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POLITICS.
The past year has witnessed one of those great political revolutuions which at intervals sweep over the United States, changing the destinies of parties, altering the political map, relegating to private life men long prominent in the public eye and bringing new men to the fore.
The overturn of 1910 differed from some of those in the past in that it was not unexpected. Premonitory signs were visible early in the year, and thoughtful politicians in both parties professed to see the change coming. To be sure, its magnitude and far-reaching effect were greater than had been anticipated, and in that respect it was a surprise to every one.
No one had contemplated the possibility of the state of Maine, which had not elected a democrat to the United States Senate since 1858, going democratic in both branches of the legislature; few of the political wiseacres and prophets dreamed of New York state, "gerrymandered" as it had been under republican rule as to its legislative districts, going democratic; the most reckless prognosticators hardly ventured to picture New Jersey with a democratic legislature; since 1893 West Virginia had been a high tariff state, and it was not deemed probable that it would show such a change of sentiment, yet the political revolution swept the dominant party out of power and the democrats into power in those states.
It went further and elected a democratic governor in Connecticut, a democratic legislature and governor in Ohio and in Indiana; turned the republicans out of the legislature in Missouri and in Nebraska.
Democrats Capture House.
Not less surprising was the change in the congressional districts throughout the country. From a republican majority of forty-three in the present Congress to a democratic majority of sixty-two for the Sixty-second Congress is a far cry in politics. The slaughter of republicans throughout the eastern states was terrific. Democrats were elected to the House in districts that for years had been republican in Maine, Massachusetts, New York, Maryland, West Virginia, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and the far west.
But these were not the only political changes of the year. In states that were so rockribbed in their republicanism as to forego the hope of electing democrats to Congress there was a change in the republican party. A spirit of progressiveness was manifested. The people expressed their disapproval of reactionary and "standpat" principles. In many places were they did not choose to elect a democrat they turned out the reactionaries and put in progressives.
New Hampshire elected a progressive governor and legislature. Michigan turned out the standpat Burrows from the Senate and sent young Townsend, who had followed Roosevelt; Iowa and Wisconsin and Minnesota and the Dakotas declared with added emphasis for progressiveness. The state of Washington selected as senator through its primaries Miles Poindexter, who had been one of the most active progressives in the House. California was progressive, and, indeed, all of the intermountain country.
Thus the revolution, as between the two parties and the reformation within the republican party, indicated most clearly and pronouncedly a widespread change of sentiment among the voters, dissatisfaction with old principles and methods and with the men in power. Many causes were assigned for it. One man's guess was as good as another's, and for weeks after the election people discussed the revolution from different viewpoints.
Some claimed that dissatisfaction with the new tariff law was responsible. Others insisted that it was the result of the existence of a spirit of restlessness, a desire for a change, and that the revolution was "due anyhow."
Miss Democracy Has Hopes.
The first immediate result of the elections of November was to stimulate the democrats into renewed hope of carrying the country for the presidency in 1912. Democratic presidential timber was discovered in several states—Harmon in Ohio, Marshall in Indiana, Folk in Missouri, Woodrow Wilson in New Jersey, Dix in New York and Simeon Baldwin in Connecticut were marked by the politicians as presidential possibilities.
It was recognized that the first step toward success in 1912 must be wise legislation by the House in the next Congress. A general conference of democrats was called to meet in Baltimore January 17 to talk over policies.
In the meantime, the republicans seemed stunned by their overwhelming defeat. The close of the year found the republican party in Congress resting upon its oars, drifting and apparently waiting for the democrats to come in and have their try at national legislation.
Page 173
Tribute of Respect from Olney Grange,
TO THE MEMORY OF
Brother John Wilson Magruder,
AT A MEETING HELD JULY 21st, 1890.
_________________________
IN MEMORIAM.
At a meeting of Olney Grange, held July 21, 1880, to offer tribute to the memory of Dr. John Wilson Magruder, the following preamble and resolutions were unanimously adopted:
WHEREAS, Our highly esteemed Brother, Dr. J. Wilson Magruder; had been remoed from our very midst by the operation of Divine Law, and whereas his Brothers and Sisters of Olney Grange are desirous of paying the respectful tribute due to his memory, and to the mutual affection which has always existed between them, Therefore,
Resolved, That is the death of Brother J. Wilson Magruder, Olney Grange has experienced a loss beyond the "power of time to heal."
