odd, opinionated, and constitutionally wanting in reverence, had read an essay which seemed intended to create a laugh. The rebuke which he received was such that we all quailed in our seats. I fancy that many years elapsed before such an experiment was attempted in his lecture-room again. I do not know that I can better illustrate the effect of his teaching upon his pupils, than by stating my own experience in a single particular. My acquaintance with Professor Stuart continued until his death. He always treated me with particular kindness, and was frequently a guest at my house. He invariably addressed me, after my settlement in the ministry, as "brother." I, however, could never reciprocate it. I could no more have called him brother than I could have thus addressed my own venerated father.

If now we turn for a few moments to the services of Professor Stuart, we must, first of all, remember the circumstances under which his career commenced. It was at a time when the question was contemptuously asked, "Who reads an American book?" Hardly an American author had ever been republished in Europe. There were among us very few scholars, and there was here none of the apparatus by which scholarship is made. There was not an institution in the United States that possessed what could be properly termed a respectable library. He went forth alone to his great work, with the sentiment of Bacon in his heart, aut viam inveniam, aut faciam. He made his own gramHe published his own Chrestomathy; he gave to the world commentaries of which any country may be proud, while his contributions to sacred literature in separate treatises and in periodicals would almost make a library of themselves.

mars.

To this let us add the impression which he produced on his classes. For nearly forty years a company of young men annually left this Institution, imbued with his spirit, zealous in the pursuit of all good learning, and especially of biblical science, and they were dispersed over every State in the Union. Of these a large portion have attained the highest eminence in the studies to which he introduced them. Sir Humphrey Davy, when complimented on his discoveries, replied, that the greatest discovery he had ever made, was that of the genius of Michael Faraday. So Moses Stuart, by generously fostering eminent talent in his own department, has raised up for the church some of its brightest ornaments, and has given to biblical learning a place in this country second to none in the Anglo-Saxon nation. Great Britain, at the present day, can, I think, show nothing that can compare with the Seminary at Andover, and the scholars whom Andover has nourished. It is said, I know, by way of depreciating the merits of Professor Stuart, that in their several departments many of his pupils have surpassed him in depth of scholarship and accuracy of research. Be it so; but who taught them to surpass him? Be it so, but who marked out the road, and leveled the forest, and established the grade, and laid the rails, on which we now travel so easily? What does it detract from the glory of Columbus, that it took him sixty or seventy days to cross the Atlantic, which we cross in ten? If he had not shown us the way, we should never have crossed it at all.

If, then, we would estimate the labors of Moses Stuart, labors performed amidst sickness, and pain, and weariness, and sleeplessness, we must begin by spreading before us his grammars, commentaries, and various works on herme neutics, in Greek and Hebrew, with its cognate languages. Upon them we will place the love of the original study of the Bible, which he diffused over the

ministry of every denomination in this country. Upon this we will place his influence upon the establishment of Theological Seminaries. Upon this we will place the aid which he has rendered to those who have translated the oracles of God into the languages of the heathen. Upon this we will place the progress in classical learning which has been inaugurated under his auspices. And having thus raised our monument, we will encircle it with a wreath, on which shall be inscribed the names of those eminent biblical scholars, the living and the dead, who have placed themselves, primi inter pares, among the biblical scholars of the world, and who owe their first and best impulses to the example and encouragement of our master. Having done this, I will ask you, and all of you, to say who of the present age has raised for himself a prouder, a more glorious, a more perennial monument. And when the history of biblical learning in this country shall be written, and the names of those who have done worthily shall shine in letters of light, who can doubt that the first place on that roll will, by universal consent, be inscribed with the name of MOSES STUART?

In the same spirit of generous appreciation is his eulogy on the life and sciences of Professor Goddard, of Brown University, of which the following paragraphs will serve as specimens.

