A biography of Dr. Stillman, written by his son-in-law, Thomas Gray, D. D., of Roxbury, is prefixed to a volume of occasional sermons, published in 1808. It should be stated that the analysis of his doctrinal opinions was written by a layman of Dr. Stillman's church. Madam Stillman, his wife, founded the Boston Female Asylum, in 1800, where her portrait is exhibited. A person detractingly remarked of Stillman, in conversation with Moses Stuart, of Andover, that he was not a man of talents. "How long was Dr. Stillman pastor of the church?" inquired Stuart. "He was its pastor forty years," was the reply. "Was he popular during all that period?" "He was." "What! and not a man of talents-impossible!" said Stuart.

The oratory of Stillman was a rare exception to the reply of Garrick to a clergyman who inquired of him how it was that the stage produced so much greater an effect on an audience than the pulpit. "The difference consists in this," said Garrick; "that we speak fiction as if we believed it fact, while you preach the truth as if you supposed it fiction." So flexile was the bow of Stillman, however, that the welldirected arrow was sure to reach the heart.

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"One of the best specimens of effect in preaching," remarks the Panoplist, "was Dr. Stillman, of the Baptist church. It should always be remembered that when speaking of oratory we mean two distinct things, which are seldom found united in one person. call Burke an orator, and the same appellation we give to Whitefield. But how different! Burke was a very tedious speaker: no man thinned the benches of the House of Commons more,and it was not until his rich and flowing style appeared from the press that his merits were appreciated. With Whitefield it was exactly the reverse. He was thrilling from the desk, but it would have been happy for his memory if none of his discourses had ever been published. We cannot claim for Dr. Stillman the oratory of Burke. His printed sermons are no reflection of the man. The voice is wanting,- the melting tones, the restless activity, the matchless emphasis (sometimes, at least), the fervor, the life, the energy. He was a thin, spare man, dressed with the utmost neatness; he wore a large, powdered, bushy wig; his motions very quick, and his tones some of the most melting and quickening we ever heard. There was a sort of nervous impatience in him during the singing of the last hymn before the sermon, which seemed. to say to you, 'I

long to be at my work;' and the moment the choir stopped, he started from his seat, like shot from the cannon's mouth, and was announcing his text before your hymn-book was half closed. It was once our lot to see him enter the jail, in Court-street, where a criminal was confined, waiting for execution. A vast crowd was assembled in the yard, around the old court-house, blocking up all the passages. He was driven up by an elderly negro man, who sat on a strapped seat before the body of the chaise. The impatient chaplain leaped from his carriage like a bird; and I shall never forget the impression his motions made. on me, as he darted through the crowd, like a glancing arrow or a bounding rocket, rushing through every opening, and almost pushing one one way, and another another, seeming to say by his very motions, 'Make way, gentlemen, make way; your business cannot be equal to mine. I have but one work to do; it must be done; I go to rescue a sinner from the darkness of his ignorance and the pangs of the second death. Make way, gentlemen, make way.'

"His enunciation was rapid, and his emphasis, as I have before said, sometimes inimitable. He had some nice flexures of voice, which I have never heard from another man, and which never can be restored, now that the voice that modulated them is silent in the grave. For example, the following hymn :

'Well, the Redeemer's gone,

To appear before our God;

To sprinkle o'er the flaming throne,

With his atoning blood.'

"Some cold-blooded critic has lately censured this verse; but I think he must have been disarmed, could he have heard Dr. Stillman read it. His voice had a beautiful circumflex to it; he threw this emphasis on the word 'well,' then a pause, and the rest of the verse pronounced in that cheerful and animating tone which seemed to rend the veil, and transport the hearer into the unseen world. The most skilful actor never made a more sudden and happy transition. His voice, however, was more felicitous in sweetness and pathos than in majesty and terror. The solemn, guttural tones were entirely wanting to him; and there was no apparent art in his style or delivery. It was all earnest simplicity."

DR. SAMUEL WHITWELL.

JULY 4, 1789. FOR THE MASSACHUSETTS SOCIETY OF CINCINNATI.

WAS born at Boston; entered the Latin School, 1762; graduated at Princeton, 1774; student of medicine under Dr. James Lloyd, and married Lucy Tyler, of Boston, 1783. Was an army surgeon in Col. James Jackson's regiment, and died at Newton, November, 1791, aged 38 years.

