his countenance, a wish to have it read. 
While hearing it, he closed his eyes, and at the 
end of almost every verse, whispered in a low 
voice, 

*Yes, sir,' as though he understood and felt 
the sentiment. 

* When languor and disease invade 

This trembling house of clay : 
'T is sweet to look beyond my pains, 

And long to fly away. 

Sweet, to look inward, and attend 

The whispers of hid love; 
Sweet to look upward to the place 

Where Jesus pleads above. 

Sweet, to reflect, how grace divine. 

My sins on Jesus laid ; 
Sweet to remember that his blood 

My debt of BulPring paid. 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN 43 

Sweet, on his faithfulness to rest, 

Whose love can never end ; 
Sweet on his covenant of grace 

For all things to depend. 

Sweet, in the confidence of faith. 

To trust his firm decrees ; 
Sweet to lie passive iti his hand, 

And know no will but his. 

If such the sweetness of the streams. 

What must the fountain be 
Where saints and angels draw tlieir bliss. 

Immediately from Thee ! ' 

He seemed to enjoy peculiarly the fifth verse. 
I read to him also, the hymn on the 108th 
page of the Prayer Book. 

' In vain ray fancy strives to paint. 
The moment after dealli ; 
The glories that surround the saint. 
When yielding up his breath. 

One gentle sigh his fetters break. 
We scarce can say, " He 's gone !" 

Before the willing spirit takes 
Its mansion near die tlirone. 

Faitli strives, but all its efforts fail, 

To trace the Spirit's fliglit; 
No eye can pierce within the veil. 

Which liiiles the world of light. 

Thus much (and this is all) we know, 

Saints are completely blest; 
Have done with sin and care and wo. 

And widi the Saviour rest. 

On harps of gold they praise his name. 

His face they always view ; 
Then let ns followers be of them. 

That we may praise him too.* 



44 MEMOIR OF 

I often explained verses of scripture and hymns 
to him, when reading, and they often gave rise 
to very interesting inquiries and remarks from 
him. As I made some remarks on the third verse, 
he was exceedingly interested in the thought, 
that although we cannot look up to Heaven, and 
see God, and angels, and happy spirits there, yet 
God, and perhaps angels and spirits, can at all 
times look down and see us. 



CHAPTER HI. 



Account of his admission to the church, which he calls* the Meet- 
ing.' Hymns. He is wearied with company. His sickness and 
suffering increase. He is very patient. Various anecdotes. His 
desire to give the Author a keepsake. Conversation. He gives tba 
Author several little books and tracts. 



Oct. 22. Thursday. For several days past 
Nathan has been inviting many of his friends, 
as they called, to come in, this evening, when he 
expected the church would meet, and hoped to be 
received as a member. To-day I told him that 
we were afraid he would not be able to bear a 
great deal of company ; and that all his friends 
were desirous that he should not be fatigued and 
confused by the number of visiters. And that all, 
however much they would wish to be present, 
would be very sorry to come, if it should prove 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. A9 

an injury to him ; that we were all very desir 
ous that he should have strength to enjoy the 
occasion. 

He looked up with an expression of counte- 
nance that cannot be described, and said, 'But 
God will give me strength and joy.' 

He seemed to wish as many of his friends as 
possible to come and enjoy, with him, the scene 
which he anticipated with so much pleasure. 

He requested me to invite several ladies, who 
had been very kind to him during his sickness ; 
and he mentioned particularly his Sabbath school 
teacher and the superintendent ; but seemed es- 
pecially desirous to have me call and invite Mr. 

P , the gentleman, who he said, a few days 

before, was the first man who asked his mamma 
to send him to the Sabbath School. And of this 
gentleman he spoke very many times, with much 
affection. 

Before leaving him this morning, I said. Well, 
Nathan, I would keep as still and quiet as I 
could, and not talk much, so that you may have 
fresh strength to enjoy the meeting this evening. 
He looked up earnestly and said, 

* I have prayed to God for strength.' The 
same remark he had also made to his pastor when 
the subject had been mentioned with some anxi- 
ety on his account.* 

* The Examining Committee of the Church visited him, 
to see if he gave sufficient evidence of piety, to be received 
as a church member. One of the number asked him some 
hard questions, designed to bring clearly to view his real 
feelings. Mr. asked, Well, Nathan, is it because you 



46 MEMOIR OF 

Thursday Evening. Went in about six o'clock 

and found from twenty to thirty persons in little 
Nathan's chamber. He was bolstered up in the 
bed, so as to have a full view all over the room. 
Although his head ached severely, and was tied 
around with a white handkerchief, he seemed 
as pleasant and happy as he could be. His eye 
rested upon the visiters, one after another, as they 
entered the room, with an expression of ceunte- 
nance that no words can describe. 

Just as all were seated and the room had be- 
come perfectly still, the minister came in. 

A few moments then passed, in a kind of pleas- 
ing solemn silence, which those only can truly 
realize, who have witnessed some such scene as 
this. 

After some appropriate remarks addressed to 
little Nathan, and to the listening audience be- 
fore him, the following verses were read from 
the hymn, which Nathan had the day before re- 
quested to be sung on the occasion. 

' See Israel's gentle Shepherd stands, 

With all engaging charms ; 
Hark, how he calls the tender lambs, 

And folds them in his arms.' 

read in the Bible, and pray to God, and love the Savior, 
that you hope to go to heaven ? 
' No sir,' he replied, ' it's because Christ died.* 

Mr. asked him also, Well, Nathan, on the i^ole, 

don't you think you should like to get well again ?J\athan 
turned his face away with an expression of disajipointme^it 
that such a question should be asked, and answered, ^' 
' I don't think any thing about it, sir.' 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 47 

"Permit them to approach," he cries, 

" Nor scorn their humble name ; 
For t'was to bless such souls as these. 

The Lord of angels came." 



'Ye little flock, with pleasure hear, 
Ye children seek his face ; 

And fly with transports to receive 
The blessings of his grace.' 



While a few of the ladies and gentlemen were 
singing these appropriate words, as it seemed, 
in the soft, sweet melody of the heart, Nathan 
turned his eyes upon his parents and little sis- 
ters, who were at his bedside. And such a look, 
— such an expression of countenance, it seems 
impossible for one who did not witness it to con- 
ceive. 

The reverend pastor then ofiered prayer. A 
few verses of Scripture suited to the occasion 
were then read, and the Confession of Faith 
xdopted by the church, was briefly explained. 
And as he listened to the explanation of the dif- 
ferent articles as they were read, he respon^d in 
a gentle voice, .*w^ 

'Yes sir.' />.^ 

In the same manner the articles of»tHechu]^k 
Covenant were read and explained^<'%nd he ,g|^ 
plied to them, in the same low response. 

None could question his sincerity, or ob- 
ject to his being received as a visible mem- 
ber of the household of faith. He bore the 
* Meeting,' as he called it, remarkably well 



48 MEMOIR OF 

and it really seemed that he received that 
strength from Heaven, for which he had prayed. 

Friday Morning. Oct. 23. He was rocking 
in his mother's arms; very pale, and his forehead 
knit with pain. He could not smile, as he al- 
most always did when I went in. 

Soon after I entered, he had a few moments 
of very great pain. He laid his head back over 
his mother's arm, and desired her to ask me to 
talk with him. 

I took up the Village Hymn Book, intending 
to read a few verses and explain them. After he 
had heard the two verses, — 

• Sweet glories nish upon my sight, 

And charm mj^ wondering eyes, 
The regions of immortal light. 
The beauties cf the skies. 

All hail, ye fair celestial shores. 

Ye lands of endless day; 
Swift on my view, your prospect pours. 

And drives ray griefs away.' 

1 paused a moment, when he raised himself 
uj) in her lap, immediately saying, 

' Is that all,' and reached out his hand to 
take the book. After looking over the hymn, 
for some moments, he returned it to me, and 
said, 

'That's beautiful.' 

I read the remaining verses: — 

• There 's a delightful clearness non*. 

My clouds of doubt are gone ; 

Fled is my former darkness too — 

My fears are all witlidrawn. 



NATHAX W. DICKERMAN. 49 

Short is the passage — short the space 

Between my home and me ; 
There ! there behold tlte radiant place, 

How near the mansions be ! 

Immortal wonders ! boundless things, 

In tliose dear worlds appear I 
Prepare me, Lord, to stretch my wings, 

And in tiiose glories share.' 

While he heard these verses he would occa- 
sionally close his eyes and whisper, 'Yes sir,* 
at the close of a verse. 

He then laid himself down again upon his 
mother's arm, and said, 

' It 's a beautiful hymn.' 

I then said, are you not too tired to hear the 
next hymn. He hesitated a moment, and asked, 

' Is it the one right above it?' 

No, I replied, the next after it. 

' Is it the one,' said he again, ' O pale de- 
stroyer ? ' 

This was the last verse of the hymn preceding 
the one I had read, and on the same page of the 
book, so that it appeared he had been reading 
this verse also. 

It was thus : 

* No more, O pale destroyer, boast, 
Thy universal sway ; 
To heaven-bora souls, thy sting is lost — 
Thy night, the gate of day.' 



Oct. 24. Saturday. He was more easy to- 
day, but was so weak, that I did not converse 
much with him. He appeared, however, as 
trjmquil and happy as ever. 

5 Dickerman. 



50 MEMOIR OF 

I asked him, if he should like to have a hymn 
read. 

'Yes sir,' said he, and selected the follow- 
ing of Watts: 

* Earth has engrossed my love too long I 

'T is time I lift mine eyes, 
Upward, dear Fatlier, to tliy throne. 

And to my native skies. 

There the blest PJan, my Saviour sits j 

The God ! how brighi he shines ! 
And scatters infinite delights 

On all die happy minds. 

Seraphs, witli elevated strains. 

Circle tlie tlirone around; 
And move and charm the stan-y plains 

Widi an immortal sound. 

Jesus, the Lord, th.eir harps employs, 

Jesus, my love, they sing ! 
Jesus, the life of all my joyy. 

Sounds sweet, from every string. 

Now let me mount and join their song. 

And he an angel too ; 
My heart, ray hand, my ear, my tongue, 

Thei'e's joyful work for you. 

1 would begin the music here. 

And so my soul should rise ; 
Oh! for some heavenly notes to bear 

My passions to the skies.' 

When he had found the hymn, before he pass- 
ed the book into my hands, he looked over the 
first verse with such attention as to convince all 
around that he understood its meaning. 

A lady who was present, afterwards remarked 
to a friend, ' he seemed to be choosing what ex- 
pressed his own feelings.' 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 51 

While the hymn was read, he listened with 
great attention; but company coming in, inter- 
rupted the exercise, and I soon went away. 

Saturday Evening, half past 8. I have just 
returned from Nathan's chamber. His mother 
said, that as soon as I left the room this fore- 
noon, he burst into tears, and cried aloud. On 
asking the reason, she learned, that he was so 
grieved that I should go away without uniting 
with him in prayer. He had asked me to pray, 
but in so low a voice that I did not hear him. 

As I entered the room, this evening, he greet- 
ed me with his accustomed smile, and in answer 
to my question, replied, 

' I am pretty comfortable, but don't feel much 

like talking,' 'There has been a sight of 

company here.' 

He was evidently quite exhausted, by seeing 
so many visiters. 

Presently, he called his mother to his bed- 
side and said, ' Mamma, won't Mr. A come 

and talk with me?' 

I thought it not judicious to have him hear or 
say much, he was so much fatigued, but he re- 
quested to have a hymn read. 

I read the 68th hymn, second book, of Watts, 

* Father I long, T faint to see, 
The place of thine abode.' 

He listened very attentively, until I had fin- 
ished, and then said, 

' You may turn down a leaf there.' 

I sat a few moments at his bedside, without 



52 MEMOIR OP 

speaking, and was deeply interested in noticing 
the mild and heavenly expression of his coun- 
tenance. He soon turned his eyes to me, with 
a most lovely look and said, — 

' I 've had this thought lately, — that if God 
sees fit to take me with him to heaven, I long 
to go.' 

His mother told him, that a friend would 
come and watch with him, if he wished it. 

He seemed very much pleased and said, 

' You may come to-morrow night, — if Qod 
spares me.' 

His pain now became very severe, and he 
looked up to his mother, and said with a look 
of suffering patience, 

' Oh mamma!' 

What, dear? said she. 

* I am tired,' he replied, ' will you rock 
me?' 

A little before I went in this evening, he said 
to his mother, as she was laying him down on the 
bed, 

' Oh mamma, if it was God's will, I should n't 
want to see another day.' 

Sabbath Evening. Oct. S15. Just returned 
from Mr. Dickerman's. Our little sufferer has 
endured a great deal of pain to-day. Visiters 
have been continually calling. Hardly an hour 
has passed when several strange faces were not 
before him, and sometimes a room full. He 
really seemed distressed from seeing so much 
company His whole frame quivered as it were, 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 53 

with that kind of nervous excitement, which a 
sick person feels after such a day. 

His own account of it was truly affecting. 
He said, ' If they would only come, one at a 
time, and talk a little with me, — and pray with 
me, — and then let me have an hour or two to 
rest, I could see them.' 

His parents felt a delicacy about forbidding 
visiters to see him, but requested me to spend the 
evening there, and excuse Nathan to any who 
might call upon him. It is much to be regretted 
that friends, in such cases, do not show their kind- 
ness and attention, in a better way than by visit- 
ing the sick chamber in great numbers and occa- 
sioning fatigue and distraction to the enfeebled 
sufferer, who feels unwilling to deny himself, or 
to have his friends deny to others, the pleasures 
of meeting. The sick chamber is the last place 
for the congratulations of many friends; it is the 
appropriate place for the kind and constant atten- 
tion of a/ew. 

Just before I came away, I stepped to his bed- 
side, and asked if he was not too tired to hear 
a few words. He replied promptly, 

'No sir.' 

I endeavored to comfort him, by directing his 
thoughts to the Saviour, and to that rest which 
he hoped soon to enter, and closed my remarks, 
by repeating the promise, 

' Him that cometh to me, I loill in noivise cast 
out.' 

He responded, in an audible whisper, 

* Yes sir, yes sir, yes sir.' 
5* 



54 MEMOIR OF 

Monday Motming. Oct. 2S. Found him some- 
what rested from the extreme fatigue of yester- 
day, but still in severe pain. In a moment of 
respite from suffering, he asked, with a smile, 

* Mr. A , will you read some good hymns ? 

— Mamma, will you hand the hymn book ? ' 

I read a hymn, but he was in too much pain to 
enjoy it, and I thought he did not follow the sen- 
timent. 

I was sitting by his side, fanning him, when he 
looked up to me, and smiling, asked, 

'Are you engaged this afternoon?' 

No, not particularly, I replied. 

* Have you that map, which you brought here 
a little while ago ?' * 

Yes, it is at our house. 

' Can you spend the afternoon with me, and 
bring the map.^' 

He was here interrupted by a severe parox- 
ysm of pain at his heart, and raising his eyeg 
towards heaven, and closing them, whispered, as 
I thought, 

•Oh! my God ' 

I could not hear any more, but in a moment hi^ 
countenance resumed the same calm and cheer- 
ful expression, as before the pain came on. 

* The writer of this journal, one day before he began to write 
an account of his visits, had carried in a large Atlas, containing 
maps of scripture places. One of the maps represented Jeru- 
salem, and tlie adjacent country, such as the Mount of O.Uves, 
the Garden of Gethsemane, Mount Calvary, &c And as he 
read passages of Scripture, referring to those places, he pointed 
tbcm out to Natlian. 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 55 

The nature of his disease was such, as to oc- 
casion the severest pain. The original inflamma- 
tion settled upon the heart, and caused an en- 
largement of that organ. The pulsations were 
often so rapid, that it was not easy to count them. 
And his whole frame would be so agitated by the 
violence of the action, that the bedclothes which 
covered him, were often put in motion. 

