The late William Glendennin (one of the old merchants) resided and did business during many years in the house nearly opposite the old State Bank, the recent residence of Colonel William J. Clarke. He built a meeting-house at his own expense at a very early period in the history of the city, and during a series of years previous to the erection of any other church, ministered in his peculiar manner at his own altar, without earthly fee or reward, to all who chose to hear him. His deserted tabernacle was pointed out to me, when I first knew Raleigh, standing a little south of the corner, at the intersection of Morgan with Blount street. I remember to have seen, in my early boyhood, his autobiography, recounting numerous conflicts, spiritual and physical, with the arch-enemy of the human race. His little volume is probably out of print. It would be a rare curiosity, at the present time, in many respects. Notwithstanding these vagaries, he was shrewd and systematic in business, and in due time accumulated a handsome fortune for that day. His eccentricities increased, however, to such an extent that a guardianship became necessary, and Mr. Boylan was selected as the person possessing the requisite nerve and tact to control and manage him. As soon as Glendennin was apprised of the arrangement his confidential clerk, the late Robert Harrison, was dispatched to invite Mr. Boylan to his house. When he entered, Glendennin requested him to take a book from the mantelpiece, which proved to be the Bible, and it disclosed, at opening, a fifty-dollar bill. "The foul fiend was here last night and told me that he had come for the soul of old ----. I obtained a year's respite for fifty dollars, and the fiend is to take the money from that book at midnight." Glancing his eye inquiringly at Mr. Boylan, "I understand that you are my guardian, and I wish to know how I am to act, and what I am to do?" Mr. Boylan intimated that as little change as possible would be made in the management of his affairs. "Mr. Harrison will keep the keys, sell goods, and collect debts, as heretofore." "Am I to be master of my own house?" "Certainly." "May I invite any one I choose into my house?" "Oh, yes; just as heretofore." "May I order a man out, when I don't want him here?" No sooner had Mr. Boylan given an intimation in the affirmative than Glendennin, with a frenzied glare, stamping his foot, and clenching his fist, cried out: "Then, sir, get out of my house; get out of my house, this instant!" The poor old gentleman died in the summer of 1816, leaving a very pretty property for two nieces in Scotland.