PROF. JOHN NEWTON PUTNAM.—PROF. JOHN S. WOODMAN. PROF. CLEMENT LONG.—OTHER TEACHERS.

The following notice of the eminent scholar who succeeded Professor Crosby in the chair of Greek, is from a Commemorative "Discourse" by Professor Brown.

John Newton Putnam was the son of Simeon and Abigail Brigham (Fay) Putnam, and was born December 26, 1822, in what was then the north parish of the beautiful town of Andover, Massachusetts. His father, a graduate of Harvard in the Class of 1811, was for many years teacher of a classical school of high character in North Andover, in which the son received his elementary training and discipline. His mother was a lady of exquisite refinement and beauty of character, of great gentleness and tender grace. Soon after the death of his father, in 1833, he entered Phillips Academy in Andover, then under the charge of that excellent scholar, Mr. Osgood Johnson, where he successfully completed the usual course of study preparatory to entering college.

Being still quite young, and already showing uncommon aptitude for study, he went with his instructor and friend, Rev. Thatcher Thayer, to the town of Dennis, upon Cape Cod, where he spent four years in quiet and delightful application.

Dr. Thayer says of his classical studies:

"He recited each day, in review, the whole of the past lesson from memory, without book, first the Latin or Greek and then the English. At each lesson questions were asked which, if he could not answer, he was required to answer at the next recitation, from various helps furnished him. This often led to long and varied investigations. He wrote as much as he read,—perhaps more.

"If those studying with him might smile a little at his want of athletic zeal and vigor, there was no room for smiling when it came to Greek, or indeed any mental exercise. Besides, his wit, though gentle, could gleam, and then they all respected him for his character, and loved him for his winning spirit."

In the autumn of 1840, he entered the Sophomore class of this college, ready to make full use of the ample opportunities granted him. With what modesty and beauty he bore himself here, with what fidelity in every relation, with what admirable scholarship, with what generous aims, with what simplicity and purity of motive, with what love of learning, and desire not merely of meeting the claims of the recitation-room, but of perfecting himself in every branch of liberal culture, how constantly this noble desire possessed him from his first day among us down to the closing hour when he discoursed so fitly and with such maturity on "Poetry—an instinctive philosophy," those know best who were most familiar with his college life. One testimony to this is so full and generous, and of such weighty authority, that I cannot forbear to give it. It is from the accomplished scholar who filled the chair of Greek for many years before Professor Putnam.[46]

"I could not hope," he says, "to express, by any words at my command, the peculiar charm which Professor Putnam's scholarship and character had for me. I never heard him recite without being impressed with the wonderful perfection of his scholarship. His translation was so faultlessly accurate, and yet in such exquisite taste, his analysis and parsing were so philosophical and minutely exact, and his information upon illustrative points of history, biography, antiquities, and literature, was so full and ready, that I listened with admiration, and to become myself a learner. How often I had the feeling that we ought to change places I and when I had decided to resign my situation in the college, my mind immediately turned to him as a successor, assured that the college would be most fortunate if it could secure his services." It need not be said how fully Professor Putnam reciprocated this esteem, nor what value he attached to the exact and thorough discipline of his instructor.

Nor was it in the department of languages alone that he was distinguished, but almost equally in every other, as much in those studies which demand the independent and original action of the mind as those which mainly require close attention, and the faculty of acquisition. His modesty was then, as always, so marked, and his ideal of excellence so high, that it required some sense of duty to bring his powers to a public test. He never thrust himself into a place of responsibility, or sought distinction for distinction's sake.

He had in college the desire and purpose which he always retained,—to complete himself in every art and every manly exercise. Hence his study of music, not only as a recreation, but as a discipline; not merely to gratify the ear, though exquisitely fond of the art, and receiving from it a refined and exalted pleasure, but also that he might become acquainted with the thoughts and conceptions of men great in musical genius. The Handel Society, which, from the constant changes of its members, must necessarily fluctuate,—the annual losses not always being met by corresponding gains,—was then in a high state of efficiency. For the sake of study and musical acquisition, it boldly grappled with the difficult works of eminent masters, and with whatever necessary imperfectness of actual performance, it was with sure and lasting results of musical ability and taste and knowledge. It was in this society, I suppose, that Professor Putnam first became practically acquainted with some of the great works of Handel and Haydn, Beethoven and Mozart, and with the lighter but yet substantial excellencies of some of the English masters. Here he cultivated and disciplined his nice ear to the instinctive perception of the hidden harmonies of poetry, to the feeling of those finer beauties which hardly admit of expression in anything so clumsy as our actual speech.

The desire for physical accomplishment led him to join a military company then existing in college, although he had no love for such things, but rather a native repugnance to them, and there was then no special demand for the discipline.