Resolved, 2nd, That his bereaved family have our heartfelt sympathy in this deep affliction.
Resolved, 34rd, That a copy of the proceedings of the meeting be sent to the family of the deceased.
Resolved, 4th, That the proceedings of this meeting be published in the MONTGOMERY ADVOCATE."
The meeting was opened by the Worthy Master, Jos. T. Moore, with a few beautiful and touching remarks, and the following addresses were read.
Brothers and Sisters: -In the death of our Brother J. Wilson Magruder, Olney Grange has met with a loss that seems irreparable. His cultivated mind, his sparkling wit and keen enjoyment of fun, no less than his strict attention to business made him one of our eminent and most active members. His versatility of talent was truly exceptional; those who have had the rare pleasure of hearing and beholding his interpretation of Shakespeare agree that he could have gained world-wide fame in this one respect alone. But of all the good gifts which nature had so lavishly bestowed on this favorite child his musical powers were the most remarkable; even his ringing laugh was melody itself; and the rich, full, sweet voice that so constantly gladdened our ears and entranced our souls, how we shall miss its witchery! How can we bear to hear "The Lost Chord" or "A Heart Bowed Down" ever again in other tones than his? And yet, dear friends, this is not the spirit in which we should bear the sad break in our little band. He would never have wished our Grange to be dull for the lack of his presence. No! could he speak to us again he would desire each and all to make every effort to fill the void by always bringing some offering here, if only in remembrance of the lost brother who played on our feelings as upon some instrument, so marvellously and so well, were the theme, fact of fancy, grave or gay. Many have expressed a keen regretthat his last hours had not been passed elsewhere, but to us it seems that nothing so became his life as his death. There are none who feel the ties of brotherhood more strongly than did he, and it was fitting that he, who loved the Grange so well, should have been sheltered by its roof-tree and tended by its members when the pale messenger came. He was one who could have echoed the sentiment:
"Life we have been long together, In sunshine and in stormy weather, 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear; Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh or tear; Then steal away, choose thine own time, Give little warning Say not good night; But in some brighter clime Bid me good morning."
An essay, a story, some new discovery or old experience, nay even a cheerful countenance and a friendly greeting, any or all of these by recalling his own efforts to instruct and amuse, will be his best monument in our Grange, his most enduring tablet in our hearts, a living, breathing memory that shall make us better men and women, and better patrons.
"Then yield not to sorrow, life has not a day, That gives not some sunshine to brighten our way, Weep not for the past, tho' it hold in his gloom, Cherished friends that have sunk to their rest in the tomb, For 'tis sweet to lie down with a song yet ensuing And wake its first notes in a Heavenly tongue."
M. B. T.
"W. M., Brothers and Sisters: -We meet to-day, on an occasion the most solemn and sad, of all that have brought us together since our Order has its existence. Spared as we have hither to been, in so remarkable a degree, from separations caused by Death, we are now forced to acknowledge the awful and overwhelming visitation of his hand. So sudden and appaling, we can as yet hardly realize it. At one of our largest and most cheerful social meetings, -in sight of all, before our very face-a favorite brother, admired and esteemed for qualities such as few possess in an equal degree, -in the prime of manly vigor and apparent perfect health - while in the very act of exerting his unrivalled powers for our entertainment; -falls, without any warning, gently down, passing in a few brief hours from life to death. Could we concieve a scence more terrible - more harrowing to the feelings which have drawn us together, and, for nearly seven years, kept us united by a fraternal bond.
Page 174
BENJAMIN HALLOWELL.
It is idle to speculate as to what the singularly gifted scholar who was yesterday laid to his rest in the Friends' burial ground at Sandy Springs might have been, if he had chosen to become a leader rather than a teacher of men. His career might have been that of a great publicist or jurist if his cultivated tastes had not led him to prefer "the cool, sequestered vale of life." His talents were of the highest orde, and if they had been associated with even a moderate amount of ambition his name might have been as conspicuous among statesmen as it is among mathematicians and philanthropists.
