with the success of one to whom he had shown no previous indication of kindly feeling. Toward young men, whom he believed to possess good abilities and pure motives, his manner was always friendly and encouraging; he liked to see them at his house, and talked freely with them respecting their circumstances and intentions. His charities, which were mostly private, often took this direction; he assisted some members of the Cambridge Divinity School, who were never known to him except as having talent and needing help; and in two instances, at least, he paid the bills at college of the sons of clergymen to whom such an expense might have been burdensome. A communication which appeared in the Christian Register shortly after his decease, and which is understood to have been written by a distinguished clergyman, is so honorable both to him and to the writer, that it is subjoined in a note.*

Mr. Dwight's regular habits and almost uninterrupted health during his later years seemed to justify the expectation that he would attain to great age. But the summons came suddenly, before he had quite reached the limit assigned by the Psalmist. What seemed at first only an attack of influenza, brought on an inflammation of the diaphragm and pleura, and, after a short but severe illness, caused his death. He died on the first of April, 1849, at the age of sixty-eight years.

Instead of attempting to give a summary of Mr. Dwight's character, it is fortunate that I am able to complete this imperfect sketch by the following letter, written by one whose acquaintance with him commenced at a much earlier day than mine, and who wishes to add his tribute to the memory of the friend whom we have lost. The writer is the Hon. Theophilus Parsons, now Dane Professor in the Law School of Harvard University.

TO PROFESSOR Bowen.

CAMBRIDGE, April 22, 1857.

"My Dear Sir.-I am very glad that you are preparing a memoir of our friend, Mr. Dwight. Few men have a better claim to be remembered than he; and few or none are better able than you to make this remembrance just, because you knew him long and well; and your relations with him were of a kind to bring forth his characteristic qualities with great distinctness. I am obliged to you for the opportunity of speaking of one at whose death I mourned, as for the loss of one of my best friends.

I became acquainted with him thirty-six years ago. I was then twenty-three years old, and intending to go to Taunton to open an

See note, p. 28.

office there, and bearing that Mr. Dwight had some friends in that town I called on him for letters. He received me most kindly; and after a brief conversation, remarked that a great manufacturing corporation was then going into business there under favorable prospects, and that it might be useful for me to own a few shares. They were then in demand, and above par in price. He said, at once, however, that I should have six of his, ($500 each,) and when I asked him the price, said, "O this is hardly a business transaction; take them at par." I did so, and they rose very rapidly on my hands.

From that time to his death, I was honored with his intimacy and friendship. There were periods when I lived out of Boston, during which we met only at long intervals; but at other times I saw him very often. And as if to end as he began, a year or two before he died, he came into my office one forenoon, and said he had been thinking over certain matters we had talked of the evening before, and came to advise me to take a personal interest in an arrangement then going on. I replied that it seemed to me to offer a favorable opportunity, but I had no surplus funds undisposed of, and not being in the way of raising money I could not do it without some trouble. "I will see to that" said he; and the next day, he placed in my hands not only without request or even thought on my part, but entirely on his own suggestion, ten thousand dollars. Nor was this all; for a day or two after he said to me, "I have been thinking that this affair may not end at once, and for a while you may need further advances; and life is uncertain, and I have arranged with my friend,

who will supply you if I should be taken away." The obtrusion of these personal matters upon your notice can only be pardoned, if I can show a good and sufficient reason for doing so, and I think I have that reason in my wish to illustrate so far as these occurrences may do it, some of the grounds of my judgment of this man. To many he seemed harsh, severe, and withholding; and to many I believe he was so. But when I have spoken to others of the way in which he always treated me, I have found again and again, that to others also he was equally kind; nor do I think it difficult to explain his character on this point.

He did not think well of mankind. He was sagacious and sharpeyed, and could detect through any disguise, any of the many elements of character which constitute untrustworthiness. He saw these quite too often; and he expected to see them very often. And therefore he distrusted most persons; and however courteous in manner, kept them at a distance. But he did not love to distrust. Where he had satisfied himself that he might safely give his confidence, he gave

it as one does what he is glad to do; he did it fully and unreservedly. And then he indulged himself in being kind, benevolent and useful, to a degree in which if I were to speak from my own experience or observation, I should say he was surpassed by no man. There was another point in his character, in which it seemed to me he was somewhat remarkable. While he exacted prompt and full obedience from all those from whom he was entitled to expect it, I never saw in him the slightest approach to a demand of submission from any who did not stand in relations which gave him or seemed to give him a right to it. If I may again refer to myself, I should say that no one more perfectly respected my freedom of thought, utterance, or act, than he did through the whole of our long intimacy. On many points we differed greatly; but he never, in the slightest degree, presumed upon our friendship or upon his kindness, to play the master. Still, in any case and in any degree in which he thought he should be master, he would be.

Of his public relations you knew more than I did. Of his constant endeavors to promote whatever seemed to him the interests of sound learning; and of his sagacious and generous aid to the great cause of education, you will speak fully.

He was not himself eminent as a scholar. But he was well educated, and read a good deal; and read thoughtfully, and with wise selection; and profited by what he read; and many pleasant conversations have I had with him on topics which his reading suggested. But he was not a scholar; and no man was ever further from a false pretense of scholarship.