The six years following his graduation were divided between instruction in Leicester, Massachusetts, and Newport, Rhode Island, and pursuing his professional studies in the Theological Seminary at Andover. During this time he reviewed and consolidated his knowledge. He brought himself into nearer contact with practical and common life. He enlarged his sphere of observation and the circle of his studies, and was looking forward with great satisfaction to the actual performance of the duties of his profession, when he was invited to the chair of Greek in this college. It was a position entirely suited to his tastes, his capacities, his studies. He brought to it not only ample learning and tastes delicate and cultivated, but the enlarged and generous spirit of a true scholar, and the aptness of an accomplished instructor. His ideal of attainment and of duty was very high, and he aimed at once to fit himself, by the most generous courses of study, to illustrate the more perfectly to his classes the poetry, the eloquence, the philosophy, of the wisest and most refined people of the whole ancient world.

It was with no narrow or exclusive spirit, nor with a merely technical purpose, that Professor Putnam pursued his studies, or directed those of others. Every true book was a nucleus around which all thought and knowledge of similar kind were grouped,—a central point from which his mind radiated in all directions within the sphere of the subject. Could he read Plato and Aristotle without studying the course of ancient philosophy and its influence on the modern? or Demosthenes, without an investigation of the virtues and failings of Athenian statesmen? or Thucydides, without meditation on the causes of the desolation of empires and states? or Homer and Sophocles, without a quick comparison with Dante and Milton and Shakespeare? It was indeed a characteristic of Professor Putnam, and one cause why his knowledge was becoming, had indeed become, at once so ample and so serviceable, that it was not an accumulation of facts disconnected or bound together by mere accidental associations, but an organic growth, every fibre of the most distant branch tracing itself back to the one trunk, and the sap from the living root feeding and nourishing the whole.

In his special profession, Professor Putnam would be allowed to hold rank among the very best. The most kind and winning of teachers, he was the most exacting and stimulating. By questions sharp, pertinent, and various, thoroughly testing the knowledge of the student, he at once made him feel his deficiencies, and inspired him to supply them. Even the dull and careless felt the singular fascination of his look and tone, caught something of the life of his spirit, and were gradually lifted above themselves. Gentle, affable, ready to communicate, dignified, thorough, patient, and learned, never harsh, never repulsive, he was earnest to meet every want of the student. His whole course was marked by unwearied fidelity.

To instruct was an occupation and a duty, to which he made everything else yield. He was thoroughly desirous to help those who came under his care, so revealing to them their own deficiencies, and so placing before them the methods and results of a better scholarship, as to incite them to new exertions, and aid them to independent and vigorous activity. No one, unless very groveling and earthy, could be long under his training, without insensibly catching something of the finer spirit of a beautiful discipline. His own philosophic thought imparted its movement to their minds, and many are they who have gone from these halls, within the last fourteen years, who can trace back to him some of their best methods of study.

Language was, in his view, no dead product, but the finer breath and effluence of the national life, as subtle, as many sided in its aspects, as the national spirit itself,—into the knowledge of which one must grow by slow degrees, bending his pliant mind till it gradually yields to the new channels of thought and expression.

"An unfaithful scholar," says one of his pupils, "was gently yet unmistakably reminded of his delinquency, perhaps by assistance being omitted upon a point which he might easily have ascertained for himself. One whom he saw struggling to learn he invariably helped, and this help was given so kindly that many a one would try to make a good recitation if only to gratify one so much beloved. The best scholars were quickened by his most delicately expressed appreciation of their victories, and even sluggish souls felt an unwonted light and warmth stirring in them when they came into his presence. I remember well our last recitation in Greek. It was from Plato. He started with an idea of the noble philosopher, Christianized it, and gave it to us in a few simple, sublime words, with an attitude and look that melted the hearts of all.

"It has sometimes occurred to me that he could not seem constantly to others as he did to me, like one who had dropped from a higher sphere, to remain a little while in order to draw the hearts that should love him to a purer, higher, and better life. But conversation with others has shown me that it has long been a general impression that he moved in a realm above the common level of even the best men."

There was still another aspect in which Professor Putnam presented himself, which should not be passed over without at least an allusion. Having completed his professional studies, his own tastes and higher aims, no less than the wishes of his friends, induced him occasionally to exercise the functions of the Christian ministry. Hence he sought and received ordination according to the usages of the Congregational churches, and in that relation stood in his lot. With what earnestness and pureness of motive, with what loftiness of purpose and fidelity in his high calling, and acceptance to those who heard him, I need not try to express. But I may say that it was not for want of solicitation that he did not exchange his professorship for places of considerable public importance in the other calling. It was his duty, a belief of his fitness for his post, that kept him from some inviting fields of labor elsewhere.

