Dr. Pierce was born in Dorchester, Mass., about four miles from Boston, July 14th, 1773. He was the oldest of ten children, six of whom still survive. His father, a shoemaker, and an honest, intelligent, religious man, died December 11th, 1833, aged ninety-one years, two months, and eight days. From earliest childhood, he cherished the desire to go to college and to become a minister — this desire being awakened, as he used to say, by hearing his parents, uncles, and aunts, talk so incessantly of their brother, James Blake, a promising young clergyman, who died just after he began to preach. On leaving the school of the same maiden woman who taught his mother to read, he commenced the study of Latin, and in 1789 entered Harvard College. He took a high rank in his class, and at graduating (1793) delivered the second English oration — the first being assigned to Judge (Charles) Jackson, the eminent jurist, still living. His whole college expenses amounted to $296.06 — of which he had credit as a beneficiary, for $102.56.

On taking his second degree he pronounced the Latin valedictory oration. After quitting Cambridge, he was for two years assistant preceptor of the Academy in Leicester, Mass. He commenced (July, 1795) the study of theology, with Rev. Thaddeus Mason Harris, then recently settled in his native town; was "approved" by the "Boston Association," Feb. 22d, 1796, and preached for the first time at Dorchester, March 6th, 1796. Having preached in several places, and filled for nearly four months a tutorship in Harvard College, he received and accepted a unanimous invitation to become the Pastor of the First Church in Brookline, Mass., as the successor of the Rev. Joseph Jackson, and was ordained March 15th, 1797. October 31st, 1798, he was married to Abigail Lovel, of Medway, one of his pupils at the Academy. She died July 2d, 1800, leaving an infant son, who survived his mother only two years. Dr. Pierce was married again, May 6th, 1802, to Lucy Tappan, of Northampton, who is now left his widow, after a union of the utmost harmony and affection extending through forty-seven years. They have had ten children, all but one of whom — a son — are still living. Dr. Pierce was the sole pastor of his church for half a century; and the interesting "Jubilee," when he completed the fiftieth year from the day of his ordination — celebrated March 15th, 1847 — will be remembered by the many whose privilege it was to be present and listen to the hale, hearty, and cheerful clergyman, showing in his seventy-fourth year the vigor of youth. For thirty-one years of his ministry, the First Church was the only church in Brookline, and he was pastor of the whole town. Dr. Pierce was for fifty-two years a member of the Massachusetts Convention of Congregational Ministers, and for ten years its scribe. For thirty years he belonged to the Massachusetts Congregational Charitable Society, and, of course, during the whole of his ministerial career, one of the "Boston Association," whose meetings he rarely missed. For thirty-three years he was Secretary to the Board of Overseers of Harvard College. For several years he was President of the Massachusetts Bible Society; and also a faithful officer or active member of numerous other associations of a literary or philanthropic character. He served on the School Committee during his whole ministry. He was among the very earliest advocates of temperance, and to the last of his days of activity, known of all for the zeal and courage with which, in public and in private, he maintained, by speech and example, the doctrine of "total abstinence." He officiated on various public occasions; and in January of the current year, he delivered the "Election Sermon," as it is called, before the Executive and the Legislature of the State. This discourse, with several other of his addresses, mostly statistical and historical, has been published.

The Rev. Frederic N. Knapp was ordained as his colleague, Oct. 6th, 1847. But though thus relieved in a great measure from the care of his own pulpit, he continued to preach, with unabated strength, for many of his brethren, and to take part in various meetings, until the last spring.

