mented assistant, Stephen Twining, Esq., he attended daily with close application to the great and complex concerns of that office; and it is worthy of remark, that the last act of his life, was the reading of a letter on college business, which he had just re

ceived.

A statement of his efforts and influence in behalf of Yale College, since he became connected with it as an officer, would be a record of some of the most important changes in the history of the institution. It was his foresight and diligence, and his great personal influence with the Legislature, more than any thing else, which obtained for the College, in 1792, after the assumption of the State debts by the Federal Government, a grant of the outstanding revolutionary claims-a most seasonable relief, which saved the College from extinction, and laid the foundation of its subsequent prosperity. It was his influence, too, which at the same time effected that change in the charter by which the Governor, Lieutenant Governor, and six senior Senators for the time being, are members of the corporation. When he came into office there were only three college buildings; and the entire corps of officers of instruction and government, was, the President, the Professor of Divinity, the Professor of Mathematics, and two tutors. He formed the plan on which the line of buildings has been spread out and is still to be extended. He has seen eight College buildings added to the venerable pile. He has seen one department after another annexed to the system of instruction, and one professional school after another organized to meet the wants of the country; till the humble and feeble institution, for the existence of which its best friends trembled, has been advanced from the rank of an obscure seminary, to the high station which it now occupies as in many respects the first literary institution of a mighty nation, and not the least among the great luminaries of the world.

We see what memorials he has left behind him. But these are not all-certainly not all in the estimation of his townsmen. Our city itself, we might say, is his monument. The streets that subdivide the nine squares of the original town-plot-the long colonnade of stately elms planted by his hands, under which we bear him to his last repose-yes, the quiet and admired cemetery where his ashes are to rest with those of Sherman and Dwight, all remind us of him.

*Stephen Twining Esq. for many years assistant Treasurer and Steward of Yale College, died December 18th, 1832;-a man whose loss will long be felt, not only in that institution, but in the churches and in the community at large.

The grant here referred to, was the greatest donation which Yale College ever received from the State. Probably it exceeded in amount $40,000. It was made at a time when perhaps nothing else could have saved the College from total ruin.

Had a full delineation of the character of our honored friend, been expected on this occasion, some abler hand, I am sure, would have been invited to the task. All that I can attempt in these circumstances, is to sketch, by a few rapid touches, some of his more prominent and striking virtues.

His native character then, we may say, was one of great strength and originality. While the elements of his mind were peculiarly tempered and compounded, every thing about him was like his bodily frame, large, manly, and commanding. He was made to strike out his own path through the world, to walk in the light which his own intellect, by its strong focal power, should gather from all sources.

His independence did not consist in an insensibility to the opinions and feelings of others. Such independence belongs not to a noble mind, but rather denotes a monstrous intellectual conforma

He felt with the keenest pleasure the approbation of his fellow citizens; yet he ever scorned to purchase that approbation by the slightest deflection from the path of duty. His independence was this: He asked what was right-what was useful-what was noble-and acted accordingly; then if his fellow citizens were pleased, he was happy; if any were offended, he had still the satisfaction of having done his duty.

His integrity was always proverbial. Integrity was written on his countenance, and every word that came from his lips made the hearer feel, That is an honest man. As a lawyer he was careful to undertake no cause respecting which he had not a fair conviction of its justice; and this, together with the plain-hearted and manifest honesty, which constrained every juror to believe whatever he said, made him successful as an advocate, far beyond any graces of diction, or accomplishments of elocution.

His enterprise and industry may without hazard be pronounced unparalleled. To this his whole history testifies. With a frame as it were of iron, with a boldness and physical courage, and a readiness and versatility which might have made him a great military commander, the amount, variety, and arduousness of the labors which he performed, are still almost incredible. His life was a commentary on the text, "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might." He had no hours of idleness-I had almost said, no hours of relaxation or repose. Ere the sun rose in summer, it was already morning with him, and the day was never ended till long after the night had darkened around him. And many as were his public cares, studies, and responsibilities, he of all men was the least sedentary in his labors. He loved labor, bodily labor, ever "working with his hands the thing which was good."

All his feelings and passions partook by nature, of the same strength and impetuosity which marked his character in other re

spects. He was so constituted, that he had a quick and strong sensibility to every injury and every insult. Yet something had taught him effectually, to restrain those passions, and to bear injury with patience and insult with meekness. That something, I doubt not, was the grace of God. I know of nothing but christian principle, which can make such a man so exemplary in this respect.

His kindness, dutifulness, and irreproachable fidelity in the various relations of domestic life, have already been alluded to. It is a true saying, that every man is what he is in his family. The same spirit of kindness marked all his conduct. The widow and the fatherless ever found him their ready protector, their disinterested friend.

Take him all in all he was such a man as is not often seen. Other generations will honor his memory; and while New England is true to herself, she will ever count him among her worthies.

It remains for us only to ask ourselves what lessons we ought to derive from the contemplation of such a man's history and character. 1. We see wherein consists true dignity and honor. None ever knew our venerable friend without feeling that he was one of "nature's noblemen." Whatever dispute there might be about others, none could withhold the acknowledgment that he was altogether a dignified and honorable man. Wherein then consists true dignity and honor, such as his?