His physician, however, remarked that not- 
withstanding all his sufferings he never uttered 
a murmuring word. The nearest approach to 
impatience, he manifested, was once, when in 
great distress, as his mother was trying to do 
something to relieve him, he cried, 

•' Quick, quick, raamma, quick.' 



His mother was mentioning to-day, the case 
of a young man, in a neighboring town, who was 
very sick and expected very soon to die. He was 
so much opposed to anything like religion, that 
he was unwilling to have religious conversation 
in his room. 

At this moment Nathan turned to me, and said, 
with a sad countenance, 

* They never had a prayer in the house.' 

A minister who had visited the sick man, was 
a day or two before this, giving an account of his 
visits to Nathan, and said that he had never been 
requested to pray there. Nathan looked up to 
him, in deep concern, and said, 

* Why won't you ask them, next time, if you 
MAT pray.* 



56 MEMOIR OF 

Monday Evening, 9 o'clock. Have just spent 
an hour with Nathan. He was more weak and 
exhausted than usual, I sat a half-hour by 
his bedside, and hardly a word was spoken. A 
sigh or exclamation now and then escaped him, 
as ' Oh, mamma ! Oh me.' 

In order to obtain a httle relief by changing 
his position, he stood up on the side of the bed, 
placed both his arms around his mother's neck as 
she stood beside him, and laid his head upon her 
shoulder. This seemed in a measure to relieve 
his pain. He often appeared nearly as much 
concerned, lest he should weary others in this 
situation, as they were to relieve him. The ten- 
der feelings which he always exhibited towards 
his mother, in her unwearied and unceasing at- 
tention to him, were very apparent in every visit 
I made. When she was doing anything for him, 
which he supposed was wearisome, he often said 
in a most affectionate manner, 

' Mamma, don't I tire you ?' or ' I 'm afraid 
I fatigue you.' 

This evening, as I took his mother's place a 
little while, standing to support him, as he rested 
his arms and head upon my neck, he often made 
the same inquiries in the same sweet voice. 

Before uniting with him in prayer, I asked 
what he wished me to pray for. He answered 
without a moment's hesitation, 

' That I may be prepared for heaven.' 

He was one day standing on the bed-side, 
resting his head upon his grandmother's shoul- 
der, as described above, when his mother return- 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 57 

ed from calling on a friend. She was mention- 
ing, in the room where they were, that the person 
she had visited, did not believe in the reality of 
Nathan's apparent feelings; that she had little 
confidence in his piety or conversation; and 
said he must have learned all this by rote from 
his teachers, or had it written down in some 
book. 

Nathan heard what his mother said, and rais- 
ing his head from his grandmother's shoulder, 
turned around and replied, 

' So I have got it written down in a book, 
mamma, and that 's the Bible.' 

Wednesday. Oct. 28. Nathan is more com- 
fortable than usual to-day. He appeared remark- 
ably cheerful and pleasant, a constant smile, al- 
most, upon his countenance. 

I asked him how he felt. He replied, — 

* Oh! I feel very happy.' 

I had hardly time to inquire how he had been 
since I saw him, before he said, 

' Won't you read to me something — some ver- 
ses in the Bible.' 

After reading he spoke of the hymn, 

* When lanCTi.ior and disease invade 
This trembling house of clay.' 

And wished to hear it again. 

I asked him, if he knew what was meant by 
this trembling house of clay. 

* The body,' said he, 'this body of sin.' 
While reading the other verses, I remarked, 

that we should never be entirely free from sin, 



58 MEMOIR OF 

until we reached heaven, and alluded to the verse 

of David, — 

i shali be satisfied when I awake with thy like- 
ness 

'Yes sir,' said he, with a good deal of anima- 
tion, ' and there 's another verse, — 

'Oh! that I had the wings of a dove' — he 
hesitated a moment, and I added, ' then would 
I fly away, and be at rest.' 

' Yes sir,' said he, ' that 's it.' * 

I made other remarks, while reading the hymn, 
something as follows: That we should always be 
unhappy, more or less, as long as we had sin in 
our hearts; but if we were the true disciples ot 
Christ, we should be received to heaven, and 
there we should be freed from all sin, and per- 
fectly happy. We shall be without sin and in 
this respect like Christ, for the Scripture says, 
' We shall be like Him, for we shall see him aa 
he is.' 

' Yes sir,' said he, ' I often think of that.* 

Of what? I asked, — of being like God? 

His only answer was, — 

'O! that I had the wings of a dove: then 
would I fly away, and be at rest.' 

This afterwards became a favorite sentiment; 
and he very often repeated it to his mother, when 
they were left alone. 

When he had made the last remark, he looked 
up to me very intently for sometime and then 
whispered, 

* It will be seen that he quoted the sentiment of Psalm 55: 6, 
thougli not in the precise language of the text. 



NATHAN W. DICKEKr.IAN. 59 

* ISIr. A , is n't there sometliing I can give 

you for your kindness !' 

O, Nathan, I replied, it has been a great pleas- 
ure, to me, to come and see you; and I endeav- 
ored to lead his mind away from such thoughts 
by another remark. But he continued looking 
earnestly at me, and repeated with an affection- 
ate smile, 

' Is n't there anything ?' 

I tried still to divert him from the suyject, by 
conversation; but when I had finished my re- 
mark, he seemed not to have listened much; or 
at any rate, his feeling of gratitude was upper- 
most, for he kept the idea of making a return 
steadily in view, and said, 

' I can give you some little books.' 

1 arose as soon as I could, in order to dismiss 
the subject from his mind, and bade him good 
afternoon, promising, at his request, to come 
in again, in the evening, as he said that would 
be the best time, for then nobody would be 
there. . 

Wednesday JUvening. Called this evening, 
but Nathan was too sick to engage in conversa- 
tion. 

While I was sitting with him this forenoon, 
the boys playing in the streets, made such a 
noise as to make his head ache. He said to me, 

* Mr. A , won't you ask those boys not to 

play so there.' 

I went out and called the boys around me, and 
told them how sick Nathan was, and what he 



60 MEMOIR OF 

wished them to do. Most of them did as they 
would be done by, and ceased making a noise, 
or went immediately away. But some of them 
would not do either. I suspect these were not 
Sabbath School scholars. 

He said to his mother very early this morning, 
the first words almost that he spoke, 

'Manyna, if Mr. A , comes in to-day, I'll 

tell yoi* what I want of him. I want him to 
find a good hymn to be sung at my funeral.' 

TJiiirsday Afternoon,, half past 5, Oct. 29. 
Have just returned from a visit to Nathan; 
found him in great pain, yet smiling. I was but 
just seated at his side, when he asked with a 
sweet countenance, 

* Do you want to talk with me a little?' 
The following conversation ensued. 

Yes, Nathan, I replied, if you think you arc 
able to bear it; should you like to have me? 
'Yes sir.' 
What shall I talk about ^ 

* About my Saviour.' 

At this moment a severe pain seized upon his 
side, and disturbed the peaceful expression of 
his countenance. 

I said to him, Well, Nathan, although God 
sends upon you a great deal of pam, he can give 
you a peace within, that will make it less hard to 
bear. 

* O, yes sir, yes sir.' 

And, Nathan, it will be a joyful time for you, 
when you are relieved from all your pain. 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 61 

* O yes sir.' 

The Saviour promises to be with his children, 
-with those that love him, when they most 



need his presence. — When people who do not 
love Him are sick, they have no consolation. 

'No sir.' 

But I trust He is near to you. 

' Yes sir, I think he is.' 

You will not have to bear your pain much 
longer, I hope. You will soon be where it will 
all be over. Do you remember the passage, 
'Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have en- 
tered into the heart of man, the things which God 
hath prepared for them that love himl ' 1 Cor. 
ii. 9. 

I took up the Bible and read the passage, and, 
at his request, a few other similar texts respect- 
ing the rest of God's people. As I ceased read- 
ing, he said, 

' You may turn down a leaf there.' 

While I read, he closed his eyes, and seemed 
to hear understandingly, as though he felt and 
enjoyed the true spiritual meaning. 

The first four verses of Rev. xxi. seemed 
especially to give him comfort. As he heard the 
fourth verse, 

— 'And God shall wipe away all tears from 
their eyes, and there shall be no more death, nei- 
ther sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any 
more pain,' — he opened his eyes, and looked 
upward with a smile. And frequently as I read, 
he responded to the sentiment, in a gentle voice, 

' Yes sir.' 

6 Dickerman. 



62 MEMOIR OF 

A day or two since he asked me if I should 
not like to take some of his little books, to show 
to Sabbath School children, whenever I met 
them. He said he had quite a bundle of them, 
and would select two for me. 

To-day he asked his mother to give me' the 
two which he had chosen. The names of them 
were, 'Little Children invited to Christ,' and 
' Advice to Sabbath School Children.' A great 
many Sabbath School scholars, in diiferent pla- 
ces, have seen these two books. 

After Nathan had given me these, he said, 

' Do n't you want to take some of my tracts to 
give away? I have a great many. — O, have 
you the Young Cottager— that 's a beautiful one, 
— and the Dairyman's Daughter? ' 

He was, at this time, sitting in his mother's 
arms, and, changing his position in her lap, he 
looked up to her and said, 

* Can you hold me so, easy, mamma? * 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 63 



CHAPTER IV. 

Conversation with Dr. Jenks about "the Meeting." Various anec- 
dotes and conversations. Prayer. His thoughts about Mr. T. 
who first led bim to Sabbath Scliool. Mr. A. the author, reads 
and explains a chapter in the Bible. The Communion Service^ 
ia his chamber. The author takes leave of him for a tiiue. 

Fiiday, Oct. 30. — Dr. Jenks came in to-day. 
Nathan had been expecting him, almost impa- 
tiently. He had said several times during my 
visit, 

' I expect Dr. Jenks this morning.' 

When he entered, Nathan rose from his moth- 
er's lap, stood up at one corner of the fire place, 
in his loose flannel dress, and looked across with 
the greatest earnestness to his minister, who was 
seated in the other corner. The expression of 
intense interest in his countenance can hardly 
be conceived. He was so entirely engrossed in 
what he was about to ask, that he could not sit 
in his mother's lap. And the conversation which 
ensued was in substance as follows: 

Dr. Jenks. Well, my dear, did you find 
yourself very much fatigued by the service, the 
other night ? 

JYathan. The meeting.? No sir. 

Dr. J. You bore it pretty well, did you? 

JY. Yes sir, — Dr. Jenks, is the meeting fin- 
ished.'' 

Dr. J. What, my dear.'' 

jy. Is the meefing' finished? 

Dr. J. Perhaps not, — I should be very happy 
to have you partake of the emblems of our Lord's 
body and blood. 



64 MEMOIR OP 

JV. I should like to very much. — I have no 
objections, — and my parents have no objections, 
you can ask my mother. 

Dr. J. I know, my dear, that they have no 
objections, — I suppose it would give them pleas- 
ure, and I should be very happy to administer to 
you the sacrament. 

What do you understand, my dear, by the Sa- 
crament, — the Lord's Supper.'' — what do you 
suppose the bread and the wine means? 

Nathan, after hesitating a moment, replied in 
a lower tone of voice, 

' The bread of life, and the blood of CAWs/.' 

Dr. J. Yes, dear, they represent the body 
and blood of our crucified Redeemer, and we 
partake of them, in memory of what he has done 
and suffered for us, 

jy. Dr. Jenks, do you think you shall finish 
the meeting .'' 

Dr. J. Yes dear, if you wish it. I shall be 
very happy to come afler meeting, next Sabbath, 
and with a few Christian friends, partake with 
you, of the Lord's Supper. Our church will 
celebrate the communion in the afternoon. 

During this conversation, Nathan seated him- 
self on a little cricket beside me, and laid his 
head in my lap. Dr. Jenks, before leaving him, 
offered prayer. But Nathan in this position, 
when he had ended, was asleep, 

Saturday Morning, Oct. 31. — He was sitting 
in his grandmother's lap, and looked cheerful 
and happy. He had enjoyed a comfortable 
night. She said to me, as I sat down, Nathan 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. Gb 

has been talking about getting well, — he says, if 
he should get well, it might be the means of 
making others believe. 

He turned over in her arms towards me and 
smiling said, , 

' It is n't my wish — I was only thinking, — a 
kind of a dream — that if it should please my Sa- 
viour to make me well — that I hoped it would 
make others believe what he cari do.' 

Why, what would you do, said I, if it should 
please God to raise you up again? 

' I would go about and tell the people about 
the Saviour.' 

What would you tell them ? 

' How much he has done for them.' 

But suppose they would not hear you, or 
would not care anything about it. 

' I — could n't — say — any — more.' 

Well, Nathan, how do you think you should 
live, if you should get well again; what would 
you do? 

' I should like to be a minister of the gospel 
— if I could.' 

Visiting him again to-day, I found him in bet- 
ter strength and spirits than usual. Mr. B 

was holding him in his arms and rocking him, 

and Nathan seemed very happy. Mr. B 

spoke of a hymn, which he liked very much in 
the early part of his sickness. On reading the 
first verse to him, he manifested at once his 
great fondness for it, and desired to hear it all. 

It was found in a few tattered leaves of an old 
hymn book. One day he was alone, and asked 
his mother to let him look over some old books 
6* 



66 MEMOIR OF 

and pamphlets that lay in the secretary. He 
found about a dozen leaves of hymns, and out 
of them selected the following, which afterwards 
became a great favorite. He often repeated it 
to Mr. ^ soon after the change in his feel- 
ings. The fifth verse, especially, he took great 
delight in repeating to himself 

Jerusalem, my happy home, 

O, how I long for thee! 
When will my sorrows have an end, 

My joys when shall I seel 

Thy walls are all of precious stone. 

Most glorious to behold ; 
Thy gates are richly set with pearl, 

Thy streets are paved witli gold, 

Thy garden and thy pleasant green. 

My study long have been. 
Such sparkling light, by human sight, 

Has never yet been seen. 

If heaven be thus glorious Lord, 

Why should I stay from thence. 
What folly 't is that I should dread 

To die, and go from hence. 

Reach down, reach down thine arm ofgraeef 

And cause me to ascend, 
Where congregations ne^er break up. 

And Sabbaths never end'. 

Jesus, my Lord, to heaven has gone. 

Him will I go and see. 
And all my brethren here below, 

Will soon come after me. 

My friends, I bid ybu all adieo, 

I leave you in God's care; 
And if 1 never more see you. 

Go on, I '11 meet you there. 



KATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 67 

There we shall meet, and no more part. 

And heaven shall ring with praise. 
While Jesus' love in every heart. 

Shall tune the song, — ' free grace.' 

Millions of years, around may run. 

Our song shall still go on; 
To praise the Father and the Son, 

And Spirit, — Three in One. 

When we 've been there ten thousand years. 

Bright shining as the sun. 
We 've no less days to sing God's praise. 

Than when we first begun. 

Mr. B soon went away and left Nathan 

in his mother's lap. Not long after, he looked 
up to me with a smile and said, — 

' Will you please to hold me?' 

While I held him, the following conversation, 
as near as can be remembered, took place. 

' Mr. A , grandmamma grieved me very 

much the other night, — she saw me crying, 
and thought it was because I was near my 

end, it grieved me very much that she 

should think I was crying, because I was going 
to die, it was n't so.' 

Well, Nathan, she understands now, she 
thinks now, that you are willing to go, whenever 
God chooses. 

* It grieved me to have her think so.' 