Dr. Pierce was a tall, large framed man, with a mild, open countenance, beaming with cheerfulness and benignity. His hair very early became almost white, and gave him an appearance of venerableness long before he numbered years sufficient to justify the epithet. He enjoyed in youth and manhood, notwithstanding in infancy he was a feeble child, almost uninterrupted health; he remarked to the writer, during his last sickness, "that for nearly forty years he had not known what it was to have a physical infirmity worth naming." During his long ministry, he was kept from his pulpit only thirteen Sundays. In the spring of 1805, he was seized with a rheumatic fever, which confined him several weeks; and, it is a curious fact, that the celebrated Joseph Stevens Buckminster was ill at the same time, they both returned to their respective desks the same Lord's day, and preached from the same text, namely, Psalm cxix. 71. It was his invariable habit to rise early; in the winter, for two hours or more before breakfast, to saw and split his own wood, and in the summer to work in his vegetable garden. He was a great walker; frequently on his exchanges going on foot, out and back, six or seven miles the same day, and without fatigue. He was "temperate in all things," invariably making his dinner, when at the most sumptuous and varied entertainment, from one dish, and that, usually, the plainest on the table. His beverage, for twenty years or more, was cold water, tea, and coffee. Simple in his tastes, and of the strictest integrity, Dr. Pierce was an economist. He brought up a large family, and laid up a portion every year, of an income never large, and at the commencement of his ministry amounting only to $400, and sixteen cords of wood, per annum; though it must not be forgotten, that his people from time to time increased, until they more than doubled his stipend, and also showed their regard for their pastor by generous gifts. With all his frugality, however, he had no "love of money," and there was nothing narrow or mean about him; on the contrary, he was most liberal and hospitable. To show how little he cared for riches, we may state, that, with all his proper inquisitivness, there was one question he never asked, namely, what was a minister's salary? and with all the tenacity of his memory, there was one fact it very seldom kept, namely, how much any preacher received for his services. On one occasion he was stripped by an unfortunate investment made for him, of almost all the property he possessed; but to appearance the loss did not disturb him for a moment, and it was months, we believe, before his nearest relations knew of it; showing that his heart was where his treasures were, and that these were not laid up on earth. He never was oppressed with debt, and from the time of his second marriage, if not before, had, on the first day of every year, a year's salary and a year's stock of wood on hand, to begin with. He purchased many books, subscribed for many periodicals, spread his simple table with abundance, and yet made both ends meet, and had something to spare. A faithful domestic, and a cooperating partner, however, must share with him the credit of economical management. He greatly loved music; was a fine singer himself, and enjoyed sacred tunes so much, that he would frequently, on exchanges, when he met with kindred tastes, spend the whole evening, after preaching all day, going through books of psalmody. Among the many attentions paid him during his illness, few gave him so much delight as the weekly visits to the parsonage, on Saturday evenings, of his beloved choir; "his sweet psalmists of Israel," as he called them.

Dr. Pierce's scholarship and literary attainments were, for one who enjoyed no better early advantages, and belonged to the "Old School," more than respectable. He made no pretensions to learning; and yet he had quite a correct knowledge of the classics as studied in his day. He wrote with accuracy; and we doubt whether an instance of misspelling or wrong punctuation could be found in his numerous manuscript sermons. From boyhood he was fond of reading; and with the best didactic, historical, and biographical literature of the times, he kept himself well acquainted. He loved to read aloud; and his family will long remember the many evenings, when his strong and manly voice gave them instruction or entertainment from some new book in that "dear old study," hung round with innumerable sweet memories of the past. His mind was a practical one — he had no taste for philosophical speculation; was wanting, perhaps, in depth of sentiment and imagination. But, if not an original thinker himself, he appreciated the best thoughts of others; and if he collected from abroad more ideas than he generated within, he generally knew how to select the truest, and best, and most useful. Indeed, we have sometimes thought that his reputation as a lover of facts, and his reverence for great writers who have become classic, together with the intense activity of his social nature, may have concealed, and so led to the underrating of his talents and acquirements, which, as they were shown in good sense, sound and discriminating judgment of men and things, were by no means inferior. Of his preaching, paradoxical as it may sound, we may, perhaps, safely say, had it been less scriptural or evangelical in phraseology — a characteristic which came from his implicit faith in, and profound reverence for the Bible — it would have been found more original and thoughtful than some may imagine. We need not, however, dwell upon this point, for he was never ambitious of literary distinction; and certainly one of a moral and religious character so stainless, exhibiting a life of such uniform worthiness, can well spare the fame of the mere scholar, and wants not the praise of intellectual greatness as a claim to reverential respect. And that moral and religious character, who could, who did observe and study it — so guileless, simple, pure, upright, consistent, and humble — without giving it the silent homage of his heart? If any one might dare to cherish the hope of inheriting, through the Father's mercy, the promises in the Beatitudes, it was he. He was a Christian in his trustful faith, his sincere devotion, his endeavors to keep the commandments, if ever there was a Christian on earth. His domestic virtues made a happy home. His integrity and truthfulness there were none to call in question. He was a peacemaker. He was genial, hearty, affectionate, cheerful, almost always and everywhere. He was thankful for his blessings, and resigned under all his trials, and overflowed with gratitude to heaven for his many years of happiness on earth — saying, as the shadows of the grave began to gather about him, "that he knew not how his life could have been better or pleasanter than a kind Providence had ordered it." His boyhood was free from rudeness, vulgarity, and profaneness. His college days were unstained by vice, and he graduated without having received the slightest censure. His youth was pure; his manhood above reproach; to the moral beauty, the Christian trust of his old age, who that saw him will not bear willing witness? We doubt if he ever had an enemy; and we are sure there are none who can stand by his grave without saying, "Here reposes the dust which was once, and through a long pilgrimage, the garment of an honest and religious man." He was highly favored, it is true, in his constitution, his temperament, his early training, and his prosperous lot in life; but those who knew him intimately, know that not a little which seemed so natural and spontaneous in his goodness, was the work of principle, the result of self-discipline, watchfulness, and prayer, and religious habits of soul. But our purpose here, is not eulogy, and we will simply add that for uniform punctuality, for systematic diligence, for sincere and earnest endeavors to do his duty in all relations, for fine domestic qualities, for faithful exercise to keep a conscience void of offence towards God and man, those who dwelt nearest to the subject of this notice, and who were best acquainted with whatever infirmities he may have had, will be the first to give him credit. Dr. Pierce was accustomed to speak of himself as a matter-of-fact man; and as such he has been known, at least by everybody who lives near, or was a student in Harvard College. There was almost as much truth as wit in the remark of the late Judge Davis, when — all other attempts to find out having failed, and Dr. Pierce could not tell the birthplace of a certain person — he said, "that it was no use to make further inquiries; for, if the Doctor did not know where the man was born, he was not born anywhere."