Not in an assumed superiority and exclusiveness of manners. How far was JAMES HILLHOUSE, who dignified and adorned the age in which he lived, from all such factitious dignity! How perfectly plain, frank, and unpretending his manner in all his intercourse with all sorts of men! Yet every where, whether debating in the Senate, or moving in the circles of the refined and accomplished, or leading a band of laborers in some athletic toil, an unquestionable dignity marked his sentiments, his conduct, his

manners.

Not in wealth. Wealth may fall to the lot of an ideot, or may be acquired by a niggard. James Hillhouse, in poverty--had he been brought to taste of poverty-would have had as much dignity, would have been as much honored by all whose honorable esteem is worth having, as if the wealth of the School Fund had been all his own.

Not in official station. Office may be bestowed on a Clodius or a Cataline. James Hillhouse, retired from all his public employments, was as worthy of veneration, as dignified and honored, as when he held the highest offices in the gift of the State.

What is it, then, which makes true dignity and honor? In the light of the strong example before us, we answer, Intellectual and moral worth. In the case of James Hillhouse, it was the man and not the pretensions of the man, it was the man and not the acciden

tal circumstances of the man, which all were constrained to respect, and to which all paid the tribute of a cheerful reverence. And it was the consciousness of what he was, the consiousness of manly powers and manly purposes, the consciousness of his own perfect integrity, kindness, and public spirit, which made him stand up, every where and always, like one who knew that he deserved and must receive the respect and confidence of others.

2. We learn what makes a man's life happy. Our friend was eminently a happy man. Happiness was written on his brow: happiness spoke out in all his words and tones, and shone in all his conduct. None can doubt, that his was a happy life. What made it so? Was it exemption from cares and responsibilities? When did he ever see an hour that was not loaded with responsibility, or that did not bring its host of cares. And who are more wretched than those who think they have no responsibility, and whose only care is to care for nothing. Was it wealth? He had wealth indeed, wealth which brought within his reach all the luxuries and elegancies of life. But if it was wealth which made him happy, why does not wealth make others happy? Why is it that wealth is to so many a weight of trouble, gilded indeed and gaudy, but still a weight of trouble. Was it domestic enjoyment? For the happiness of domestic life he was, as we have said, well fitted; he tasted that happiness with the keenest relish; he was blest in all the domestic relations; but who that knew him could believe, that this was the whole or the substance of his happiness? Was it his activity? Doubtless the ceaseless and intense employment of his active energies had much to do with making him the happy man that he was. Had he lived only in the retired and quiet bosom of his family, had he avoided labor as a curse, and spent his days in an inglorious ease, he would only have had to testify at the end, as multitudes have testified before, Vanity of vanities! all is vanity and vexation of spirit. Yet thousands are active who do not find that their activity makes them happy. The activity of the unwilling laborer, whom necessity drives, like the ox, to his toil, the activity of self-corroding avarice, the activity of feverish and thirsty ambition, the activity of the man who lives only for himself, is ever discontented as it is unquiet. Had James Hillhouse toiled only for the rewards of avarice or of low ambition, who can believe that all his activity would have made him happy. Nay had he lived for himself, in what you would call perhaps a rational and moderate way; had he refused all public employments, and pursued a life of retired activity on his hereditary acres; had the powers of his mind and of his body been occupied only with the labor of making his family happy, and of leaving a fair inheritance to his children, we should have had no occasion now to inquire, what made his life so happy. The fact is, his activity was voluntary, active useful

ness.

He aimed at the public good. He lived for his country. Thus his activity v was activity freed from the corrosion of selfishand in all his toil there was a consciousness of noble purposes which lightened every labor, and even took away from disap

ness;

pointment the

power to vex him. Thus his soul was expanded into more colossal dimensions, his being, as it were, spread out and extended; there was more of existence in a day of his life, than there would be in centuries of some men's living. His influence, his voluntary influence to do good, being thus extended, he lived with a sort of ubiquity, wherever that influence was felt,―happy in the consciousness of living to good purpose. And for all this, he was none the less happy-he was far more happy-in his family and in all the relations of private and personal friendship. The way to enjoy home with the highest zest, the way to have the fireside bright with the most quiet heartfelt happiness, is to be active even to weariness, and to come home for refreshment and repose. The way to give new vigor and delight to all the pulses of domestic love and private friendship, is to enlarge the soul and prove it kindred to higher orders of existence, by the culture of large and generous affections.

Do you ask what will make your life happy? Live not for yourself-live for the public good-live for your country-live for the world. Devote yourself to such ends as are worthy of your nature, worthy of a being created in the image of God. And in the pursuit of these ends, do with your might what your hand findeth to do. Activity for noble ends, is happinesss; nothing else is worthy of the name.

"An angel's wing would droop if long at rest,

And God himself, inactive, were no longer blest."

3 We see the emptiness of the objects of human ambition. Wealth, honors, the happiness of domestic life-these are the objects in prospect which fill the minds, and call out the utmost efforts of struggling and panting thousands. All these our friend has had-what are they all to him now? To have been rich, to have been surrounded with all that can minister to happiness, to have borne the highest honors of the republic-what is it to the dying man? What is to the dead? If such things as these are all that you live for, all that you seek or hope for; if such things are the highest good which you have chosen; how empty, how miserable is your inheritance!