seem to forget that, though all men receive the pure light from heaven, its rays are bent and distorted by the dense medium through which they penetrate. Errors of opinion and errors of practice arise often from the relative position of men, from their education, from their associations. Many an ardent Abolitionist would have held slaves had he been born south of Mason's and Dixon's line; many a soldier would have been a man of peace, had his education been in a theological seminary, or in the family of a Friend. God alone can judge of the relative moral strength of his children. He alone seeth the heart, and looketh to the source of opinion and action. When men sit on his judgmentseat, oh, how fallible and how feeble must be their judgments!

William Ladd, in a great degree, escaped this intolerance. While he boldly declared his opinion, that all war is wrong in the eye of Heaven, that no man who has the spirit of Christ in his heart can fight, he remembered that "in the day of darkness God winketh at the transgressor;" he remembered that there have been warriors who used the battle-axe with an honest, conscientious feeling that they were in the discharge of their duty both to God and to men. He was full of the kindly feelings, even to his opponents, and he commanded respect by the firm, distinct, honest, straight-forward avowal of his "ultraism." He received their reverence, because his soul was so deeply imbued with the meek, and forgiving, and self-sacrificing spirit of the religion he professed. His very childlike gentleness, united with his firm, uncompromising principles, his untiring zeal, and his whole-souled devotion to the truth, drew all hearts toward him.

It was not mere good-nature, but the adoption of the Peace principles, which made him thus gentle-hearted. A story which he often told with peculiar relish, will illustrate this moulding of his character—the gradual progress of his mind in adopting the Peace principles. "I had," said he, "a fine field of grain, growing upon an out-farm at some distance from the homestead. Whenever I rode by I saw my neighbor Pulsifer's sheep in the lot, destroying my hopes of a harvest. These sheep were of the gaunt, long-legged kind, active as spaniels; they could spring over the highest fence, and no partition-wall could keep them out. I complained to neighbor Pulsifer about them, sent him frequent messages, but all without avail. Perhaps they would be kept out for a day or two, but the legs of his sheep were long, and my grain rather more tempting than the adjoining pasture. I rode by again-the sheep were still there; I became angry, and told my men to set the dogs on them, and if that would not do, I would pay them if they would shoot the sheep.

"I rode away much agitated, for I was not so much of a Peace man then as I am now, and I felt literally full of fight. All at once a light flashed in upon me. I asked myself, Would it not be well for you to try in your own conduct the Peace principle you are preaching to others? I thought it all over, and settled down my mind as to the best course to be pursued.

"The next day I rode over to see neighbor Pulsifer. I found him chopping wood at his door. 'Good morning, neighbor.' No answer. 'Good morning,' I repeated. He gave a kind of a grunt like a hog, without looking up. I came,' continued I, 'to see you about the sheep.' At this, he threw down his axe, and exclaimed, in a most angry manner, 'Now aren't you a pretty neighbor, to tell your men to kill my sheep? I heard of it—a rich man like you to shoot a poor man's sheep!'

'

“I was wrong, neighbor,' said I; 'but it won't do to let your sheep eat up all that grain; so I came over to say that I would take your sheep to my homestead pasture, and put them in with mine, and in the fall you may take them back, and if any one is missing, you may take your pick out of my whole flock.'

"Pulsifer looked confounded he did not know how to take me. At last he stammered out, 'Now, Squire, are you in earnest ?' 'Certainly I am,' I answered; 'it is better for me to feed your sheep in my pasture on grass, than to feed them here on grain; and I see the fence can't keep them out.'

"After a moment's silence

'The sheep shan't trouble you any more,' exclaimed Pulsifer. 'I will fetter them all. But I'll let you know that when any man talks of shooting, I can shoot too; and when they are kind and neighborly, I can be kind too.' The sheep never again trespassed on my lot. And.my friends," he would continue, addressing the audience, "remember that when you talk of injuring your neighbors, they will talk of injuring you. When nations threaten to fight, other nations will be ready too. Love will beget love; a wish to be at peace will keep you in peace. You can only overcome evil with good. There is no other way."

We have heard it imputed as a fault in William Ladd, that he was in his discourses too much inclined to create the laugh ; that his exuberant flow of spirits, his ready fund of anecdote, often tempted him from the dignity of his subject. But they who make this imputation do not understand the springs of human nature. To many minds the facts, the outside bearing, the personal illustration, are essential. They would see the result of opinions in action. They would practically test the principle. Besides, the way to reach the heart is first to arrest the atten

tion, and establish a sympathy with the hearer,

more readily

done perhaps by the pleasant story than by the soundness of logic. If his humor and playfulness at times overcame the sobriety of the temple, his frequent pathos, and his powerful appeals to the sympathies of his audience, carried them away captive to his eloquence. If at times some simple, colloquial, humorous strain came from his lips, it was sure to be followed by an appeal that shook the stoutest heart, and none left the meeting without having fixed upon his mind "the old man eloquent."

