in his make-up. He was natural--natural as devoid of all cant and
affected airs. When you met him, you had not come upon some person
trumped for the occasion; it was Powell, the very man you wanted to
see. He could not be anything but himself. Genuineness and unaffected
simplicity were revealed in him, as in few others. He could be as
serious as a country judge; but he was serious because the matter was
in him, and it was the hour for seriousness. He could be as playful
as a child, but it was because the play was in him and it was time
for play. When our brother was pastor of the North Church, in
Newburyport, it was our custom to meet every Monday morning in
Boston. On one occasion, a brother-in-law of mine, a boy in his
teens, accompanied me to Boston, where we were to meet Mr. Powell. We
soon found ourselves tramping about the city on errands. Mr. Powell
was effervescing with fun. At such seasons, and they were very
frequent, he took great pleasure in making me the victim of his
frolicsomeness. On this occasion, I found that Mr. Powell had
enlisted the boy in the scheme of hiding away from me every chance
they could get. Passing through a crowd, I would look around and
discover that they had absconded; and then it devolved on me to hunt
them up, I never shall forget how this manoeuvering interested that
boy. He came up to me and whispered the first opportunity he had, "He
is the funniest minister that I ever saw in my life." That was his
first visit with Mr. Powell, but it was not the last. On that day an
attachment was formed which has lasted through all these years. A
little boy, four years old, in Oak Park, where Mr. Powell resided for
some time, was asked by his father, what he wanted to do when he got
to be a man, and answered: "Be a minister and go hunting like Mr.
Powell." He was a man for the boys. He touched a responsive chord in
their nature. He could enjoy what they enjoyed with as keen a relish
as they themselves.