to publish a pamphlet setting forth what he believed on the subjects of Total Depravity, Original Sin, Natural and Moral Ability, etc. The decision was about equivalent to saying: "Both parties are wholly guiltless, Dr. Beecher most so, but he must not do so again." Wilson appealed to the General Assembly of 1836, but when the time of trial came withdrew his appeal, because he found that his friends would not sustain him. Beecher now had his prosecutor fairly on the hip, for, by the Book of Discipline, one who prosecuted a minister, and failed to prove his charge, was to be himself censured as a "slanderer of the Gospel ministry." Beecher noted the point; but after enjoying the consternation of the other side for a few minutes, said that he would not press it, and let the matter drop.

of laborious, successful, and happy work in Boston, bade farewell to his people, and became President and Professor of Theology in Lane Seminary, a place which he continued to fill for eighteen years.

Meanwhile came in the anti-slavery imbroglio of 1834. The point was this: The students wished to discuss the question of slavery. It was vacation, and the Faculty were not on the ground. The Executive Committee forbade the discussion. The students seceded in a body; and Lane Seminary was left with more Profess ors than Students. For four years there were only five students to a class. Once, when term was about to open, not a single student had offered himself for the next class. Beecher went off on a recruiting expedition through the Western colleges. He came back with a dozen recruits. Next year a new class of thirty-five was formed. Lane Seminary had got over its "dry time."

It is not our purpose to present details of Beecher's career at the West. Enough to say, there were untoward influences at work against Lane Seminary from the outset. Two parties had arisen in the Presbyterian Church. The clergymen of the "Old School" distrusted Beecher as a "New School" man. In 1835 the great champion of orthodoxy was arraigned before his Presbytery on charge of heresy. He was acquitted, and the prosecutors appealed to the Synod. In reading the reports of the trial before the Synod one might fancy that he was wading through the proceedings of a political convention, where the cunningest wire-pullers would win the day. Beecher indeed won it, but by the skin of his teeth and by superior dexterity. "I was naturally fitted to be a lawyer," he said of himself. The Synod gave a most Pickwickian decision. The appeal of Dr. Wilson, the prosecutor, was sustained; he had done nothing wrong in charging Dr. Beecher with slander anders as a flock of sheep follows the bell-wether." hypocrisy besides unsoundness in the faith; but there was nothing to show that Dr. Beecher was unsound, or even a hypocrite or slanderer; he was admonished to be very guarded in future; and as, moreover, he had promised to abide by the decision of the Synod, that body were very well satisfied, and saw nothing to impair their confidence in him "as a minister of the gospel in the Presbyterian Church," and desired him

Of the great quarrel of these years, resulting in the disruption of the Presbyterian Church, we will not speak at length. The world has come to a decision respecting it which will not be reversed. Most of the members of both schools acted honestly; they followed their lead

Some of the leaders on both sides were honest and earnest, believing that they were contending for the "faith once delivered to the saints." But on the part of the chief moving spirits it was a mere struggle for power and place, as destitute of piety as the struggles of political cliques are of patriotism. Beecher strove earnestly to avoid disunion. Barring some warmth of expression, we find nothing to blame in his course.

came. In 1850, when he had just reached his seventy-fifth year, he resigned his professorship, hoping that he might be able to revise some of his writings, which, he said, "without my revision must be useless, and which, I think, may be useful to the Church of God."

So, for almost a score of years, Beecher fought and moral endurance. The end of endurance out the battle at Lane, under many discouragements, among which not the least was the old trouble of want of funds. Tappan, whose subscription was to pay his salary, had failed, and the promised interest on his endowment was not forthcoming. The President and Theological Professor was more than once "hard up;" but somehow, at the pinch, money turned up, often from quite unexpected sources. However, he had all the while a pleasant home in a modest brick house, one of the Seminary buildings, standing in a grove of beeches, oaks, elms, and tulips spared from the primeval forest.