But you are willing, (' Oh! yes, sir,' inter- 
rupted Nathan,) and I have no doubt, that your 
grandmother is very happy, now, to think, that 
you are so willing. 

A short pause. 



68 MEMOIR OF 

' Mr. A , if I should die, won't you visit 

my mother, and talk with her?' 

I shall, certainly, Nathan. 

' I want her to be . a good woman, 

I hope she loves the Saviour some.' 

A pause again. 

' Mr. A , when we pray, is it enough 

for us to say only the Lord's prayer?'* 

Suppose that saying the Lord's prayer only, 
was enough to please God, should n't we wish 
ourselves, to say more ? 

Nathan. ' Yes sir, that 's the way I do. I say 
the Lord's prayer, and then a little more. — O 
Lord Jesus Christ, give me a new heart.' 

I then made this remark to him, to which ho 
made the following reply. 

How grateful we ought to be, Nathan, that 
God is willing to hear our prayers, and that we 
have been to the Sabbath School, and have 
learned about the Saviour. 

He was now resting in my arms, — his eyes 
closed, and I supposed from his appearance en- 
gaged in deep thought or devotion. At length, 
however, opening his eyes, and looking upward 
he said, 

* I THINK THE LORD WILL BLESS Mr. P , 

VERY muck; KE was the FIRST ONE THAT 

ASKED Mamma, if I might go to the Sabbath 
School.' 

Could the teachers and friends of Sabbath 



* He had made this inquiry of his mother, two or three times 
before. He seemed to be in doubt whether he should add petitions 
iu 1 is own language or not. 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 69 

Schools, have witnessed the strong emotion of 
gratitude, with which this infant disciple raised 
his eyes to heaven, and pronounced this blessing 
upon his benefactor, they would not be less active 
in seeking out and gathering together other lost, 
wandering children to be nurtured in that fold — 
the Sabbatli School, where the good Shepherd 
IS wont to appear and take them in his arms and 
carry them in his bosom. 

'Take heed,' says the good Shepherd, 'that 
ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say 
unto you that in heaven, their angels do always 
behold the face of my father, which is in 
heaven.' 

And again, ' Verily I say unto you, whosoever 
shall give to drink, unto one of these little ones, 
a cup of cold water only, in the name of a dis- 
ciple, HE SHALL NOT LOSE HIS REWARD.' 

Nathan made some remark about his Sabbath 
School, which led me to ask, how many attended 
it. 

' T do n't know,' said he, ' when I was there 
I never dared to look around.' 

Why.? said I. 

' I thought it was wrong,' he replied. 

Well, that was right; when we are receiving 
instruction from God's holy Word, we ought to 
be very attentive. 

'Yes, sir; and when we do anything wrong, 
how it makes the heart feel. My heart seems to 
burn; when I first felt that I was a sinner, it 
seemed as if my heart was on fire; and when I 
talked to people sometimes, they laughed at me, 



70 mi:moir of 

and said they did not want to hear any such talk 
as that. They want to know why we are not all 
alike, (meaning, as to our being Christians or 
not, here, and happy or miserable hereafter,) 
and if they have any sorrows, they say that is all 
the punishment they shall have, and there is n't 
any pujiishment hereafter.' 

After resting a few moments he said, 

* Mr. A , will you talk with me about the 

Lord's Supper; I want to know all about it.' 

I read a few passages to him, on the subject, 
and endeavored to explain them, and when I 
remarked upon the bread and wine, he interrupt- 
ed me saying, 

'Yes, sir; when I say about this to folks, 
that the wine means his blood, and the bread 
means his body, they say it is n't so, they don't 
understand it. I should think when they sit at 
the Lord's table, those that love the Saviour, — 
that they would feel what he has done for them. 
I should think they would seethe Spirit of God.' 

Yes, Nathan, such a privilege is the highest 
means of grace we can enjoy. The Lord Jesus 
manifests himself to his children if their hearts 
are prepared for it, and it is a precious season. 

' Oh!' said he smiling, ' I hope you w^ill 
enjoy it very much.' 

' Mr. A , I know of one little girl, nine 

years old, that loves the Saviour. She has been 
here, a great many times, and we have had delight- 
ful times together. There are two Sabbath 
School scholars that are inquiring what they have 

got to do to be saved. Mr. B , told me one 

went to Mr. H — 's house to ask him about it. — 



NATHAN W, DICKERMAN. 71 

I wish I could hear of one every day; I al- 
ways feel better, it enjiivens me up so.' 

His mother now came in, and he turned to 
her and said, 

' Mamma — Mr. A says he will come and 

see you, when I am dead and gone.' 

He spoke again of what his grandmother said, 
when she saw him crying, and said again, 

' It grieved me very much.' 
What was it, that made you cry, then, Nathan? 

' My pain v/as so great, that I could n't help 
shedding a tear.' 

Saturday, P. M. Oct. 31. After exchanging 
a few words with him this afternoon, I remarked 
that another Sabbath day, the Lord's day, was 
very near. 

He replied, ' Yes sir, the Sabbath is to be kept 
holy. There is one of the commandments, — 
Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. 
How we used to learn them.' 

Where ?— at the Sabbath School ^ 

' Yes sir, and at the every-day school ; but it 
is so long since I heard them, that I forget. I 
used to know them all, but I can't say them now. 

Saturday Evening, half past 9. About an hour 
since, Nathan was rocking in his mother's arms. 
The rest of the family had retired, and they were 
alone. He had appeared for sometime to be in 
gentle, quiet rest, but was suddenly seized with 
such difficulty in breathing, as seemed for a mo- 
ment, during the struggle, to have terminated 
his sufferings. 



72 MEMOIR OF 

Mrs. D , supposed that his spirit had fled, 

and called to a lady who occupied an adjoining 
room. It was just after she entered the room, 
that I went in. 

Little Nathan looked pale and agitated, breath- 
ed rapidly and with great effort. His hand was 
pressed upon his side, his eyes were closed, and 
the whole countenance indicated severe pain. 

He remained in this situation, perhaps a quar- 
ter of an hour, entirely motionless, except the 
tremor occasioned by the violent palpitation of 
the heart. 

He then opened his eyes, turned them up to 
his mother, raised his trembling hand around 
her neck, and whispered faintly, ' Rock.' He 
gradually became easy again, and seemed com- 
fortable, much as before. 

As I arose to go away, he discovered that I 
was present, and looking around as though a lit- 
tle confused, said, 

' Where, mamma?' 

She replied, ' Here Nathan,' as I stood by his 
side. But he still looked about the room, as 
though he was lost. She added, ' You know you 

was wishing Mr. A , to make a prayer with 

you this evening, and I w^as afraid you would be 
disappointed if he went away without your know- 
ing it.' 

He turned to me then, and said, ' Can't you 

I replied, I think you are too tired, and in too 
much pain to have me pray with you to-night. 
' O! no sir, no sir,' he quickly answered. 
Do you wish to have me pray with you ? <: 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 73 

' O! yes sir, yes sir,' he said at once. 

I then repeated a fev/ promises from the Scrip- 
lures and knelt by his side to pray. One ex- 
pression used in the prayer was this. ' O, Thou 
Shepherd of Israel, ta.ke this lamb into thy aims, 
and fold him to tiiy bosom.' 

He resDonded in a gentle whisper, * O! yes 
sir.' 

When I arose, he v/as asleep, 

Sahbath Morning, JVov. 1. He was more com- 
fortable, although he had suffered after I left him 
last nightj from a return of the great difficulty in 
breathing. 

As I entered he gave his little hand to receive 
me, and almost immediately said, 

' Mr. A , the testament is on the bed, 

will you read a little ? Papa, will you get the map 
out of the drav/er?' (meaning the Scripture At- 
las, which he had used a fev/ days before.) 

I had at that time, pointed out to him the gar- 
den of Gethsemane, and had told him something 
about the scene of our Saviour's suffering there. 
I now opened to the account of it given by Mat- 
thew, and while looking over the verses I intend- 
ed to read, he, M-ithout knowing the passage I 
had selected, said, 

' I wish you would read to me a,bout Gethsem- 
ane.' 

I was just thinking of that passage, I replied, 
ns one, which you would like to hear, — do you 
remember where the garden was, just out of the 
city, over — 

' The brook Kedron,' he added. 

7 Dickerman. 



74 MEMOIR OF 

Yes, said I, and at the foot of Mount ■ 

' Yes sir — -Mamma Avhen your arm is tired, I 
will sit up in your lap/ inten-upted the aiTection- 
ate little boy. 

I now read, Matt xxvi: 36. ' Then cometh 
Jesus iciih them to a 'place called Geihscmane, and 
saiihunto his disciples, Sit ye here while I go and 
pray yonder.' 

How many disciples were there, Nathan.' 

' Twelve.' 

' .find he tooJc iviih kirn Peter, and the two so7is 
of Zebedee, and began to be sorrowful and very 
heavy.' 

So then he took, said I, only three of his dis- 
ciples to go with him to a distant part of the 
garden, and left the others behind. Do you 
know who the two sons of Zebedee were.'' 

' No sir.' 

I can show you where they are mentioned, in 
another place, — here, (turning to the 4th chap, 
i2 1st verse) 'and going on from thence, he saw 
other tii'o brethren, James the son of Zebedee, and 
John his brother.' You remember something 
about John, don't you.'* 

' Yes sir,' he replied, * and Jesus said to Pe- 
ter, Lovest thou me.' 

And you remember John, he was the disci- 
ple — 

' Whom Jesus loved,' continued he. 

T read again, v. 38. 'Then saith he unto themy 
My soul is exceeding sorrowfid, even unto death. 
Tarry ye liere ojid watcli tt'ith me.' 

Do you understand what this means? I ask- 
ed. 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 75 

* Yes sir,' he answered. 

He was borne down, I continued, on account 
of our transgressions. 

'Yes sir,' said he, ' he was sorry on account 
of the punishment of sinners.' 

Do you mean that he was a sinner? 

'O, no sir; it always seems strange to me 
that folks won't believe that he died for our sins.' 

You recollect my reading to you in Isaiah, 
that he was wounded for our transgressions. 

'Yes sir,' said he, ' and when he was brought 

before the — Gov-ern-or, of the Priests, 

(meaning Pilate, John xix. 6.) he said, I find no 
fault in him.' 

Again I read at the 39th verse. ' And he went 
a little further , and fell on his face, and prayed, 
saying, O my Father, if this cup may not pass from 
me except I dnnk it, thy ii-ill he done.' 

Do you know what this means ? said I. 

' No sir: will you tell me what that is, " Let 
the cup?" "Nevertheless not as I will, but as 
thou wilt?" I often think of that, and say to my ' 
self, " Not as I will, but as thou wilt." ' 

Nathan appeared very deeply interested in the 
subject of this conversation, and during the 
whole interviev/ seemed intently engaged in the 
explanations which I endeavored to make. 

He asked other questions and made other re- 
marks than those that are written, but they are 
not remembered. 

While I was reading, Mr. D , his superin- 
tendent came in, and interrupted the exercises a 
moment, for hardly anything seemed to give him 



76 MEMOIR OF 

SO much pleasure as a visit from his superintend- 
ent or teacher. But he presently said, 

' You may go on now.' 

After the subject v.as finished, he asked, ' Now 
will you read about Golgotha, the place where 
they crucilied him.''' 

1 pointed to it on the map. 

' Yes sir, I see it,' said he. 

After having read a few verses more, I said, 1 
think, Nathan, you are too tired to hear reading 
any longer; and I had better go and leave you 
to rest, that you may be prepared for the Lord's 
Supper. 

'O, no sir, I an't tired,' said he at once. 

Sabbath Afternoon, Nov. 1. — This afternoon 
has been most deeply interesting in Nathan's 
chamber. It is very seldom that such a scene 
is witnessed on earth. As I entered his room^ 
he was just recovering from a fit of coughing, 
which had very much exhausted bis strength. 
He had been rocking for sometime in his moth- 
er's arms, and supposing that she was weary he 
asked me to take him. As I held him in my 
arms, he asked me if I should not like to copy 
the hymn, 

' Jerusalem my Iiappy horoe,^ 

to remember him by; and at his request I copied 
it in the end of his Sabbath School prayer book. 
As the hour drew near when Dr. Jenks and a 
few members of his church were expected to^ 
come, to partake with Nathan of the Lord's 
Supper, he asked to be laid on the bed. He was 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 77 

SO raised up by pillows that he could easily look 
around the room. The fever which flushed his 
cheeks, and brightened his eye, gave an unusual 
animation to his countenance, and although it 
wore an expression of excitement, it was mild 
and gentle. He had a violent headache, but 
seemed cheerful and happy. His pale thin hands 
were lying by his side. He asked for the hymn 
book, which he used to support the elbow, as he 
occasionally rested his cheek upon his right 
hand. Presently the company began to assem- 
ble. The chairs were arranged in order round 
the room. The little sufferer folded his pallid 
hands across his breast, and greeted with a peace- 
ful countenance the different individuals as they 
came in. 

The articles of the communion service were 
brought, and the table was spread before him, at 
the foot of the bed. 

All things were now ready, and the room was 
still. Now and then one and another came 
silently in, went to the bedside, and exchanged 
with Nathan the look of salutation, and then took 
their seats. At last the chairs were all filled, 
and we waited in silence the arrival of the minis- 
ter. Every one seemed full of emotion. Na- 
than's countenance expressed what no words can 
describe. His eye, — now passing around the 
room, noticed his several friends, now raised 
upward, and again resting on the flagon and 
cups, and the white napkin, which covered the 
consecrated bread. 

At last the Reverend Pastor came, and sat 
before the table. The parents and sisters were 



78 MEMOIR OF 

at the bedside, at Nathan's right hand. His 

superintendent, teacher, and Mr. P , who 

were invited at his particular request, were 
present. 

After a little pause, Dr. Jenks rose, and ad- 
dressed himself to Nathan in nearly the following 
words. 

' We are about, my dear boy, to celebrate an 
institution of ijour and our Saviour.' 

'Yes sir,' was heard in a faint whisper in 
reply. 

' We have a description of its first establish- 
ment, in the Sacred Scriptures of the New Tes- 
tament.' 

' Yes sir,' was whispered again; and occasion- 
ally, during the few remarks that followed, the 
same soft response was distinctl}^ heard around 
the room. 

The napkin was removed from the ' emblem 
of His broken body, which was bruised for us,' 
and the meaning of the ordinance briefly ex- 
plained,. 

While we united in 'giving thanks,' the still- 
ness of the room was now and then broken by 
a stitied sigh of suffering from the little commu- 
nicant . 

As the bread was distributed, he put forth his 
hand and received a portion, in the most becom- 
ing manner. 

When all had received of it, the plate was re- 
turned to the t^ble. Dr. Jenks then rose and said, 
' " I thank thee, O Father, Lord of Heaven and 
earth, because thou hast hid these things from the 
wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto 



NATHAN. W. DICKERMAN. 79 

babes; even so, Father, for so it seemed good in thy 
sight.'' — These were the words of our Saviour, 
on a certain occasion, when on earth, and surely 
we may adopt them now. O, how many wise 
have there been, who, in the wisdom of this 
world, have passed by our Lord and Saviour 
Jesus Christ.' 

After the same manner the cup was distrib- 
uted, Dr. Jenks addressing little Nathan thus: 
* We receive, my little Christian brother, these 
emblems of the Sacramental Table, to remind 
us of our Saviour's love. It is not hard, my 
dear, for those who love the Saviour, to hold him 
in remembrance. But O, how often is he for- 
gotten.' 

After supper v/e sang one of his favorite 
hymns — 

' When languor and disease invade 

Tiiis treiahiing house of clay, 
'T is sweet to look beyond our pains, 
And long to fly away.' 

