tion. His discourse, oral and written, was clear, concise, and elegant.

He had such mental integrity and clearness of mental vision, such facility and felicity of expression, such aptitude in illustration, such sense of fitness which surely set limit to undue and unwise extravagances of thought or expression, such culture and learning, combined with such genial, graceful, and winning personality, that he possessed the rare requisites of a born teacher, for the term nascitur non fit applies to the teacher not less than to the poet. His lectures on medical jurisprudence in the Vermont University, on constitutional law at Harvard University, and at Yale as Kent professor of law from 1881 to the date of his death, at New Haven, March 9, 1900, illustrated his peculiar gifts as a teacher.

In the class-room his exposition of recondite themes was masterly; stripping them of technical verbiage, he laid bare in clear, simple terms the basic principle, and inquiry could go no further. Nor was such exposition ever barren, but always enlivened at intervals by some witty or humorous turn, which, while it amused his pupil, served also to emphasize the point in hand. He loved the law and could vitalize its principles. In the class-room his very personality was an inspiration.

He was artistic in temperament in every fibre of his being. He was affluent in sympathy with the best and most beautiful in art and nature and humanity. He was high-souled, and so was fastidious. He loved what was most beautiful and harmonious in the composition of colors, what was most graceful and symmetrical in form.

He loved the mountains of Vermont. He loved the forests that crown them and the brooks that wind and sing beneath their shade. He loved the wild note of the hermit thrush and the odor of the woods.

He loved music, especially the old melodies which so sweetly interpret the old ballads of England, Scotland, and Ireland.

A nature so keenly attuned to harmonies must be sensitive to discords, and he had instinctive dislike of every shade of vulgarity, and hatred of shams and hypocrisy. He was guiltless of pretence; he always had the courage of his convictions and was fearless in their expression.

He loved his friends with loyal steadfastness. In their sorrows and trials he was as tender and sympathetic as a woman. His courtesy was unfailing. His wit never wounded nor offended. It was impersonal.

He loved and was familiar with the best English literature. His vigorous, trained intellect, his literary culture, his artistic temperament, and his great versatility would have insured his success in any field of intellectual effort. Among the distinguished statesmen, scholars, and lawyers who constitute the official life of England Mr. Phelps was an acknowledged peer. And at a banquet given by them in his honor, in 1889, at the close of his official service, he bade farewell to his friends and to England in a short, wholly impromptu speech of matchless grace and elegance. Lord Rosebery wrote the same evening to the gracious lady who for more than half a century shared the life of the guest of the occasion, and who still survives him, as follows:

"I cannot go to bed without sending you a line of congratulation on your great triumph of to-night. The assembly was unique in its character and its warmth; and what it gave in enthusiasm, Mr. Phelps restored in a speech so exquisite, that, on an occasion which seemed beyond the reach of eloquence to improve, it crowned the sensations of the audience. The only thing wanting was your presence.

The unfeigned regret of his English friends at his departure was mingled with expressions of sincere personal regard and respectful admiration for the man who had so ably and tactfully discharged the delicate and difficult functions of representative of this great government at the Court of St. James.

While Mr. Phelps's surviving friends are justly proud of his splendid record, yet not for that alone or chiefly will those who knew him best cherish his memory, but more and rather for what he was to them in his charming personality.

He has gone. "His works do follow him." In his few (alas! too few) public addresses, thrown off at intervals in a busy professional life, he has left an enduring memorial of his mental powers and accomplishments. Valuable as they are, both in style and substance, they rather suggest the idea of how much more he might have done in the same line had he given his rare powers exclusively to the work of a littérateur and publicist. Few men possess such a range of diversified gifts. Fewer still attain success in so many diverse fields of mental effort. From the beginning to the end of his long career his intellectual growth was continuous. He never sought office nor honors.

When from time to time they came to him unsolicited, he took up the burden of attendant responsibility with an easy confidence in himself quite remote from any feeling of overweening vanity. He rose to the demand of each occasion as it came, with serene assurance of a success which never failed.

race.

His work as a lawyer, teacher, publicist, littérateur has passed into history, the common legacy of the The memory of his rare personality, his delightful, genial companionship, his loyal friendship, abides and will remain the cherished inheritance of those who best knew Edward J. Phelps, and could call him by the sacred name of friend.

JOHN W. STEWART.