But he will be remembered not for what he might have been, but for what he really was. If he did not attain the highest place in the temple of fame, he certainly was the centre of a circle of devoted friends that expanded with his ripening years. His large philanthropy took in the freedmen and the Indian, and both will remember him as a wise benefactor. He may be said to be the author of what is now known as the "Indian peace policy," and President Lincoln as well as President Grant frequently sought his advice as to the methods to be pursued in dealing with the emancipated slaves and the untutored savages. In the religious denomination to which he belonged (the Society of Friends) he exercised a commanding influence, and was by common consent regarded as the ablest man in the Baltimore Yearly Meeting.
The fair daughters of Maryland have often brought men into the State who have done her great honor, and Mr. Hallowell was one of those who became a Marylander by the accident of marriage. He was born in Pennsylvania, near the city of Philadelphia, in 1799, and was educated at the "West Town Boarding School," quite a celebrated institution in those days, controlled by the Society of Friends. Miss Farquhar, of Montgomery county, sister of Prof. Farquhar, one of the most prominent educators in Maryland, was pupil in the same school, and she and Mr. Hallowell, after they had passed through the prescribed course of study, both became teachers. Miss Farquhar subsequently returned to her Maryland home; Mr. Hallowell followed, and became Professor of Mathematics in a school at Nair Hill, Montogomery county, established by the Baltimore Yearly Meeting of the Society of Friends. There could be only one conclusion to such a Quaker romance: Prof. Hallowell and Miss Farquhar were married. This was about the year 1820. His wife died some eighteen months ago.
Professor Hallowell subsequently founded a boarding school at Alexandria, which he made one of the most famous educational institutions south of Mason and Dixon's line. Many of his pupils were sons of Senators, members of Congress and officers of the army and navy residing in Washington, and others came from the far South, from Mexico, from the West Indies, and even from England. Professor Hallowell's great reputation as a mathematician led many persons who were desirous of having their sons admitted to the West Point Military Academy and to the Naval School at Annapolis to send them to his school to be put through a course of mathematical training. This school continued to flourish and to gain in reputation until broken up by the war. Prof. Hallowell retired from its management some years before, and was succeeded by his son, Professor Henry C. Hallowell, and his son-in-law, Hon Francis Miller, now United States Attorney for the District of Columbia.
Benjamin Hallowell returned to his farm in Montgomery county, and there he spent the remainder of his days, except that he was for a brief period at the head of the Maryland Agricultural College. While engaged in teaching he frequently delivered lectures upon the natural sciences, which were attended by the elite of Alexandria and Washington, and he kept up a correspondence with the most distinguished scientific men on both sides of the ocean. He published several works upon mathematics and mechanical philosophy, and during his later years he devoted a good deal of his time to the investigation of social and economic questions. He was fond of writing Sunday school books, catechisms and instructive stories for the young. Some twenty years ago a druggist in Alexandria made a mistake in compounding a physician's prescription and Prof. Hallowell swallowed a poisonous mixture that came near terminating his life. He never fully recovered from the effects of the poison, although he lived to be seventy-eight years of age. He leaves three children—Prof. Henry C. Hallowell, of Sandy Springs; Mrs. Miller (wife of Hon. Francis Miller) and Benjamin Hallowell, Jr., a merchant in Philadelphia.
BENJAMIN HALLOWELL.
A TRIBUTE TO HIS MEMORY—WORK AND CHARACTER OF THE PROFESSOR—HIS CONNECTION WITH THE SOCIETY OF FRIENDS.
To the Editor of The Tribune.