While the little circle around him were sing- 
ing, Nathan laid his hands and the hymn book on 
his bosom, turned a most affectionate, but art- 
less look upon his father and mother and sis- 
ters, then gently reclined his head upon the pillow 
and looked upward. An expression remained 
upon his countenance, wliich no language can 
describe, and none but a spectator of the scene 
can well conceive. Those vvho were permitted 
to enjoy this season, will not soon forget it. 

Sabbath Evening, half after 8. — Went in to 
take leave of Nathan, expecting to leave the city 



80 MEMOIR OF 

the next day. He was much exhausted by the 
exercises of the afternoon, though he had enjoy- 
ed them very much. On account of his fatigue 
and the lateness of the hour, I made no signs of 
staying; and he asked, 

* Mr. A , can 'tyou stay?' 

A little while, I replied; I think you are too 
much fatigued to have me stay long. 

' O, no sir,' said he, 'I wish I felt able to 
talk with you. You must make a prayer, before 
you go. Shall you go in the morning.'^' 

Yes, I expect I shall, said I. 

' Won't you come in before you go.'" , 

I expect to go too early. 

* What time?' 
About seven. 

' Can 't you come in at six?' 

Perhaps I shall not go so early ; it may be bad 
weather. 

' Does it rain now?' 

No, but it is very dark and cloudy, and does 
not look like pleasant w^eather yet. 

'Mr. A ,' he then said, after a moment's 

pause, ' I should be very happy to talk with you, 
if I felt able.' 

I had rather you would not, Nathan; I should 
like to talk with you a little, if you were not so 
tired. 

* I can hear you talk, if I do n't answer ques- 
tions. I should like to have you. — Mamma, do 
I sit easy?' 

Yes, dear, his mother replied. 
Well, Nathan, I added, I wanted to say a few 
words to you before I go, as we may not meet 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 81 

again, about some things which I should like to 
have you do. When you are in pain and suffer- 
ing, look to the Saviour. 

' O, yes sir,' 

I hope he will be very near to you. He can 
comfort you, and give you all you want. 

' O, yes sir. — Mamma, I 'm afraid I tire you, 
do n't I. ^' 

And, Nathan, when you think you are going 
to die, put your trust in the Saviour; for the 
promise is, that when we are passing through 
the dark valley of the shadow of death, he will 
be with us. 

' O, yes sir; the Saviour is able to support, — 
and willing.' 

And when you say anything to anybody about 
the Saviour and about their souls, you can pray 
to God for them at the same time, that the truth 
may go to their hearts. 

' O, yes sir; we can pray when we are sitting 
up, or lying down, — or rocking,' 

Is there anything in particular which you wish 
to have me pray for, when I am gone.'' 

' Mamma, if I make you tired just lay me on the 
bed. — Yes sir, pray that I may be prepared for 
heaven, that I may keep growing in grace, and 
that my affliction may be sanctified to my pa- 
rents and sisters, and to me.' 

Let it be remembered, this is the language, 
and I think word for word, of a babe in Christ, 
not eight years old. One would be almost dis- 
posed to think, that such maturity in Christian • 
experience, could not be found in a child so * 
young, and who had enjoyed religious privileges 



82 MEMOIR OF 

SO short a time. But his daily appearance and 
conversation were irresistible evidence that he 
was taught indeed of the Holy Spirit, and that 
what he said was the expression of the real and 
sincere feelings of his heart. 

The day after this most interesting occasion, 
I called and asjyed him how he was. As might 
be supposed, the previous excitement had ex- 
hausted his strength, and aggravated his pains. 
But he imm.ediately replied, 

' O, I feel very happy.' 

Here ends Mr. A.'s Journal for the present, for 
at this time he left town, and was absent a fort- 
night. 



CHAPTER V. 

Various visiters during the Author's absence. Anecdotes. Dr. 
Wisner's visit. Nathan's affection for his sister. Anecdotes 
furn-shed by several individuals. His conversation with the 
Doctor. A Sabbath School teacher and his class go to see Na- 
than. His ccHiversation with them. 

During Mr. A.'s absence, his brother and 
sister, Mr. and Mrs. J. A , often visited Na- 
than and sent, in their letters to him, accounts of 
their visits. 

The following statements are contained in a 
Journal kept by jMrs. A . 

' On entering Nathan's chamber this afler- 
noon, I found him in bed, alone, and the room 
darkened, except the soft light which a half open- 



NATHAN W, DiCKERMAX. 83 

ed siiutter let in upon his countenance. Imme- 
diately on seeing me, he raised himself quite 
upright, and held out both hands, giving a 
very expressive look of pleasure. On his moth- 
er's entering the room, he said with much ani- 
mation, ' O, Mrs. A. has come, I am so glad:' 
— and turning to me, said, ' I thought you would 

come. You can't think how I miss Mr. A , 

he has been so kind, and has been here so much, 
that I am very much attached, — but here is his 
liymn book, — see it.' He had passed a distress- 
ing night, owing to pain in his side, but was then 
unusually free from pain, and was very cheerful; 
and his voice was stronger than for sometime 
past. 

His mother said he had made himself almost 

sick by crying so much for Mr. , during 

the morning, but had since slept, and was re- 
freshed. 

Our conversation was much as follows: 

On Nathan's holding the hymn book, I said. 
Shall I read to you? 

'Oyes;' turning over the leaves slowly; 
' but mamma, will you give me that piece of a 
book on the shelf ? ' His mother handed him a 
few torn leaves, and he immediately turned to a 
hymn beginning, 

' Jerusalem, my happy home,' 

and with much emphasis laid his hand upon it, 
and at its close, asked, ' Is n't that beautiful?' 

It suggested so strikingly to me the 21st chap- 
ter of Revelation, that I turned to it, and after a 



/V^" 



84 MEMOIR OP 

simple explanation, commenced reading, select- 
ing those verses which described particularly the 
NeAv Jerusalem. 

He earnestly and closely followed the reading, 
and at the close of the fourth verse he said softly, 
* Will you stop? I wish you would read me 
that again,' At the close of the 23d verse, he 
said, 'Yes, the Lamb of God; that is Jesus 
Christ.' 

I was, at his request, about to sing a verse or 

two of a hymn, when Mrs. L and Miss 

P came in. I shook hands with them, and 

he asked if either of them was my sister. 

No, they are ray friends. 

Mrs. L then conversed with him as fol- 
lows: 

Does it hurt you to talk, Nathan.'' 

' Sometimes, but not to you; it does sometimes 
to strangers.' 

(He had never seen them before.) 

You have been sick a great while, but I am 
glad to hear you are patient in suffering, and are 
so happy. 

' It is the Saviour does it all. He supports me 
in my pain.' 

It is a great comfort to see our friends 
thus supported and to have such consolations in 
trial. 

* Yes, but sometimes I think we ought to pity 
those most who are not so, and who do not love 
the Lord; particularly when they are sick and 
in pain. Are you in the Sabbath School?' 



NATHAN W. DICK.ERMAN. 85 

No, I have been, and my children all go. Do 
you love the Sabbath School? 

' O, yes, and Sabbath School children. Where 
do you go to meeting? ' 

To Mr. B— 's. Where did you go before 
you were sick? 

' To Dr. J- 's, and I went a little while to 

Mr. B 's Bible Class last winter, before I was 

sick the last time.' 

Dr. J' has been a kind friend to you. 

Did you feel it a privilege to receive the Sacra- 
ment ? I hear you have had it administered. 

' O yes, indeed; Dr. J. was here last Sunday 
night, and I enjoyed it very much.' (After a 
pause.) ' I have lost a very kind friend, — did 
you know him? He has been very kind and 
been here very often and held me, and talked 
with me, and I wish he had not gone away.' 

I left him, finding he began to look tired, but 
not till he had whispered to me to ' come and 
sing a hymn to-morrow.' 

For some days I visited him regularly in the 
morning, and twice at evening, but as he was 
generally suffering too much or was too feeble to 
talk, passed the time in reading to him, in which 
lie always seemed to feel a deep interest and was 
never weary. 

Sabbath Evening, JVov. 8. Visited Nathan 
with Mr. A . He was up and resting him- 
self in his mother's lap, and in an unusual at- 
titude, and one which it seemed could not be 
comfortable. I sat down by him, and he very 
soon asked me to rub him with my hand, for he 

B Dickcrmau. 



86 MEMOIR OP 

was numb. His flesh seemed to have almost tho 
coldness of death upon it, and he spoke and 

breathed with difficulty. Mr. A earned hmi 

in his arms till he fell asleep, and soon afterwards 
we left him, and I promised to call early in the 
mornin.'T, feeling little confidence of findmg him 
alive. (All the conversati^on of this evening, Mr. 

A has noted down.) On Monday morning I 

found him sitting up in a rocking chair, appa- 
rently suffering extremely. I immediately took 
him up in my arms, and by rubbing and gently 
rocking him, some relief was afforded. He said 
he could not talk, but could hear me talk or read, 
and seemed much to enjoy some hymns I sung 
to him, particularly, — 

* Am I rt soldier of the Crossi 

A follower of the lamb'? 
And shall I fear to own his cause, 

Or blush to speak his namel' 

At the first verse he opened his eyes, and 
smiled with an expression of joy as well as sub- 
mission. His little sister of four years old lay in 
the cradle near us, sick with the measles, and very 
fretful and peevish. He often turned his head 
to look at her, sometimes saying, ' O do n't, dear 
Rebecca.' ' Do be patient.' ' I wish you loved 
God; ' and once, though he spoke with great 
difficulty, ' O Rebecca, if you knew who made 
you suHer, you would not be so impatient,' He 
several times groaned aloud when she cried and 
screamed out, saying her head ached; and said 
once, looking at her very earnestly and affection- 
ately, ' i hope this sickness will do her good.' 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 87 

—Dr. Wisner came in, and Nathan immcdiatelj 
said, ' I cannot talk, but he can talk to me, and 
pray with me.' " 

Dr. Wisner writes concerning this visit as 
follows: — " I had called a few days before, but 
found Nathan in great distress, and had no 
conversation, with him; and after sitting a few 
minutes and conversing with his mother, had 
risen to go, when Nathan, who had learned that 
I was a minister, asked me to come again soon, 
when he hoped he would be better. Upon my 
coming in to-day, Nathan said, ' I can't talk, 
but he can talk with rae, and pray with me.' I 
then spoke of the Saviour's knowing ail his suf- 
ferings, and sympathizing with him, repeating 
the text, Heb. iv. 15, ' We have not an High 
Priest that cannot be touched with a feeling of 
our infirmities.' Nathan said, ' Will you explain 
to me the chapter where that is?' I then redd 
from the ninth verse to the end of the chapter, 
explaining each verse in a clear and simple 
manner, and dwelling particularly on the last two 
verses. I then asked Nathan a few questions 
about heaven, and why he desired to go to heaven. 
As soon as I commenced speaking, Nathan 
seemed to tbrget his sutferings, and listened with 
intense interest, and with a calm, peaceful coun- 
tenance, several times whispering, ' Yes, sir,* 
though there were at times strong indications of 
pain from the rapidity of his pulse and the move- 
ments of his limbs, and his evident desire to have 
Mrs. A — continue to rub him. In his replies to 
the questions about heaven, he said not a word 
about its affordino; relief from sufTerinir, but said 



88 MEMOIR OF 

he desired to go there, because there was no sin 
in heaven, and there all were good, and there 
was God and the Lord Jesus Christ, When .1 
paused, Nathan said, 'Now pray with me.' I 
said, What do you wish me to pray for? He 
repHed, ' For my sister, that she may feel that 
God has made her sick, and be patient, and that 
her sickness may do her good, and bring her to 
love Jesus Christ.' " 

Mrs. A 's account of her visits continues 

as follows. 

"On my next visit Nathan said, 'I cannot 
talk, it makes me cough; but here is the Hymn 
Book and Testament,' which were by his side. 
I asked what chapter I should read. ' Let not 
your heart be troubled,' he replied, John xiv., 
' I like that always.' And at the close of the 
27th verse, 'Peace I leave with xjou, my peace 2 
give unto you, not as the world giveth, give I unto 
you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it 
he afraid,' he said with much emphasis, ' How 
beautiful that is,' One day soon after, he said, 
' I think we ought to pity those who do not love 
the Saviour, but I always feel as if I loved Chris- 
tians the best who love him the most.' I asked 
him if a gentleman whom I had seen there was 
pious. He said, with hesitation, ' Some, I be- 
lieve.' On asking him one day if he had any 
messajre to send to Mr. A. who had jrone out of 
the city, he said with much sweetness, ' Tell him 
I am very happv, and pretty comfortable; tell 
him I am perfectly v/illing to go whenever the 
Lord calls for me.' This seemed the habitual 
state of his mind, whenever I saw him afterwards> 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAxV B9 

though he was suffering more at two or three 
subsequent visits than whenever I had seen him 
before. 

Wednesday, JVov. 11. — Sickness prevented 
my seeing Nathan for a week, but yesterday I 
found him more comfortable, though weaker. 
He said very little, and seemed rather absent and 
forgetful; expressed his sorrow that his little 
sister was not good, and disobeyed their mother, 
and said he hoped the praj'ers that were offered 
for her would be answered and that she would 
love the Saviour.' 

The following letter is Mr, J. A 's account 

of the conversation alluded to in the preceding 
letter. 

Sabbath Evening, JVov. 8. — How do you do, 
Nathan? said I, as I entered. 

' Pretty low, sir, this evening,' answered he 
with a smile, rather fahiterthan usual. I observed 
also that his countenance indicated increasing 
weakness and pain. His breath was short and 
quick; his heart was beating violently, and he 
seemed, particularly at times during the few 
minutes I sat with him, to be in great pain, 

'My sister is sick,' said he; 'won't you go 
and talk with her?' 

I sav/ that his mother was holding a child in 
her arms by the (ire. I walked towards her; 
the child was asleep. I made some inquiries 
about her, and returned to Nathan's bedside. 

Here are some little books for you, said I, 
which Mr. T has sent you. 



90 MEMOIR OF 

He took them, and began to turn ever the 
leaves. 

Shall I bring you a light and show you the 
pictures in them? 

' No sir, I thank you,' 

Should you like to have me read to you, either 
in these books, or the Bible, or anything else? 
or would it tire you ? 

' No, sir, it will not tire me. I should like 
to have you read in the books.' 

I began, but found that he was in too much 
pain to render it expedient for me to proceed. 
I promised to come to-morrow and read to him, 
and then laid the books aside. 

' Are you not going to talk to my sister ?' 

She seems to be asleep, said I; and I thought 
perhaps it would be best not to disturb her. 

He made no reply. 

After this he was very restless and seemed 
suffering. Once I went away from his bedside a 
minute, and he began to cry, evidently from pain. 

Do you suffer much pain, Nathan ? 

' Yes, sir, a good deal.' 

Do you know why God causes you to suffer so 
much? 

'Sir?' 

Do you understand why God brings suffering 
upon his children in this world? why he makes 
you undergo so much pain? 

' To do me good.' 

But what good does it do you to lie here and 
suffer from day to day? 

' He sanctifies it.' 

1 then began to talk to him, in a low whispering 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 91 

voice, about the advantages of sickness, and 
perceiving that he seemed to become easier, I 
placed my hands over his eyes, allowed my 
words gradually to die away, and then hushed 
him to sleep. I left him with his pale cheek 
resting upon his little hand, enjoying a peaceful 
and quiet slumber. 

The next letter from Mr. J. A contains 

an account of his visit the next Sabbath evening. 