In Dr. Whitwell's oration we have a happy allusion to the adoption of the federal constitution: "Fearful of exhibiting any appearance of despotism, at a time when every heart was animated with republican principles, the most rigid in their form; at a period when the cry of liberty was ushered to the ear as the goddess of the country, ensigns of which were waved around as emblems of true contentment, and a name which our little offspring were taught to repeat before they could scarcely articulate; when all ranks of people united in sentiment to repel every principle that seemed derogating from freedom, suspicious of infringing their darling rights, it was wisdom, and, indeed, necessary, to adapt public conduct and measures to the temper and feeling of the times. But what a train of evils, my friends, was hence generated, our treasures exhausted, trade decaying, credit sinking, our national character blasted, and ruin and destruction the gloomy prospect! Where was the soul that was not affected with the most poignant sensations? Where was the patriot that did not bleed at every vein, and shed tears of sorrow for his expiring country? But what do 1 say-expiring? I recall the word; phoenix-like, from the ruins of the old, a new constitution is framed, adopted, and is now in operation." What prospects of future benefits will hence result, I leave my anticipating audience to determine; but, as your countenances bespeak the sentiments of your hearts and the wishes of your breasts, suffer me, in all the warmth of enthusiastic zeal, to congratulate you on this memorable era. May we prostrate ourselves before the great potentate of the universe, and, in the sublime language of inspiration, exclaim, 'Praise waited for thee, oh God, in Zion, and unto thee shall the vow be performed.'"'

EDWARD GRAY.

JULY 4, 1790. FOR THE TOWN AUTHORITIES

EDWARD GRAY was born at Boston, 1764; entered the Latin School 1772, graduated at Harvard College 1782, was a counsellor-at-law, and married Susanna Turell, 1790; was a polished gentleman of great blandness of manners, and highly esteemed. Rev. Frederick T. Gray was his son. He died at Boston, Dec. 10, 1810, aged forty-six.

WILLIAM TUDOR.

JULY 4, 1790. FOR THE MASSACHUSETTS SOCIETY OF CINCINNATI.

WILLIAM TUDOR, the last orator for this veteran institution, very pertinently remarks, that "to ascertain the precise time, under the administration of a Cecil or a Chatham, when Britain and her colonies must have separated, might afford amusement to a speculative inquirer, but can be of no utility now. That the crisis was precipitated, is conceded. But it was not the despotic statutes of England,—it was not the haughty and fastidious manners of her officers, civil or military, - which compelled the mighty Revolution which severed her empire. These did rouse, but they could not create, that unconquerable spirit which stimulated America to vindicate, and irrevocably to fix, those rights which distance and other causes might for ages have kept indefinite, dependent, and precarious. No; it was that native, fervid sense of freedom, which our enlightened ancestors brought with them and fostered in the forests of America, and which, with pious care, they taught their offspring never to forego. Although the present age cannot forget, and posterity shall learn to remember, those violences which impelled their country to war, yet it must be admitted that the period of parting had arrived. British influence and foreign arts might have corrupted, silenced or destroyed, that spirit which, thus early outraged, became invincible, gave birth to the immortal edict, and all those glorious circumstances in which we this day rejoice.

"Whole oceans rolled between, yet the colonies retained a strong attachment to their parent State. The numerous memorials transmitted from every province to that infatuated country remain the evidence of their patience and affection. But, deaf to the voice of supplication and aloof to entreaty, she added indignity to wrong, until 'humility was tortured into rage.' Oppression was crowded upon oppression, until submission was criminal, and resistance became an obligation. On this auspicious day, and through every revolving year, the magnanimity exhibited by our country at that all-interesting and momentous crisis shall cheer the patriot mind, and raise a glow of honest pride. She neither hesitated nor halted; but, sacrificing her attachments at the shrine of duty, appealed to God and to her sword for justice and success. Heaven approbated the appeal, invigorated her councils, and pointed the road to victory. That sword which she drew by compulsion she wore with honor, and her enemies have confessed that she sheathed it without revenge."

In the peroration of this performance Mr. Crafts says: "Locally remote from the causes of quarrel which drench the European world in blood, what have we to do but cultivate in peace those virtues which make a nation great, as well as happy? The goddess of Liberty has condescended to reside among us. Let us cherish the lovely guest,for where will she find an asylum, if driven from these happy shores? To look before us, a field presents itself over which the excursive wing of fancy might soar unwearied. In a few years, our extensive lakes shall be crowded with ships charged with the rich produce of yet unfurrowed soils. On the banks of rivers, where human footstep yet has never trod, cities shall rear their gilded spires. The trackless wilderness, where now the tawny aboriginals, in frantic yells, celebrate their orgies, shall become the peaceful abodes of civilized life. And America shall be renowned for the seat of science and the arts, as she already has been for the wisdom of her counsels and the valor of her arms."