The amount of dates and facts Dr. Pierce carried stored up in his memory and had ready for use whenever called for, was perfectly marvellous; and his knowledge, in this regard, was as accurate as it was extensive. He has been known, more than once, to correct mistakes made by his friends, as to their own age and the day of their own nativity; and to catch him in an error about the time of any minister's birth, settlement, or death, after he had once ascertained it, or about the class to which a graduate of Harvard College belonged, was next to an impossibility. The whole "Triennial" was in his head ; and the personal history of most of the clergymen in his own neighborhood and of his own [denomination, he knew almost as well as he knew his alphabet. Then his "Memoirs and Memorabilia," eighteen quarto volumes, in manuscript, of six hundred pages each, his memoranda, his interleaved almanacs, his occasional discourses, falling on the ear, when heard, a perfect hail-storm of facts, and bristling, when read, all over with figures; — these, containing accounts of commencements, exhibitions, ordinations, "jubilees," dedications, genealogies, and hundreds of other like matters, remain to show his industry, the innocent and useful ruling passion of his mind, and to be a treasury of information to those who shall come after him. Ah! how, as the business, matter-of-fact-man, in many societies, and on many occasions, he is yet to be missed! At the "Commencements" and "Anniversary-weeks" to come, how long it will be before that active, vigorous form, that interested countenance, and those snowy hairs, will cease to be remembered and mentioned!

The main direction which Dr. Pierce's fondness for facts took, leads us naturally to advert to his love of Harvard College. Venerable Alma Mater never dismissed a child from under her maternal wing, who cherished towards her greater filial affection and respect. He has told us that when a school-boy, he repeatedly walked from Boston to his home in Dorchester, through Cambridge and Roxbury a distance of nearly or quite a dozen miles, merely that he might have the pleasure of looking at the College buildings! And this early regard for the University never grew cold. He attended sixty-three Commencements; in 1847, there were but twenty-one graduates alive who took their degrees when he was not present; and for fifty-four successive years he "set the tune" of St. Martin's to the hymn sung at the Commencement dinner. He was always alive to the interest and reputation of the University; and in his official capacity, was a model of accuracy and punctuality; keeping the records and discharging all his clerical duties in the most faithful manner. For other collegiate institutions, also, he had a high respect; and as he found leisure, of late years, made it almost a business to attend their respective Commencements.

In speaking of Dr. Pierce as a preacher and pastor, we shall say nothing of his theological views, except that he uniformly refused to be classed with any sect whatever, or to take any names except those of a "Congregationalist" and a "Christian." He seldom preached doctrinal sermons. He had no taste for controversy; and hardly ever indulged in expressions of his belief, clothed in any other phraseology than that of the Bible. For any party to claim him as a member on account of his opinions, would be showing a sad want of respect to his memory, and an utter disregard of his well-known feelings and wishes when alive. No one has any moral right to do for him that which he always refused to do for himself— class him anywhere as a theologian. He must be known simply as an "eclectic Christian," to use his own terms; and if this phrase is indefinite, it must be remembered that it has all the precision which he desired. On one point we may, however, be very explicit. He set his face like a flint against every form of sectarian exclusiveness and bigotry, and was only intolerant towards those who ventured to judge any body of believers in Christ, and to deny them the Master's name. Towards some views — more or less prevalent in New England of late years — he might have failed a little in preserving that "charity which is not easily provoked ;" but on the whole, his Catholicism was a marked trait in his character, which, often severely tried, was seldom found wanting. He was an earnest, plain preacher; dealing generally with practical subjects, without seeking originality of thought, or being remarkable for any graces of rhetoric. Perhaps, as we have already hinted, had his quotations from Scripture been more sparing, his discourses would have gained in clearness and point. Alluding to this feature in his sermons, a friend remarked, lately to us, that " Dr. Pierce certainly preached the Bible." But his style was that of former days; and few men have retained so much of their early acceptableness in the pulpit, owing to the impression he made upon his hearers of his own deep sincerity and unfeigned piety. You felt that he believed with his whole heart and soul every thing he said, and was thoroughly in earnest. It was, however, by the daily beauty of his life as the faithful pastor, that Dr. Pierce won the confidence and affection of his people. He knew every man, woman, and child in his parish — the date of their births, and of all the important events connected with their joys or their sorrows. No one was ever forgotten or overlooked. With the same hearty simplicity he visited the rich and the poor, the refined and the unlearned; and though there were wide diversities in the social condition of the members of his society, there were none to charge him with partiality, none to doubt his friendliness and ready sympathies. His social disposition led him to devote much time to visiting, and he went from house to house, as he did every thing else, according to system.

