An instance of his industry and perseverance may be given. A few years ago, it occurred to him that the earlier records of Ordinations in this country were very imperfect; that it was even then, in many cases, difficult to ascertain by whom a clergyman had been ordained, or at what time, and that every year which passed must increase the difficulty. He therefore undertook to ascertain, as far as possible, the date of every Ordination that had taken place in this country and the name of the ordaining Bishop. He found his self-imposed task by no means an easy one, and in a letter written at the time, he says, “Some things are discouraging as to the early, not the earliest, ordinations; but many of them, if not all, can still be accurately recorded, with some pains. The difficulties show how important it is that such a list, if it is .ever to be complete, should now be arranged.”
In order to collect this information, an immense number of letters was necessarily written, and when all the answers were received, the record was still to be made. He procured a large blank book, and to make the record permanently legible, printed it all with his own hand, intending to present the fruit of his labors to the General Convention that it might be continued from year to year, and become a source of reference when such information was needed. While this work was in progress, other names, from time to time, came to his knowledge, which he was obliged to interline. When all was finished, he was not satisfied with its appearance, marred, as he thought, by interlineations, and he resolved to rewrite the whole. He might have employed a secretary to copy it, but he preferred to make it throughout the work of his own hand. Another book was procured, and he set himself patiently to the labor of copying. It was no light task, and the day preceding the meeting of the General Convention of 1862 found it unfinished. He would not give up his determination to complete it before reaching the Convention. He took the two books, pens and a pocket inkstand with him in the cars. The books lay open on his knees, his pen was in his hand, the inkstand was held by his travelling companion. The moment the cars stopped, his pen was dipped in the ink, and at each station he succeeded in copying one, two, or three names. He was amused to think what the other inmates of the car thought of him; but he was rewarded for his perseverance. Before he arrived at New York, the last name had been copied.
From Alexander Burgess, Memoir of the Life of the Right Reverend George Burgess, D. D., First Bishop of Maine (Philadelphia: Claxton, Remsen, and Haffelfinger, 1869), pp. 30-31.