SIR: Several years ago, when Benjamin Hallowell was only a name to me, I was a guest at a beautiful home near Sandy Spring, the seat of the Montgomery Friends. My host, a prominent Marylander, was of the community, and I accompanied him one Sunday to the Quaker meeting house; a rude, old-time brick structure, in the margin of a primitive forest of considerable extent. Most of the congregation were in their places when we entered. I had hardly taken my seat when my attention was arrested by one of the most striking looking men I have ever seen. Almost in front, facing me, on the raised platform against the wall with the elders, sat a man of seventy, of just less than gigantic mould, with a grand, massive head, scantily crowned with longish white hair, a lofty brow, and noble features bowed in reverential reverie, with closed eyes, with his shoulders above the heads of the common men about him, dwarfed to pigmies by his presence. I was not familiar with the leading names of the friends, but knew I was looking at an extraordinary man. I glanced from him over the silent assembly of serene, silent men and women, and back at the noble form before me, in molding which nature had reverted to the great primitive type, which she now so rarely produces. The spirit and presence of the silent worship stole upon me.
It was a June morning, and the notes of thrushes and robins came to me from the surrounding forest. Suddenly little twittering sounds, like the first notes of a bird's song, fell on my ear, and I turned just as the form I so admired was rising. He rested his trembling hands on the back of the seat before him, with little stoop in his shoulders, and a bending of the head, revealing deep-set, but very fine blue eyes. The voice was sweet, tender and flute-like. A little monotonous, but could never have wearied. The sermon, if such it might be called, was a sort of lofty and beautiful chant. It was an expression of the depth, purity and peace of that holiness of heart and life to which man may attain, and its outer manifestation of love, benevolence and widest charity. The language was nervous, happily chosen, simple and pure, and beyond the power of the mere rhetorician. The matter was so arranged that its clear statement was a great and beautiful argument, while a trill of the voice rendered it touching. The delivery of this rare homily may have occupied fifteen minutes. As the preacher was sitting down, another train of thought opened to him, when, with the same little murmur, he arose to his full height, and spoke, perhaps, five minutes longer—not in continuance of the first discourse, but of a germane topic, which illustrated and supplemented it. He sat down, observed a moment's silence, turned and shooked hands with the man next to him—a signal that the service had closed.
That was Benjamin Howell. As he passed out, men and boys, matrons and maidens gathered about him, followed him out to his carriage, and did not part with him till he drove away. He was of them, lived their daily life, went in and out before them, ministering, beautifying and elevating their lives; helping to improve and adorn their homes and fortunes, lighting and conducting them along the upper paths of virtue, culture and benificence; yet so natural and common, that, in a way, they lost the power of appreciating the more striking of his remarkable qualities and powers.
I came to know him well, all these years since I first saw him. He was a man rarely endowed, and doubtless in his philosophy of life, he secured as much of real value from the world as it is capable of yielding. Nature had given him most of the striking qualities of intellect, will power, and the rudiments of the strongest human passions, and clothed them with a form of dignity, beauty, and grace. Seemingly he had but to choose his career, and will his own fortune. Among his gifts the religious element was large, and this with his early training and surroundings, determined his course. In history there was but one model. The spirit of Mary's Son he made his own. It restrained his ambition, opened his pathway, enlightened his studies, formed his manners, and informed his life. Politics and the government of the Nation, all great enterprises, were very much, and he kept well informed of them. The unfolding and fashioning the minds, the frame and structure of the character of the chosen young men of the land, were to him much more. To that he dedicated himself with a devotion and unreserve which marked his appreciation of its importance. No youth was ever under his care who did not carry with him through life something of the bent and bias imparted by his hand; as none approached him without reverence or left him without love.
His work was that which lay nearest his hand. Emphatically he loved his neighbor. His neighborhood was the universe, and all living things were the objects of his care. As his manners were the manifestation of his heart and spirit, he was naturally the most graceful and polished of cultured men. The servants, the coachmen who drove him to the railroad station, always remembered his consideration for them. If a man may apply the term "lovable" to a man, that was eminently his due. Nothing bearing life ever came under his care that did not love him as it was capable. It was beautiful to see him break from a clinging group of lads and maidens and hear him say: "Farewell, now I must go to my Margaret," toward whom he manifested the same ardor of love, and tender observance at seventy-five as in the first days of wedded bliss.