Having referred in fitting terms to his call to the Andover Theological Seminary, to the closing scenes in his life, and to his death at sea, Professor Brown says in conclusion:

"Few lives were more perfect than his, whose youth gave so fair a promise, whose riper years so fully redeemed the pledge. His presence shall still go with us all, to excite us to new fidelity, to enkindle within us nobler affections, to inspire us with holier purposes."

His classmate Rev. Dr. Furber says:

"The ripe and rare scholarship of my beloved classmate and friend, John Newton Putnam, was the fruit of diligence and the love of study in one whose acquisitions were easily and rapidly made. Mr. Putnam never seemed to be a hard worker, but knowledge was continually flowing to him as by a process of absorption from his early childhood until he became the accomplished and brilliant scholar that he was as professor of Greek. His books were his constant companions, their society was his pleasure and pastime, he preferred it, even in his boyhood, to the sports and recreations for which most boys neglect their studies. When in college he sat up at night after other students were in bed to pursue the study of German and other modern languages not then required by the college course. This he did from the pure love of these studies, without the aid of a teacher, and without the social stimulus of any companionship in such pursuits. And he probably for the sake of study neglected needful bodily exercise every year of his life.

"In the study of languages he found a fascination. The marvelous Greek tongue was of course the richest field for him, the language of a people of the finest and subtlest intellect, and of the highest culture in the art of speech. He seemed at home in that wonderful language as much almost as if it had been his mother tongue. The elegance and vivacity, the felicity and energy of his translations from Thucydides or Plato showed that he not only comprehended his author and saw the subject as he saw it, but that he had fairly caught the glow of the author's mind from the page which he had written.

"So accomplished a student of language could not have been ignorant of his rank among his fellow students; but in all my intimacy with him, boarding at the same table, occupying for a few months the same room, and spending with him more or less time every day either in social intercourse or in the enjoyment of vocal or instrumental music, I never knew him to betray, by word or act or look, a consciousness of his superiority to the poorest scholar in the class.

"Oblivious as he was, apparently, of the deficiencies of others, he was quick enough to perceive their merits. A fine recitation or an eminently creditable performance of any college exercise, no matter by whom, gave him positive enjoyment, which in his nervous and emphatic way he was very apt to express. It is really not too much to say that he appeared to enjoy the successes of others as much as though they had been his own.

"What a help to any college class is the influence of one such man! His connection with the class of 1843, was, no doubt, the presentation to some of its members of an ideal such as they had not formed before; an ideal, not only of enthusiasm for the largest acquisitions and the finest culture, but of that enthusiasm sustained by the love of excellence for its own sake, and not alloyed by any merely selfish ambition to surpass others.

"A spirit of scholarship so high, so broad, so generous as this could be no mark for envy. None of us grudged our classmate his position or his honors. He was the beloved associate, and is now the warmly remembered friend of some of us, and no doubt many of us were more indebted to his example than we were aware of at the time for anything that was well and worthily done by us in our college days.

"I ought not to close this notice without speaking of Mr. Putnam's love of music. Music was born in him as much as Greek was, and he learned one as rapidly as he did the other. When in college he was a valuable member of the Handel Society, his influence being always in favor of the introduction for practice of the standard and classic authors. Haydn's 'Creation' and other works of that great composer were an unfailing source of delight to him. Their naturalness and spontaneity, their brightness and cheerfulness, their artistic finish and exquisite grace, met precisely the corresponding qualities in his own mind. As we often choose those authors who are most unlike ourselves, so he knew how to enjoy the rugged grandeur of less polished writers. He could listen to a mountain chain of choruses in 'Israel in Egypt,' or to a dark and mazy labyrinth of mingled harmony and discord in Beethoven, and wherever he saw the perfection of art or the power of genius, his soul was like a harp of a thousand strings every one of which was alive with vibration. I well remember with what elevation of feeling and intensity of utterance he used in the Handel Society to sing 'The Hallelujah Chorus,' and the concluding chorus of the Messiah, 'Worthy is the Lamb that was slain.' His deeply religious sympathies were touched by the sentiment of these great choruses, and on this account his enjoyment of them was more profound than his enjoyment even of the finished models of Haydn. He knew and felt that he was on a grander theme, and that Redemption was greater than Creation. And it is pleasant to think of him now as saying with a deeper meaning and a more rapturous devotion than he knew on earth, and may we add, a more thrilling musical delight, 'Worthy is the Lamb.'"

We append some of the closing lines of the venerable Dr. Thayer's most touching and eloquent tribute to the character of his beloved and honored pupil: "He did in quality, more than in quantity, beyond any I ever had to do with. He was under more stimulus than mere quiet pleasure in study. He had a most delicate sense of beauty to be gratified, a fine power of discrimination which sought objects for its exercise. Then his love for his mother was a very powerful motive; then too I think he thought of gratifying and honoring his teacher, who loved him and tried to make him a scholar. But better, he loved his Saviour and increasingly studied with humble loyalty to him. Still we must not put Putnam in a wrong place. He was preËminently made for a classical scholar."

