ous quartz, it yields its gold only when it is crushed to powder. But it was, after all, the unconscious tuition which Mr. Hammond gave, that was most valuable. It is with the teacher as with the

orator; his power lies not in precept and system, or in method and learning, but in "the man, the subject, and the occasion," and even the subject and the occasion may be tame and powerless without a man to improve them. It was the "felt presence" of which Mr. Cady speaks, and which all of you who knew him well have realized, which gave him his greatest distinction. And when you hear from those who have prospered in all the walks of life from the impulse that he gave them, when you have seen them, as some of you have, come from far and near to weep at his grave, you can have no difficulty in understanding why the tenth legion was so strongly attached to Cæsar.

The connection of Mr. Hammond with this association demands a more extended notice than I have given it, or than the remaining time will permit. He was, we have seen, one of its constituent members, and he was then in the prime of his early manhood. He was just beginning his second term of service at Monson. In the second year of our history I find his name in the list of officers, and there it continued in some grade of service in numberless regular and special committees until his death. He served the usual term of two years as your president. In 1847, at your third annual meeting, he first addressed you in a formal lecture which was published in the first volume of your Transactions and also in the New Englander. In speaking of his labors in this body there are two facts that should not be overlooked. In the first place he belonged to a class of teachers who, though always cordially welcomed, have not always been earnest coöperators in our associated work. But Mr. Hammond stoutly maintained that the incorporated academies of Massachusetts were public schools, and it was to him not only a pleasure, but a duty which he owed to his position to appear among us, labor with us, and occasionally, when things did not go to suit him, to give us a good castigation, which he always did so well, that like good children we felt much happier when it was all over, and we always had the good sense to see that we richly deserved it. I do not mean that Mr. Hammond ever displayed any plantation manners among us, for there cannot be found on the long roll of our membership the name of a more truly modest man; yet in the earnestness of.debate and in the

conflict of opinions, "the genial current of his soul" would sometime" swell into a noble rage," in which there was no taint of angry passion, but in which the qualities of his great nature appeared to the best advantage. He corrected us, and we gave him reverence. He was a frequent debater, never a declaimer, and he was always listened to with the attention and respect due to him as a man and a scholar. He never spoke to advertise himself, or to hear himself talk, but from the interest which he felt in the subject of debate and because he had something to say. Few of our members could speak from as wide a range of experience as well as of acquired knowledge. He was much more than the mere classical teacher. For seven years of his life he had spent a goodly portion of his time in teaching a district school, that great revealer of character; for years he served on the school committee of a large town, and there was no grade of school, from the primary to the professional, with which he had not had much personal experience as pupil, teacher, or supervisor. Add to this that he was a close student of methods and systems, that he gathered into his library everything upon education that came within his reach, and you have an educator whose loss in a body like this cannot easily be supplied.

In the second place we should not forget the expense of time and money requisite for the service which he gave us for thirtythree years. To most of us, attendance upon directors' or committee meetings, means a ride in the horse or steam cars of fifteen or twenty minutes, a couple of hours in the committee meeting, an early return home, a complacent conscience, and an uninjured purse. With Dr. Hammond, at the distance of ninety miles, attendance meant a ride of four miles to Palmer, two or three hours' sleep at the station, and the rest of the night in the car, to say nothing of fare and board, and this often repeated the next night, and the regular work in school following upon two sleepless nights. The Albany Railroa I am sure must appreciate the service which he has rendered us, whether we do or not. More than this, when subscriptions of five or ten dollars were called for, as was not unfrequently the case, no purse was opened sooner than Dr. Hammond's. We have scarcely had a member more loyal to the great purposes for which this association was founded. If measures were adopted which he did not approve, if theories seemed to prevail in which he had no faith, be still maintained his loyalty to the cause.

Defeat did not dishearten, nor victory unduly elate him. His convictions were too strong, and his opinions too well considered, to be shaken by an adverse majority. Many of his warmest friends were those who often disagreed with him in discussion and voting. This very collision and opposition of thought and opinion brought clearly to view qualities which could not fail to command respect and love.

Edward Young, the poet of the "Night Thoughts," tells us that "the Christian is the highest style of man," and this crowning element was not wanting in Dr. Hammond's character. He was an ordained clergyman of the Trinitarian Congregational Church, and not unfrequently officiated in the pulpits of that denomination with great acceptance. Several of his sermons have been published. It is not unlikely that it would have been better for his fame had he become a pastor instead of a preceptor. There was, however, a strange timidity that seemed to baffle his first efforts which he found great difficulty in mastering. He seemed utterly unconscious (as I learn from his classmate and life-long friend, Dr. Tarbox) of the advantages which he possessed in his rich voice, his superior presence, and powerful pen. There is scarcely a pulpit in the land that would not have sought his ministrations after a few years' exercise of his natural and acquired powers. He should have remembered that Robert Hall's first appearances in the pulpit were utter failures; that Woodfall told Sheridan, after his first speech in the House of Commons, that he had better not try it again; that Daniel Webster said that he got along very well at school with everything except declamation, and that he never could do; and he never did, though he made some very good speeches. But let us not criticise or complain; the pulpit's loss has been the schoolroom's gain. The bashful young clergyman, unable to face an audience to his satisfaction, has infused the sacred fire into hundreds of young minds now filling the pulpit, pleading at the bar, or swaying from the platform delighted thousands who hang upon their lips. It is pleasant to notice that Dr. Hammond was the first to predict the great eminence of his early classmate, holds, in the estimation of many, the first pulpit, the Rev. Dr. Storrs, of Brooklyn.

