improper conduct in this respect. These charges were mildly but firmly repelled in a card signed by the President of the college. The leaders of the two parties were General H. S. Foot and Jefferson Davis. A citizen of the neighborhood, who had no connection with the college, either as a student or in any other respect, but who deemed himself either personally or politically implicated in the denial of the President, stopped at Dr. Chamberlain's house, on the evening of the 5th of September (at a time when the professors and students were absent enjoying the vacation), and called the doctor to his gate. Retaining his seat in his vehicle, he commenced denouncing the doctor in very abusive terms, and made some charge against him, the nature of which was not distinctly heard. Dr. Chamberlain, quietly leaning upon the top rail of his gate on the inside, denied the charge, and said that it could not be proved. Instantly the assailant sprang from his carriage, and knocked the doctor down with the butt-end of a loaded whip. As the doctor rose, or attempted to rise, he was knocked down again; and as he attempted to rise the second time, he was stabbed to the heart with a bowie-knife. All this took place in the presence of the female members of the family, whose screams were heard at a distance, and brought the doctor's son-in-law to the spot. He found the doctor standing up, but bleeding, and the murderer, outside of the gate, wiping his bloody knife upon his handkerchief. The doctor had strength to walk to the house, but, on reaching the middle of the open passage, he exclaimed, "I am killed;" and, sinking on the floor, he immediately expired.

Thus fell a great and good man. Conciliatory in all his intercourse, bland and courteous in his manners, even when smarting under unmerited obloquy, but brave and firm as a martyr for principle, and ready to

stand in his lot for the cause of truth and right, at all times and against any odds, he at last fell to appease the bitterness of partisan malice and personal hate. For more than a quarter of a century he devoted himself, with a zeal, a self-abnegation, and a success unparalleled, to the cause of Southern education. Mainly by his efforts and sacrifices, a college has been founded in Mississippi which has educated and graduated more young men than all other colleges south of Tennessee. And after all the labors, the trials, and the temptations of his long career, he has left the memory of no one act which his bitterest enemy will now venture to

censure.

We would here simply remark that a coroner's jury, consisting of fourteen citizens, pronounced the act by which Dr. Chamberlain came to his death, murder. The perpetrator of the crime, on the second day after the deed, committed suicide, and passed beyond the reach of all human tribunals.

Although President Chamberlain thus fell, so cruelly, so suddenly, yet Oakland College did not fall with him. It still lives, and shall live, a monument of his fame, and a blessing to the present and future generations. And as it is the ordainment of heaven that martyr blood becomes precious seed, whence springs undying truth, we doubt not that the great principle, in this instance as in others, will be fully developed. No sooner was Oakland's chief founder and first President cut down, than the true and firm friends of the institution began to rally. Precisely one year has elapsed since the sad event occurred; and in that year much has been done to place the college upon a firm and permanent basis. Upwards of $60,000 have been contributed to pay its debts, and meet its more immediate wants. The name of its first President is to be per

petuated, by the investment of a permanent fund, to be called the "Chamberlain Fund," the interest of which is to pay the salary of his successor. Overtures have been made from a distant source to found a professorship of Natural Science; and from various other sources are cheering indications that this infant seat of learning, which has struggled so long and done so much, will yet become the glory of the South, and a rich blessing to the future generations.

The present faculty are: Rev. R. L. Stanton, D.D., President, and Professor of Moral Sciences; Rev. J. R. Hutchison, D.D., Professor of Latin, Greek, and Hebrew Languages; T. Newton Wilson, A.M., Professor of Mathematics; W. Le Roy Brown, A.M., Professor of Chemistry and Natural Philosophy; H. B. Underhill, A.M., Principal of the Preparatory Department; James Collier, Esq., Steward.

September 6, 1852.

HISTORY

OF THE

CHURCH OF BETHEL AND RODNEY,

(NEAR OAKLAND COLLEGE, MISS.).

IN the year 1828 the Legislature of Mississippi granted a charter to that portion of Bethel Congregation now worshiping in Rodney, under the name of the "Presbyterian Congregation of Petit Gulf,” and designated David Hunt, John H. Savage, John Watt, and James Couden as trustees, with the power of appointing their successors. At the same time and in the same act, the Legislature granted a charter to that portion of the congregation worshiping at Bethel, two miles from the college, under the style and name of the "Presbyterian Congregation of Bethel," and named William Young, Lewellin Price, John Magruder, and Smith C. Daniel trustees of the same, with similar power of electing their successors. The first building for public worship erected by this double congregation was located in the rear of the plantations of the late Smith Hubbard and James M. Batchelor, about three miles east of the town of Rodney. The prominent actors in this new enterprise were Daniel Hunt, John Bolls, Smith Hubbard, Dr. Rush Nutt, John Murdock, Sen., M. McClutchy, and also Matthew Bolls. The last named was the son of John Bolls, who was a man distinguished in the early annals of the church in this region, and whose name appears on several church books-a man who, though little in stature, was mighty in faith, swift of

foot, great at a bear-hunt or in taming wild steers, the first to hear of a new preacher coming to the settlement and ride thirty miles to see him; mighty in cutting down trees to build meeting-houses, and who had the honor of being imprisoned in the calaboose in Natchez for being a heretic, having been betrayed to the priest by a stranger whom he had sheltered and nursed in sickness. His son Matthew was as large again as his father, tall and gaunt, a wit and a poet, whose quaint sayings, famous "book of chronicles," and imitations of Burns' poems convulsed many a circle with laughter. Forty years ago, he had much to say about early times -how he soon outgrew his father, but still dared not disobey him-how he never regularly wore shoes and stockings until after he was married-how, for the want of saddles and bridles, he and his companions would seize wild horses, noose them with grape-vines, and ride furiously to merry-makings. He knew something by experience of the toilsome mode of removing cotton from the cotton-seed, before the introduction of the cotton-gin. Then every little boy and girl, white and black, had to bend themselves to the task, just as in picking wool; and when a sufficient amount was prepared, a large barrel, like an empty tobacco hogshead, was filled, shafts were attached to each end, and it was trundled across hills and cane-brakes to Selsertown, to be pressed into bags. Cotton was precious in those days, bringing forty cents per pound. Matthew Boll's account of the first meeting to build the church building, of which we are speaking, was characteristic of the men and the times. . One thought that it would come to nothing. Another, that it would break up the races down at Greenville and spoil their Sunday sports. Another, that it might help to keep the women and children in order. But all concluded to try it, and each