The mind of Mr. Stoddard was cast in a fine mould. The older members of the Board remember him at the Annual Meeting in Pittsfield in 1849. My own thought at the time was, that were an angel present in human form, his appearance and deportment would be much like those of Mr. Stoddard. A calm, seraphic joy shone in his face, and all that he said and did was just what all delighted to hear and see. His presence did much to give a character to that meeting. Mr. Stoddard had a frail body, and an almost feminine grace of person, like the popular impression of that disciple who leaned on the bosom of his Lord; but, like that disciple, he had strength of principle and inflexibility of purpose. His consecration to the missionary work was no sudden impulse. It was the result of repeated, and sometimes unexpected, meetings and conferences with Dr. Perkins, whose sagacious eye had marked him for a missionary. But the question once settled, it was settled for life. He went whole-souled into the work, and never doubted that his call to it was of God. His talents, which were of a high order, and his learning, which excited the admiration of Persian nobles and princes, were unreservedly consecrated. "He goes among the churches," said the lamented Professor B. B. Edwards, of the Andover Seminary, "burning like a seraph. So heavenly a spirit has hardly ever been seen in this country." Mr. Stoddard's daughter Harriet followed him to the grave within two months, at the age of thirteen, a victim to the same disease. She was sustained by the same calm trust in Christ, which lighted up the last hours of her excellent father.