We now advert to another trait of his character. We hardly wish to call it enthusiasm, for that is fitful. It was a compound of tenacity of purpose, and a buoyancy of spirit which resulted in his keeping, year after year, distinctly before his view his great object, and pursuing it with an unwavering confidence that he should be ultimately successful. Though he keenly felt the cold sneer, the biting sarcasm, the undisguised contempt which often met his early efforts, these had only the effect to bring his mind up to a more vigorous wrestle with the prejudices of the times. Some years since he asked an assembled association of ministers in New Hampshire liberty to address them on the claims of the Peace Movement. The body unwillingly assented, and granted him a few minutes only. He spoke, but hardly had he warmed with his subject, when, the time expiring, he was abruptly and unfeelingly stopped with an unfinished sentence on his lips. He sat down, covered his eyes with his hand, the tears streaming down his cheeks, and his lips quivering with emotion. His feelings were disregarded, and the body commenced a discussion on the wants of the Foreign Missionary Society. How did our philanthropist bear this unkindness? There was no manifestation of anger. He returned good for evil. After his emotion had in some degree subsided, he arose and addressed the moderator. "Sir, I have only one child; I love her dearly, though her kindly spirit, her heavenly beauty, are not appreciated or seen by many. I have educated her, I have exerted myself for her success, I have devoted myself to her good. Sir, this child of my love is the American Peace Society. For her and in her name I wish to make a donation for Foreign Missions. Make the American Peace Society a life member of the Missionary Society, and may God speed your efforts for good." He then retired.

We mention this characteristic anecdote to show that it was not from want of feeling that he could withstand the trials to which all are exposed who war against the prejudices of the times. These trials came thick and heavy upon him, especially in the commencement of his career. They who seek only to re

vive once cherished sentiments, which have but just ceased to hold sway, or they who strive to kindle still brighter the zeal already glowing, cannot appreciate the trial to a sensitive mind to pour out itself to an unwilling ear-to utter thoughts against which the public mind is closed almost impenetrably-to keep up its zeal where a reluctant audience of some half a dozen is before the speaker. This is a trial of faith hard to be borne, but from which he never suffered himself to shrink. "When on the

eve of delivering his first lectures on Peace in the city of New York, some of his strongest friends dissuaded him even from making an effort, and told him he could not get an audience on that subject; but he replied, with a mixture of decision and humor quite characteristic, that 'he would go if he could get a single person to hear him, and the sexton to snuff the candles.' He went, but the lecture-room was so retired, and the night so dark and rainy, that the sexton, supposing nobody would come in such weather, had locked the door and pocketed the key. Nothing daunted, the man of Peace contrived to get into the room; and by the aid of those whom he had had the precaution to take with him for hearers, he delivered his first lecture on Peace in that emporium of America. Then and there, has he often said, was the American Peace Society born."*

This tenacity of purpose was not the mere rising up of the energies of the man to overcome obstacles. It was not in the moment of excitement a spasmodic action to meet occasional exigencies. It was a settled purpose, ever present to him, ever stimulating him to new efforts. It was year in and year out, day by day, the framework of his spirit, rousing him to meet and destroy every barrier to his progress; and when the road was opened it gave him a rapid advance-as the same force of the winds which tears the ship from the grappling irons of the foe, will bear her onward swiftly over the free ocean. This tenacity of purpose resulted in untiring industry, the devotion of all his time, talents, learning, property, to the one great object, and made him cry out, "Oh, God! give me a few more years, if it be thy will, that I may do something more for my Master, the Prince of Peace." It was this self-devotion that enabled him the last few months of his life to travel over the State of New York, weak and sick, in dead of winter, by every means of conveyance, through cross-roads, in open wagons, his heavy frame disordered, his legs barely able to sustain his weight, conversing and lecturing, and when so weak that he could no longer stand

Vol. X., No. XLV.-28

Beckwith's Eulogy.

in the pulpit, kneeling down, and in that painful posture to speak with force, and energy, and eloquence for hours.

We now come to the main-spring of his efforts. It was unquestionably a religious sense of duty. He was emphatically a pious man. Not a Pharisee, not a sectarian, not a selfish devotee, seeking his own salvation merely, like many, holding intercourse with God, as if a special grace could come to bless his isolated soul. His faith was the faith which springs from love to God and to man; and though from conviction he joined the orthodox Congregational church, and was during the few last years of his life a licensed minister of that denomination, he cut himself off from communion with none. He seemed too much imbued with the spirit of Christianity to need the entrenchments of sect as a guard to his creed. He believed that the peculiar feature of the revelation by Jesus was the abandonment of the old dispensation —an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth-and the establishment of the reign of peace and righteousness upon earth; that the divine characteristic of his blessed Master was the forgiveness of enemies, the willingness to sacrifice even his life for them. And he looked forward to the time when Christians should no longer defile this faith of love with contentions for their own personal advantage, no longer soil the pure white dove with blood-stains, no longer, as if in mockery, drag the banner of the Cross into the battle-field, to wave in triumph over the destruction of those whom they are commanded to love. It was this faith which so refined his spirit, that upon the pure metal was reflected the countenance of the refiner.

If at any time he felt rising within him a spirit of denunciation, a harshness of feeling, it was when he spoke of the mingling of God and Belial by the prayers of the Christian pastor in the camp or in the battle-ship. "To pray," said he, "to a God of Peace, through the self-sacrificing Prince of Peace, for aid to do that for which the pirate and assassin is hung,-for the priest to stand up and bless those on whom God has fastened a curse, and to curse those on whom He has pronounced a blessing,-to proclaim that the command to do good to all men is repealed, abrogated, of no effect, that to rob and murder are no sins, because the leader has a piece of parchment as a commission so to do,—God pardon them, and give me the feelings with which I should look upon my brother sinners !”

He was asked once, What is the most efficient argument for peace? He replied, "The Gospel argument. That is irresistible to those who profess to be followers of the Lamb; and for those who do not, it is effectual too; more so than anything else." And