Sabbath Evening, JVov. 15. — I found him 
evidently more reduced by suffering than I had 
ever before seen him. His hands and feet were 
cold and numb, his breath very short, his pulse 
quick; and he suffered much from pains in his 
side and in his limbs. 

His grandmother told me that our visit the 
other day, and particularly my reading to him a 
part of a letter I had received from his friend Mr. 

A — , revived and cheered him very much. 

When I left him that evening he was asleep; 
when he awoke he called aloud for me, and 
seemed quite disappointed to find I was gone. 

As I sat over him this evening, I observed that 
after a little time he grew more easy, I said, 
Cannot you go to sleep, Nathan? 

' If I do, you will go away,' replied he with 
a smile. 

I carried hiYn about the room, and gradually 
lulled him to sleep. In attempting, however, to 
place him upon the bed, he awoke, and soon 
seemed to suffer considerable pain. He kneeled 
upon the bed and began to fix the pillows. I 
asked him if I should help him. * No sir,' 



92 MEMOIR OF 

said he, ' I v/ant to fix them my way.' He 
placed them in a peculiar maimer, with a dex- 
terity which implied that he had thus sought for 
relief from pain very often before, and then laid 
his head upon them with his cheek upon his 
hand, and looked up to me with one of his char- 
acteristic smiles, expressive of perfect peace and 
contentment, if not of happiness. 

When I was about to leave him, I bade him 
good night, and said, I hope you will have a 
comfortable night, and will not suffer much pain; 
though 1 do not care so much about that, as that 
God should be near to you and give you peace at 
heart. 

' Nor I,' said he, with a rising inflection 
which is lost in writing the words, but which 
spoke entire and happy resignation to God's will. 



The following account was furnished by Mr. 
B , a gentleman who first visited Nathan af- 
ter his interest in religion became deep and per- 
sonal. Nathan was strongly attached to him, 
and very often spoke of him when absent, with 
great delight, showing hov/ gratefully he remem- 
bered his Christian friends. Mr. B was with 

him the morning that he died. 

The first time I visited Nathan, he wanted me 
to pray for him, and when the question was put, 
What shall I pray for? he answered, 

' That God would give me a new heart, and 
that I may love the Lord Jesus Christ.' 

1 then put the question, Do ycu think you are 
a sinner when so young 't 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 93 

He answered, 

' Yes sir, I know that I am a sinner, and I 
know that I must love Jesus before I can be 
happy, for he has loved me.' 

I then asked, Who told you Nathan, that the 
Lord Jesus has loved you? 

He replied, — 'My teacher, — and I have read 
it in the Bible.' 

He then took up the Testament and desired 
me to read the third chapter of John. 

At another time he said to me in conversation, 

' I always feel happiest, when I am praying, 
and I love to hear people pray. — ! how I feel 
when I hear a minister pray.' 

Always when I visited him, he would say, 
soon after my entering the chamber, ' I want 
you to pray with me before you go away.' 

When I asked him how he felt, he would of- 
ten say, ' Miserable in body, but O, how happy 
in my soul, for Jesus is most lovely to me.' 

Well, my dear, don't you suffer a great deal? 

'Yes sir,' he answered, 'but nobody can 
suffer as much as Jesus did for me.' 

I asked him, if he felt willing to die, and leave 
his fa^er, and mother, and sisters? 

' Yes sir,' said he, ' I can leave all to be with 
my Saviour. Death has no terror to me now. 
Jesus took little children in his arms and blessed 
them, and said "Suffer little children to come 
unto me." I would not give up my hope in 
Christ for the world.' 

His mother says, that the general tenor of his 
conversation during the first part of his sickness, 
was like the above. 



94 MEMOIR OF 

A lady, Miss S , who was a frequent 

visiter in Nathan's chamber, has prepared an 
account of her interview with him. It is as 
follows: 

When I first visited him, I said, My dear, I 
understand that the Lord has been very good to 
you. 

Ke said, ' Yes, my Saviour is very precious.' 

What reason do you think you can gi'^'e, that 
you have a hope in Christ? 

He said, ' Because I love the Lord Jesus 
Christ ; and love to pray, and read his Holy 
Word.' 

But, said I, Did you not always love the Lord 
Jesus Christ? 

'No, Ma'am,' he replied, 'I was a wicked 
boy; I did not love to pray and read the Bible, 
and now I want to be where my Saviour is.' 

And are you willing to die and leave youi 
father and mother, and little sisters? I asked. 

' Yes Ma'am.' 

W^hy are you willing to die ? 

' Because I noic only think of Christ in my 
heart ; but there I shall be where he is, and shall 
be like him, and shall see him as he is.' 

I then asked him, where he found encourage- 
ment. 

He said, ' In the Bible, where Christ says, 
*' Suffer little children to come unto me, and for- 
bid them not." ' 

At another time, I called with Mrs. C , 

and hergrand daughter from New York. Mrs. 

C , asked him if he was not weary of having 

so much company. 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAX. 95 

He answered, ' O! no, Ma'am, 1 love Chris* 
tians.' 

Why do you love Christians, she asked. 

^Because,' he replied, 'they love my Sa- 
viour.' 

She then said, My dear, I am going to New 
York — I am superintendent of a Sabbath School 
there, and I shall tell them I have seen a little 
boy, a Sabbath School scholar, who will proba- 
bly die. Have you any message to send them.^ 

His countenance brightened up, as he said, 
' O ! tell them to love the Lord Jesus Christ, 
and to pray to Him, and to love his Holy book.' 

And what will they gain, by all that? 

' Why a nev/ heart, and that will prepare them 
for the kingdom of Heaven.' 

Mrs. C , then asked, Do you think, that 

all who visit you are Christians? 

' Some,' he replied, ' do n't believe the Bible.' 

How do you know? said she. 

' They say they do n't believe in a change of 
heart,' he answered. 

Do you think, my dear, that you have a new 
heart ? 

' I hope I have.' 

What makes you think so? 

' Because I love my Saviour.' 

Mrs. C -, then said, ' This little girl, (her 

granddaughter, v/ho was then standing at his 
bedside,) is going to PsTew York, and will tell the 
Sabbath School scholars that she has seen you, 
but she will never see you again. 

Little Natlian then took her by the hand, and 
said to her, ' Read your Bible, pray to the Lord 



96 MEMOIR OF 

Jesus, love your Saviour, and then you will go to 
heaven.' 

Miss S -, describes a conversation, during 

another visit she made to him, thus: 

I said, Nathan how many wearisome days and 
nights do you think you will have to pass through ? 

He looked up at me with a smile an-d answer- 
ed, 

' Just as many as the Lord sees fit; perhaps 
it will be his will to take me to-night, if not, I 
am willing to stay.' 

He then asked, if I had ever been sick. 

I told him I had, and he then added, ' Did 
you ever feel when you was in pain, that Christ 
was above everything else?' 

I told him, Yes; and he replied, 'Just so 1 
feel this morning; I have had a very sick night, 
but I love my Saviour better than I ever did.' 

I then told him I was going to see a poor sick 
woman. He asked, 'Does she love the Sa- 
viour?' I replied, that I hoped she did. 

' Then she 's lich,' said he. 

Nathan often, very often, made remarks which 
showed in a striking manner his entire willing- 
ness to be at God's disposal,, to live, and sutler, 
or to die. Many little anecdotes, illustrating 
this, have been preserved, which were written 
down in the journal as they occurred. They 
were of course interspersed through the whole 
of the original manuscript. Many of them have 
been introduced in the Memoir, wherever the 
subject suggested them. 

Several others, preserved by different individ- 
uals, ibllov*' here. 



NATHAN W. DICKER31AN, 97 

On one occasion, a lady, Mrs. V , who 

had shown him much kindness, and to whom he 
was very fondly attached, was present when sev- 
eral others were standing round his bed. His 
sufferings at the time were so great, that some 
present could scarcely restrain their tears, and 
one in the room made some such remark as this: 
* Dear little sufferer.' Nathan heard it, and after 
they went away, said to his mother, 

'They call me a little sufferer, but I think 
I 'm happy.' 

At another time, when his physician came in, 
Nathan called him to his bedside, and asked him 
to sit. He then said, 

' Doctor F , do you think I shall get well ?' 

I don't know, Nathan, he replied; should you 
like to get well again .^ 

Nathan answered, ' If it is God's will, I am 
willing to get well or to die.' 

The conversation which then took place, was, 
as nearly as can be remembered, in the following 
words : 

' Doctor, won't you please to pray with me?' 

Perhaps your minister will be in this afternoon, 

' Do you ever pray.'" 

Yes, Nathan, I hope we all pray. 

' Was you ever a Sabbath School teacher?' 

Yes, when in college. 

' Well, Doctor, won't you please to read a 
hymn?' 

When I call again, if you will have one ready 
that you like, I shall be very happy to read to 
you. 

What books do you like to read best? 

9 Dickerman< 



S8 MEMOIR OF 

' The Bible and Saint's Rest.'* 

Why do you like the Bible so much? 

'Becuuse.' said he ' it is the word ofGoa,' 
nnd it sfiys, Suffer little children to come unto 
rae There it is hanging up there,' pointing to 
a picture over the fire-place, cf the Saviour, call- 
ing little children to him, and taking them in 
his arms. 

The hymn which he had selected when the 
doctor called again, was 

' I would not live alwa}' ; I a^k not to stay 

Where storm after storiu rises dark o'er the way,' &c. 

At another time some one asked him if he was 
willing to die. He made the same submissive 
answer as before, and added, 

' Sweet to lie passive in his hand. 
And know no will but his.' 

His mother has written the following anecdote: 
In the early part of Nathan's sickness, when 
his friends called in to see him, they would say 
to me, He suffers very much. After they had left 
the room he would say tome, 'Mamma, I don't like 
to hear them say I suffer; they don't think how 
much Christ suffered, if they did, they wouldn't 
think I suffer much; no one suffers so much as 
Christ did.' This he often repeated. 

Nathan once said to his grandmother, that he 
should go to heaven when he died. She told a 
lady, one of her neighbours, of it, but the lady 
thouiiht Nathan did not know enou2;h about such 



•to" 



* Some friend had presented him with ' Baxter's Saint's 
Rest,' which was a source of the greatest enjoyraent to liim. 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 99 

things to tell even how he should get to heaven. 
His grandmother asked him the question. He 
replied, ' Why grandmamma, my body will be 
buried in the ground, — my spirit will ascend in- 
to heaven.' 

Once while suffering very severe pain, he v/as 
heard several times to groan. As his mother 
looked upon him in his distress, he said, 'I do n't 
know as I do right to groan so, mamma, — but the 
Saviour groaned, did n't her' 

Speaking one day of those who did not care 
anything about religion, 

' Why,' said he ' they do not think about their 
Saviour, when they have nothing else to do.' 

She also adds, when I have been rocking him, 
I have said to him, 'How you are afflicted Na- 
than.' He would say, ' Sweet affliction, that 
brings my Saviour near.' 

The sentiment he here expressed was contain- 
ed in a hymn, which a lady had given him, ' On 
affliction.' Mrs. H , whom he very affec- 
tionately loved, gave him the copy. He became 
very fond of the verses, and often had them read 
to him, but still oftener repeated the sentiment 
of the last two hnes in each verse. A little while 
before he died he gave the copy to one of his 
friends to remember him by. It begins thus: 

* In the floods of tribulation, 

While the billows o'er me roll ; 
Jesus whispers consolation. 
And supports my fainting soul. 
Sweet atiiiction. 
That brings Jesus to ray soul.* 



100 MEMOIR OF 

A lady writes thus: I was in the habit of 
visiting that dear child from time to time, and 
took great pleasure in so doing. 

One day I asked him if he could say to me 
that he was willing to die and leave his father, 
and mother, and sisters, and all the pleasant 
things of this world, and trust only in Christ. 

He looked up, with his accustomed smile, and 
said, ' Yes, to be sure I can.' 

I then said to him, There are many precious 
promises for children. Our blessed Lord, when 
on earth, took little children in his arms and 
blessed them, and said, Of such is the kingdom 
of heaven. 

At the same instant, he pointed to the mantel 
piece, where hung a representation of it and said, 
' Look! there is a picture of it, which I lay and 
look at often, and it is very delightful to me.' 

Once during his sickness, some one was con- 
versing with him about his affliction. And as a 
number of children were heard at play in front 
of the house, he alluded to his confinement and 
suffering, while others were out of doors, enjoy- 
ing themselves. And he asked Nathan if he 
did n't want to be out playing with the others. 

He answered very mildly, ' I don't care about 
it; I can pray for them that they may love the 
Lord Jesus Christ.' 

A lady writes : I once asked him how he could 
bear so much suffering and not complain. He 
answered, 

' With Christ to support me, I can bear all 
things.' 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. lOl 

And when I asked him whether he had any 
doubts and fears, he replied, 

* No Ma'am, I can put all my trust in Jesus/ 

Mrs. H . another of his friends, made the 

following memorandum of one of her visits. I 
asked him if he did not wish to die. He ansv/er- 
ed, ' I am willing to suffer, or willing to die ; I 
have no choice, — I long to be with my Saviour.' 
I then asked why he wanted to go and be with 
his Saviour. He answered, ' No sin, no pain 
there.' I then asked what was his greatest tri- 
al. He replied, ' That I do n't lov^ and serve 
the Lord as I ought.' 

A Sabbath School teacher has given the fol- 
lowing account of two of his visits to Nathan : 

About six weeks before his death, one of my 
scholars, as I was speaking to the class of the 
importance of early piety, requested me to go 
with them and see Nathan; informing me at the 
same time, that many teachers went with their 
classes, and also telling me that he was a cousin 
to one of my class. After learning that Na- 
than was gratified to have Sabbath Schoolteach- 
ers visit him, I told them we would go after 
meeting in the afternoon. We accordingly 
went. I was introduced to him as his cousin Ro- 
ger's teacher. His pleasure was great on hear- 
ing this. After stating to him. that the children 
wished to see him, he bade us welcome. 

The three last visits I made, he said, each 
time, on my entering, (with one of his expres- 
sive smiles) ' There 's Roger's teacher.' 

To me he said, ' You are a Sabbath School 
teacher r' 

9* 



102 MEMOIR OP 

I answered, I am. 

'Are these your scholars?* ^ 

I answered, Yes. 

' See, here is a pencil Mr. A gave me 

to write the texts of Scripture and hymns with.' 

After saying something to each of the chil- 
dren, he had a distressed turn, which lasted for 
a few minutes. Soon he revived. I said, You 
suffer a great deal of pain. 

'O, yes sir,' he replied. 

Do you feel happy in all your sufferings, when 
you remember what our Saviour suffered for 
us? 

He replied, ' We do not suffer anything com- 
pared with what he suffered for us — nor half so 
much as we deserve.' 

On my saying that in heaven there is no sick- 
ness nor pain, I asked him how he felt in view 
of it. 

' Happy,' was his reply. 

I asked him if he was willing to leave all and 
go to Christ. 

He answered quickly, ' Yes sir.' 

On my next visit, he was much worse, and 
could say but little. But his countenance told 
his feelings. 

I asked him, if, now he was walking through 
the dark valley of death, he feared any evil. 

' No sir,' he replied. 

He evinced his love for the ordinances of God 
by his remarking ' Next Sabbath is Commun- 
ion at Dr. Jenks's, and I expect he will come 
here;' and invited me to attend — adding, *I 
should like to have you come.' 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 103 

Observing us in tears, he said, 

' What are you crying for ? ' adding, * You 
must not cry for me.' 

He gave each of us a tract. To me he gave 
the Young Cottager, saying ' That is an excel- 
lent tract;' adding also, ' I like them.' 