If his life was lovely beyond the usual, his last illness and death were beautiful and touching beyond earth. His Margaret, passed away nearly two years before his own exit, and it was a sore trial of his faith that he must remain longer. That the example of his life might lack no perfection, that illness was a protracted bodily torture, gradually growing more intense, till the sources of life were exhausted, yet such were the strength and fortitude of the spirit, that all was endured with a serene smile, calling forth assurances of the mercy and goodness of God. Sometimes when the anguish was at its greatest, he said to his attendant: "Thee must allow me to groan a little." He refused anodynes and anæsthetics, saying, "if permitted, he would retain his faculties unclouded." He wished to note the shades of on-coming death, which, were, also, to be the opening dawn of immortality. Such an intellect could never be shattered. Once it seemed to wander, making a luminous track. As if his great sufferings might disquiet the faith of a favorite daughter in the mercy of Providence, with clearness and energy he demonstrated two or three great mathematical problems; concluding with: "So thee sees daughter, that it is all clear and right." His method of clarifying and refreshing his mind, even in this illness, was by the solution of a problem. As the end approached, the glow of the perfect faith became a luminous numbus, on the almost transfigured countenance—instances of which many have read of, but few ever witnessed. His last words were assurances that the way was clear, the light broad and steady, and the glory serene. A. G. RIDDLE. Washington, Sept. 1877.
Page 175
98
BENJAMIN HALLOWELL.
It is idle to speculate as to what the singularly gifted scholar who was yesterday laid to his rest in the Friends' burial ground at Sandy Springs might have been, if he had chosen to become a leader rather than a teacher of men. His career might have been that of a great publicist or jurist if his cultivated tastes had not led him to prefer "the cool, sequestered vale of life." His talents were of the highest order, and if they had been associated with even a moderate amount of ambition his name might bave been as conspicuous among statesmen as it is among mathematicians and philanthropists.
But he will be remembered not for what he might have been, but for what he really was. If he did not attain the highest place in the temple of fame, he certainly was the centre of a circle of devoted friends that expanded with his repining years. His large philanthropy took in the freedman and the Indian, and both will remember him as a wise benefactor. He may be said to be the author of what is now known as the "Indian peace policy," and President Lincoln as well as President Grant frequently sought his advice as to the methods to be pursued in dealing with the emancipated slaves and the untutored savages. In the religious denomination to which he belonged (the Society of Friends) he exercised a commanding influence, and was by common consent regarded as the ablest man in the Baltimore Yearly Meeting.
The fair daughters of Maryland have often brought men into the State who have done her great honor, and Mr. Hallowell was one of those who became a Marylander by the accident of marriage. He was born in Pennsylvania, near the city of Philadelphia, in 1799, and was educated at the "West Town Boarding School," quite a celebrated institution in those days, controlled by the Society of Friends. Miss Farquhar, of Montgomery county, sister of Prof. Farquhar, one of the most prominent educators in Maryland, was pupil in the same school, and she and Mr. Hallowell, after they had passed through the prescribed course of study, both became teachers. Miss Farquhar subsequently returned to her Maryland home; Mr. Hallowell followed, and became Professor of Mathematics in a school at Nair Hill, Montgomery county, established by the Baltimore Yearly Meeting of the Society of Friends. There could be only one conclusion to such a Quaker romance: Prof. Hallowell and Miss Farquhar were married. This was about the year 1820. His wife died some eighteen months ago.
Professor Hallowell subsequently founded a boarding school at Alexandria, which he made one of the most famous education institutions south of Mason and Dixon's line. Many of his pupils were sons of Senators, members of Congress and officers and the army and navy residing in Washington, and others came from the far South, from Mexico, from the West Indies, and even from England. Professor Hallowell's great reputation as a mathematican led many persons who were desirous of having their sons admitted to the West Point Military Academy and to the Naval School at Annapolis to send them to his school to be put through a course of mathematical training. This school continued to flourish and to gain in reputation until broken up by the war. PRof. Hallowell retired from its management some years before, and was succeeded by his son, Professor Henry C. Hallowell, and his son-in-law, Hon Francis Miller, row United States Attorney for the District of Columbia.
