for the loan of a manuscript; but he uniformly declined the former, and rarely consented to the latter. However, to oblige one of his devoted friends, Mr. Jackson,- who was a candle-maker, and often made him the gift of a box of candles,— urging the favor of an interchange of light,—he occasionally consented to the request. A female domestic once surreptitiously secreted a manuscript sermon of his under the carpet in his study, which was copied, and then replaced.

Dr. Holley was a fine mechanical genius. Calling, one time, on his bootmaker, one Mr. Barker,- to settle an account, he offered the man a fifty-dollar bill to be exchanged, who directly sent a boy to obtain small bills for it; on which, Dr. Holley forthwith seated himself on the bench, stitching a shoe with ready facility. The bootmaker jocosely remarked to the divine that he ought to pay for the use of the block. After paying his bill, Dr. Holley very pleasantly threw a piece of silver on the bench, and politely withdrew from the shop. This incident is worthy of Mather Byles, his witty predecessor.

On the 22d December, 1817, Dr. Holley delivered the anniversary discourse on the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers at Plymouth; and Thacher, in the History of Plymouth, relates that the well-known oratorical powers of Dr. Holley were exerted in the happiest manner, and afforded great delight and satisfaction to his numerous auditors. He contemplated the scenery about our harbor, our burial-hill, and the rock; and held a conversation with Dea. Spooner, in the morning, which roused the best energies of his nature, and nerved his faculties to their noblest display. In the discourse, he observed that he had that morning received some new recollections, and made the following allusion to the venerable Dea. Spooner: "Our venerable friend knew and conversed with Elder Faunce, who personally knew the first settlers so Polycarp conversed with St. John, the beloved disciple of our Saviour." On this occasion, Dea. Spooner officiated by reading the Psalm in the ancient form, line by line,—and thus closed the religious services of this venerable man, who for so many years had constantly been seen in the "deacon's seat" in the sanctuary of God, and who died March 22, 1818, in the eighty-third year of his age.

In 1818 Dr. Holley was elected president of Transylvania University, in Lexington, Kentucky. This passage from the golden ore of Holley, brilliant as the hues of the rainbow, is gleaned from his funeral eulogy over the remains of Col. James Morrison, the most munificent benefactor of this university, printed at Lexington, in 1823:

"When I look over the history of the public institutions of our country, especially of those devoted to the great cause of education,- I find among their donors, their patrons, the founders of professorships, the names of those who have been most distinguished for their patriotism, their liberal opinions, their services to the state, and their effective philanthropy. Washington, Adams, Franklin, Rumford, and Dexter, among a host of others less distinguished, might be mentioned, as a few of that glorious class of American benefactors and philanthropists to which Morrison has so honorably added his name. Not many have surpassed him in the extent of their munificence, and most are left far behind.

-

"It deserves to be noted that the venerable sage of Monticello, after having spent years as a diplomatist abroad, after having witnessed and enjoyed the diversified resources of a European life,— after being raised to the highest honors of his country, and crowned with the wreath of imperishable glory, after having drank at the fountains of enjoyment in almost every mode of existence, has at last devoted himself, with the ardor of a young enthusiast, and with the perseverance of a veteran in philanthropy, to the most glorious of all the public enterprises of Virginia, the establishment, completion and endowment, of her State university. What an example is this to illustrate the usefulness of age, the dignity of retirement, the results of experience, the worth of human nature, the value of mind, and an effectual honorable preparation for eternity! The patriot, scholar and philanthropist, of Quincy, too, finds no appropriation of the gifts of fortune so dear to his heart, in the frosts of age and on the verge of the grave, as that which lays a foundation for the permanent union of literature, philosophy, and religion. What a spectacle for European potentates to behold is thus furnished by the plain but enlightened and truly noble servants of our republic, in private life! What a contrast do these benefactions for the best of all purposes exhibit to the bloodstained career of mad ambition; to the selfish, haughty, and cruel doctrines of legitimacy; to the luxuries, debaucheries, effeminacy, and decapitations, of too many of the crowned pageants that glitter through a short and oppressive reign, and are known afterwards only for their want of capacity, usefulness, and virtue! O, my country! long mayst thou boast of thy free institutions, thy equal laws, thy simple manners, thy hardy and independent spirit, thy active patriots, and thy honored statesmen,- not only in public but in private life."