I rise, this afternoon, to perform one of the saddest duties to which I have ever been appointed. My colleagues have requested me to deliver a discourse, in commemoration of the life and services of one very dear to us all, but, if I may be allowed to say it, specially dear to me. He was the first officer of this institution with whom I had the honor to become intimately acquainted. Our friendship has continued, without interruption, from its commencement until the day of his death. During the whole period, within which we were associated as officers of instruction, we were in the habit of meeting daily, and many times in the day. The various plans, which, since my knowledge of this institution, have been laid, for the improvement either of its course of education or manner of discipline, have all received the benefit of his wise and thoughtful consideration. The principles on which they depended were developed by mature reflection, and the measures which resulted from them were carried into effect by our mutual labor. And when, in consequence of ill health, he retired from the duties of that chair which he had filled with equal honor to himself and advantage to the University, we all considered his separation from us to be rather in form than in fact. We unanimously invited him to be present at all the meetings of the faculty, assured that his interest remained unabated in the prosperity of the institution, on whose reputation his labors had conferred so much additional lustre. We felt that his talents, and labor and fame, were as much as ever the property of the University. For myself, I may truly say, that, for nearly twenty years, I have taken but few important steps, the reasons for which I have not discussed in the freest manner with him, and in which, also, I have not been in a great degree either guided by his counsel or encouraged by his approbation. There is scarcely a topic in religion or morals, in literature or social law, on which either of us has reflected, that we have not discussed together. Neither of us was fond of disputation, but both of us loved exceedingly the honest and unstudied interchange of opinions. It so happened, that our views upon most of these subjects were, in an unusual degree, identical. The

very last conversation in which we were engaged related to those great truths revealed to us by Jesus Christ, in the belief and love of which all his spiritual disciples, are one. A few days previously, I had requested his advice upon a matter of some importance to myself, some of the facts in connection with which I then submitted to him, while the farther consideration of them we deferred to another occasion.

If I have correctly estimated the character of Mr. Goddard, its most remarkable feature was delicate and discriminating sensibility. I have already remarked that he possessed neither taste for the mathematics nor aptitude for tracing the relations which they discover. This observation might with truth be more widely extended. He had no fondness for abstruse reasoning of any kind; and I presume rarely followed the successive steps of an intricate metaphysical argument to its conclusion. But it was equally true, that by a sort of instinctive sensibility, he seemed to arrive at precisely the same result which minds differently endowed apprehended only by the slower process of ratiocination. His critical perceptions were more exquisitely delicate than those of any man whom I have ever known. His friends never ceased to admire his unsurpassed power of discerning the most microscopic want of adjustment between a thought and the language in which it was clothed. He saw intuitively the precise form which an idea should assume, in any portion of a discourse, and the very tinge and junction of words which would most clearly and happily develop it. He frequently could not give the reason for his choice of an expression, and he might sometimes ask the reason of others; but the reason always existed, and bore testimony to the accuracy of his judgment. Hence the study of the science of rhetoric produced but little effect upon his style. It seemed not to teach him to write, in any respect, either with greater accuracy or elegance, but only to give him firmer confidence in the decisions of his own sensibility. He learned from the study of rules to write with less anxiety, and to correct with greater rapidity, inasmuch as he thus knew that he was right, when before he had only felt it.

The same spirit of warm-hearted friendship and generous appreciation of his valuable services as Treasurer of the University, and of his high character as an educated merchant, mark the discourse delivered on the death of Moses B. Ives. So too, in his Review of the Progress of Popular Education in his Discourse at the 25th Annual Meeting of the American Institute of Instruction in 1854, he seemed to take pleasure in making honorable mention of those who have labored faithfully in any department of the educational field. After dwelling on the improvements in the organization, gradation, supervision, and instruction of schools, Dr Wayland remarks:

Another fact deserves here to be mentioned, and I refer to it with peculiar pleasure. The character of our school-houses has also been greatly improved. Not long since, they were a reproach to our community, and a striking illustration of the forgetfulness of even parental affection. Children whose homes. were in every respect comfortable, were huddled together in small school-rooms, horribly cold in winter, and almost suffocating in summer, provided with seats

and desks apparently constructed for the purpose of creating intense weariness, and inflicting no contemtible amount of pain. Our stables indicated more attention to the wants of our cattle, than our school-houses to the comfort of our children. Who of us, in middle life, can remember without a shudder the sufferings of a school-room in winter. A delightful change has come over us in this respect. Architectural talent is now employed in the erection of schoolhouses, which are ornaments to their vicinity, whether in town or country; and a knowledge of the laws of health has rendered them commodious, well ventilated, and healthful. The foul, prison-like smell which once distinguished the school-room has disappeared, and our children, in airy rooms, with convenient scats, and in well tempered atmosphere, find interest and enjoyment where they formerly experienced nothing but nervous prostration, weariness, and intense discomfort. This change, it is proper to remark, is to be ascribed more to the labors of Henry Barnard, late Superintendent of Common Schools in Connecti cut, than to any other cause. This gentleman has devoted his remarkable abilities, for many years to the improvement of Common School Education, and the result of his labors may be discovered in almost every town in Connecticut and Rhode Island.

