The youngest son gave more striking signs of talent than any of the rest, and naturally the fonder anticipations of his parents centred in him. They meant, at any cost, if it were a possible thing, to give him such an education and training as would fit him for the Christian ministry. They were led to this determination by the counsel of their pastor, by their own pronounced religious feelings, and by the most distinctive gift of the boy himself. That gift was the marked power and taste of his elocution. It is interesting, and seems strange, as we look back now, to think of the destiny of Forrest had the original intention of his parents been carried out. Perhaps he would have become a bishop, and a judicious and influential one. It is certainly not impossible; so much do circumstances, companions, aims, duties, the daily routine of life, contribute to make us what we are. The essential germ or monad of the personality is unextinguishable, but its development may be amazingly fostered and guided or twisted and stunted. The coin of manhood remains what it is in itself, but its image and superscription are determined by the mould and die with which it is struck. Edwin had a sweet, expressive, vigorous voice, with natural accent and inflection, free from the common mechanical mannerisms. His superiority in this respect over all his comrades was signal. With that unsparing tendency to let down every superiority, to level all distinctions, which is so characteristic of the rude democracy of the school-yard and the play-ground, his fellows nicknamed him the Spouter! From his very first attendance at church, when a mere child in petticoats, he was much impressed by the imposing appearance and preaching of Dr. Joseph Pilmore. Father Pilmore was a large man, with a deep, rich voice, a manner of emphatic earnestness, his long powdered hair falling down his shoulders after the fashion of an Addisonian wig. The boy would not leave the pew until the old pastor came along, patted him on the head, and gave him a blessing. He would then go home, make a pulpit of a stuffed semicircular chair with a pillow placed on the top of its back for a cushion, mount into it, and preach over from memory parts of the sermon he had just heard,--with his sisters, and such other persons as might be at hand, for an audience. At such times, before he would consent to declaim, he used to insist on having his costume, namely, a pair of spectacles across his nose, and a long pair of tongs over his neck, their legs coming down his breast to represent the bands of the preacher.