Rev. Dr. Leeds adds:

"I became acquainted with Professor Putnam in the winter of 1860-61, and was on intimate terms with him up to the time of his death, more than two years later....

"Of his scholarship, others can speak more fitly than I. All remarked that he was pervaded by that which is beautiful in the wonderful language and literature he taught, as ever a vase by the perfume of its flowers.

"But it is his character on which I love to dwell. Ever after I had become well acquainted with him, he was a delightful illustration to me of the power of love to foster diverse and even opposite elements of character. He had feminine traits, and yet he was thoroughly manly; the gentleness and tenderness of a true woman were his, and so were the dignity and courage of a true man. He could speak, and was wont to speak, and preferred to speak words of kindness the most winning; but he could administer a rebuke longer to be remembered than most men's; though more, perhaps, because it came from him than for any other reason. The union in him of fastidious taste and of uncritical temper was very marked. No man was more sensitive than he to all the proprieties of the occasion; and one might at first fear lest himself should say or do what would jar upon that delicately attuned spirit, for whatever he said or did was perfect in its manner. And yet no one—no one—would listen with more simple enjoyment to the plainest, crudest utterances of others. He had not one word of criticism to offer. He seemed to see—I am confident he did see—only what was good and attractive in them. But one thing could offend him, that which indicated a want of sympathy.

"More than any man I ever knew, he saw the good in every person, and the bright in everything. It was wonderful, it was delightful, it rebuked one, and it quickened one, to note the manifestations of this temper. Nothing, seemingly, could occur that did not present some occasion for gratitude. After the fearful disaster which hurried his life to its close, his message home was—how characteristic of him all who knew him will at once recognize,—'Tell them to thank God for our deliverance!'

"I must not say much more. His friends need no reminders of his innocent, sunny playfulness, or his abounding, sparkling—but never trenchant—wit. As one of them has said of another, 'What bright, graceful conceits often fell from his lips, his soft, dark eye smiling at his own unexpected thought!' And yet, such was his gracious nature that he was the delight of the house of prayer as much as of the friendly circle, the one who would be chosen alike to share our hours of gayety, and to extend to us the sacramental cup. In fine, his qualities were refined, blended, and crowned by love—love which often suggested to others the name of St. John.

"No notice of him would be adequate that did not at least refer to his wife,—fitting companion to such a man. A daughter of Prof. William and Mrs. Sarah Chamberlain, she inherited both the attractive and the sterling traits of her parents. 'Lovely and pleasant in their lives, in their death they were not divided.'"

Esthetic and solid culture have very rarely had a more nearly perfect union in any American scholar than in Professor Putnam. Whether in the privacy of his home, in the recitation room, or before a large audience, his words were always chosen with a marked regard for fitness and beauty. His knowledge of the minutest points of every theme which he discussed was so exhaustive and complete that any attempt to improve would have been almost like carrying light to the sun.

The graces of his heart corresponded with those of his person and mind. His earnest piety was marked and felt by all who came within the sphere of his influence. Few Christian teachers have passed away, at the age of forty, more highly esteemed than Professor Putnam. He died on the return voyage from Europe, near Halifax, October 22, 1863.

In 1851, the chair of Mathematics was rendered vacant by the death of Professor Chase, and he was succeeded by John Smith Woodman, a member of the Rockingham County Bar. He was the son of Nathan and Abigail H. (Chesley) Woodman, and was born at Durham, N. H., September 6, 1819.

Extended experience as a teacher in the South, and foreign travel, had given valuable expansion to Professor Woodman's naturally capacious mind. He was a careful, patient, laborious teacher of the Mathematics. He did not exact excellence from every student, for he fully realized that a lack of native fondness for the studies of this department rendered it impossible for some to appear in the recitation-room, with as full preparation as others. But he strove to have each do the best in his power, and his kindness induced many to put forth earnest effort, who would have been less inclined to do so under a different teacher.

One well qualified to appreciate him says:

"As an instructor in Mathematics, a field proverbially difficult, Professor Woodman had but few equals. Such was his superiority when a student in this department, that there was little difficulty in choosing a successor to the post made vacant by the sudden and untimely death of Professor Chase. The action of the Trustees was most completely justified by the ease and thoroughness with which Professor Woodman took up and carried forward the work of his honored and lamented predecessor.

"In the class-room, however subtle or complicated the subject, or however dull the student lucklessly 'called up,' his demeanor was always evenly calm, without a shade of impatience; he carried a firm, steady hand, master alike of himself and the subject in hand.

