in recounting the story, finished by saying, "You see he knew all about farming matters and the country so well, that I thought he was a farmer, and one of us, and had been telling him all sorts of trash about myself. But when I heered him called Judge Story, I felt jest as if I could have slinked through the leetlest keyhole in the univarse."

His spirit was gay and happy, and his temper amiable. No sting of sarcasm ever lurked in his language. He was always sympathetic, never disputative or antagonistic. What the Germans call "gemüthlichkeit," a word for which there is no English expression, peculiarly belonged to him. There was a sweet attractiveness in all he said and did, which won by a secret charm, and his face and speech had an inward light like Titian's pictures. Of his conversation nothing remains, and it is hopeless to attempt to convey an idea of the evanescent gleams of humor, feeling and grace that glowed through it. I have been able to preserve only a few illustrations of it.

Mr. Everett, in a note to me dated September 1st, 1851, gives the following anecdote :

"At the dinner at Salem in honor of good old Dr. Holyoke's birth day in 1828, your father, who did the duties of the chair for Dr. Holyoke, held up some ancient relics to the company, and among them an earthen jug, which he said 'had come over with Governor Endicott.' I interrupted him with the question, Whether it came over full or empty.' Your father answered, without a moment's hesitation, 'Both full and empty; for the moment it was filled it was emptied, and the moment it was emptied it was filled again; and that was the way it came over.'"

N. J. Bowditch, Esq., in a letter to me, says of my father,

"I recollect perfectly seeing him at the church on the last commencement week which he attended. His animated countenance and cheerful smile seem still before me. I was told, that as he was leaving the church in the rain, he noticed one of the Governor's aids, who seemed to shrink from exposing himself, and playfully tapping him on the shoulder, he said, 'What, a soldier, and aféard.'"

His niece, Miss E. A. Story, describing a few days spent at our house, says,

"We had a most delightful visit.

The Judge was so

sunny and chatty and attentive, that we prized every moment passed there. He would praise his ham regularly at breakfast as 'right honest ham,' and offer it to us saying, 'I will cut you a slice so thin that you can read a newspaper through it, and so transparent that through it you might see Ossian's witches dancing, as he saw them through the moonbeams.' 999

On one occasion, when my father was travelling to Washington in company with Mr. Greenleaf, the coach stopped in the evening at a little roadside inn for the purpose of baiting the horses. The passengers descended, and entering the bar-room, where were collected the hangers-on of the place, seated themselves around the stove to wait till the coach should be ready. While they were thus waiting, an old negro, with a shining, ebony face, came in, bringing his fiddle, which, in hopes of gaining a few pence, he began to play. Pas

sengers and loungers at once catching the spirit of the fiddle, got up a dance, and shuffled up and down the sanded floor, while the fiddler grinned in anticipation of his pence, and played faster and faster. Suddenly the coach was announced, and at once all the dancers hurried off without taking any heed of the fiddler, or paying him a cent for the amusement he had given. My father, however, observed this, and after watching him sitting alone chopfallen and disconsolate in the corner, until all were gone but Mr. Greenleaf and himself, went up to him and putting a much larger sum into his hands than the poor negro had hoped from all, said to him: "My friend, it used to be the rule that 'he who dances must pay the fiddler,' but as the case seems to be reversed here, I suppose that those who don't dance must pay, 'or what will become of the fiddler?""

Chancellor Kent, in a letter to me dated May 26th, 1846, says,

"I was always (and it could not well have been otherwise) charmed with Judge Story's affability, exuberance of learning, and unaccountable powers of conversation. I recollect I was deeply and wonderfully struck, when, in 1836, I went with Mrs. Kent and some others to call on him, and he took us over the romantic and sacred grounds of Mount Auburn, and poured forth the rich profusion of his poetical and eloquent genius and impassioned and pathetic feelings with a force and beauty that never were surpassed. I can never forget that ramble."

He never assumed the airs of a great man; never played Sir Oracle; but was simple, unostentatious, and even naïve in his manners and habits. He was not

afraid of being thought undignified, for he had in him that true dignity, which can afford to leave out of consideration the petty formalities and fashions of an artificial dignity. In the best and highest sense of the word, he was a gentleman, a Christian gentleman, — whose courtesy was bred of kind feelings, and not of artificial rules. His manners were bland, affable, and engaging, neither severe nor trifling, neither coarse nor flattering, but genuine and frank.

"He joined

Each office of the social hour

To noble manners, as the flower
And native growth of noble mind."

His kindness of feeling extended to all persons, and he was, therefore, always polite. To dumb creatures he was kind and considerate, and indignant at any ill usage of them. His sportive nature showed itself in the nicknames, which, in parody of the American fondness of titles, he gave to his horses and dogs; as, "The Right Honorable Mr. Mouse," or "Colonel Roy.".

His kindness and affability to the young were very great. He had a singular faculty of attracting them. He entered into all their feelings and interests and pleasures, with sympathy. When in their company, he was not only among them, but of them. He delighted to jest and play at wit and raillery with them, to tease them good-naturedly about their flirtations and sentimentalities, and was always inventing some surprise or new plan for their amusement. He was always a favorite with them. They flocked round him wherever he went, and, daily, he might be seen about the College, the centre of a circle of

youths, laughing and joking and talking with infinite

zest.

In his religious tenets, he was a Unitarian. He thought more of a good life than a creed, and judged of man's faith by the fruits it bore. He was wholly free from sectarianism, bigotry, and proselytism. He never sought to shake the belief of any man in his own dogmas, believing them to be the mere metaphysics, not the realities of religion. He was desirous that Christians of all denominations should be represented in the University at Cambridge, and that the question as to their appointment should be in respect to their qualifications, not to their creed. He believed in the inspiration and the doctrines of Christ, in the immortality of the soul, in the unity of God, and he often intimated a design to write a work, in which the rules of legal evidence should be applied to the facts of the Gospel narration, and the question of its authenticity argued as before a court of justice. His religious faith was not a dry and barren belief, but an ever-living principle, animating every act and thought. In his bereavements, he found in it consolation and support. In his happiness, it was never out of sight. He lived a truly religious life. He died in the full faith of a renewed and purified existence beyond the grave.