This purpose was only partially accomplished. Beecher returned to Boston in 1851. During the two following years he issued three volumes of his "Works," and tried to begin his "Memoirs." It was too late. The spring of his strong life was weakened. He could not say what he wished to tell. The most that he could Here and there, in the closing volume, inter- do was to aid his children in the preparation of mingled with notices of ecclesiastical quarrels, the work. For a few years he preached occaof troubles, cares, labors, and bereavements, we sionally, and with some traces of his old power, get glimpses of home-life at Walnut Hills. The and not wholly without his old success. Still it house is full. Several of his own children, and was clear to others, and most likely to himself, of his third wife, are the regular inmates. The that he was failing, not rapidly, but slowly and grove is the favorite resort of the young people surely. Memory went first; then the power of of his congregation; for besides his Professor- expression passed away. Yet there seemed to ship in the Seminary, he is pastor of a church be an augmentation of bodily vigor. "The day in Cincinnati. His study, now on the ground- he was eighty-one" [October 12, 1856], writes floor, is the place where he receives students and Professor Stowe, his son-in-law, "he was with friends. He is as odd in looks and habits as me in Andover, and wished to attend my lecever. His spectacles are, however, a less an- ture in the Seminary. He was not quite ready noyance than of old; he has got a pair com- when the bell rang, and I walked on in the usual posed of a plain and a convex half, through path without him. Presently he came skipping which he can see at different distances. In across lots, laid his hand on the five-barred "pigeon time" he has a loaded gun in one cor- fence, which he cleared at a bound, and was in ner, and his youngest son is posted at the win- the lecture-room before me." Not quite a year dow to watch for the appearance of a flock. after, the last letter which he ever wrote was The signal is given; the Doctor leaps up from penned. When he left Lane his salary was in his writing; adjusts his spectacles to the long arrears nearly $4000. Now after seven years range, springs to the grove, takes a shot; read- came a draft for $1000, in part payment. He justs his spectacles to short range, and goes on endeavored to reply to the letter which accomwith his writing. We have space for but one panied the draft. After six distinct efforts he more home scene. Thirteen children have been wrote a letter which clearly shows the effort of born to him; eleven are living, all past child- his mind to break the cloud that was steadily hood, but widely scattered. Five were at home, gathering over it. There are flashes of his old the others at various places East and West. strong diction, remembrances of the hymns They had never been all together; some of them which he had so often read, and glimpses of had never seen some of the others. A family half-forgotten reminiscences of his early prime. meeting was at last arranged, and one Sunday Thus runs his last letter: morning in 1835 the whole living family met for the first time under the father's roof, with smiles and tears, thanksgiving and sorrowing. One son filled the father's pulpit in the morning, another in the evening; the family occupied three pews. The family meeting lasted two whole days. On the morning of the third, after prayer, a farewell hymn, and a solemn blessing from the patriarch, they parted, never again to meet on earth.

No years of Beecher's life were more earnest and active than the first fifteen of those at Lane Seminary. "Never," says his son-in-law, "did he wheel a greater number of heavenly wheelbarrows at one and the same time." Had he husbanded his energies, and turned them in a single channel, his mental force might have lasted far beyond the term of threescore years and

ten.

But this was not to be. Circumstances, and his own strong will and sense of duty, spurred him on to work to the utmost limit of physical

"DEAR FRIEND,--There are moments of hope and fear, and apprehension and relief, that may fill the soul. We knew that you would be pressed to advance the successive portions of our needed income, and of course our hopes left us in not a little doubt. But when increasing earthquakes swept over you in ceaseless continuousness, our hearts died within us, or waked only to hear that all was lost. When, therefore, on yesterday morning, on our first with all the testimonials, it required time and an effort arrival home, your opened letter told me that all was well, for our astonishment to get up, and to wake up our realizations, and to clothe our thoughts with wonder, gratitude, and praise. As soon as tears and emotion would permit, we bowed to God together, and, as the pious Montauk woman said to her benefactor, I think, Colonel Gardiner, God inclined you to give us this meat. I thank you also, Colonel Gardiner and in our condition, we think God also inclined you to do these things, and we thank you too, brother, for all your care for us."