"Under his direction the field of Mathematics was not left to mere theoretical cultivation. At an early date, the first class under his care was marshaled in squads under self-chosen captains who were first trained by the professor in practical handling of compass, theodolite, and sextant; and then each led his division to out-door work, taking the various instruments in turn. He was also able to invest even Analytical Geometry and Integral Calculus with charms for some of the class. One student came from a private interview in a high state of enthusiasm over the eloquent suggestiveness of formulÆ in the vocabulary of Calculus.

"Written examinations, now so common, were among the methods introduced into his department by Professor Woodman, and that class still remembers the spectacles quietly adjusted, that his near-sightedness might not encourage an illicit use of + and -, and the rigid silence which shut them up to the simple problems written upon the blackboard, notwithstanding adroit questions, ostensibly innocent and necessary.

"In the Chandler Scientific School, to which Professor Woodman was afterwards assigned, he was specially qualified to do good work, because of his thorough mastery of Mathematics by perceptions almost intuitive. Thoroughly at home in its principles, loving them, and honestly loving his pupils, he could luminously and patiently teach the application of those principles in practice, however minute and detailed.

"Mention of Professor Woodman as an instructor would be incomplete, were there no allusion to the force and influence of his character as a man, transparently honest, and grandly true. He taught well from text-books, but his life, so unaffectedly simple and just, gave better, deeper, and more lasting instruction."

An associate in the Faculty says:

"Professor Woodman becoming somewhat weary of the continuous and laborious drill of young men in a department not generally appreciated, and feeling a renewed desire to return to the practice of law, resigned his professorship, and removed to Boston for that purpose. After a year's experience of the practice, or desire of practice, of law, the professor was ready to return to his field of labor in the college. His former department was no longer open, the place having been filled, on his resignation, by the appointment of Professor Patterson. He was, therefore, appointed Professor of Civil Engineering in the Chandler Scientific School. On entering upon his duties, he was made the chief executive officer, under the president, of the department, and continued to hold that relation to the school till his death. Professor Woodman proved himself a thorough, able, and zealous teacher in his new chair, and by degrees became deeply interested in the Scientific Department, and devoted his time and energies to building it up and making it a success. He early became sensible of the importance of the free-hand drawing, and gave it a prominent place in the curriculum of the School, which it has continued to hold. The depth of Professor Woodman's love for the School, and the strength of his desire for its continued prosperity, were made manifest in his will by a generous donation to its funds. Those who graduated from the Chandler Department while it was under the administration of Professor Woodman, will never cease to love and revere his memory."

A classmate, distinguished for his interest in general education, says:

"Professor Woodman was county commissioner of schools, and secretary of the New Hampshire Board of Education, during the year 1850. He was again county commissioner during the years 1852 and 1853. In 1854 he was commissioner and chairman of the board which was composed of the commissioners of the several counties. In the opinion of the most competent judges, Professor Woodman was one of the wisest and most efficient state school officers New Hampshire has ever had. He was admirably qualified for the work of an educator, not only by the cast of his methodical, organizing mind, but by his varied experience and scholastic attainments. He was eminently practical in all his plans for the improvement of the schools, and he knew well how to adapt means to ends. His reports, both as commissioner and secretary, were of a high order of excellence, and they were highly beneficial in promoting the cause of education in the State."

Professor Woodman married Mary Ann, daughter of Stephen Perkins Chesley, of Durham, and adopted daughter of Edward Pendexter. He died at Durham, N. H., May 9, 1871.

In 1853, Professor Clement Long, who was the son of Samuel and Mary (Clement) Long, and was born at Hopkinton, N. H., December, 31, 1806, was called to the chair of Intellectual Philosophy which had been vacated by the resignation of Professor Haddock. He was a thorough teacher. Being himself a most profound thinker, he deemed it his duty to exact a thorough knowledge of every day's lesson by the student. If he had not made himself master of the subject, by learning all that was to be learned from the text-book, any attempt to supply the deficiency, by drawing upon his own resources, would be sure to be followed by the plainest marks of dissatisfaction or merited rebuke on the part of Professor Long. Never indulging in the diffuse or the discursive himself, he never tolerated such a course on the part of the student. A mere glance at the man was sufficient to indicate the richest and most solid type of mind. Those who sat under his instruction, and were capable of appreciating it, will ever remember his efforts in their behalf with the liveliest gratitude.

In a commemorative "Discourse," President Lord says: "He was graduated at this college in 1828, a classmate and intimate friend of the late and lamented Professor Young, and a worthy associate of the many honorable men by whom the class of that year has been distinguished.

"It was here, in a time of unusual religious awakening among the students, that he became a Christian, and, with several of his classmates, made profession of his faith,—a profession ever afterwards honored by a singular devotedness to his Saviour. That he was a regenerate man, and true to his Christian calling, no one who knew him ever doubted. It was manifested by the perhaps best of all evidences, as construed by experienced observers,—the uniform prevalence of an unworldly and super-worldly spirit. He affected nothing, he pretended nothing; but whatever he said or did significant of religious character was traceable, and traceable only, to a believing and loving mind. If any thought him severely religious, that may have been the fault of his critics rather than his own.

