hand as to be hardly legible except to one practiced in their
deciphering--a result of the extreme economy of one who, with all
carefulness, was the largest consumer of paper and ink in New England.
Solemn as was the deportment of this reverend man, sundry practical
jokes at his expense are on record. It is said that the house dog was
his close attendant, and on Sabbath day would invade even the pulpit in
search of his master. Hence he was carefully fastened during 'holy
time.' On one occasion, however, some wag not only loosed the animal,
but actually garnished his neck with a pair of ministerial bands. The
poor dog, unwitting of his sacred insignia, made his way into the pulpit
without being noticed by his absent minded master, until some one showed
him the dog, _a la parson_, perched up behind him on the pulpit bench.

As a public speaker Edwards' delivery was the minimum of force, and in
this feature he admitted his utter failure. Indeed, when driven from
Northampton, he replied to Erskine's invitation to remove to Scotland,
that he was assured that his style would not be acceptable. After his
dismission, the sorrows of poverty fell heavily upon him, and he writes
to the same correspondent that 'he and his large and helpless family
were to be cast upon the world.' A collection was made for him in
Scotland, and forwarded at this time of need. The Scottish saints,
indeed, held strong sympathy with the colonies, and it was their
'benefactions' which supported the mission of Brainerd, the most
successful of modern days. Edwards remained more than a year at
Northampton after leaving its pulpit, and was humbled by seeing the
people assemble to hear sermons read by laymen in preference to his own
ministrations. What a bitter cup this must have been: but Sarah cheered
his heart, and grace reigned. In the mean time the girls wrought fancy
work, which was sent to Boston, and sold in their behalf, and thus they
were spared from want. Subsequently he was appointed missionary to the