nearly he might have come to an honorable

that divine who now place in the American He little thought how rivalry with him.

But I do not mean to rest Dr. Hammond's claim to the Christian character upon any ceremony of ordination or upon any doubt

ful apostolical succession. He was priest by the imposition of a mightier hand than council, synod, or prelate have ever imposed. When we summoned him, as we sometimes did, to officiate as our chaplain, did we not feel a sacred pleasure in the service which he rendered us? Did we not mount with easier flight upon the wings of his devotion than upon the litanies of any stranger's lips? Did not his walk and life among us entitle him to speak for us to the King of kings and Lord of lords? As a theologian he was better read, better acquainted with sects and systems, schools and denominations, than the average of the profession. He was so well acquainted with them as to rate them at their true value. He was true to his confession; he did not confess one thing and believe another, or nothing at all, but he held his theology in complete subordination to his Christianity. He was first a Christian, then a theologian, large, liberal, generous, and true. If any man of our generation embodied that ideal which the Apostle drew of that charity which suffereth long and is kind, envieth not, vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, beareth all things, believeth all things, endureth all things, that man was he whose loss we deplore and whose worth we commemorate.

A few sad words must describe the close. When Dr.1 Hammond entered upon his last academic year in September, 1878, it was with the expectation and purpose that it should be his last year of teaching. He had taught thirty-six years, the longest period known to any of the mixed or co-educational academies, and surpassed only by the principals of Exeter, whose term of service has always been fifty. He had earned his emeritum, and he was hoping for a peaceful retirement in a green old age, in the still air of his delightful historic studies, where he could "keep the flame from wasting by repose," and complete work long since outlined in thought, and somewhat advanced in execution, - work which he could leave behind him, and which would not soon be allowed to die. But these fond hopes were not to be realized. A few weeks after the beginning of the term he was prostrated by a capricious and treacherous disease. He rallied for a time, so far as to leave his chamber, go down to his library for a few hours, and gaze upon the volumes through which he had so long communed with the wise and good of every country and of every age.

1 Mr. Hammond received the honorary degree of LL. D., in 1877, from Iowa College.

They are the swift soul in some states of

There are states of mind, unusual, abnormal, perhaps, but not irrational, when the whole past life is revived and lived over, and the lapse of years condensed to moments. Such moments have been experienced in the near prospect of death. hours of life, and show the capacities of the the body. Such an hour is that when the scholar takes leave of his library; as he looks around upon the serried ranks of those familiar forms, associated with every stage and aspect of his spiritual growth, they seem clothed with a kind of vitality; they bring up with spectral power the fondest recollections of life, the schoolmate, the class-room, the teacher, the task, the friend, the struggles and trials, the successes and triumphs, the toils endured and the sacrifices made to gain these silent monitors, the midnight hours of calm reflection and rapt enjoyment, the highest stretches of thought along the highways and by-ways of science, the flights of the imagination beyond the reach of science, the great cloud of witnesses who seem to start from the volumes in which their thoughts repose, the fair fields of knowledge surveyed, the boundless realms. left unexplored,—"all these visions, feelings, pangs, too vast for words, too deep for tears," crowd upon the mind of the scholar as he closes the long years of communion and fellowship with those lifeless forms of garnered wisdom, round which, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, his affections have entwined.

Such was the hour which prompted the wish of Prescott that his hody, when arrayed for the tomb, might rest for a time in his li brary, ere it was consigned to the house appointed for all the living. The wish was granted; and thither, tenderly and reverently, was he borne, and there he lay, in un moved, inaccessible peace, while the lettered dead of all ages and climes and countries seemed to look down upon him in their earthly and passionless immortality, and claim that his name should be imperishably associated with theirs. Such was the last visit of Dr. Hammond to his library, the scene of his professional labors; where the work of the scholar and the teacher had so long been mingled; where he had solved the numberless and varied problems that arise in the teacher's life; where he had reflected upon the individual and aggregate wants of his school, where the daily tasks were prepared and examined; whither the earnest and gifted pupil was summoned for counsel and encouragement, the wayward and reckless for warning and discipline; where education was studied as a history and a science, where its great