During many years, he was the man whom I most consulted when I wanted advice on almost any subject, especially if of a practical character. More than any other person whom I have known he seemed to me to reconcile the antagonistic qualities of boldness and caution. Years ago I said to one who was intimate with both of us, that Mr. Dwight was a living proof that phrenology-as I understood it was entirely mistaken in identifying fear with caution, by ascribing both to the same organ. Be that as it may, (and I am no phrenologist,) I never knew a man who was more cautious than he appeared to be at all times and on all occasions; but I never knew him to manifest any thing like fear. I mean that he decided slowly, and after a careful weighing of all the reasons which a very wide and farreaching view of the subject could suggest. But fear never came in to cloud his insight, or disturb his conclusions, or obstruct the execution of his plans. How he was to others in this respect, I can not say. I knew him but in few and limited relations, although I knew

him so long and so well; and can only say that to me he seemed eminently, a man who did not make mistakes. And I have supposed that his great success in life was built up, step by step, by the same combination of caution and courage, of sagacity and executive force, which I thought I saw him constantly manifest.

If I speak of him with what may appear to you or others undue commendation, let me at least assert, by way of apology if one is needed, that during a very long period he had been kind to me always; and as kind to me as was possible; had never exacted from me or seemed to desire any other return than that of an equal friendship; and that in all this I am describing, not a day, nor an incident, but thirty years.

I am, Dear Sir, your friend and obedient servant,

THEOPHILUS PARSONS.

P. S. I wrote the above this morning in my office. As I was writing the last words, my friend and colleague ex-governor Washburn came in, and I read the letter to him, because I knew that he too was intimately acquainted with Mr. Dwight.

"I am delighted," said he, "that you have written just that. It is all of it his due. I knew him well more than a quarter of a century; and was in the habit of frequent and confidential intercourse on many topics, and especially on many of a public or legislative character; and to the extent of my own knowledge and belief, I fully indorse every word you have said of him."

NOTE.

"A DEBT OF GRATITUDE.-About seventeen years ago, two graduates of Harvard College, who had resolved to enter the Christian ministry were at a loss for the requisite pecuniary means, and had decided to delay joining the theological school, until they had, by their own earnings from teaching, or some other occupation, procured the needed amount. An offer from a secret source was made them of a sufficient sum to meet the expenses of the school, if they would immediately enter upon its duties. The offer was accepted, and exerting themselves all they could to aid themselves and lessen the burden upon their secret benefactor, they found always a sum adequate to their needs, ready for them at stated intervals. They completed their studies, and have now been for many years in the ministry, happy in its labors, and grateful for its privileges.

The writer of this note, one of the two, was long wholly ignorant of the source of the opportune bounty; and when the name of the giver was accidentally discovered, it was under such circumstances as forbade even a word of gratitude, as the communication was made to the informer on condition of secrecy, and this condition, though not rigidly observed by him, could not but be respected by the party thus informed of the kindness of a benefactor who insisted on remaining unknown.

Death has now removed this condition.

Deprived of every other opportunity of expressing his feeling, a Christian minister who has enjoyed much in his profession, takes this method of paying something of his debt of gratitude, and thus adds his humble offering to the numberless tributes due to the memory of Edmund Dwight."

[This letter was written by Rev. Samuel Osgood, D. D., of the Church of the Messiah. Ed.]

II. PUBLIC PRAYERS IN COLLEGES

BY PROF. F. D. HUNTINGTON.

In all the principal seats of learning in the United States there is a daily social service of devotion for the students. We are not aware of a single exception to this religious usage. There is doubtless an extensive and spreading impatience of religious forms; there are tendencies in American society and in our political institutions which operate to heighten this jealousy; there are habits of speculation which foster distrust of everything like constraint or fixed ceremony in the concerns of faith; even among some avowed Christian believers, and in the name of a special spirituality, there exists a theory that every exercise of worship is false which is not strictly spontaneous, and accordingly that to compel attendance on a prayer is both an absurdity in administration and an affront to piety. But, thus far, these views have not, where our knowledge extends, organized any considerable seminary, for either sex, in which the inmates are not regularly assembled to own their daily dependence on the Almighty Father, to confess Christ, and to implore the gifts of the Spirit. Whatever the notions or doubts of educators may be, it seems to be practically felt that some sort of moral power is lodged in such an observance. An indistinct sense lingers in the mind that somehow the interests most sacred and most prized, in these assemblies of youths, are at least safer with it than without it. Whether its essential spiritual comeliness and dignity are generally recognized or not, the venerable traditions of Christendom sustain it and demand it. To a literary institution wholly renouncing it, the community would find a grave difficulty in continuing its confidence.

With the right-minded guardians and officers of education it becomes a vital and important question, how to conduct these exercises so that they shall fulfil the manifest purpose of their appointment; have a spirit as well as a shape; bring a devout sacrifice as well as a bodily attendance; diffuse a hallowing influence over the restless and eager life congregated there; awaken strong resolyes and pure aspirations, call down the answer and benediction of Heaven. In many