CHAPTER VI. 

rhe Author returns. Nathan's proposal about a little Bchool. His 
great suffering. Symptoms of approaching death. Devotional ex- 
ercises. He gives away his playthiniu's and other little property. 
He invites a little girl to go to Sabbath School. 

Mr. A had now returned to the city, and 

the journal was resumed. 

Sabbath Evening, JVov. 22. — Nathan was iu 
great pain this evening, but soon after I went in, 
asked me to read a hymn. 

I inquired if there was any one in particular 
he would like. 

' Yes sir,' he replied, * the one you spoke 
about yesterday.' 

I do n't remember which it was, said I; was 
this the one .'* 



■ Sweet was the time when first I felt 
The Saviour's pardoning blood.' 



' Yes sir.' 



Applied to cleanse my soul from guilt, 
And bring me home to God.' 



104 MEMOIR OP 

I repeated the hymn slowly, and explained to 
him the verses. At the close of the last one-: — 

'Rise, Lord, now help me to prevail. 
And make my soul thy care ; 
I know thy mercy cannot fail, 
Let me that mercy share.' 

he said, 'Do you. think he did, Mr. A ?' 

He requested me also to read a chapter, say- 
ing, ' I wish I could hear one read and explained 
every day; I should know a great deal about 
the Scriptures.' 

God can teach you Nathan, said I, by his 
Spirit. 

' Yes sir,' he said, * he has taught you.' 

I hope he will teach me, I replied, for we de- 
pend always upon Him for all our good thoughts. 

'Yes sir.' said he; 'you would not have 
come to see me again, if the Lord had not put it 
into your heart.' 

He then desired me to read about the Saviour 
when he was young. I turned to the second 
chapter of Matthew, and endeavored to explain 
it as I read. 

At the 8th verse. 'JInd he sent them to Beth- 
lehem and said. Go search diligently for the 
young child, and when ye have found him, bnng 
me word again, that Imay come and worship him 
also.' 

I asked him why he supposed Herod wanted 
to know. 

' That he might go and believe on him,' said 
he. 

But at the 16th verse, 'Then Herod, when he 
saw that he ivas mocked of the ivise men, sent forth 



I 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 105 

and slew all the children iliat u'ere in Bethlehem/ 
he said, ' Now I know what Herod wanted.' 

What? 

* To kill Jesus,' he replied. 

Sahbath Morning, JS'ov. 29. — Last night was 
rather a more comfortable one for little Nathan 
than the preceding, yet he is still in much 
pain. 

He said to me, this morning, 'Do you ever 
have little children come together around you, 
and have a kind of little school?' 

Yes, said I, I very often get them around me, 
to talk with them and tell them stories. 

' Why won't you come this afternoon,' said 
he, ' and bring some little children, and we will 
have a little school.' 

I should like to come, — very much, — but per- 
haps your parents would prefer not to have us. 

' O yes, they are perfectly willing,' said he, 
' w411 you come and talk with them, and I will 
talk with them too.' 

Well, said I, we will see if we can find some 
children to come. 

Presently he asked for the hymn book, and 
after turning over the leaves very hastily a few 
moments, as if trying to find a particular hymn, 
he said, giving the book to me, 

* Till late 1 heard my Saviour say,' 

Afterwards, he requested me to read a passage 
which he had marked in Baxter's Saint's Rest, 
• — On Heavenly Meditation. 



106 MEMOIR OF 

His little sister was quite sick to-day, and his 
mother was trying to persuade her to take some 
bitter medicine, which she v/as very unwilling 
to do, Nathan was to take some of the same 
kind, which he did very pleasantly indeed, 
v/ithout objecting at all, and then whispered to 
me, 

' Our Saviour drank vinegar and gall.' 

This afternoon Nathan was laboring very much 
for breath, and his face was swollen sadly; but 
he did not seem to mind it much. He asked 
again for the hymn book, and said, 

' Now won't you read me the hymn you like 
best.' 

He spoke again about the meeting for chil- 
dren, but there had been no opportunity to in- 
vite any during the day. 

' Well,' said he, ' we can have it to-morrow, 
and then I can see some of the little girls from 
the school,' meaning the Mt. Vernon school, of 
which he otien spoke. Several of the scholars 
had often been to see him, and had made him 
presents of grapes, oranges and books, during 
his sickness. He was very much attached to 
them, and remembered their kindness with much 
gratitude. 

He wished me to read a chapter, and being 
asked what passage he would like, replied, 

' About the star of Bethlehem.' 

I had said something to him on the subject 
before. 

A very severe fit of pain soon came upon him, 
and he asked to be carried around the room, as 
his friends oft.en carried him, in their arms. As 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 107 

his head lay upon my shoulder, I could hear him 
whispering to himself, ia his great distress, 

'O Lord,' —'have mercy,' 'Lord Je- 
sus,' ' O dear.' 

A little while after, I was conversing with Na- 
than's father, about the sermon he had heard, at 
Hanover street Church, respecting the Jews, 
and sojTiething was said of the wonderful fulfil- 
ment of prophecy in their dispersion over the 
world. Nathan began a sentence, 

' And the Jews, — they' 

But his feeble voice died away, and we could 
not hear any more. Afterwards, however, when 
it was said, as we continued the conversation, 
that it was in consequence of their many sins, 
their crucifying the Saviour, &c, he said, in an 
a'udible voice, 

' That is what I was saying.' 

A gentleman shortly after called in, and while 
addressing Nathan, said, that he must trust in 
God in his severe suffering, and his afHiction 
would then work out for him a far more exceed- 
ing and eternal weight of glory. But as he look- 
ed upon the little patient sufferer, he was much 
affected and wept. Nathan saw it, and said, 

'Are you crying for my pain.'" 

And as the gentleman answered, Nathan re- 
joined, 

' You must n't mourn.' 

Wednesdmj, Dec. 14. After a forLnight^s ab- 
sence, I called again to-day upon Nathan. 
There has been a great change in his appear- 
ance, since I last saw him. His countenance 



108 MEMOIR OP 

has become very pale and deathlike, his checks 
swollen, his eyes prominent, and all his features 
indicate approaching dissolution. 

After I had waited a few moments, until some 
, company had retired, t took my seat once more 
at the bed-side of this lovely Christian. He 
looked up with a smile, and said, as his first ad- 
dress to me, 

' I have remembered your words.' 

Have you, I asked, which words? 

' Whom the Lord loveth, he chastencth,' he 
replied, 

I had written him a short letter during my ab- 
sence, and this was one of the texts which I had 
quoted, for him to bear in mind. 

Friday Mornings Dec. 16. As soon as I 
looked in upon him to-day, he began with his 
usual smile, — ' I have some good news, — there 
are tv/o or three who are inquiring the way to be 
saved.' 

Where? 

• At Dr. Jenks's Sabbath School/ 
After a short interval, he said, 

' You can read a chapter and explain it to me 
pretty soon.' 

While looking over my little Village Hymn 
Book, which I left with him, when I went away, 
to find a hymn to read, he said, 

* I have taken a great deal of comfort reading 
there.' 

I asked him, which gave him the most pleas- 
ure, or made him happiest, reading the Bible, or 
hymns, or prayer. 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN 109 

* Praying,' he answered. 

He very soon asked for prayers. I said to him, 
what do you wish me to pray for? 

' My parents.' 

is th-ere anything else? 

' That I may be prepared for heaven,' 

Is there anything else? 

' That the Lord might ease my pain.' 

I repeated the question once more, and he an- 
swered, 

' For Sabbath School children.' 

Sahhath Mornings Bee. 20, Nathan request- 
ed me to spend the forenoon with him, and I 
did. I said to him, I have just been to visit 
your Sabbath School. 

' O, have you,' said he, ' What, Hawkins 
street?' 

At his request, I opened the Bible and read a 
few verses in the twenty-first chapter of Matthew 
relating to the little children who crimed in the 
temple, ' Hosanna to the Son of David.' 

I explained to him the account of the people's 
strowing their garments in the way. He ex- 
claimed, 

' O yes sir, I have seen it, — the picture, — m 
a little magazine.' 

He then aske-d, 

' Will you read a hymn out of this book,' 
looking at one on which he was leaning with his 
elbow. It had recently been given to him by a 
lady, and he valued it very highly. As I took 
the book, he said, 

1 Dickermaa 



110 MEMOIR OF 

' That one, mamma, "I would not live ahvay," 
— you know it. ' 

• I would not live aUvay: I ask not to stav, 
Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way } 
The few lurid mornings that dawn on us here. 
Are enough for life's woes, full enough for its cheer. 

! would not live alway, thus fettered by sin; 
Temptation without and corruption within; 
For the rapture of pardon is mingled witli fears. 
And the cup of thanksgiving, with penitent tears. 

I would not live alway; no, welcome the tomb. 
Since Jesus has lain there, I welcome its gloom; 
There sweet be my rest, till He bid me arise, 
To hail Him in triumph descending the skies. 

Who, who would live alway, away from bis God; 
Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode. 
Where the rivers of pleasure fiow o'er the bright plains. 
And tlie noon-tide of gloi-}- eternally reigns : 

Wiiere the saints of all ages in harmony meet, 
Theii- Saviour and brethren, transported to greet : 
While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roJl, 
And tlie smile of the Lord is the fea^t of the soul.' 

The third and fourth verses were his particular 
favorites. He used very often, when alone with 
his mother, to repeat the first lines, slowly and 
with a great deal of emphasis. 

Dec. 25. From this time, until his death no 
icgular journal was kept. The facts obtained 
have been principally taken from the verbal 
statements of his mother, with the exception of 
the copious minutes of her visits which a lady 
has kindly furnished. 

Many friends have also related little anecdotes 
of facts respecting his tew last days. But th 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. Ill 

kindness of so many friends has been manifested, 
that it is found impracticable to give due acknow- 
ledgement to all. 

On the afternoon of Christmas day his four 
cousins came to see him. When the time of 
their visit had nearly expired, just before tea, 
and they were soon to return home, Nathan took 
an opportunity when his mother was very near 
him, to whisper to her, 

' Mamma, are you vi^illing I should give away 
my things, this afternoon.'*' 

What things, my dear.'' she replied. 

' My playthings.' 

His mother gave him permission, and he then 
called Roger, his little cousin, about ten years 
of age, to him, and said, 

' Roger, I 'm going to give you my sled, and I 
want you to keep it to remember me by, and be 
a good boy, — and mind what your teacher sayt», 
and obey your parents.' 

He gave also to Roger a book which he select- 
ed from his little library. 

To George a younger cousin, he gave his 
whip and a book. 

To Charles, his cap and a book. 

To Susan, he gave his Sabbath School hymn 
book, and said to the others nearly the same, 
that he did to the first. 

Not many minutes after this, some of his little 
cousins were making more noise in the room than 
he could well bear, and Nathan said in a low 
tone to his mother, as she came up very near to 
him, ' Mamma, I do love my cousins so, — but 
they make my head ache.' He then said to one 



112 MEMOIR OF 

of them, ' You 've been a naughty boy, Charles, 
and I do n't know as I shall let you carry my cap 
home to-night.' But afterwards he whispered to 
his mother, ' Mamma, you may give it to him, — 
1 only told him so.' 

He gave the most indubitable evidence of sin- 
cerity, in his affection for others. One day a 
gentleman, one of his friends, was present, — who 
happened to have a slight cough. Nathan no- 
ticed it, and said he was sorry, and wished 
he had some spermaceti candy, for he said that 
was very good. A third person heard Nathan 
express this wish, and very soon after when the 
company had retired, a little parcel was left at 
the door for Nathan containing the candy he 
desired. 

The person, doubtless, who heard the wish, 
supposed Nathan wanted it for himself. He 
however insisted upon his friends taking a gen- 
erous portion of his present. 

Any nice thing that was sent to him, he was 
ever ready to divide with his sisters. Often, very 
often, have I heard him say, 

' Mamma, wo 'n't you give Maria or Rebecca a 
piece of that orange, or one of those figs, or some 
of the grapes.' 

When even his mother was preparing anything 
particularly good for him, he would ask, ' Mam- 
ma have n't you got some for Mrs. S ,' an old 

lady who lived in the same house. 

His mother says, he would often say in such 
cases, 

' Mamma, an't you going to give Mrs. S 

some?' 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 113 

One day, about this time, another little cousin, 
near his own age, came to see him, but not being 
much accustomed to a sick chamber, and struck 
with Nathan's pale face, he was unwilling to go 
to the bedside. 

Nathan tried to persuade John to come and 
take him by the hand, but could not succeed. 

At length John's Sabbath School teacher, 
who was present, took little John by the hand 
and they went together, and sat at the side of the 
bed. 

Nathan then asked the teacher, ' Is John a 
good boy ? ' 

Sometimes he is; he can be a very good boy. 

'Does he get his lessons well.'" 

Pretty well, generally. 

' Do you ever talk with him about the Sav- 
iour?' 

Yes, sometimes. 

* Won't you talk with him more about the Sa- 
viour?' 

He manifested his interest in children, very 
strikingly and in various ways, in conversation 
with them, with parents and teachers. 

His mother says he almost always inquired of 
his visiters, whether they were Sabbath School 
teachers, and when this was the case, invariably 
asked such questions as these: 

'Do you ever tell them about the Saviour? 
Do you think they know there is a Saviour? Do 
you ever tell them they have got to die?' 

Mrs, H made the following minutes of 

one of her visits. I write from his lips. Nov. 

22. ' Tell them (children) to put their trust in 

10* 



114 MEMOIR OP 

the Saviour, and believe in the Lord Jesus Christ 
and read the Bible, and not play on Sundays. 
You must tell them to pray for a new heart, and 
put their trust in the Saviour, or they won't go to 
heaven.' He then quoted the lines, 

* 'Tis religion tliat can give 
Solid pleasure while we live; 
After death its joys will be 
Lasting as eternity.' 

A lady called with a little girl, to see him. 
In the course of the conversation, he asked if 
the little girl attended the Sabbath School. She 
replied, that she did not. He then asked the 
lady, who was at his bedside, to stand away, and 
beckoned to the little girl to come to him, and 
said to her, 

' You must go to the Sabbath School, and 
learn to read, and read your Bible, and love your 
Saviour.' 

She went immediately to the Sabbath School, 
and a little while afterwards, when Nathan had 
been sometime dead, she asked if Nathan knew, 
now that he was in heaven, that she went. And 
on receiving an answer, said, 

' If he was here noiv, I could tell him that T 
go.' 

And who knows but this little one may be- 
come in truth one of the lambs of the flock, and 
may on her dying bed, have occasion to pro- 
nounce the same blessing upon him, that Nathan 

did on Mr. P , the gentleman who first found 

little Nathan and invited him ? 



NATHAN W. DICEERMAN. 115 



CHAPTER VII. 



His usual position in bed. A lady reads the prayer for a sick child 
from the Church Prayer Book. Nathan's interest in it. A pain- 
ter takes his miniature. Interesting conversation with his father 
He converses cheerfully about his approaching death. He gives 
his knife to his father, and a book to his mother, for them to 
remember him by. His last conversations. His death and 
funeral. 



A lady who visited him in December for the 
first time, has made copious minutes of her in- 
terviews, from which the following is extracted: 

In December, 1829, one afternoon, T was in- 
vited by a lady to accompany her on a visit to 
the little child of whom I had heard so interest- 
ing an account. 

We found the litt-le sufferer evidently much 
wearied with the frequent calls of visitors, and 
anxious to be relieved from the presence of all 
but his mother. I asked him if he suffered 
much pain. He answered, 'Yes;' and that 
' he wished I would come and sit with him 
some other time.' We retired almost imme- 
diately, the child saying as we went, ' Come 
again.' 

