ity that he did the first time I saw him.

"He was a man of medium stature, rather corpulent, his complexion
sallow, the top of his head nearly bald, there being a slight
sprinkling of hair between the forehead and crown. His voice, though
not loud, was clear and pleasant, and in animated conversation and in
the pulpit pitched upon the tenor key.

"He was dignified in his appearance, serious in his aspect,
instructive and agreeable in his conversation, kind and benevolent in
his feelings, modest and unassuming in his manners, deliberate and
cautious in coming to a conclusion, but firm and determined when his
position was taken. If a student had at any time spoken against him,
he would have been regarded as a rebel against law and order. In
managing cases of discipline, he was calm and entirely self-possessed.

In preaching, he had very little action; and yet there was an
impressiveness in his manner that fixed the attention of his hearers.
In the more animated parts of his discourse, his utterance became
more rapid, and the sound of his voice shrill and tremulous, showing
that he felt deeply the force of the sentiments he uttered. In his
religious views, I know not that he differed from the great mass of
the orthodox clergy of New England, of his day.

"Such are my recollections of President Moore.

"Yours truly,
"Emerson Davis."

The following tribute to one of Dartmouth's most eminent and honored
teachers is from a "Discourse" by Professor (now President) Brown.

"Charles Bricket Haddock was born in that part of Salisbury, N. H.,
which is now Franklin, June 20, 1796. His mother was Abigail Webster,
an older sister of Ezekiel and Daniel Webster. She had two children,
Charles and William. She was a person of uncommon excellence and
loveliness, a favorite with her brothers, who always spoke of her with
great affection. She was a religious woman, and on her death-bed
manifested great solicitude for her sons, especially dedicating the
oldest, Charles, to the Christian ministry. This expression of feeling
was almost the only recollection which Mr. Haddock had of his mother.

"The place of his birth was retired, but full of rural beauty; the
rushing Merrimac-making sweet music of a summer evening, the broad
intervals basking in the summer sun, the granite mountains 'dumbly
keeping watch all round,' from whose summits, looking almost to the
White Hills on one side, and almost to the sea on the other, you woul