"After leaving college, he was for three years a preceptor, principally at Randolph, Vt.; then, for two years, a theological student at Andover. Before completing his term at that institution, he was called, in 1833, to the professorship of Intellectual Philosophy in Western Reserve College, at Hudson, Ohio. After a short term of service he was elected to the professorship of Theology, in the same institution, and received ordination as a minister of the gospel. These changes are all significant of early and distinguished worth.

"In 1851 he received and accepted the appointment of professor of Theology in the Seminary at Auburn, N. Y."

His classmate Professor Folsom says:

"Professor Long was like a precious stone kept long in the lapidary's hands before its brilliancy met the public gaze. I had my home under his father's roof, and sat daily at table with him, during my Junior year. We were colleagues afterwards, together with our classmate Jarvis Gregg, in the Western Reserve College; and they both were members of my family there. We had been Handelians at Dartmouth (as also Peabody), and almost every evening we sang together, at our fireside, from Zeuner's "Harp." How precious the memory of those hours! How often has the uplifting power of all our intercourse been felt! Professor Long, like Professor Young, joined the love of Mathematics with that of Metaphysics, but the bent of his genius was strongly in the direction of the latter, and not least in theological and moral science. He had the enthusiastic regard both of the Faculty and students of the Western Reserve College. He was also a very suggestive and quickening preacher, often at my request taking my place in the pulpit of the chapel. His great modesty, and not easily satisfied ideal, kept him from publishing much in his lifetime; but I have wondered that some of his writings did not find their way into print after his death. He once told me, when urging him to this step, that he hoped, in the course of ten years or so, to be able to prepare something which the ear of the public might not be careless to hear. He had the same clear-cut features that marked Professor Peabody, though of a different pattern,—the latter with outward, the former with inward, gaze."

"In 1853," President Lord continues, "he was transferred to the position which he held in this college till his death, leaving the honorable office which he had so lately assumed, at Auburn, partly out of his great love for his Alma Mater, and partly, to minister to his revered parents in their advanced years.

"In all these relations the qualities which I have suggested laid the foundation of his acknowledged excellence. In all the departments which he successively occupied he was regarded, as among the most learned, able, and effective teachers and preachers of the country. He was competent to every service required of him, and gave to every position dignity and honor. He was distinctively Christian in them all, and made them subservient to no school or party, but to the gospel through which he had been saved.

"Wherein Professor Long was like other men, he was above the generality, and, though he aspired not to lead, was fitted to precede them. Wherein he was unlike them, the difference was more conspicuous. His peculiarities were striking, and in them we perceive his most observable traits, whether of the intellect or the heart.

"I know not whether it were most of nature, or habit, that our friend was so distinguished for acuteness, directness, and singleness of the mind,—a mind not especially intuitive and rapid, not noticeably free in its conceptions, wide in its survey, or comprehensive in its generalizations, moving rather on an extended line than an enlarged area, but subtle and clear as light; sharp, piercing and discriminating as electricity; pointed, direct, and exact as the magnet; conclusive, positive, and decisive as the bolt of heaven. His processes were simple, natural, easy, and continuous, not stiffly regulated by scholastic laws, but strictly conformable, and his results inevitable. Give him his definitions and his postulates which, though not given, he would, like other resolved reasoners after his method, sometimes take, at his own risk, and he would go round or through the circle, or make his traverses in darkness and storm, and never lose his meridian, or be confused in his reckoning; and he would come back precisely to his starting-point laden with success, his points all proved. It was well said of him by a curious and critical observer of scholars, that, as a logician, he was not exceeded in the country.