Benjamin Hallowell returned to his fam in Montgomery county, and there he spent the remainder of his days, except that he was for a brief period at the head of the Maryland Agricultural College. While engaged in teaching he frequently delivered lectures upon the natural sciences, which were attended by the elite of Alexandria and Washington, and he kept up a correspondence with the most distinguished scientific men on both sides of the ocean. He published several works upon mathematics and mechanical philosophy, and during his later years he devoted a good deal of his time to the investigation of social and economic questions. He was fond of writing Sunday school books, catechisms and instructive stories for the young. Some twenty years ago a druggist in Alexandria made a mistake in compounding a physician's prescription and Prof. Hallowell swallowed a poisonous mixture that came near terminating his life. He never fully recovered from the effects of the poison, although he lived to be seventy-eight years of age. He leaves three children -- Prof. Henry C. Hallowell, of Sandy Spring; Mrs. Miller (wife of Hon. Francis Miller) and Benjamin Hallowell, Jr., a merchant in Philadelphia.
BENJAMIN HALLOWELL.
A TRIBUTE TO HIS MEMORY -- WORK AND CHARACTER OF THE PROFESSOR -- HIS CONNECTION WITH THE SOCIETY OF FRIENDS.
To the Editor of The Tribune.
SIR: Several years ago, when Benjamin Hallowell was only a name to me, I was a guest at a beautiful home near Sandy Spring, the seat of the Montgomery Friends. My host, a prominent Marylander, was of the community, and I accompanied him one Sunday to the Quaker meeting house; a rude, old-time, brick structure, in the margin of a primitive forest of considerable extent. Most of the congregation were in their places when we entered. I had bardly taken my seat when my attention was arrested by one of the most striking looking men I have ever seen. Almost in front, facing me, on the raised platform against the wall with the elders, sat a man of seventy, of just less than gigantic mould, with a grand, massive head, scantily crowned with longish white hair, a lofty brow, and noble features bowed in revential reverie, with closed eyes, with his shoulders above the heads of the common men about him, dwarfed to pigmies by his presence. I was not familiar with the leading names of the Friends, but knew I was looking at an extraordinary man. I glanced from him over the silent assembly of serence, silent men and women, and back at the noble form before me, in molding which nature had reverted to the great primitive type, which she now so rarely produces. The spirit and presence of the silent worship stole upon me.
It was a June morning, and the notes of thrushes and robins came to me from the surrounding forest. Suddenly little twittering sounds, like the first notes of a bird's song, fell on my ear, and I turned just as the form I so admired was rising. He rested his trembling hands on the back of the scat before him, with a little stoop in his shoulders, and a bending of the head, revealing deep-set, but very fine blue eyes. The voice was sweet, tender and flute-like. A little monotenous, but could never have wearied. The sermon, if such it might be called, was a sort of lofty and beautiful chant. It was an expression of the depth, purity and peace of that holiness of heart and life to which man many attain, and its outer manifestation of love, benevolence and widest charity. The language was nervous, happily chosen, simple and pure, and beyond the power of the mere rhetorician. The matter was so arranged that its clear statement was a great and beautiful argument, while a trill of the voice rendered it touching. The delivery of this rare homily may have occupied fifteen minutes. As the preacher was sitting down, nother train of thought opened to him, when, with the same little murmur, he arose to his full height, and spoke, perhaps, five minutes longer - to in continuance of the first discourse, but of a germane topic, which illustrated and supplemented it. He sat down, observed a moment's silence, turned and shooked hands with the man next to him - a signal that the service had closed.
That was Benjamin Hallowell. As he passed out, men and boys, matrous and maidens gathered about him, followed him out to his carriage, and did not part with him till he drove away. He was of them, lived their daily life, went in and out before them, ministering, beautifying and elevating their lives; helping to improve and adorn their homes and fortunes, lighting and conducting them along the upper paths of virtue, culture, and beneficence; yet so natural and common, that, in a way, they lost the power of appreciating the more striking of his remarkable qualities and powers.
