Chapter VIII: Resignation From the Ministry

While at Highland Falls Edward wrote his first novel, "Barriers Burned Away." He had told of his plan for a story to be based upon the scenes he had witnessed among the ruins of the great Chicago fire, and when I received a letter from him the following winter asking me to make him a visit as soon as possible, I suspected that he wanted my opinion of what he had written. And I was not disappointed, for on the evening after my arrival he read to me a number of chapters, and we talked over his plan for the story until after midnight, he going over the outlines that he then had in mind, though he afterward made some changes. The next day he called upon Dr. Field, editor of _The Evangelist_, and owing to his kind encouragement the visit was repeated, the result being that the story was finally accepted for serial publication in that paper.

From that time on, my brother read to me every one of his stories in manuscript, and I enjoyed them the more from the fact that in every case I recognized the originals from which he had drawn his scenes and characters, idealized as they were.

In 1874 his health had become so much impaired by overwork that his physician strongly urged him to give up either writing or preaching. After giving the matter serious consideration and consulting with friends whose advice he valued, my brother reluctantly decided to retire from the ministry. How his people parted with him is told in a letter to _The Evangelist_, whose readers had followed with so much interest and substantial aid my brother's efforts to build a new church.

"I have been very much surprised. Last Sabbath, the 7th of March,
was my birthday. On the 6th I sat quietly in my study until the sun
was behind the mountains, and then was sent out of the house on
false pretences. The young people of the church were getting up an
entertainment, and suddenly took it into their heads that they
needed my assistance. There seemed many delays, but we at last got
through. Then I received a startling message that a neighbor wished
to see me immediately. Surmising sudden illness or trouble, I did
not go home, but started off in great haste. I found not sickness,
but mystery, at this neighbor's, which I could not fathom. My
friend and his wife were unusually entertaining and I could not get
away, though I knew I was keeping tea waiting at home. Finally
there came another mysterious message--'Two gentlemen and two
ladies wished to see me at the parsonage.' 'O, I understand now,' I
thought. 'It is a wedding; but they are managing it rather oddly.'

"But imagine my surprise when I opened the door, and found about
one hundred and fifty people present. Well, to be brief, they just
overwhelmed us with kindness. They gave us fine music, and provided
a supper for five hundred instead of one hundred and fifty.

"Mrs. Roe thought that she was in the secret; but they surprised
her also by presenting, with cordial words, a handsome sum of money
at the close of the evening.

"My resignation has not yet been accepted, but we expect that the
pastoral relation will be dissolved at the next meeting of
Presbytery. As soon as spring comes in reality, and the embargo of
ice and snow is over, we must be upon the wing; and this
spontaneous and hearty proof of the friendliness of my people was
very grateful to me. During the nine years of my pastorate they
have been called to pass through many trying and difficult times.
They have often been asked to give beyond their means, and have
often done so. With the very limited amount of wealth in the
congregation, even the generous aid received from abroad and from
visitors could not prevent the effort to erect a new church and
parsonage from being an exceedingly heavy burden, involving
perplexing and vexatious questions. When I remember how patiently
they have borne these burdens, how hard many have worked, and how
many instances of genuine self-denial there have been, I feel that
too much cannot be said in their praise. It is my hope and my
belief that they will deal as kindly with my successor as they have
with me."

Dr. Edgar A. Mearns of the United States army was one of my brother's devoted friends who knew him intimately during the years of his ministry. In 1888, from Fort Snelling, Minn., he writes as follows:--

"The sad news of the death of Rev. E. P. Roe, at
Cornwall-on-Hudson, reached me to-day, and filled my heart with
sadness. During the long years of my sojourn upon the western
frontier, I have looked forward with unspeakable pleasure to the
time when I could grasp the hand of this true friend, and walk and
talk with him, and enjoy once more the society of his dear family.
I had planned a leave of absence from my station in the
desert-wilderness of Arizona for last spring, in response to his
urgent invitations; but other duties awaited me, and I was not
permitted to realize the fulfilment of this ardent desire. We were
to walk through the woodlands, drive over the mountains, and sail
on our native Hudson. I saw in mental vision the very rock under
which we used to poke at the woodchucks with a stick, and on which
we gathered the walking fern, and seemed once more to hear him
discoursing of small fruits in his delightful garden, or reading to
the family circle from his latest manuscripts. In the West many
hearts have been pierced by this sorrow, for he made friends
wherever he went.

"To write a word of the lost friend, who has been a very pillar of
support in times of struggle or affliction, will perhaps relieve a
pain at the heart which is hard to bear. It is not as an author
justly celebrated, that I must speak of him, but of the private
life of one who combined every attribute of mind and heart to
endear him to his friends. I have known him as a pastor, laboring
assiduously among the members of his flock, dispensing liberal
charity among the poor, and lightening everybody's burden. He was a
rock to lay hold of when other friendships were borne away by the
cruel winds of adversity. Then it was that the genial warmth of his
smile, the kindly hand-pressure, and the cheerful encouragement of
his voice fettered sore hearts to his.

"I have seen him as a hero, struggling in the water and broken ice,
bearing in his arms the bodies of children for whom he risked his
life. He had heard a cry for help, and that alone was enough to
enlist the sympathy and secure the highest sacrifice of which our
nature is capable. Then, paying no heed to personal sickness and
injury, he strove to comfort the bereaved hearts of mothers, whose
boys were drowned, perhaps by exposure laying the seeds of the
disease which recently caused his death.

"His zealous devotion to his calling, together with exposure to
various hardships encountered on frequent lecturing tours made for
the purpose of obtaining funds for the erection of a suitable
church for his congregation, made such inroads into his naturally
vigorous constitution that, having accomplished his task, he was
compelled to resign his charge as pastor, after about nine years of
faithful service. The beautiful stone Presbyterian church at
Highland Falls is a monument to his untiring efforts."