Another important feature in the improvement of our common school system may be observed in the appointment of Superintendents. I believe that Providence was the first city in New England, in which the office of Superintendent was permanently established. To John L. Hughes, Esq., more than any other individual, are we indebted for the admirable system of public schools which we now enjoy. Nathan Bishop, Esq., now Superintendent of Schools in the city of Boston, was our first Superintendent, and under his direction our present organization received its form and pressure.

In a review of Stanley's "Life and Correspondence of Thomas Arnold," in the North American Review for October 1844, Dr. Wayland exhibits his genial appreciation of the labors of that great teacher and educator.

When he went to Laleham, he adopted education as his profession for life. This determination effected a great change in his character. It turned all his energies in one direction. It brought upon him definite, entellectual, and moral responsibilities, which he strengthened himself to the utmost to sustain. He took large and very grave views of the field of duty upon which he had entered, and he resolved to occupy it without shrinking. He devoted himself without stint to the intellectual cultivation of his pupils. He sought to improve in the highest degree every one committed to his charge. Hence, he was employed with great industry in enlarging his own intellectual resources. But, above all, he deemed it his duty to prepare his pupils for heaven. He felt that he must teach them by example as well as precept, if he desired his instructions to have any salutary effect. Hence, all his moral powers received fresh energy from the circumstances in which he was placed. He was always setting before his boys the highest motives of Christian conduct; and these motives had the more commanding efficacy from the fact, that their instructor was himself striving to be the exemplar of all that he inculcated.

Dr. Arnold commenced his labors at Rugby with the fixed determination to carry fully into practice the opinions which he had formed. He had a clear

conception of the object for which the classics should be studied. It was not that learning the forms of nouns and verbs strengthens the memory, nor that the attention to minute differences sharpens acuteness; nor that our language is in part derived from the Latin and Greek, and that through them we may learn more accurately the meaning of the words of our mother tongue. He had a different and far higher notion of the office of a classical teacher. He looked upon the best ages of Greece and Rome as periods of civilization strikingly analogous to our own, and as periods in which the intellectual and æsthetic elements of the human mind had attained their most perfect development. More than this, a grand series of experiments was then made upon government in all its various forms, and the results have been handed down to us by some of the profoundest thinkers who have ever lived. He believed that we can study these events, and arrive at the knowledge which they proffer, better than would be possible, were the transactions of recent occurrence; because in the study of the ancients, we are unbiased by the prejudices arising from our political partialities. Hence, his object, in teaching the classics, was to render the student familiar with the works of the human intellect in the most perfect state of development which it has ever attained.

The great point at which he aimed was to call out and exercise all the powers of the pupil. He sought to impart the most valuable knowledge; but he sought to do it in such a way that the boy should, with every lesson, learn better than before both how to acquire knowledge for himself, and how to use it after it had been acquired. "You come here,' said he 'not to read, but to learn how to read;' and thus the greater part of his instructions were interwoven with the processes of their own minds, there was a continual reference to their own thoughts, an acknowledgment, that, so far as their reading and power of reasoning could take them, they ought to have an opinion of their own." Thus the pupil became every day more and more accustomed to bear the weight of original thinking, and to combine the maturity of manhood with the vivacity and vigor of youth. But while he was thus improving the study of the classics, he did not confine his efforts simply to them. He introduced the teaching of the French and German languages into the regular course of school instruction. His studies had led him to explore the wide field of Continental literature. He venerated without measure the profound and universal scholarship of Neibuhr and of the Chevalier Bunsen; and he desired to awaken in his pupils, if not an emulation of such examples, at least a scholarlike admiration of their vast achievements. He was fully aware, that no man could pretend to large and vigorous classical erudition, who had not availed himself of the researches of those modern scholars who have thrown such a flood of light upon almost every point of philological and historical inquiry. Hence, he ingrafted these studies upon the former system.

To the study of history, both ancient and modern, he attached great importance. The great study, at present, of every thoughtful man, is the social improvement of the human race. The great problem to be solved is, how may men be governed so as to escape the dangers both of anarchy and despotism? At no time has this subject been so earnestly pressed upon the consideration of every man in the civilized world as at present, and at no time have men been so much disposed to attempt every variety of reckless political experiment. Dr. Arnold was a firm believer in the unceasing progress of humanity. He