And all the dead shall hear, And haste from earth's remotest bounds In judgment to appear,-- When every work, and word, and _thought_, Well known or hid from sight, Before the Universe is brought To blaze in lines of light,-- When by the test of _perfect_ law Your '_glorious_' course is tried, On what resources will you draw?-- In what will you confide? For know that eyes of awful light Burn on you from above, Where nought but kindness meets the sight, And all the air is love. When all unused to such employ As charms the angelic hands, How can you hope to share their joy Who dwell in heavenly lands?" Such was the poem of Frederick Alexander Armstrong. After its rehearsal, a young gentleman _read_ a prose Essay on Education. It was clever, and indicated a mind of a high order, but was too playful; and the performance was severely criticised. Here ended the "public declamation." LETTER XVIII. Visit to Lane Seminary (continued)--Dr. Beecher and his Gun--The College Library--Dr. Stowe and his Hebrew Class--History of Lane Seminary--Qualifications for Admission--The Curriculum--Manual Labour--Expenses of Education--Results--Equality of Professors and Students. The "public declamation" ended, Dr. Beecher asked me to accompany him to his house. It was about an eighth of a mile from the institution, over a very bad road, or rather over no road at all. He conducted me into a snug little sitting-room, having no grate; but a wood fire on the floor under the chimney. It looked primitive and homely. This style of fire is not uncommon in America. The logs of wood lie across two horizontal bars of iron, by which they are raised four or six inches from the floor. The Doctor's first care was to replenish the fire with a few sturdy pieces of wood. All through the States, I have observed that the task of feeding the fire generally devolves on the head of the family. In this little room I was introduced to Mrs. Beecher. She is, I believe, the third lady on whom the Doctor has conferred his name. In one corner of this apartment was a gun, and on the sofa a heap of shot. Thousands of wild pigeons were flying about. The visit of these birds made the Doctor very uneasy. He was ever and anon snatching up his gun, and going out to have a pop at them. Though upwards of seventy years of age, he is an excellent marksman. It was to me a little odd to see a venerable D.D., a Professor of Theology, handling a fowling-piece! The Americans, have by circumstances been trained to great skill in the use of fire-arms. The gun, however, proved a fatal instrument in the hands of one of the Doctor's sons, a young man of great promise, who was killed by the accidental explosion of one. Nevertheless, Dr. Beecher has five sons, all (like himself) in the ministry! He has a maiden daughter, who has distinguished herself by her literary attainments and active benevolence. The excellent and accomplished wife of Dr. Stowe was also a Miss Beecher.