I came to know him well, all these years since I first saw him. He was a man rarely endowed, and doubtless in his philosophy of life, he secured as much of real value from the world as it is capable of yielding. Nature had given him most of the striking qualities of intellect, will power, and the rudiments of the strongest human passions, and clothed them with a form of dignity, beauty, and grace. Seemingly he had but to choose his career, and will his own fortune. Among his gifts the religious element was large, and this with his early training and surroundings, determine his course. In history there was but one model. The spirit of Mary's Son he made his own. It restrained his ambition, opened his pathway, enlightened his studies, formed his manners, and informed his life. Politics and the government of the Nation, all great enterprises, were very much, and he kept well informed of them. The unfolding and fashioning the minds, the frame and structure of the character of the chosen young men of the land, were to him much more. To that he dedicated himself with a devotion and unreserve which marked his appreciation of its importance. No youth was ever under his care who did not carry with him through life something of the bent and bias imparted by his hand; as none approached him without reverence or left him without love.
His work was that which lay nearest his hand. Emphatically he loved his neighbor. His neighborhood was the universe, and all living things were the objects of his care. As his manners were the manifestation of his heart and psirit, he was naturally the most graceful and polished of cultured men. The servants, the coachmen who drove him to the railroad station, always remembered his consideration for them. If a man may apply the term "lovable" to a man, that was eminently his due. Nothing bearing life ever came under his care that did not love him as it was capable. It was beautiful to see him break from a clinging group of lads and maidens and hear him say: "Farewell, now I must go to my Margaret," toward whom he manifested the same ardor of love, and tender observance at seventy-five as it the first days of wedded bliss.
If his life was lovely beyond the usual, his last illness and death were beautiful and touching beyond earth. His Margaret, passed away nearly two years before his own exit, and it was a sore trial of his faith that he must remain longer. That the example of his life might lack no perfection, that illness was a protacted bodily torture, gradually growing more intense, till the sources of life were exhausted, yet such were the strength and fortitude of the spirit, that all was endured with a serene smile, calling forth assurances of the mercy and goodness of God. Sometimes when the anguish was at its greatest, he said to his attendant: "Thee must allow me to groan a little." He refused anodynes and anaesthetics, saying "if permitted, he would retain his faculties unclouded." He wished to note the shades of on-coming death, which, were, also, to be the opening dawn of immortality. Such an intellect could never be shattered. Once it seemed to wander, making a luminous track. As if his great sufferings might disquiet the faith of a favorite daughter in the mercy of Providence, with clearness and energy he demonstrated two or three great mathematical problems; concluding with: "So thee sees daughter, that it is all clear and right." His method of clarifying and refreshing his mind, even in this illness, was by the soluiton of a problem. As the end approached, the glow of the perfect faith became a luminous nimbus, on the almost transfigured countenance - instances of which many have read of, but few ever witnessed. His last words were assurances that the way was clear, the light broad and steady, and the glory serence.
A. G. RIDDLE.
Washington, Spet. 1877.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF BENJAMIN HALLOWELL. "Written at the request of his daughter, Carolina H. Miller, for his children and grandchildren; in the seventy-sixth year of his age." Published by The Friends' Book Association, Philadelphia, The relations of the writer of this autobiography to many still living were such as will render it to them a sacred volume, and it will be little less so to the descendants of his contemporaries with whom he was in any way associated. Wherever his name was known it was honored as that of a man of boundless sympathy, fine abilities and wonderful energy.
Although best known as an educator he stamped his name upon the history of his times as an eminent mathematician, a keen observer of public events, and an earnest mover in all that concerned the public welfare. Personal interests were always subservient to the call of duty, whether to his fellow-beings or to his country, and therefore his chief riches lay in his honored name.
The book is given to us in the plain language of the Society of which he was a member, and in the simply, unembellished style characteristic of the great and good man who wrote it. The lessons of steady persistence in what he conceived to be right, under any and all discoruagements, and the strict rules of integrity which throughout kept him above temptation to swerve to the right or left therefrom, are unconsciously given in every chapter of his life. These are the "foot-prints" that made his life sublime, and which the men and boys of this or any other age will be the better for recognizing, and which will prove a richer heritage to his descendants that any amount of "filthy lucre."