It is with entire calmness Mr. Badger surveys the clouded skies that shut down upon his loneliness; a calmness that never ostensibly forsook him whenever great grief was at the door. He had a heart of great affections and of fine feelings. His strong nature was also extremely sensitive. Few could suffer so much, and few would weep so little when a great sorrow entered his dwelling. He is again alone in the world; his little daughter, Lydia Elizabeth, was all that remained of his family, the only tie that would seem to bind him to earth, and one indeed in whom his affections strongly centered. Letters of sympathy from numerous sources came in from different parts of the country. But sorrow, though it might soften and enrich, could never subdue the energies of his manly spirit; and in the ministry of the holy Cross he applied his force with a renewed consecration of every ability. Though a resident of one place, it was not his nature to be a local man. His sympathies went abroad, his eye caught the signs of real and of possible success over a large area, and the public, far and near, responded with a feeling of interest equally general. At ordinations, and consecrations of "temples made with hands," he was ever a favorite with the people; and very frequently he journeyed large distances to attend to calls of this nature. His family now being broken up, after securing the pastoral labors of Rev. Oliver True, he resumes the work of a missionary. There are indeed two classes of successful ministers, though they succeed in different ways. I refer to the class who have simply great power in preaching, who can be instrumental in the conversion of great numbers; who, when they have reached the moral depths of the sinful heart, and filled it with the new and heavenly light, have ended their mission. They leave no nucleus about which the new strength may organize itself. If such ministers belong to a denomination well organized, and if they labor in the spirit of such denomination, the results of their efforts will very likely be absorbed in the body which already contains the speakers. These can create material, but they have no constructive power to permanently unite it. There is another class, who seem to be natural husbandmen of the grounds they sow; they build, they gather, they bring everything into order and system, they fence and harvest the ripened fields. These last men are seldom if ever idealists; they see the world as it is, are men of order and of accumulative tendency. Perhaps George Whitfield and John Wesley may be taken as just examples of these two kinds of ministers. Mr. Badger was certainly a constructive, and also was he a gifted creator of material. He was, in one, both these orders of ministerial power; perhaps we should say that if either predominated it was that of conserving the wealth which his creativeness and the creativeness of others might produce. Whitfield was