le has not the
objectionable accretions of the ignorant past presented to him.

The more one thinks over the matter, the stronger one's opinion
becomes that the Christian will have to follow the Eastern example and
winnow the wheat from the chaff--worse than chaff, sometimes the
positively pernicious and even poisonous refuse. Burns, in the
"Cotter's Saturday Night," pictures the good man taking down the big
Bible for the evening service:

"He wales a portion with judicious care."

We should have those portions selected and use the selections only. In
this, and much besides, the man whom I am so thankful for having known
and am so favored as to call friend, has proved the true teacher in
advance of his age, the greatest poetic teacher in the domain of "the
future and its viewless things."

I took Arnold down from our summer home at Cresson in the Alleghanies
to see black, smoky Pittsburgh. In the path from the Edgar Thomson
Steel Works to the railway station there are two flights of steps to
the bridge across the railway, the second rather steep. When we had
ascended about three quarters of it he suddenly stopped to gain
breath. Leaning upon the rail and putting his hand upon his heart, he
said to me:

"Ah, this will some day do for me, as it did for my father."

I did not know then of the weakness of his heart, but I never forgot
this incident, and when not long after the sad news came of his sudden
death, after exertion in England endeavoring to evade an obstacle, it
came back to me with a great pang that our friend had foretold his
fate. Our loss was great. To no man I have known could Burns's epitaph
upon Tam Samson be more appropriately applied:

"Tam Samson's weel-worn clay here lies:
Ye canting zealots, spare him!
If honest worth in heaven rise,
Ye'll mend or ye win near him."

The name of a dear man comes to me just here, Dr. Oliver Wendell
Holmes, of Boston, everybody's doctor, whose only ailment toward the
end was being eighty years of age. He was a boy to the last. When
Matthew Arnold died a few friends could not resist taking steps toward
a suitable memorial to his memory. These friends quietly provided the
necessary sum, as no public appeal could be thought of. No one could
be permitted to contribute to such a fund except such as had a right
to the privilege, for privilege it was felt to be. Double, triple the
sum could readily have been obtained. I had the great satisfaction