standard of christian purity was high, and his religious feelings, which penetrated his whole soul, had been tinged in early life with the gloom of Calvinism. It is not surprising, therefore, if in certain moments of depression, the prospect of death should have been awful to him. In conversing on the subject, he once expressed to me, in very strong terms, his dread of death; and said, that he considered it as the effect of his early religious associations, adding, that although these associations had long been opposed by the clearest convictions of his reason; yet he could not wholly avoid their influence on his mind. He then spoke particularly of the happiness of one of his friends, in always having cheerful and consoling views of religion and a future state. But in my last visit to him, the week before he died, I was unspeakably gratified to find, that he enjoyed the same happiness in the highest degree. Immediately upon receiving me, he said, "You know what a dread of death I have had-I can now not only view it with coolness, but the prospect of the future world is delightful to me." His mind never appeared more clear and tranquil than it did, while he proceeded to speak of the world that was opening to him; and he spoke with an energy and sublimity of feeling peculiar to himself, and which no time can weaken in my memory.

Those who knew Mr. Frisbie in the intimacy of friendship, find it most difficult to speak of him as a friend. He has left an image of himself in their hearts, which no language can paint to others. His rich powers in conversation will be remembered by all who shared in any degree his confidence. But he was no less remarkable for the delicacy and propriety with which he exercised those powers, than for the fertility of his mind, in the resources of argument and illustration, and the liberality with which he poured out his intellectual treasures to his friends. With genius and eloquence, that might have made him conspicuous in any assembly of men, he was wholly free from the vanity of displaying his powers, or the habit of engrossing attention to himself. There was a peculiar distinctness and pertinency of thought in his conversation. His mind never soared above the occasion, or object of discourse. Even to children he was scarcely less interesting than to his equals in age. His countenance never beamed with more benignant kindness than when he was engaging their minds on subjects adapted to their years. He was a perpetual instructer in their presence, and he was often heard to remark, that if he had children to educate, he should do it principally in the way of familiar conversation with them. In the society of

his friends, he was not only a strict observer of the equal laws of social converse, but he was remarkable for his skill in drawing them into interesting discussions, and eliciting their best thoughts on any subject. While they felt a perfect freedom in his presence, and were led by his own frankness and confiding dispositi on, to the most unreserved disclosure of their sentiments, there was every thing in him to inspire respect and excite them to mental exertion. Hence, together with the pleasure which his society and conversation directly afforded, they felt a satisfaction with themselves, which became associated with the remembrance of him, and served constantly to enhance the value of his friendship. The power of producing such a perfect union of intimacy and respect, with the influence attending it, was probably that which most distinguished him in the hearts of his friends. Associated as every thing amiable and excellent was in the idea of his character, his mere presence was delightful to them; the very thought of him aided their motives to piety and virtue. He fully illustrated the just remark of the Roman moralist; Occursus ipse sapientium juvat; et est aliquid, quod ex magno viro, vel tacente, proficias.

Unlike most men of superior talents, Mr. Frisbie seemed always to rise in real greatness, the

more closely he was seen; while the softer traits of his character, instead of being obscured by his genius, derived only additional richness from it. He was finely gifted for all the offices of mutual kindness and sympathy, and there was a peculiar charm in the interchange of such offices with him. No man ever performed them with more grateful sensibility. For all the charities of our nature his heart was tenderly alive. You need not be told of his filial piety; you have witnessed the purity and ardor of his affections in the dearest domestic relations. I have known him most in the family of a friend; and here I have known him in health and prosperity, and in sickness and sorrow, as the soother of affliction and as the object of sympathy, in all circumstances deepening the impression of his virtues, with every view of his character.

The pervading influence of such an example as Mr. Frisbie exhibited through life, is indeed of incalculable value. All that now remains to us, is to cherish the recollection of it ourselves, and impress it upon others.

ADDRESS

DELIVERED BEFORE

THE UNIVERSITY IN CAMBRIDGE,

AT THE INTERMENT OF

Professor Frisbie.

JULY XII. MDCCCXXII.

[BY THE EDITOR.]

THE relations between man and man cease not with life. The dead leave behind them their memory, their example, and the effects of their actions. Their influence still abides with us. Their names and characters dwell in our thoughts and hearts. We live and commune with them in their writings. We enjoy the benefit of their labors. Our institutions have been founded by them. We are surrounded by the works of the dead. Our knowledge and our arts are the fruit of their toil. Our minds have been formed by their instructions. We are most intimately connected with them by a thousand dependencies. Those whom we have loved in life are still objects of our deepest and holiest affections. Their power over us remains.