the views of even evangelical German authors. He spoke to one of his pupils with great disapprobation of Neander's opinions on Inspiration, and always called De Wette Dr. Dubitans. Speaking of the style of Baumgarten Crucius, he said it was "a series of unutterable abominations."

In his letter on the study of the German language, addressed to Rev. Dr. Sears, then the editor of the Christian Review, he says, referring to the publication of his letters to Channing: "Soon after the success of this pamphlet I was journeying a small distance with my excellent colleague, Rev. Dr. Porter. He took occasion to express the satisfaction he had enjoyed in the success of the pamphlet in terms which it would not be proper for me to repeat. I thanked him for his kind and generous feelings, and then added, looking him fully and tenderly in the face, "What if I had followed the advice of my friends, and abstained from all pursuit of German study? Could I have written this pamphlet?" His eye glistened with feeling, and he frankly answered, without a moment's hesitation, "No you could not. You are in the right in this matter, and your friends in the wrong. Take your own way in the future."

Professor Stuart craved sympathy in whatever he enjoyed. If he was interested in a new book, he wanted every body he cared for to read it. When he was pleased with a sermon, he would look around to meet the eyes of a pew-neighbor, who he knew would appreciate it, with an expression of animation and pleasure which told as plainly as words his opinion of the ser

mon.

He was very sensitive to the weather, and specially abhorred March, and the spring east winds, the Euroclydon, as he called them. The winter of 1825-6 was very pleasant, and a friend said to him, "We are having a delightful winter." "Yes, but we shall have a most awful March."

Near the close of March the same friend said, "Sir, your prediction has not come to pass"-" No, but we shall have a most tremendous April!" April was genial, and his friend joked him about the failure of his prophecies-"Ah, well, you may depend we shall not escape so; we shall take it in May!"

No matter what were the ails of other people, he had had a similar trouble only in an aggravated form. In answer to some

inquiries, a gentleman told him that he suffered intensely with pain in the head and teeth. "Ah," said he, "when you have suffered from the Tic as I do, you will begin to know what pain is." The gentleman had a terrible neuralgia. One day when he inquired after the health of a lady, she told him she was afraid she should soon become deaf, she was troubled with a roaring in her ears. "Humph," said he; "I've had Niagara in my ears these twenty years!"

Many years ago, a considerable number of ministers remained in Andover for a day, after the close of the anniversary exercises, for the purpose of discussing in an amicable way the difference between the Old and the New School theologians. The meeting was held in Dr. Porter's study. Professor Stuart had an engagement which obliged him to leave the meeting before its close. While he was hastily putting on his cloak, some one said to him, "Brother Stuart, do you believe that children are sinners as soon as they are born?" "Yes, and before too," was the petulant reply.

It was often remarked that Mr. Stuart would die nobly at the stake, but he could not bear the bite of a fly.

A blundering sort of a man, who had a high opinion of his own theological knowledge, was sawing wood one morning when Mr. Stuart passed. He said "One word, Professor Stuart!" Mr. Stuart paused and the man said "I understand that you say Paul wrote the 7th chapter of Romans before he was converted; is it true?" "No!" said he, and walked on.

One of Mr. Stuart's pupils mentions that a distinguished Universalist preacher once proposed to hold a controversy with him on the doctrine of universal salvation. He spoke of the circumstance to his class, and said, "I would as soon accept a challenge from an ostler to stand on opposite sides of a mudpuddle and see which could spatter the other most, by throwing in stones." Although he was so much engaged in study, and the duties of his professorship were so absorbing, he was a thoughtful and kind neighbor. A minister's widow says, "How many times, after I was established in Andover, has he sent me a basket of early vegetables from his well-cultivated garden, or a basket of peaches from his favorite tree, or a dish of rasp berries, or a piece of meat from his own fatted calf, or invited

me to send up my children to climb the trees and eat cherries. He would come in once in a while, as he returned from his walk, to ask how I was getting along; and then he would advise me about my trees, or my garden, or about the purchase of my wood. The expression of kindly interest was the thing that cheered and helped me. He won the love of my children by his affectionate greeting when they met him in the street. He was never too much absorbed in thought to say, 'Good morning, my child; how is your mother to-day?' These minor charities, which cost little, are a great sweetness of life."

He did not think it beneath him to inquire of a poor washerwoman, as she passed him, whether she was getting a tolerable living, and to offer to obtain a kind of soap that would diminish her labor. When she heard the bell toll announcing his death, she exclaimed, "The dear gentleman, how kind he was to me!" The common people in Andover, the farmers, laborers, and mechanics were interested in him. Many of them loved him, and many an one, especially among the aged people, would have some characteristic anecdote to relate of him. The affectionate regard shown throughout the community at the time he died was very significant.