"Our professor had made large attainments in the science to which he was especially devoted,—the Metaphysics. He read whatever was worth the reading, of which, however, he chose to be an independent judge, but he thought more, so that his attainments were emphatically his own. He was not like what so many now become in this department of study,—a mere follower, imitator, panegyrist,—but a searching critic and judicious commentator. He had a higher range of speculative inquiry than most of the more ambitious men who have exceeded him in popular effect, and he corrected his inquiries by a better logic, and a more simple faith. But I have sometimes thought him too much of a recluse for his greatest profiting in this respect. He loved best the retirement of his own study, and was rarely seen outside of it, except when required by his official duties. He abjured the artificial forms and fashions of social life, the bustling confusions of trade and commerce, and the whirl and finesse of political agitations. He never would stand on a platform, nor be seen at an anniversary, nor harangue a popular assembly. He was happiest in solitude where, undisturbed, he could solve the abstruse problems of ethics, or be a delighted critic of metaphysical theories, or seek to penetrate the mysteries of theology. He was consequently in danger of contemplating his subjects, like so many others of his time, both in Church and State, too much in their refined essence, and too little in their comprehensive practical relations; rather as things, in his judgment, ought to be, than as they are; too much in the light of a fictitious principle, and too little in that of experience, history, and analogy; rather according to God's original constitution than the actual necessities of a fallen state; too much as they may be in the ultimate development of God's moral providence, and too little as they are in its administrative course. Hence, but for the greatest care which, in the main, he exercised, he would have been likely to crowd into his definitions and postulates more than they naturally admitted, or to make them less than they naturally required; to mistake, for the basis of his fulcrum, a speculative subtlety instead of a practical reality; and, consequently, to make his inexorable logic draw too much, or to little, for legitimate practical effect. If, occasionally tempted by the excitement of our present types of speculative and conjectural science, he seemed to overstep the limits which God has prescribed to us in our present probationary state, and to make the human a measure of the Divine, it was done not presumptuously, from a spirit of conceited and ambitious intermeddling with things forbidden, but unconsciously, from an honest desire for knowledge. When he perceived, as he was not slow to perceive, that many of the objects which now so much allure the learned men of the world, who are falsely so called, were not real, but ideal and conceptional only, not actual knowledge verifiable by a day-light test, but shadows and chimeras chasing one another over the moonlit sky, then he retreated. He chose to stop, reverentially, as taught by Scripture, when he must, rather than to be driven back by the cherubim and the flaming sword. Not even Kant, or Coleridge, or any of their living imitators, however congenial their respective tastes for speculative subtleties, could tempt him so to disregard the boundary between reason and faith as to lose sight of Calvary, or mistake an ignis fatuus for the Sun of Righteousness. His college experience, and, I have sometimes thought the genius collegii, with a father's and mother's teachings and prayers, all favored by the Spirit who only searcheth the deep things of God, kept him near and true to the everlasting Word.

"But we forgot all his speculative trials and temptations, we forgot almost that he was not perfect but in part, when, in his sacred character, and in this sacred place, he laid aside his weapons of intellectual warfare, and, with his peculiar meekness of wisdom, simplicity of statement, power of argument, and cogency of appeal, testified to us the great things of the kingdom of God, so far as he had learned them out of the Holy Scripture. Very instructive and affecting it was, when, as sometimes, the aspiring philosopher, the uncompromising logician, the astute economist, the grave and learned dogmatist, renounced these and all other accomplishments of nature, or rather made them subservient to the greater accomplishments of grace. Then we admired, even to tears of thankfulness, how the wise man, in becoming a fool, becomes truly wise; how he who could be great among his fellows on Mars Hill,—great after the fashion of the Areopagus,—could be greater, after a higher fashion, in declaring the God there Unknown; in repeating simply the lessons of that heavenly wisdom which none of the princes of this world knew; and, with a child-like sincerity and earnestness, from his own sense of the sufficiency of redeeming mercy, inviting us to 'The Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the world.'

"It might seem that one so abstract and speculative, so contemplative and reserved, would naturally be wanting in those sensibilities and affections which are justly reckoned indispensable to the highest excellence of character, and to the happiness, or the relief, of our present state. But appearances do not necessarily represent, but more frequently conceal, realities. I have been permitted to read some of his most familiar letters, which reveal a sunny and cheery side of his character which I had not learned from personal observation. That he had a susceptible and generous heart no man ever doubted. But one must know what he has written to his friends, out of its unperceived fullness, to appreciate those hidden sympathies of his nature which brought him into harmony as well with the outer as the inner world. Few would have a better relish for innocent festivities, or the pleasures of travel, or the grander and finer works of nature or art. Few would be more excited by the sparkle or roar of ocean, the magnificent scenery of Centre Harbor, the sublime panorama of the White Mountains, or the quiet beauties of the Connecticut valley. True, such objects engaged him but for a time. They were not his chief good. He wanted the higher satisfactions of enlarged knowledge, of speculative insight, of reasoning activity, of professional engagement. They were not his work, but his pastime. Yet, when he played, it was with as great enjoyment as any man can have who plays alone, and far greater than they have, or can have, who do naught but play in company, who care for little but sights and sounds, at length sickened and enfeebled by their very tastes, incapable of grave and dignified pursuits, disgusted by their own vanities, remorseful at their own intemperate hilarities, saying, at last, of laughter, 'It is mad, and of mirth, what doth it?' Stoical he may have been, for that belongs, almost of course, to natural magnanimity, and familiarity with large and elevated themes; but ascetic and cynical he was not, and could not have been, with his appreciation of Christian truth, and experience of a Saviour's love.

