professed christians, not to say ministers of the gospel-especially the notion that it is lawful to practise some degree of deception in religious matters, for the sake of gaining what is supposed to be an important end: on the contrary, he allowed not himself either by his words or his actions, either in respect to religion or any thing else, intentionally to leave an impression upon any mind that was at variance with his honest convictions. "I well remember," says his daughter, "his early attempts to fix my confidence in his word;-a confidence which he never forfeited. He would place me on a high mantle piece, and then removing himself a short distance direct me to throw myself into his arms, assuring me that it was safe, and that he would take me down in no other way. I would sit for a long time, pleading, trembling, perhaps weeping, till finding him inflexible, I was forced to make the dreaded leap, and test the truth of his promise. In after life it was his frequent and fearless appeal, 'Did your father ever deceive you?" In his diary he mentions assuming a smile at the side of Ellen's sick bed, in order to conceal from her my danger, and then adds, and for the first and only time deceived my child.'"

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Another peculiarly amiable feature in his character, was his freedom from censoriousness. The law of kindness was upon his lips; and though he was often engaged in controversy, and felt himself called in obedience to his strong convictions of duty, to expose what he deemed the errors of others either in doctrine or practice, yet he was uniform

ly courteous toward his opponents. The maxim which regulated his conduct as a controvertist was, "Crush heresy, but spare the heretic."

Intimately connected with the preceding, was another quality which, to those who knew him best, constituted one of the brightest attractions of his character-viz. a meek and forgiving spirit. Few men have suffered more than he, either from the detraction and virulence of enemies, or the mistaken impressions of friends; and few, it is believed, in similar circumstances, have evinced so much of christian forbearance and magnanimity. Doctor SPRING, who had known him long and intimately, says, in the sermon preached at his funeral, "I have known him a greatly injured man, but I have never known him cherish a retaliating or revengeful disposition. I have seen him weep under injuries, but I never heard him utter an angry sentence against those who reviled him. There was a kindness, a generosity, a nobleness of heart about him, which his enemies never knew how to appreciate." If any further evidence were needed of his possessing in a high degree this attribute of christian character, it is furnished by the following recordequally touching and sublime-which he made in his diary, relative to certain slanderous reports which had been put in circulation concerning him.

"At this period the greatest trial of my life commenced through the unkindness of friends whom I had never injured. Through misrepresentations and misapprehensions I was accused of things of which I was perfectly innocent. In that time of trial I was determined not to say a wrong thing, or do

a wrong action, to save my character or life. I never saw before how little love I had, how hard it was to love a mere neighbor, an enemy as myself, and never before saw the miracle which was exhibited in the pretorium and on the cross. I felt a spirit of forbearance and kindness which I scarcely thought possible; and when another spirit arose, my remedy was to go to my knees, and pray for my persecutors until I could forgive them."

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As the interests of Christ's kingdom lay specially near his heart, he was always ready not only to urge upon others the duty of consecrating their perty to its advancement, but to do this himself according to his ability. He was never rich; but out of the competence which he possessed, he contributed more or less to most of the great benevolent objects of the day. The generous donation which he made to the college, and with which he commenced the effort that resulted in its extended means and increased prosperity, has been noticed in a preceding chapter. During his residence at Williamstown, he had, on a certain occasion, subscribed a hundred dollars to assist a feeble congregation in the neighborhood in building a church. As the time for payment drew near, he found it difficult to command the necessary means for meeting it. About that time he journeyed eastward in behalf of the college, with an intention to spend one sabbath with his friends in Boston. But on his arrival there, he met a clergyman who urged his passing that sabbath with him; and added, "My wife says, If Dr. G. will come and preach for us, I will give him fifty dollars." The Doctor understanding this to be intended for the college, relinquished his

purpose of remaining in Boston, and accepted the invitation. When his plate was removed from the breakfast table Monday morning, he found a hundred dollar note lying before him, with a request that he would accept it as his own. This sum, with his accustomed promptness, he appropriated to the payment of his subscription. The circumstance he was accustomed to reckon among the peculiar providences of God toward him.

And this suggests another striking feature of his character, viz. his habitual recognition of a divine providence, and his confidence in God under all circumstances. He was fond of repeating the maxim of the blind Mr. PRINCE, "He that will observe the providence of God shall never want for matter of observation." His calculations for the future seemed always to be made in the spirit of the Apostle's exhortation, "If the Lord will, we shall live and do this or that." A striking instance of his confidence in God for the success of his labors, occurred at a meeting of ministers shortly after his removal to Boston. The conversation having turned upon the peculiarly difficult and responsible station. in which he had been placed, Dr. SAMUEL SPRING turned to him and said, "Dr. G. you seem like a man placed upright upon the point of a steeple with nothing to hold by-now how will you stand?" "You mistake," said Dr. G. "I have God to hold by."

As he felt deeply his dependance on God, his life, especially the latter part of it, seems to have been eminently a life of prayer. For a considera

ble period previous to his death, no small part of his waking hours was spent in private devotion. The following touching circumstance, as related by his daughter, shows how closely he had interwoven this duty with the economy of every day: " On one of his last sabbaths," she says, "when his debility had produced a drowsiness hard to be overcome, about noon he suddenly raised himself and said, 'I have not prayed since morning, I have been so sleepy. I wish you would lead me into the next room' (where there was no fire) 'that I may wake up to pray.' I accordingly led him to the sofa, and wrapped a cloak about him and left him alone. Here as he sat for nearly an hour, I heard his voice from time to time raised in supplication. He then asked for his Form of Self-examination, and remained some time longer engaged in reading it over."

In glancing at Dr. G's public character, it is natural first to contemplate him where he was perhaps more in his element than any where else—in the pulpit. As a preacher it may safely be said that few of any age have reached so commanding an eminence. Some of our transatlantic brethren, who have listened to him, and who were familiar with the best specimens of the eloquence of the pulpit in Great Britain, have unhesitatingly expressed their conviction that Dr. G. was not exceeded, either in matter or manner, by the best British preachers they had ever heard. In the selection of his subjects he evidently kept in view, in an unusual degree, the only legitimate end of preaching—