On an impartial review of this question, the truth of the matter appears to be this: that the success of Bishop Polk would have fallen far short of what it was, if his elder brother Bishop had not so widely, and in various ways, prepared the way for it; and, on the other hand, that the University of the South might at this moment exist only in the hopes and prayers of its friends, if the adventurous and vigorous Bishop of Louisiana had not taken its cause in hand.

In the diary of Bishop Otey, we find the following entry, so characteristic of the modest and generous nature of the man. He had been debating with himself about using, in his Address to the approaching Convention at Jackson, an extract from one which he had delivered in 1836, at Pulaski, on the subject of a Literary and Theological Seminary. He seems, for some reason, to shrink from it as unnecessary, if not uncalled for, "lest it might seem that I wished to claim the honor of originating this great enterprise, which I really do not; for I care nothing for such honor. And, as it has been attributed to Bishop Polk, I am more than willing that to him it shall belong."

In 1841, Bishop Polk having been elected to the Episcopate of Louisiana, the missionary work needed in Arkansas and the Indian Territory was assigned by the General Convention to Bishop Otey; and, about the same time, the Diocese of Mississippi elected him its Provisional Bishop. In January he set out to visit Florida, passing through Louisiana, Alabama, and Georgia; making it full five months before his return home. A twofold object was to be accomplished by this long and

hazardous journey, - the one, to minister to the people as opportunity might offer; the other, to solicit aid in behalf of the Female Institute in Columbia. A recurrence to his diary of that year will show a succession of risks and hardships seldom encountered in the lifetime experience of any Bishop. It was in this year that he was shocked and pained by the ill conduct of one of his Clergy. After a fair trial, the Rev. Dr. Muller was found guilty of the charges alleged against him, and the Bishop was compelled to degrade him from the Ministry. On the adjournment of the court, we find these words in the Bishop's diary: "May God be merciful to our errors; and pardon our mistakes and want of wisdom, if in any thing we have failed in duty to Him, to His Church, or to our brother." The subsequent career of that unhappy culprit showed that he had yet to sink still lower in moral turpitude.

Between 1842 and 1844, the Bishop made a visitation of Mississippi, Arkansas, and the Indian Territory, in which he travelled from three to four thousand miles. Some idea may be formed of the risks and perils encountered on those long and wearisome journeys, from the following part of a letter to a friend (W. C. Hopkins), giving some experience of his trip to the Indian Territory. He was accompanied, a part of the way, by a Rev. Mr. Harris.

STEAMER "EVELINA," MISSISSIPPI RIVER, April 10, 1844.

MY DEAR HOPKINS, -By the above caption you will perceive that I have once more, through God's goodness, reached the precincts of civilized life. Right glad am I that I have got out of that Indian country. If I had any curiosity to see the red man

at home, in his native state, it has been fully gratified.

set off for Fort Towson, neither of us knowing one foot of the road. The first day's ride of forty miles, through miry bottoms, brought us just to the borders of the Indian country. . . . We were directed to take a trail at a certain point on what is called the "Military Road," and to follow it. We did so; it led us over hills, by the edge of precipices, along the tops of mountains, and through bogs and swamps deep, miry, and horrible beyond any thing I had ever conceived of as passable by human beings. Once we got into a low bottom, covered with water between knee-deep and saddle-skirts, in every direction, as far as the eye could see. The trail led straight into it; but which way it took through it, or where it went out, was the point to be settled. Many a philosopher, and many wiser preachers than we, would have been puzzled to determine the question. Mr. Harris left every thing to me, either because he was utterly posed himself, or else he wished to see how I could manage. Being a taciturn man, he said nothing, at least till we got through the bog; and then remarked, "Bishop, you know something about swamps." . . . We arrived at the bank of a creek which last night's rain had made impassable. We had to encamp in the wet bottom, the air chilly, and the snow still falling. The next day we got over, and came to a river called the Poteau, a deep and rapid stream, and without a ferry-boat. We again pitched our tents, and at the end of three days were barely able to get over in safety. By this time you may well suppose that the novelty of such an expedition had been succeeded by a very different feeling. I had had enough of the romance of a soldier's mode of life to make me right glad, two days after, to find myself in comfortable quarters.

These long and repeated absences of the Bishop could not but be sorely felt by his family; especially by Mrs. Otey, on whom was devolved the care and responsibility of a large and increasing household. It is not surprising, therefore, to find the following, written on a blank leaf of one of his earliest diaries:

"DEC. 2, 1834. My husband left home to-day, for Mississippi and the Western district. My trouble and distress are renewed at this departure. God grant that I may take these things more patiently, and trust more to Him who has been so kind and merciful to me, and will always do what is best for those who love Him."

The following is an extract of a letter addressed to the Bishop, Oct. 18, 1842:

"This, you know, is our wedding-day. How different are my feelings from what they were this morning twenty-one years ago! Then my spirits were buoyant, and full of bright hope; willing to forget all the past, as the beloved object was almost in possession, who was to make me completely happy forever. But now I feel as if I were standing alone, full of care and trouble and disappointment. But, no doubt, it is all for the best for my poor soul."

In 1844 the Bishop was invited to the permanent rectorship of St. Peter's Church, Columbia. It was in this year that Bishop H. U. Onderdonk was brought to trial. Through force of circumstances, and very much against his inclination, Bishop Otey became his "presenter." In speaking of it to his succeeding Convention, he says,

"Never, in the course of my life, have I been called on to perform so painful and distressing a duty. Bishop Onderdonk was one of my consecrators; and, from the day of our first acquaintance, our intercourse had always been of the most friendly and cordial character. But when grave charges, made under oath, were preferred against him by responsible persons; and when those who had known him long, and, as I supposed, intimately, refused even to examine the affidavits which so deeply implicated his character,

I felt that duty to him, as well as to the Church, required me no longer to hesitate, so far as depended on me, in placing the whole subject before an impartial and competent tribunal."

During the year 1844, the Bishop felt compelled, in duty to his Diocese, to resign his Missionary Jurisdiction of Arkansas and the Indian Territory; and, about the same time, gave up also his Provisional charge of the Diocese of Mississippi, as the Rev. Dr. Hawks had just been elected to that office, and it was generally supposed that his election would be confirmed by the General Convention.

In 1846, the Female Institute being still encumbered with debt, the Bishop, at the suggestion and request of Northern brethren, sent out a very strong appeal in its behalf. The result, however, fell far short of his reasonable expectations.

The year 1817 was a time of deep sorrow and loss to the good Bishop. In the midst of a visitation of his Diocese, he was unexpectedly turned back by the illness. of one who seems to have been his favorite child. On reaching home, May 28, he writes:

"Mihi atra dies! The darkest and bitterest day of my life! My noble-minded, generous-hearted, and beloved child, Sarah McGarock, departed this life to-day at 12 м. O God, Thou hast indeed smitten me down, and crushed me. I most humbly beseech Thee, through Jesus Christ, to bring me at last to rejoin her happy, and, as I trust, glorified spirit, in a holier, better, and purer world."

The most cursory view of his diary will show how the bitterness of that trial would again and again, to the very end of his life, come back to him, by night and by day, in solitude and society, and in distant lands, as well as among the scenes and companions in which she once delighted.

But, great as was this blow to the tender heart of the