Friends and children were, however, able and willing to see to it that the brave old veteran of fourscore years should be fully provided for. The Lane arrears were paid up; a house was purchased for him in Brooklyn, close by that of

his most famous son; and here, with an annuity | ed. Once he broke out in the magnificent words sufficient for his wants, he passed the last seven of the great Apostle: "I have fought a good years of his life, ministered to by his children by fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the blood and marriage. Month by month the veil faith: henceforth there is laid up for me a between him and the outward world grew thick- crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the er, fold by fold. The connection between him righteous Judge, will give me at that day;" and the world grew weaker and weaker. Mem- adding, "that is my testimony; write it down; ory was gone, language was gone-or seemed to that is my testimony." Again, still later, he be so. Yet now and then were strange flashes called to his daughter, thinking her to be his which seemed to say that the strong mind was beloved Roxana, the wife of his youth: "Mocurtained, not blinded. "Dr. Beecher," said ther, mother, come and sit beside me; I have some one to him, "you know a great deal: tell had a vision of heaven!" His utterance was as us what is the greatest of all things." For a full and strong as in his best days. He went moment the curtain seemed to be rent, and he on: "I think I have begun to go: Oh, such replied, with his old vigor, terseness, and earn- scenes as I have been permitted to behold! I estness: "It is not theology, it is not contro- have seen the King of Glory himself."-" Did versy; but it is to save souls." Then the cur- you see Jesus?" asked his daughter at length. tain fell again, and he was lost to human sight "All was swallowed up in God himself," was behind its folds. For the last year of his life all the answer. For an hour he remained talking the organs of communication between him and and praying. The next day he had to human the world without appeared to fail, except that perception only an indistinct remembrance of indistinct phrases seemed to indicate that the some great joy. What there was to himself, bemental life existed. Still his eye was bright, hind the closed veil, no man can know. The and his face bore an expression of strength and wisest and most thoughtful of men have believed sweetness. Yet even to the very close there were that the soul which rises with us comes into this moments when the veil was for a moment part- earthly life from God, who is its home, bearing

with it dim remembrances of the glories of its former state. Upon stronger evidence we may believe that to the human being who has worthily passed almost through the probation of this mortal life is sometimes vouchsafed a glance across that immortal sea over which he must soon voyage, and a glimpse of the glories of his eternal home. If such grace be ever granted to man, we may almost trust that it was vouchsafed to Lyman Beecher at the close of his earthly life. But of this it is only given to us to know that the last indication of mortal life was a mute response to his wife, showing that he understood the hymn which she was repeating: "Jesus, lover of my soul,

Let me to thy bosom fly." Then, with a face illuminated with a solemn and divine radiance, softly and tenderly, without even a sigh, he passed to the everlasting rest. He died on the 10th of January, 1863. He had just entered upon his eightyeighth year. They buried him with tears of joy and songs of praise.

*

that I could give you more if I would. I have omitted, I shall omit, no opportunity to send reinforcements whenever I possibly can."*

The morning of Thursday, the 26th of June, dawned upon the two hostile hosts. Twentyfive days had now passed since the battle of Seven Pines. Three months had elapsed since our troops first landed upon the Peninsula. The two armies had for several weeks been so near together that their pickets were within hailing distance, and often bandied jokes or conversed amicably with each other, exchanging newspapers and other trifles.

