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call forth all your energies in the strength of your God, to win them over to become the willing subjects of his peaceable kingdom of righteousness; while their dispersed condition will serve to afford you that exercise of body which you require. It is indeed an arduous undertaking, but let this console you — the reward is not of men but of God, to the faithful minister of Jesus.
The want of religious and profitable society is what clergymen in country settlements complain of, but your vicinity to the city and your friends in some measure compensates. It would be my wish, but it will be out of my power, to see you at Princeton, but I wish you could think of extending your journey as far as Brunswick-it would give me heartfelt pleasure to see and converse with you. My relish for the continuance and frequency of our correspondence is as strong as yours can be, and you may rest assured that you will not find me deficient either in punctuality or affection.
Your undoubted friend and brother in the ministry of JESUS,
EBEN. GRANT.' The renewal of personal intercourse between these attached friends, thus longed for, was nearer than either of them anticipated. Within one week after the date of the above letter, a call from the church at the very place where his friend resided was addressed to Mr. Hobart, and readily, as may be supposed, accepted by him. Among his letters of personal introduction to the place was one from his Bishop, introducing him to the Rev. Dr. Beach, of New-York, whose summer residence was at New Brunswick, speak
ing of him in terms of paternal affection, as one who has lately entered into Orders in our Church, with the general expectation of all who know him that he will be eminently useful in it.' Letters again from Dr. Beach introduced him to the leading members of his parish, so that within a month after the lamentations of severed friendship, these youthful intimates not only met, but seemed destined to remain long united.
In this second scene of duty Mr. Hobart continued, however, as in the former, but one twelvemonth, the period for which the engagement was made. He removed to it in May, 1799, and quitted it the May following, and even that, not without strong symptoms of a desire to change sooner.
From what cause or causes this apparent vacillation arose, there is no express evidence to show. His friend Mr. Grant's removal from the place was probably one, his own love of rural retirement, which he here missed, doubtless likewise operated, while a third, of probably paramount influence, is hinted at in the close of the following letter to his friend Mercer.
TO C. F. MERCER.
'Princeton, July 11th, 1799. I am doubtful, my dear Mercer, whether or not to write to you, as I suspect you will be on your way home,
I will write, however, were it but to assure you that no absence, no engagement can make me forget you. 1 have much wished that you were here, that I might advise with you on the subject of my future plans.
I spent a week on Long-Island. The village of Hempstead, within which is the church and parsonage, lies at the south border of an uncultivated plain, about four or five miles in width. A residence there would be very retired; I am almost afraid too much so for me. You may, perhaps, wonder at this, after my frequent eulogies on a retired life; but remember that at Princeton, though retired from the busy and gay world, I yet enjoyed the highest pleasures of society in daily intercourse with intelligent and affectionate friends. However, should I go, I must summon resolution to occupy my mind wholly with study, and the duties of my profession, till I find in domestic joys a solace for low spirits and disquietude ; and I rather think Miss C.'s wishes, which would determine mine, are in favor of Hempstead.
To your sister, and all friends, give my warmest affection. I long once again to embrace you, and rest assured, that, with the most fervent prayers for your welfare and happiness, I am Your faithful and affectionate,
J. H. HOBART.'
Under these circumstances he received the expected call from Hempstead; and, influenced by his feelings, took a step which his better judgment almost immediately condemned and retracted that of soliciting a release from his existing contract with the church at Brunswick. · Thus circumstanced,' is the language of his letter to the vestry, 'I have thought it my duty to state to the vestry here my desire that they would release me from my temporary engagement with them for the last six months, to enable me to accept a permanent settlement, which as fully meets my particular views as I can have any reason to expect. I think it proper to mention, what I suppose, however, would not be doubted, that is, my determination, and my wish to fulfil, to the best of my abilities, my engagement with the church here, unless regularly released therefrom.'
This was a letter of impulse ; that of calm reflection came the following day. 'My business with the vestry,' says he, ' has been the subject of my serious reflections since I left you, and I have come to a determination, which, as it will render all further proceedings unnecessary,
I am anxious to communicate as soon as possible. I think I shall not be satisfied, under existing circumstances, to receive a release from my engagement with your church, and I must, therefore, beg leave to withdraw my request for it. I shall accordingly answer the call of the church at Hempstead, by informing them that my immediate acceptance of it is incompatible with my engagements and duty to the church at Brunswick; and so fully have I made up my mind, that I would not receive a release from my engagement were it offered to me.
Please to communicate the contents to the vestry. I feel myself bound to apologize to them for the trouble I have given them, and to you for what you have voluntarily undertaken.'
This was an act of self-denial, and it had its reward. The church at Hempstead delayed their choice until he was free to accept a call, and his union with Miss C. crowned the completion of his new arrangements.
An easy conscience, a lovely bride, and a rural parsonage, with youth and health, and duties to which his heart had long been devoted,—it were not easy to add another element to the cup of human felicity!
On the 6th day of May, 1800, his marriage took place with Mary Goodin Chandler, of Elizabethtown, N. J., youngest daughter of the Rev. Thomas Bradbury Chandler. Of this lady, whose living sorrows forbid such notice as her virtues merit, it may still be added, that she was in every way worthy of that faithful and affectionate heart which then became her own. In her lineage, too, as daughter of the ablest defender of the Church in the colonies, it seemed a fate peculiarly appropriate, which made her the wife of the ablest defender of the same Church after those colonies had become