The above production, together with a review of Ely's Contrast of Hopkinsianism and Calvinism, an article in the Western Review, and a few articles embraced in the memoir of his life, are nearly all that remain of his mental efforts. The most successful result of the genius of Gilbert Stuart was the portrait of Horace Holley, finished in 1818, on the day when he left Boston for his elevated station in the west. It was executed for James Barker, Esq., one of his parishioners. Stuart was so delighted with the painting, that he exclaimed to Mr. Barker, "I never wish to paint him again. This is the only picture I ever painted that I have no desire to alter; I am entirely satisfied with it." A friend conversing with Sprague, the poet, regarding this inimitable likeness, advised him to go and see it, for it was worth a pilgrimage of five miles on foot. Sprague replied, "I will go and see it." Our poet remarked that he was not accustomed to speak of handsome men, "but I will say that Horace Holley was a man of great personal masculine beauty." When he ascended the pulpit, in his flowing gown, and, assuming the air and attitude of the orator, bold and expressive, threw his eyes around him on the gazing audience, the scene itself was eloquent. "His voice was mellow, rich, and silver-toned, thrilling at times," says Caldwell, in the eulogium, "with the very essence of melody." His enunciation was clear, distinct, and aptly varied. His manner was graceful and animated, and his action was so effective that the whole audience would be irresistibly overpowered. Holley was, as one remarked, a sun in the firmament of pulpit eloquence, at whose appearance "all the constellations pass away, and make no noise." His widow graphically said of him, in the beautiful memoir which she published, that "he had clear and bright, yet expressive, black eyes. His hair, in his youth, was black, fine, and silky. As he advanced in life, it gradually retreated from his fair, polished forehead, until but a remnant was left upon one of the most classic heads ever displayed to view." What Holley once remarked of Whitefield well applies to himself, that he has left his fame to rest upon the record of his own personal eloquence; and it may be safely asserted that Stillman and Holley were the most eloquent pastors that ever graced the Boston pulpit

President Holley resigned the oversight of the university in 1827, with the expectation of an invitation to a new church in Boston. On his passage from New Orleans to New York, he died of the yellow fever, July 31, 1827, at the early age of forty-six years. His widow

has proved her devotion to the memory of her husband more affectingly than if she had mingled his ashes in her cup, said one, and drank them, to keep his remains ever near her heart. How exquisitely pathetic is her burning narrative of his last moments at sea! "Rest and quietness were out of the question," says Mrs. Holley; "a still, dark room, a bed of suitable dimensions, with constant and careful attendants,- any one circumstance included in the word home, had been more than luxury. Let those who would learn the full meaning of that dearest of all names experience a distressing, paralyzing illness at sea, and they will know its full import. Hitherto, no one had expressed a fear of dangerous disease on board, so little do we feel and understand impending evil. It now became calm, and there was time and opportunity to attend to the suffering and helpless. The danger of Dr. Holley's situation became too apparent. His eyes were half closed -- his mind wandering. The same medicines were repeated, the doses doubled, and all other means of relief applied, which the kind-hearted, though unskilled,, in their goodness could command. The disease, which in its early stages might, perhaps, have been checked, had now acquired force and strength, and soon triumphed over one of the finest constitutions, as well as most brilliant of intellects. The fifth of the disease, and the thirty-first of the month, was the fatal day.

"The sun rose in all the brightness and intense heat of a tropical region. It was a dead calm. Not a breath of air skimmed the surface of the sea, or fanned the burning brow of the sufferer. The writer of this article, who still lay in silent anguish a speechless spectator of the scene, expected, while conscious of anything but distress, to be the next victim; and who, losing at times all sense of suffering in the womanish feeling occasioned by the circumstance of there not being a female hand to perform the last sad offices of humanity, has a confused recollection of horror of the solemn looks of the passengers pacing to and fro upon the deck; of a deathlike stillness, broken by groans and half-uttered sentences; and of a little, soft voice trying to soothe the last moments, and to interpret the last accents, of his dying parent. All this she heard, without sense enough to request to be carried to the spot, or to realize that it meant death. When the groans and spasms had ceased, it seemed to be only a release from pain-a temporary sleep. When all was hushed, and the report of pistols and the fumes of burning tar announced the fatal issue, trusting in that divine Being into whose presence she expected soon to be ushered,— believing, as far

as reflection had exercise, that the separation was but for a little space, -she heard with the firmness of despair, and with silent awe, the parting waters receive the scarce breathless form of him who had been her pride and boast, as he had been the admiration of all to whom he was known,— his winding-sheet a cloak, his grave the wide ocean, his monument the everlasting Tortugas! All this she heard, and lives." The lament of his lonely and devoted widow will ever affect the heart of sympathy:

"O! had he lived to reach his native land,

And then expired, I would have blessed the strand;

But where my husband lies I may not lie.

I cannot come, with broken heart, to sigh

O'er his loved dust, and strew with flowers his turf;

His pillow hath no cover but the surf:

I may not pour the soul-drop from mine eye
Near his cold bed; he slumbers in the wave.

O! I will love the sea, because it is thy grave."

LEMUEL SHAW.

JULY 4, 1815. FOR THE TOWN AUTHORITIES.

IN the admirable performance of Chief Justice Shaw, we find an explanation of the opposition of a powerful party amongst us to the last war with Great Britain, and a magnanimous and prompt concession that the contest has strengthened the bonds of our political union : "We rejoice in the belief that the danger which we once feared from the ascendency of French power, and the more contaminating influence of French principles, is forever removed. The secret spell, which seemed to bind us in willing chains to the conqueror's car, is forever broken. No sophistry can again deceive us into a belief that the cause of Bonaparte is the cause of social rights, or create a momentary sympathy between the champion of despotism and the friends of civil liberty.

"One of the most alarming points of view in which the sincere opponents of the late war with England regarded that measure was, that it tended to cement and perpetuate that dangerous and disgraceful