During the two last years of Professor Stuart's life, he suffered intensely at times from the peculiar state of his nervous system. The note book of one who often read to him, at this period, gives some graphic outlines of his conversation. "Meeting him on the street this morning, he said, 'Well, you see what you are coming to.' I replied, 'How is your health now, sir?' 'Oh, bad enough! I am on my last legs; not that I think I shall die immediately, but I have nothing left-no strength to resist disease. My disorder being of a nervous character, and taking no specific form, we cannot tell when to expect the end. But my sufferings are dreadful, a crucifixion every day! During my journey to Syracuse, for five nights I did not sleep more than three hours. That seemed to put the finishing stroke to the matter.' 'Well, sir, you have the satisfaction of knowing that you have done a good work for the church, and that is every thing.' 'I hope so, and if I can do nothing more, by writing or teaching, I do not wish to live. My only desire is that it may please Heaven to abridge my sufferings in crossing the river. I seem destined to

go over a cataract. But it is not for us to call in question, much less to dictate.' I added, 'Paul's confidence in God's grace will answer for every Christian.' 'Oh if I can have that, I ask no more. I hope I shall.' * * * * I inquired after his health as I entered the study. Thank you, sir, I am approaching slowly, but I fear surely the house appointed for all living. This weather has given me a wound which makes me feel sensibly nearer the finale.'"

When reading Layard's account of the discoveries in the ruins of Nineveh, he exclaimed, "Oh how I want sometimes to be young again! but I shall soon be where I shall acquire knowledge faster." When reading Prof. H. B. Smith's Review of Dorner in the Bibliotheca Sacra, "Oh how it makes my bones ache to think I shall never see that third volume, as I probably never shall! but then I hope soon to be where I shall know more than he does."

An extract from a letter written by Dr. Lyman Beecher furnishes a fitting close of these reminiscences. "The reading of the funeral sermon at the interment of Brother Stuart has made this a forenoon of tender reminiscences. It has made the grave where Jesus slept for me less dreary, and heaven, where he reigns, more glorious than any visions of the past. Time would fail, and flesh, and heart, to dwell on all our joyful meetings of the friends of God, and our friends who have gone before us. But if the stars are so effulgent in anticipation, what must the Triune Sun be in the unity of its constellated glories! Oh glorious hour, oh blest abode! The sermon was, perhaps, written in haste, but so much the better. It is sublimely superlative in its tenderness and fullness of feeling and majesty of just eulogy, and honest impartiality in the recognition of defects, which, while they depress, do raise him immeasurably higher. That such an one should have done so great and noble a work, renders him a benefactor of his country and the world. I greatly desired to be present at his funeral, having been blest all my days with a thankful heart, instead of an envious one, for all the noble, successful laborers of my day. How happy the world where boundless benevolent action will not tire, nor

sin mar, nor exhausted time, nor crippled age, intermit our glorious communion."

ARTICLE VIII.-MR. MORLEY'S "VOLTAIRE" AND

"ROUSSEAU."

Voltaire. By JOHN MORLEY. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1872. 12mo, pp. 354.

Rousseau. By JOHN MORLEY. Two volumes. London: Chapman & Hall. 1873. 8vo, pp. 344, 342.

Books like these, whose titles we place at the head of this Article, are not written without a purpose. Accordingly, we are in no way surprised to find that the object of all this eloquent and elaborate criticism is no less than to assert the claims of Voltaire and Rousseau to be recognized as the two great apostles of the Religion of the Brotherhood of Humanity.

We need hardly say that the Brotherhood of Humanity is no new faith. It was announced to the world in connection with the early days of the French Revolution; when, according to the sanguine anticipations of its disciples, it was expected that it would not only chase away speedily the numberless superstitions which had become associated with Christianity, but rise on the ruins of all theistic belief, and offer to the religious aspirations of the advanced thought and feeling of modern times something final-something which no subsequent scepticism could make doubtful, and which all future discoveries in science should only serve to make more worthy of confidence.

It will be remembered that the first triumphs of this religion. were marked by the dedication in Paris of a "Pantheon," in which the mortal remains of the two men who had done the most to prepare the way for the new order of things, after having been exhumed and transported "with the roar of cannon, the crash of trumpet and drum, and the wild acclamation of a populace gone mad in exultation, terror, fury," were deposited with due solemnity, that they might prove there a solace and encouragement for mankind throughout all its subsequent generations. Then the days of reaction came. The disciples