"The scholar, teacher, preacher, learned, profound, effective, venerable in all relations, has passed away; the good man, regenerate by the grace of God, trusting in the righteousness of Christ, and hoping for salvation only through redeeming blood; the righteous man, stern and inflexible in his integrity, who never dissembled, never professed what he did not feel, never hated, never spoke evil of his neighbor, and could and did say that he was never angry at his brother; the faithful man, who was true to his engagements, kept his post, and, in weariness and painfulness, performed his appointed work till he was struck with death; the husband, father, friend, of whom, in these relations, it were impertinent to speak particularly, while wounded spirits are already telling, too much, how great his value, and how great their loss. He has passed away, dying as he had lived, and taught, and preached,—in faith; peaceful as a little child, and hopeful of that better state where that which is perfect will come, and that which is in part shall be done away."

Professor Long published a sermon before the W. R. Synod in 1847, a discourse on "The Literary Merits of Immoral Books," in the same year, "Inaugural Address at Auburn," in 1858, a sermon in Dartmouth College Church, "Jesus Exalted yet Divine," in 1859, and a memorial sermon on Professor Roswell Shurtleff, in 1861. In 1836, with Professor Gregg, he assumed the editorship of the "Ohio Observer" published at Hudson. In their first address to their readers is this passage: "In relation to the subject of slavery we shall take the high ground that man is man and cannot therefore be treated and used as property without sin, that immediate emancipation is a duty, and that it is therefore the duty of every man to pray and strive in every virtuous way for the abolition of slavery." The last date of an editorial is June, 1837.

Professor Long married Rhoda Ensign, daughter of Alpha Rockwell, of Winsted, Connecticut. He died at Hanover, October 14, 1861.

Propriety forbids more than the briefest reference to a large number of the worthy living, who have been, or who still are numbered among Dartmouth's professors, in the Academical department. Otherwise we might dwell, with profit, upon the name of the able theologian, George Howe; of the eminent linguist, Calvin E. Stowe; of that strong and graceful master of the English, the Latin, and the Greek, Edwin D. Sanborn, who is now just passing the threshold of the "three score and ten," and completing nearly a half century of various and valuable connection with his Alma Mater; of Oliver P. Hubbard, who is still patiently and skillfully unfolding the secrets of science in halls which have echoed his voice for more than forty years; of Samuel G. Brown, the music of whose chaste and charming lectures on Rhetoric still lingers in the ears of a long line of pupils; of Daniel J. Noyes, whose fidelity, courtesy, and kindness in the chairs of Theology and Philosophy have given him a warm place in the hearts of nearly thirty classes; of James W. Patterson, whose pupils have watched the turning of the thoughts of an admired and honored teacher from Natural to Political Science, with unceasing interest, and followed him through the vicissitudes of public service, with undiminished affection; of Charles A. Aiken, the critical and accomplished linguist, whose loss by the college was deemed almost irreparable; of William A. Packard, who, in a kindred department gave early promise of his later success; of Charles A. Young, whose scientific researches have added to the fame of his family, his college, and his country. Nor should the service rendered to the cause of science by Henry Fairbanks and John R. Varney, while professors at Dartmouth, escape our notice.

A proper estimate of the value of the services of those who are now manfully and successfully bearing "the burden and heat of the day," and bidding fair to do so for years to come, in this important field, with its slender pecuniary rewards, of Samuel C. Bartlett, Henry E. Parker, Elihu T. Quimby, Charles H. Hitchcock, John C. Proctor, Charles F. Emerson, and John K. Lord, must be left to a future historian.

The tutor's chair at Dartmouth has been filled by many men of high promise, some going to premature graves, others to what they deemed more inviting fields. Among them we find such names as Calvin Crane, Moses Fiske, Asa McFarland, John Noyes, the value of whose instruction was gratefully acknowledged by Dartmouth's most illustrious son a quarter of a century after his graduation, Thomas A. Merrill, Frederick Hall, Josiah Noyes, Andrew Mack, John Brown, Henry Bond, William White, Rufus W. Bailey, James Marsh, Nathan Welby Fiske, Rufus Choate, Oramel S. Hinckley, John D. Willard, Henry Wood, Ebenezer C. Tracy, Ira Perley, Silas Aiken, Evarts Worcester, Jarvis Gregg, and Samuel H. Taylor. We cannot dwell upon individual merit, nor give even the names of all who have rendered valuable service in this sphere.

The "Indian Charity School," also has had many teachers of distinguished worth. Among them we find such names as Benjamin Trumbull, the historian, to whom we have referred heretofore; Ralph Wheelock, the favorite son of the honored founder, who would doubtless have left to him his official mantle, but for the early failure of his health; James Dean, whose name is indelibly engraven upon the earlier periods of our national history, Jacob Fowler, who well illustrated the value of Christian civilization to the Indian; Caleb Bingham and Elisha Ticknor, whose names are closely interwoven with the educational history of New England's metropolis, Josiah Dunham, Judah Dana, Caleb Butler, William A. Hayes, the intimate and honored friend of Francis Brown, Joseph Perry, John S. Emerson, and Osgood Johnson.