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MR HILL'S LETTER.

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of devotion to study, and to such discipline of heart as would prepare him for the profession which he sought. He was regarded by his associates as exceedingly reserved and diffident. His reputation was that of a diligent student, rather than a social companion, and rarely did he mingle in the sports of college life. With his fine talents and this exemplary diligence, it was a matter of course that his standing as a scholar was high. Modest and retiring, but always a gentleman in his bearing and address, he was universally respected and esteemed. Indeed, I never knew that he had an enemy.

“We were together again in the closing year of our theological studies, and then, for the first time, I began really to know the value of our friend. He was still the same diligent student, but his soul was now glowing with a warm ambition to be useful in the service of Christ. His former reserve had melted away. He was ready to speak for his Master, and earnestly engaged in winning souls for Him. This strong desire was seen and felt in his labours in a Bible Class connected with the Centre Church, New Haven.

"I well remember, too, the ardour with which he entered upon our first preaching enterprise, in the little brick school-house at Hampden, five miles east of the city. Here we held religious service every Sabbath evening, in the winter's cold; but we were warm, for our hearts burned within us as we walked by the way. It was then and there, in speaking for the first time as an ambassador of Christ to his fellow-men, that his tongue was really loosed, and his whole soul glowed in his earnest face as he besought men to be reconciled to God. How often on the vessel's deck, and in strange lands beyond the sea, as we

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have sung together those familiar songs of Zion, has he spoken of the meetings in the brick school-house, as among the happiest memories of his student life.

Of the subsequent character and career of our friend and brother I have no need to write to you, for

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knew him afterward, even better than I. But his uniform benevolence, his unselfishness, his tender regard for the interests and the feelings of others; his unaffected modesty, coupled with a manly heroism that despised danger and never felt fear; his fervent and consistent piety; his powers of endurance, and his willingness to do and to suffer in the service of his Master -all this and more you know, and will portray, if you put your pen to the delightful work of perpetuating the memory of our beloved Righter.”

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CHAPTER IV.

HINDRANCES— FAILURE OF HIS EYES-GOES ABROAD

CROSSES THE OCEAN-FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF ENG-
LAND-THE CONTINENT.

DURING the latter part of his course of theological study, Righter was afflicted with weakness of his eyes. The usual remedies were resorted to, and temporary repose was tried without benefit. He was advised to spend a year or two in foreign travel, that entire cessation from study for such a length of time might give his eyes a fair opportunity to recuperate. Such a prescription was not disagreeable to the patient. It fell in with his own predilections, and finding in his friend Hill, whose letter has just been given, a congenial companion, he made arrangements at once for a journey into foreign lands.

His journals, during this tour, were kept with great regularity, and a daily record is made of every event of interest that occurred, every place that he visited, every object that he studied, every notable person that he met. But these records are the briefest possible—often mere catchwords; for the use of his eyes, even to make the entries in his diary, was a trial to which he was afraid to subject them. He designed, if it were right for him to do so, to correspond with some newspaper while he was abroad, but after a few attempts at writing he was obliged

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to desist, and confine himself to short notes in his journals, and occasional letters to his friends. These manuscript records of travel, going over the same ground that I traversed with him, are now lying around me, and they awaken a thousand pleasing recollections, as I turn over the pages and find my own name so often among the incidents of that varied year. His parting with his parents at the wharf, with other friends who went with us down the bay, his feelings in view of the separation and hopes of the future, are hinted at in terms that are easily intelligible to the eye of affection, and disclose the warmth of his love. The voyage is to him a succession of joyous days and charming nights. In the morning, he is getting up athletic sports for exercise : in the afternoon, he is reading or talking French with the ladies : in the evening, some literary exercise is on hand for the entertainment of the passengers. Sabbath comes, and he is holding religious meetings with the seamen.

Others are stricken down with sea-sickness, and I find that he mentions me as the first victim, while he flatters himself that he will escape altogether. He does not. A slight attack knocks him over, and teaches him that he is not more than human. But he was speedily on his feet again, and that was the last of his maritime disasters. All the way over the sea he was rejoicing in the beauty, the grandeur, and glory of the ocean. In the storms he was confident, and delighted to fix himself in the bows of the ship that he might see and feel the power and majesty of the waves. And if he had been compelled to say with the Psalmist, “All thy billows have gone over me," I think he would have been calm and trusting, for he knew that in the uttermost part of the sea the hand of the Lord would

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lead and uphold him. He was not anxious to reach the shores of Europe. Our voyage in a packet-ship, Capt.

, Hovey, with a pleasant cabinful of passengers, was made in sixteen days, and Righter was one of many who would have been glad to extend it a week longer.

On landing at Portsmouth, on Sabbath morning, he walked to the Parish Church of St Thomas, where we united in thanksgiving to Almighty God for His care over us while on the deep. The next day he was wandering over the Isle of Wight. At Ryde he calls on the Rev. Dr Ferguson, with whom he is greatly pleased, and the gratification would seem to have been mutual, for he acknowledges the gift of a volume of sermons from the Dr as a token of his regard. He admires the lovely scenery through which he passes; the smooth roads, the hedges, and flowers, and green fields,-a vision of rural culture and wide-spread taste in the order of nature, which he had never enjoyed before. The ancient Carisbrook Castle impresses him deeply with its walls and battlements, its remarkable well, its romantic history. But even more does his spirit find refreshment and delight in a pilgrimage to the grave of the “ Dairyman's Daughter” in Areton Churchyard. He notes the tolling of the bell and the funeral procession that marked his visit there. He gathers flowers from among the tombs to send to friends at home; for his heart was with them always, and when enjoying things abroad the most, he was always thinking of ways and means to share it with those far

away. He hastens to London, and records his “first impressions” of the great city. Lost in its vastness, he seems, from his brief notes, to be overwhelmed with a sense of the extent and power of the great metropolis, so that it

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