The Rev. Bulkley's Advice

WHEN HE GRADUATED from Harvard College in 1699, John Bulkley was recognized as one of the two or three most brilliant scholars yet produced by America's first college. Regarded as especially strong in solidity of judgment and strength of argument, the young man quickly began to fulfill his promise after he became the first minister of the Congregational Church in Colchester. Within a few short years of his ministry, he had earned great respect from his peers for his tracts on matters of law, medicine and theology, and a widespread reputation among common folk for his wisdom and counsel in all manner of popular dispute. In fact, his mail became so heavy with requests for his advice that he sometimes had difficulty sorting them all out. And at least once, his confusion led to a mistake which was talked about for years and amused several generations.
As the story went, there was a church in the Colchester area that for some time had been torn apart by a disagreement. Finally, unable to solve their own problems and on the verge of falling apart completely, the various factions agreed to submit their grievances to the Rev. Bulkley for his resolution. To make sure that his advice would not be misunderstood, the squabbling congregation asked the Rev. Bulkley to reduce his reply to writing. He agreed to do so. Now, it so happened that the sage minister owned a farm on the outskirts of Colchester which was worked by a tenant farmer. Apparently, at the very time that he was pondering the difficult church feud, the Rev. Bulkley received a message from his tenant, asking his advice on certain questions of farm management. The farmer asked his landlord please to reply in writing, since he wanted to make no mistakes with his boss' property.
After due consideration, the Rev. Bulkley carefully composed replies to the church and to the farmer -- then dispatched each piece of advice to the wrong party. The letter designed for the church went to the tenant, and the one for the tenant to the church. There was considerable puzzlement, therefore, when the expectant congregation listened as the moderator read aloud the advice which would solve all its problems: "You will see to the repair of fences, that they be built high and strong, and you will take special care of the old black bull." At these words, most of the congregation looked at one another with blank expressions and shrugged shoulders, but at least one member of the congregation thought he understood the counsel contained in what he took to be the catchy metaphors of the message.
The clever interpreter arose before his friends and neighbors, and spoke as follows: "Brethren, this is the very advice we most need; the directions to repair the fences is to admonish us to take good heed in the admission and government of our members; we must guard the church by our master's laws, and keep out strange cattle from the fold. And we must in a particular manner set a watchful guard over the Devil, the old black bull, who has done so much hurt of late." The members of the congregation all nodded in agreement at this masterful explanation of the Rev. Bulkley's mystical counsel, realizing that the learned minister with the big reputation had not failed them, after all. Moreover, they all agreed to abide by his wise advice and resolved to be governed by it in the future. Harmony had been restored to the long-afflicted church. Unfortunately, no one ever found out what advice the tenant farmer received or what effect it had upon his barnyard management.

from Legendary Connecticut by David E. Philips / ISBN 1-880684-05-5 / $17.95

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