The next day about eleven o'clock, I went to 
pass a short time with him. He was much dis- 
tressed, and unable to lie down. He sat upon 
the bedside. A chair was placed before him, 
with a pillow resting lengthwise across the top 
of it. He was leaning his head upon a Bible, 
which he kept in its place as it lay upon the pil- 



116 MEMOIR OP 

low, by holding his arms around it. It was in 
this attitude that I generally saw him, as he was 
able to lie down but seldom, and then only for a 
very short time. 

His little sister, who was playing about me, 
took out a small prayer book from my work bag. 
He seemed much pleased with some little pic- 
tures it contained; one, of Moses receiving the 
ten commandments, and another of an angel 
playing upon a harp, a frontispiece to the Psalms 
of David. As I was explaining the pictures, 
Nathan seemed to forget his pain, and exclaimed 
with animation, and with an expression of coun- 
tenance I cannot forget, 

' O, let me see it.' 

He took the book, laid down on the bed, and 
appeared for a short time with his eyes rivetted 
on the picture. Then turning the leaves gently 
over, he suddenly exclaimed, 

' O, precious book! will you lend it to me?' 

He then sat up as before, put it with the Bible 
on the pillow which supported him, and laid his 
head on them both. 

Turning his face then toward me, he said, 

' I will find you some hymns, and you shall 
sing to me.' 

Singing had been spoken of before, by his 
mother and myself He selected from the Vil- 
lage Hymn Book the following: 

* When languor and disease invade, 
Thiis trembling house of clay :' 

He wished it to be read. At the lines — 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 117 

* Sweet to look upward to the place, 
Whei'e Jesus reigtis above/ 

his face glowed with delight, and his whole soul 
seemed absorbed in the thought. At the third 
line of the last verse but one, he began to re- 
peat after me with much feeling — 

' Sweet to lie passive in his hand. 
And know no will but his.' 

He continued to repeat after me till I finished, 

' If such the 'sweetness of the streams, 

What must the fountain be ; 
Whence saints and angels draw their bliss 

Immediately from Thee.' 

He then selected the following — 

* One there is above all otliers. 
Well deserves the name of Friend.' 

He expressed much feeling when the last 
verse was read — 

* Oh, for grace our heai'ts to soften ! 

Teach us Lord, at length to love ; 
We, alas ! forget too often. 

What a Friend we have above.' 

His physician then entered the room, and 
while he was conversing with his patient I retir- 
ed to another part of it, and employed myself in 
copying the hymns I had just read. When I 
had finished, I overheard the question, 'Do you 
feel willing?' and saw Nathan's sweet expres- 
sion as he said. 



118 MEMOIR OF 

'Yes, quite willing.' 

His mother afterwards informed me that the 
doctor had then, for the first time, told him of 
his true situation, and of the near approach of 
death. The mention of approaching death at 
anytime, excited in him only pleasant emotions. 

JN^athan was then showing him the prayer 
book, and I went up to them, and in answer to a 
few words and an inquiring look from him, I 
said he might keep it while he lived. He ex- 
claimed, with childish delight, ' Do you hear, 
mamma, what she says.'' She says she has got 
another, and I can leave this a parting present 
to you.' 

After the physician went away, I sang to him 
the hymn, 

' I would not live alu'ay, I ask not to stay 
Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way.'* 

He expressed much delight both in his coun- 
tenance and manner, and during the last verse 
no one who saw him would suppose he felt pain, 
notwithstanding his pale face. He then said, 

' Will you write it for me, so that I can read 
it myself ? ' 

Some of his friends had printed letters (with 
the pen) and sent to him. They were some- 
times borrov/ed by his friends, and Nathan often 
asked for them, and seemed unwilling to have 
them absent. 



* This hymn is found in the collection of hymns adopted by the 
Convention of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States 
Hymn ]87th. 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 119 

I carried in the afternoon a small edition of tho 
Episcopal Hymns, and several little books pre- 
sented me by a friend for him. 

Very soon I went, according to my promise, to 
spend a day with him. He looked very ill, more 
so than v/hen 1 saw him before. He seemed 
very forgetful, and at first did not know me; and 
said, 'Mother, I think she had better stay only 
a little while.' — When she told him who it was, 
and that he had invited me, and that I would sit 
by him, he appeared gratified, and said, ' Then, 
mother, you can do your work now, and she may 
smg me to sleep.' 

But he showed no disposition to rest, and suf- 
fered so much that it was difficult at times to re- 
strain one's feelings. Yet he was patient. He 
showed much regard for the feelings of others, 
and much gratitude for any little services ren- 
dered. He spoke with much affection and grat- 
itude of several friends, and particularly of those 
who had visited him often. 

Mr. B made several short visits during the 

day. Once Nathan said to him, ' Mr. B , 

I'm afraid that all who come to see me do not feel 
that they are sinners, though they say so.' 

Mr. B said, We ought not to judge, and 

made some other remark; when Nathan replied, 

' But, Mr. B , I do think that I feel, (put- 

tmg his hand on his heart) that 1 am a sin- 
ner.' 

In the course of the day he selected the hymn 
for me to sing — 



120 MEMOIR OP 



And also- 



* See Israel's gentle Shepherd stands 
Witli all engciging cliarrns,' 



■ \Vlien I can read my title clear 
To mansions in the skies.' 



* I would not live alway,' seemed to be his 
favorite. 

At one time, being in great distress of body, 
he cried out, ' I wish you would kneel down, 
and pray God to ease this pain.' I took my little 
prayer book, and used the prayer for a sick 
child, making it applicable to him by words of 
my own. After being a httle relieved, he said, 
not knowing that I had made any alteration in 
it, 

' T suppose that if you read a prayer, that 
reading a prayer does good sometimes.' 

I told him that if the heart prayed, it certainly 
did good; but that if the heart did not pray, God 
v/ould not hear what v/e said. 

He then said with much feeling, 

' I am very glad that reading a prayer does 
good, because mother can read that little prayer 
for me when my friends are not here; and I 
think her heart will pray for me,' and requested 
me to mark the place. 

A little after this, he asked for my name. His 
mother said he wanted to know my christian 
name. I told him Sarah, He said, ' I must 
call you Sarah,' Before, he always called me 
' Lady.' 

Once, after several hours of extreme suffering, 
he had an interval of relief. But during his 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN 121 

distress he spoke of his mother with great anxi- 
ety, and mentioned with gratitude, the promise 
of one of his friends to visit her, after he was 
gone 

He spoke with dehght of the Lord's Prayer, 
and of adding words of our own to it, and said, 
' I think that's enough.' After some conversa- 
tion on this subject, he said, lying down in the 
bed for a moment, and clasping his hands, and 
raising his eyes, ' For a poor little ignorant child 
who knows hardly anything, I think this is quite 
sufficient : Lord, look down upon a little child' 
—then pausing a moment — ' Lord, visit a little 
child ' — and again, pausing rather longer — 
' Lord, visit a little child, and give me a new 
heart/ 

During one of my visits, he called me to his 
side, and said, with much sweetness of voice and 
a heavenly expression, ' There is a little hymn,' 
(showing the little book I had given him,) 

' I Ml never, no never, no never forsake.' 

This v/as at a time when his distress was so 
great, that it was difficult for him to speak. 

At another time he wished me to read the 
hymn, 

' How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord.' 

He seemed to love to divellxi^on the last verse 
as though it gave him strength and comfort. 

His last words to me were, I believe, a request 
to visit his mother, and to pray for him. 1 saw 
him the day before his death. He was in great 
distress, but very patient. 

J 1 Dickerman. 



122 MEMOIR OF 

A short time before his death, Mr. Edwards, 
a luiniature painter, prepared a sketch of Na- 
than's countenance, as he was sitting on the bed- 
side, in one of his most usual attitudes, which 
has since been engraved, and is prefixed to this 
Memoir. 

After the sketch was taken, he turned to Mr. 
Edwards, and said, ' Won't you let me see 
it?' 

As he looked over the penciling he said to his 
mother, 

' Mamma, there 's my dent in my chin.' 

Vvhen he saw Mr. E. about to go, and that the 
drawing was not to be left behind, he said anx- 
iously, 

' An't you going to leave it here for my 
mother?' 

Some one replied. No, not this one, but your 
mother shall have one. 

When they had gone, said Nathan to his moth- 
er, ' Mamma, after I 'm gone, you '11 have it to 
look ct; and hov/ much it will look like me, there's 
my dent in my chin.' 

The affectionate interest which he took in his 
parents' welfare and happiness after he should 
be gone was truly affecting. His father had 
attended a Universalist meeting on the Sabbath, 
and was rather inclined to believe that the 
sentiments of that denomination were taught 
in the Bible. Nathan often conversed with his 
father on this subject, and always in so filial 
and affectionate a manner, that the parent who 
loved his son so much, could not but love him 
more. 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 123 

One day, while speaking on the subject of be- 
ing 'born again,' and of the necessity of repent- 
ing and believing in the Lord Jesus Christ, in 
order to be saved, his father said to Nathan that 
he never expected to be any better prepared to 
die than he was then. 

It seemed to fill Nathan with grief; he could 
hardly restrain his tears. But after an evident 
struggle with his feelings, he said, in a tone of 
voice which expressed- more than pen can de- 
scribe, 

' O, papa, I 'm afraid you can't go to heaven as 
you are now.' 

A short time before he died, the following con- 
versation took place between Nathan and his 
father. It was related to me by Mr. Dickerman, 
the evening after the funeral. 

Nathan was lying on his pillow, and his 
father was standing at the fire. The room 
was still, and all had been for a few moments 
silent. 

Nathan spoke with a sweet voice, and said, 

' Papa, will you come here ? ' 

His father was immediately at his bedside. 

'Now, papa,' said the affectionate little son, 
'if you will leave the Universalist meeting and 
go to Dr. Jenks's, you may say anything to me, 
and do anything to me that you please, and I 'II 
give you all I've got.' * 

* His parents had been accustomed to give him pieces of money 
occasionally ; and friends who visited him often putsoOiething in- 
to his hand. And as his parents had not known him, for a long 
time, to spend any of his money witJiont their consent and appro- 



124 MEMOIR OF 

His father replied, Why, 1 have got no pew, 
Nathan. 

' Well, papa,' said he, ' that need n't hinder 
you; I will speak to some one who comes in, 
and get you a seat.' 

Not long after this, Mr. B , who had been 

one of Nathan's best and earliest friends, and 
was one of Dr. Jenks's society, came in. Na- 
than accosted him immediately on the subject 
which was so near his heart. 

' Mr. B , papa says he would go to Dr. 

Jenks's if he had a pew.' 

Mr. B offered to remove that objection. 

The next day Mr. H , another gentleman 

of Nathan's early acquaintance, and who had 
endeared himself to him by very many attentions, 
called to see him. 

Nathan made nearly the same address to Mr. 
H . 

Mr. H replied, Well, my dear, I have 

two pews, and shall be very happy to have your 
papa and mamma and sisters occupy either of 
them. 

When his father came home at night, the first 
thing Nathan had to say was, 

' Papa, Mr. H says you may have his pew 

and \velcome.' 

But, replied the father, I should n't go so, I 
should choose to take a pew myself. 

'Well,' said Nathan, 'don't let that pre- 

bation, he liad accumulated, by carefully preserving all that ho 
had received, quite a little stock 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 125 

vent you ; you can pay for it if you have a mind 
to.' 

When the father told me the story, he re- 
marked, I can never forget what that affectionate 
little boy said, as long as I have my being. 

One Sabbath morning, a week or fortnight be- 
fore his death, I called just as the family had 
gone to meeting. Nathan said, as soon as I 
entered, with atone of voice that told how much 
pleasure it gave him, 

' O, Mr. A , papa has gone to Dr. Jenks's, 

and Rebecca and Maria.' 

I was once talking with him about the chief 
priests and scribes who wished to have the Sa- 
viour crucified. It was after he had heard the 
account of the crucifixion read. I said that the 
priests in those days were the ministers. That 
they pretended to be very good men, but were 
often very wicked. And so it was now. Some 
persons who professed to be Christians, and even 
some ministers of the Gospel, it was to be feared, 
were very wicked men. 

This was said without intending any individu- 
al or any denomination. But Nathan looked up 
to me with a countenance showing that he was 
grieved at the thought. 

* Yes sir, Mr. ,' naming a Universalist 

minister.' 

And once, in conversation, he said of those 
who believed those doctrines, ' They do n't 
believe the Bible. I do n't see how they can 
believe so.' 



11^ 



126 MEMOIR OF 

And at another, after having said about the 
same thing, he added, 

' When I think of tbem, it seems as though I 
could cry.' 

The affection he maniiested towards his moth- 
er was equally strong. She was, of course, his 
constant companion, v/hile his father must neces- 
sarily have been absent most of the day. But his 
tender attachment to them both, as manifested on 
many occasions, has drawn tears from the eyes 
of strangers, who witnessed the proofs of his 
affection. And his parents will never forget the 
fond love of their son, nov/ that he has gone, nor 
can they soon cease to remember the earnest and 
affectionate words which he spoke while he was 
yet present with them. 

During his sickness he was once rocking in 
his mother's arms at a late hour in the evening. 
The rest of the family had retired, and they 
were left alone, everything around them being as 
still and quiet as slumber. Nathan had been 
looking very thoughtfully, into the dying embers, 
for some time, and at length looked up to his 
mother and said, 

' Mamma, I 've been thinking I do n't know 
how I can leave you, but God will take care of 
you, if you will put your trust in him.' 

At another time, when they were sitting to- 
gether, he said in a most affectionate manner, 

' Mamma, do you love your Saviour ?' 

Yes, Nathan, she replied, I hope I do. 

He was silent a moment, and then added. 



NAIHAN W. DICKERMAN. 127 

* Now, mamma, do you say so just to please 
me, or do you feel it in your heart ? You know — 

*' God does not care for what we say. 
Unless we/ee/it too." ' 

One pleasant afternoon, when they were left 
free from company, he said, 

' Now, Mamma, the folks are gone out, and it 's 
all still, I want you to pray with me once; — I 
ivant to hear you, that I may know you can pray, 
before I die.' 

About a month before he died, he was talking 
with his mother, about her being left alone, 
when he was gone. And as he spoke of the 
many friends who had called during his sickness, 
he said, 

' Oh, Mamma, they ^vill come and see you, when 
I 'm gone, — I would ask them, if I thought they 
would n't.' 

He paused a moment, and then added, 

' Weil, Mamma, if they don't come, you can 
read your Bible, and think of me, and that will 
give you comfort.' 

The day before he died, he said to her, 

' Mamma, do you tfiink you have an interest in 
Christ?' She replied faintly, I 'm afraid not. 
' O, don't say so, ' said he, bursting into 
tears; 'how happy I should feel if I knew you 
did.' 

Nathan's willingness to die, and the ground of 
that willingness appear beautifully in the follow- 
ing account which a lady gives of one of her 
visits 



128 MEMOIR OF 

I called very soon after a physician had lefl 
him; some one was mentioning in the room, 
what had been said, that the disease was of 
such a nature, that he would probably die sud- 
denly. Nathan heard it, and rising up in the bed, 
clasped his hands together, and repeated the 
verse, 

* Jesus can make a dj-ing bed 

Feel soft as downy pillows are: 
While on hip breast I lean my head, 

And breathe my life out sweetly there.* 

And after sitting a few moments in silence, he 
added another, 

' Jesus, my God, I know his name. 

His name is all my trust; 
Nor will he put my soul to shame, 

iVor let my hope be lost.' 

' Is n't that a good hope, mamma?' 

