meetings,--the summer to the plow and the harvest. One instance is on
record in which the entire stock of a year's sermons were written
between December and April. But, notwithstanding the inevitable drudgery
of such a life, the ministry was, upon the whole, noted for study. The
course held at Harvard required close application, and even at the
chapel exercises the Scriptures were daily read in the original
languages. These labors and studies are recorded in that quaintest of
all American books, Mather's Magnalia. Whatever be the pedantry and
vanity of its author, he is undeniably worthy of rank among the men whom
he chronicled. Indeed, the Mathers, father and son, illustrated a race
of rare moral and intellectual power. The first of these, who enjoyed
the profitable name of 'Increase,' was equally popular and successful as
president of Harvard or pastor of the church of Cambridge, and the son
takes little pains to conceal his filial pride as he blazons the virtues
of 'Crescentius Madderus.' He is particular in recording him as the
first American divine who received the honorary title D.D. As one looks
back upon the primitive days of the nascent university, he is struck by
the contrast between the present numerous and stately array of halls,
the magnificent library, and all the pomp of a modern commencement, and
the slender procession of rudely clad youth led by Increase Mather. As
they marched out of the old shaky college and filed into the antique
meeting-house, what would they have said to a glimpse of Gore Hall and
its surroundings? But those were the beginnings of greatness, simple as
they were.

The pages of the Magnalia are filled with portraits hit off in a
masterly style. Mather was a true 'Porte Crayon,' and knew how to bring
out salient points with a few happy touches. His picture-gallery is like
an ancient Valhalla, full of demigods. Among their characteristics are
strong contrasts. Here are piety and poverty and learning, hand in hand.