How well do I remember the many occasions during my sojourn at the University, when he as my preceptor, esteeming such influences of greater importance to the class than the texts of the lessons, would for the time give his whole soul to the stirring up of these generous and emulous sentiments in the hearts of his pupils. The very first recitation in which I ever appeared before him was one such. I shall never forget it. In 1851 I entered the University, and joined the senior class as an irregular. The first lesson was in constitutional law. A single general question was asked and answered as to the subject in hand, and then he began to discourse of Chancellor Kent, whose treatise we were studying; from Kent he went to Story, from Story to Marshall, repeating anecdotes of the great Americans who had framed and interpreted our organic law, and touching upon the debate between Hayne and Webster. From these, he went back and back to the men and the times when the great seminal principles of Anglo-Saxon liberty were eliminated from feudal chaos, and placed one by one as stones, polished by the genius of the wise, and cemented by the blood of the brave, in the walls of the temple of human freedom. He told us of the eloquence of Burke, of the genius of Chatham; he took us into the prison of Eliot and went with us to the death-bed of Hampden; into the closet with Coke and Sergeant Maynard; and to the forum, where Somers spoke; to the deck of the _Brill_, where William, the deliverer, stood as he gazed upon the shores of England; to the scaffolds of Sidney and of our own glorious Raleigh. Warming as he went with the glowing theme, walking up and down the recitation-room, which was then the library of the "old South," with long and awkward strides, heaving those heavy passionate sighs, which were always with him the witnesses of deep emotion, he would now and then stop, take down from its shelf a volume of some old poet, and read with trembling voice some grand and glowing words addressed to man's truest ambition, that thrilled our souls like a song of the chief musician. A profound silence was evidence of the deep attention of the class, and the hour passed almost before we knew it had begun. I afterwards learned that this lecture was intended for my benefit, as I was a stranger to the class and had entered it under some disadvantages, and in his kindness of heart he supposed I needed some encouragement. But such were frequently given us. Nor were these digressions from the chief business of the hour always of a serious nature. The gayest wit and brightest humor often illumined the moments when, not content with putting forth his own conceits, he exerted himself to draw forth those of the class, and if he succeeded sometimes in bringing forth a repartee that struck _pat_ upon his own head, no one enjoyed it more than himself. Like a true humorist and story-teller, he enjoyed the taking as well as the giving with the utmost good fellowship.