A gentleman once called to see Nathan, and 
stepping up lightly to his door, found it ajar, 
and heard some one singing in a low, sweet 
voice, the first verse above. On entermg the 
room, he found it was Nathan, who was there 
left alone. 

Very early one morning, before he arose, his 
mother heard him whispering to himself, * Pre- 
cious Saviour, let me die.' 

She said to him, Why do you say so, Nathan? 
He answered, 

' O, mamma, I long to be gone,' 

On one occasion, Mrs. Dickerman awoke in 
the night, and missed Nathan from her side. 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 129 

She discovered that he was sitting up in the bed, 
and said to him, You had better lie down, Nathan. 
I 'm afraid you will take cold. He replied, 

' Do n't mamma, — let me sit a little, — how pre- 
cious Christ is to me.' 

Once in the middle of the night, his mother 
heard him talking, as she supposed, to himself, 
in his sleep. She said, in order to awake him, 
What are you talking about, Nathan.'* 

'Don't, mamma,' said he, ' I'm trying to 
pray.' 

After a very distressing day he said, ' Mam- 
ma, I feel too tired to pray. — Won't it do to 
thinh it?' and then repeated, with earnest em- 
phasis, 

* Do you tldnh it will do, mamma?' 

Two ladies Avere present, at a time when he 
was in very great bodily distress. One of them 
said to him. 

Do n't you sometimes want to die, and go away 
from this world, ('Yes,' he interposed,) and 
be relieved from your sufferings? 'Ao,' he then 
said, and as she finished her remark, ' Not 
because of my sufferings, — I should like to be 
with my Saviour.' 

At one time his physician thought he was 
troubled at the thought of dying; and that pos- 
sibly he might be thinking, a great portion of his 
time, about death. He accordingly asked him, 
in order to ascertain the fact, what was the first 
thing he thought about in the morning. He 
replied, 

' Jesus Christ ' 



130 MEMOIR OF 

One morning, a gentleman, Mr, L , one of 

Nathan's particular friends, was with him. He 
was about to leave the city, and was going to a 

neighbouring town, where Mr. A , another ot 

his friends, had gone. Mrs. Dickerman asked 
Nathan if he had any message to send to Mr. 
A . 

' O, yes,' he replied, ' tell him I'm very 
happy — my Saviour is precious — and if we do n't 
meet on earth again I hope we shall meet in 
heaven.' 

As Nathan gave his message to Mr. L , 

his father was much affected, shed tears, and 
left the room. 

Nathan noticed it. and said to his mother, 
' Mamma, do you think papa thinks I shall ever 
get well?' 

I do n't know, dear, she answered. 

' I 'm afraid he do n't,' said he, ' for he cried 
when I told Mr. L ,' &c. 

There was one trait in his character, which, 
at his early age, was truly as remarkable, as it is 
rare; real humility. His feelings were often 
wounded by the injudicious conversation which 
was too often held in his presence. Kind friends 
indulged in, perhaps, what were well-meant, but 
sadly ill-judged remarks in his presence. And 
it is most deeply to be regretted that parents and 
friends so often, inconsiderately no doubt, speak 
before children, in praise of their persons, in a 
manner that inevitable fosters vanity, which in- 
jures their usefulness and happiness as long as 
they live. 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 131 

Nathan's ear was often greeted with, ' Beau- 
tiful boy!' 'Remarkable boy!' ' What a fine coun- 
tenance!' ' Certainly the most wonderful case I 
ever heard of, the half had not been told me!' 

After people have retired, and left such remarks 
as those behind them for Nathan to think of, he 
has many a time, to his mother, said something 
like this- 

' Mamma, I v.^ish people v^^ould n't talk so. 
What makes them think so? I do n't think so.' 

* I don't like to hear people say so.' 

■ What makes people say so?' 

' Mamma, I 'm afraid people think I 'm better 
than I am.' 

' I feel distressed,' his mother distinctly re- 
members that he once said, ' for fear people 
should think I'm better than what I am.' 

Jan. 1, 1830. The day before he died, as 
his father and mother were in the room, he asked 
them to bring his little box. He took out his 
penknife and said to his father, 

' Papa I give you my knife, — keep it to remem- 
ber me by.' 

And to his mother, he said, 

' Mamma, I give you my Saint's Rest, and 
keep it to remember me by.' 

When his parents were making inquiry for a 
suitable school for his younger sister, he request- 
ed that she might be sent to his former school 
mistress, — ' because,' said he, ' she is pious, and 
has prayers in her school.' 

Ho also expressed a strong desire to see his 



132 PIE310IR OF 

elder sister's teacher, for he said, ' I want (o 
have her ialk with Maria, — I 'm afraid she does 
ijot think enough about her Saviour.' 

He one day, received a visit from a pious 
little girl, and after she had gone away, he said, 
' O Maria, if I only knew that yoii loved the 
Saviour.' 

He also particularly desired that they might 
both continue at the Sabbath School where he 
had attended. 

During the day, Dr. F. came in. Nathan 
called him to his bed, and said, 

' Won't you please to sit do^\Ti by the side of 
me?' 

' Doctor F.' he then said, in a low tone. 
' How long do you think I can stand it? ' 

Dr. F. replied, It is uncertain. 

Nathan then asked, ' Do you think my lungs 
are affected?' 

The doctor replied, with astonishment that 
so young a child should ask this question so un- 
derstandingly. Nathan immediately continued, 

' Dr. F,, after I am gone, I want you to exam- 
ine me.' He had requested this of Dr. F, once 
about a month before. 

He was one day speaking to his mother on 
this subject, and she made some remarks, ex- 
pressing those feelings that are almost instinctive 
m everybody. 

' But, mamma,' he replied, ' It won't hurt my 
body any after I am gone, and I want folks to 
know how much I have suffered.' 

To-day he was very sick indeed. In the af- 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 133 

lenioon his mother said to him, JVathan, it is 
New Year's Day. 

' Well mamma,' he replied, ' I do n't expect to 
Gee another New Year here, but I expect I shall 
be where it will be always New Year.' 

At a late hour in the evening of to-day, he 
was suddenly taken with a very ill turn. The 
difficulty of breathing was so great, that at times 
he seemed to be fetching his last gasp. In the 
extremity of distress he almost fainted away. 
Ke said to his mother, who was anxiously no- 
ticing v/hat she supposed to be the last symptoms 
of his disease, 

' Mamma, I'm going.' 

She raised his body from the pillow, but it 
seemed indeed for a little time, as if the spirit 
had left its earthly tabernacle. He, however, 
soon revived, and said again, in a faint, but pleas- 
ant, tone of voice, 

' Mamma, I'm going.' 

Just as the clock struck twelve he said, * Mam- 
ma you must lay down aside of me, or you know 
I can't go to sleep.' 

It was only a few minutes afterwards that he 
"whispered, as though he was suffering, 

' What time are you going to get up, mam- 
ma?' 

Now, if you wish, Nathan. Do you want 
anything? Should you like some drink? 

He replied, ' O mamma, I'm going.' 

As they rubbed him with camphor, in order 
to revive him, he said, 

' That won't do me any good, I'm going.' 

1^ Dickerraan. 



134 MEMOIR OF 

They also bathed his feet in warm water, for 
the same purpose, but he said, 

'That won't do me any good I I'm going, 
I'm going, mamma.' 

Mrs. Dickerman then said to him, * Had I 
better call your father? * 

'Yes,' he said, ' call papa.' 

His father came immediately, and his mother 
said to him, Mr. Dickerman, I should like to 
have you go for the doctor. If f/iere is any al- 
teration, I should like to know it.' 

Nathan said, 'There is, mamma.' 

They had succeeded in reviving him a little 
from his faintness, but his breathing was so dif- 
ficult and labored, that they supposed his little 
remaining strength could not sustain the strug- 
gle. They offered him some little cordial to 
taste, but he declined it, saying, 

' JVothing, will do me any good, I'm going.' 

At this time he kept his eye fastened upon his 
mother, and said to her, 

' Mamma are you mourning ^ ' 

Wherever she went, either around the room, 
or into the closet, to get anything, his eye fol- 
lowed her. 

She said to him. What do you watch mamma 
so for, Nathan? 

'Because I like to, mamma,' he rephed. 

He repeatod the question, 

' Mamma, are you mourning?' 

No dear, she answered. 

But as she stood over him watching the last 
struggles of her dying son, he saw the tear upon 



XATHAN W DICKERMAN. 135 

her cheek. He looked at her tenderly, and 
raising his hand, gently wiped it away, shaking 
his head. 

The severity of his pain gradually subsided, 
until near morning, and he seemed comparative- 
ly easy and cheerful. 

As day began to dawn, his mother said, — 
What makes you smile so Nathan ? 

' So easy, and so happy mamma,' he replied. 

"The morning Nathan died, Maria came into 
the room, very early. She understood from some 
one that he was dying. She came to Mrs. Dick- 
erman and began to cry. Nathan said, 

' What are you crying for, Maria?' 

She made him no answer. 

He then said, ' Mamma, what is Maria crying 
for.' 

She is afraid you are dying . 

He said, ' Bo n't cry, Maria, do n't cry,' then 
says to me, ' You wee crying, mamma. ' 

No, Nathan. 

He then said, ' Do n't any of you cry for me,' 
— then laid his head down upon the pillow, and 
fell asleep. This was very early. 

About 6 o'clock, he overheard Mrs. Dicker- 
man saying, 1 wish Mr. B , or some one, 

would come in. Nathan then spoke and said, 

' Send for him, mamma.' 

When Mr. B. came, Nathan gave him a little 
hymn book, and said, 

' I want you to read it to the Sabbath School 
children:' and asked, * Are there any children 
who have become pious?' 



136 MEMOIR OF 

Mr. B. replied, I believe there are two or 
Ihree. 

He then laid his head on the pillow, and rest- 
ing a moment, raised it again, and looking at 
Mr. B, said, with a smile, ' That pleases me. 
Tell, tell them they must all love the Saviour, 
and pray to him; if not, when they come to die, 
it will be dreadful, very dreadful.' 

He then said to Mr. B., 

' I wish you would talk with Rebecca about 
the Saviour;' and then added, 'Now mind Re- 
becca, what Mr. B. says.' 

And while Mr. B. was conversing with his 
little sister, he said, looking up to his mother, 

' Now mamma, hark, 1 want to hear.' 

Afterwards, his little sister Maria was stand- 
ing about and crying bitterly. Nathan said to 
her, — 'Maria what do you cry so for.'' Mamma, 
what makes Maria, cry so.'* Do n't cry for me.' 

About nine o'clock, his two little sisters left 
him to go to school. His last words to them as 
they went out, were, 

' Do n't weep for me.' 

In the course of the morning, his mother had 
occasion, sometimes to go out of the room, Na- 
than said to her once, 

' Mamma do n't you be gone long.' 

Why, Nathan? she asked. 

He replied, ' I'm afraid I shall die, while you 
are out of the room, — and I shall want to say 
something to you.' 

When Dr. Jenks arrived, his mother whisper- 
ed to him. Dr. Jenks has come. He started up 
from his pillow and said, confusedly, 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 137 

* Where, mamma.' 

Dr. Jenks informed him, with tenderness and 
caution, that he would not probably live many 
hours. Nathan soon after said, 

' Dr. Jenks, will you please to go to prayer 
with me ? ' 

What shall I pray for ? said the minister. 

•'That I may be prepared to go,' JNathan re- 
plied. 

During the prayer, he lay with his face almost 
concealed in the pillow; and after it, said, 

' Mamma, will you take me up? I should like 
to say something to Dr Jenks.' 

As she held him in her arms, Dr. Jenks asked 
him, how long he thought he should continue. 

He replied in the words of his physician, 
' It's uncertain.' 

Well, my dear boy, said Dr. Jenks, I will tell 
you what I think. — It is our communion Sab- 
bath to-morrow; and I think you will not live to 
see another Sabbath on earth. After a mo- 
ment's pause, he asked the question, Does this 
give you any alarm.? 

' O no, sir,' Nathan replied strongly. 

Some one repeated in his hearing, the remark 

of Dr. F , that he would probably drop 

away instantly; perhaps m two seconds, he might 
be gone. 

Nathan repeated after him, with animation, 

* Tvm seconds, — only think mamma, how quick 
I shall be with my vSaviour.' 

He looked again to his mother who he saw 
was much affected, and said with stronger em- 
phasis than before, 

12* 



138 MEMOIR OF 

' Mamma, are you mourning, you must lit 
mourn.' 

About an hour before he died, Mrs. R— — 
came in, and while conversing with him, asked 
if he had not some word to send to her little 
children, he replied, 

' I should like to, but I do n't feel able.' 
Soon after this, Mrs. Dickernian was left a 
few moments alone with him. She placed him 
sitting on the bedside; a little stool support- 
ed his feet while he rested his arms upon the 
top of a chair. A pillow was laid lengthwise 
across its top. His left hand held his elbow, 
and both rested on the pillow, while he sustain- 
ed his head by leaning his temple on his right 
hand. 

He said,' Mamma will you please to open the 
shutters; I can't see.' His mother asked, 
Can't you see me .' He answered, 
' Not very well.' 

Presently Mrs. H , and Miss S came 

m. One of them asked, Nathan do you think 
you shall live through the day.'* He answered, 
' It 's uncertain.* 

He after v»ards said to one of the ladies, 

' Won't you stop a little while.' And again, 

'Won't you help my mother to-morrow r' 

About eleven o'clock, a very distressed turn 

came upon him. His mother put a piece of 

orange to his mouth, and in receiving it some 

of the juice dropped upon the pillov/. He said, 

' There mamma, I 've stained your pillow.' 

Mrs. H , was now supporting his head 



NATHAN W. DICKERMAN. 139 

with one hand, and endeavoring to render his 
posture as easy as possible by applying the other 
to his back, as a support. 

He said faintly, ' Too hard,' and then ' That 's 
right.' 

A change was soon noticed in his appearance. 
He becume less restless, and his head was more 

heavy in her hand. Mrs. H , supposing 

that his hour was come, requested Mrs. Dicker- 
man to take her place. In making the ex- 
change, and receiving his head into her hand, 
l^s mother perceived the change and asked, 

Do you know me Nathan ? 

' Yes mamma,'* he said with one of his sv/eet- 
est smiles. He then endeavored to say some- 
thing, but his speech was so feeble and broken 
that they could not understand it. 

Mrs, D — , then repeated her question. 

Do. you know me, Nathan.'' 

He bowed assent with the same happy expres- 
sion of countenance as before. 

She added, Can you kiss mamma? 

• I would mamma, but' . He 

coughed — threw his head back, — the chair and 
cricket fell over on the floor, — he reclined gent- 
ly on the pillow behind him; his eyes were 
closed; his spirit was with his Saviour. 

His father soon returned. On opening the 
door of the room, and seeing his weeping v.ife 
and daughters, he fainted entirely away, and fell 
prostrate on the floor. 

A letter written by a lady, a* few moments 
after Nathan expired, begins as follows, — 



140 MEMOIR OF N. W. DICKERMAN. 

" I write from the ' privileged' chamber of lit- 
tle Nathan, — quite on the verge of heaven. 

" The dear departed is still lying in his sick 
gown, and at this instant, his father is bedewing 
his face with tears, and kissing his much loved 
son." 

His funeral was attended the Monday fol- 
lowing, at Braintree, v/here his grandparents 
reside. A numerous collection of Sabbath 
School children and friends assembled at the 
meeting-house, and after prayer by the Rev. 
Mr. Perkins, an address was delivered by Rev, 
Mr. Storrs. — A discourse was expected from 
Rev. Dr. Jenks, but he was detained at home 
by sickness in his family. 

The remains of little JVathan now slumber in 
the village churchyard of Weymouth. 