reported that one hundred and fifteen thousand could in an hour be marshaled in battle-array. But it was speedily seen, even by eyes not practiced in military affairs, that the patriot army was in an extremely critical position. Never were troops more perfectly entrapped. The enemy were before them in great numbers, and so concentrated that they could direct their whole force, almost at any hour, upon any portion of our widely-extended lines. Should we withdraw the two divisions and the regulars from the left banks of the Chickahominy the rebels could, with a rush, destroy our only line of communication, and seize upon our immense supply of stores upon the Pamunky. Should we, on the other hand, send back across the Chickahominy the eight divisions besieging Richmond, it would be the relinquishment of the siege, and there would remain nothing before us but a disgraceful and disastrous retreat to Fortress Monroe, pursued by an exultant enemy. To remain as we were, was to accomplished, and to fall with the utmost possible impetunothing, and only to expose ourselves to sure destruction. It was manifest that there was no salvation for the army but in effecting a change of base, so that the dépôt of our supplies could be upon the James River. The supplies could then be brought up the river under the protection of our gun-boats; and thus the exposed line of transportation from the Pamunky could be avoided.

This change of base should have been effected immediately upon the destruction of the Merrimac, when our army, without any difficulty, could have passed over from the York River to the James. Now it could only be accomplished under circumstances of the utmost peril. Still there was delay, while every hour of delay only added to the difficulty and the danger. On Wednesday, the 25th of June, General M'Clellan, who was manifestly oppressed with the most intense anxiety, telegraphed the Secretary of War:

"Several contrabands, just in, give information confirming the supposition that Jackson's advance is at or near Hanover Court House. I am inclined to think that Jackson will attack my right and rear. The rebel force is stated at 200,000, including Jackson and Beauregard. I regret my great inferiority of numbers, but feel that I am in no way responsible for it, as I have not failed to represent repeatedly the necessity of reinforcements; that this was the decisive point, and that all the available means of the Government should be concentrated here. I will

do all I can do with the splendid army I have the honor to command, and, if it is destroyed by overwhelming numbers, can at least die with it and share its fate. But if the result of the action which will occur to-morrow, or within a short time, is a disaster, the responsibility can not be thrown on my shoulders. It must rest where it be longs. I feel that there is no use in my again asking for reinforcements."*

To this the President replied:

"Your dispatch of yesterday, suggesting the probability of your being overwhelmed by 200,000 men, and talking of whom the responsibility will belong to, pains me very much. I give you all I can, and act on the presumption that you will do the best you can with what you have; while you continue ungenerously, I think-to assume

* Report of Congressional Committee, p. 10.

On the 25th of June a council of war had been held in the rebel capital. Nearly all the prominent generals of the rebellion were present. The front of General M'Clellan's army extended in a gentle curve along a line, as we have mentioned, more than twenty miles in extent. It was decided by the rebel officers to concentrate nearly their whole force, now greatly augment

osity upon the extreme right wing of the National army, and annihilate it before it could receive any support. The victorious rebels would then, with a rush and a yell, fall upon the centre, and then upon the left wing, and thus, by piecemeal, utterly destroy the army. It was a well laid plan. Its execution seemed so feasible and simple that the rebels entertained no doubt whatever of its entire success. Unprofessional men all over the country had long anticipated this precise movement. It was a peril obvious to any ordinary common sense.

General M'Clellan was now so conscious of the exposed position of the army that, abandoning all offensive movements, he assumed a defensive attitude; and at this disastrously late hour, when the exultant rebels were just about to dash upon him, resolved to attempt a movement to the James River. The execution of this plan was exceedingly perilous in the presence of a vigilant and powerful foc; but there was no other salvation for the army. In preparation for this movement, there was a curious reconnoissance made by General M'Clellan and several officers of his staff. They climbed a very high tree within a hundred yards of the rebel pickets, and with spy-glasses surveyed the whole ground, and held a council of war. It was necessary to move the stores and baggage, much of it for a distance of thirty miles, mainly by a single road, exposed all the way to the enemy, who by several different roads, radiating from Richmond, could throw a heavy force upon any one point, or upon several points at the same time.

On the whole of Thursday, June 26, the woods resounded with cannon and musketry, as evolutions were going on upon both sides-the rebels preparing to make an attack, the patriots preparing for retreat. But in all the conflicts of that eventful day the patriot troops, led by Porter, Kearney, and Hooker-men who ever rushed where danger was thickest-won signal

Report of Congressional Committee, p. 10.