It is a difficult thing for a settled clergyman, advanced in life, especially if in vigorous health, to see, as soon as his parishioners and others may see it, that time and change have made it desirable that he should receive the assistance of youth, or retire, in a manner, from the active duties of his profession in the field of labor, so long entirely his own. To do this must have been peculiarly trying in the case of Dr. Pierce, unconscious as he was of any infirmity — hardly knowing, indeed, that he was growing old, except as the numerical increase of his years testified to the fact. But in this matter, after a little natural reluctance and hesitation, he met the demands of duty most conscientiously, yielding up every personal consideration to promote the welfare of his parish. It was very fortunate for all parties that the society unanimously chose for his colleague the very individual upon whom, as he once told us, " without daring to express his feelings to any one, he had fixed his heart." "Fixed his heart," was indeed the right phrase; for no fond father, it seems to us, could have cherished a stronger affection or greater solicitude for the welfare and success of his own son, than did Dr. Pierce, to the day of his departure, for his young associate; and it is but proper to say that this paternal regard was returned with filial respect and devotion; so that the change in his relations to his church, to which he had looked forward with much anxiety, became, after it took place, only another joy added to the many blessings with which his days were crowded.

But we must bring this imperfect and hasty sketch to a close, and we cannot do it better than by a brief allusion to the last days of the subject of it; a full description of which would be the most suggestive eulogy of his worth that could be written. It was on the third of March that his illness commenced, with a sudden attack, which, for a few hours, threatened a fatal result. Relief, however, was obtained; but a gradual decay began, which, with intervals of apparent convalescence, finally closed his earthly career.

Those who knew what pride Dr. Pierce seemed to take in his robust health, and how active were his habits, feared lest the trial of protracted disease and feebleness would prove to be almost too hard even for his patience. But he met this sudden change in his condition, as if to prepare for it had been the sole work of his life — as, indeed, in some sense it was, since now was brought forth the crowning ripeness of his Christian character. At once he set his "house in order," arranging all his temporal affairs, so as to leave his thoughts free for better things. Until within a few weeks, he rode out almost every pleasant day; and up to his last hours, the unspeakable satisfaction of continuing his records and of seeing and enjoying the society of his friends, was permitted him. It might be said, without much exaggeration, that he held a daily "reception ;" and some notion of the number of visitors who came to show their respect and affection, may be formed from the fact, that among them were one hundred and twenty clergymen, representing seven different denominations. The scene in his "study," from morning till evening, was beautiful beyond expression. Everybody, from the merest child up to the venerable and devoted parishioner of fourscore years, — from the humble woman who insisted upon bringing with her own hands the icecream she prepared each day for his use, up to men high in station, and higher still in their reputation for worth and wisdom,—everybody remembered the good man and beloved pastor. Rare and fresh flowers loaded his table, and filled the silver vase, presented to him by the ladies of the Baptist Society, at his "jubilee ;" all the delicacies of the season, and all manner of luxuries which it was thought might do him good, or please an appetite that disease had for the first time, made capricious, were poured around him in profusion. Many were ready, at a moment's warning, to read to him or write for him, or to discharge any office of kindness. In one word, wealth never purchased, and power never won attentions, of all kinds, so devoted and loving, as were gladly rendered, without stint, and in constant anticipation of his slightest wishes. Verily, he had his reward. The life-long expressions of his own genial and kindly nature — his own remembrance of all who needed his ministry — came flowing back, a rich harvest of reverent and affectionate service, to fill full with beauty and brightness the close of his days, and to consecrate, in the memory of multitudes, his humble parsonage, as a spot hallowed for months by the presence of unselfish and unwearied affection ; and so it went on to the last. And how did he bear it all? Like a meek, lowly, humble, Christian, with the simplicity and frankness of a child, with incessant and grateful wonder at the respect shown him, with the most entire submission to the Divine will, with a cheerful trust in God that took away all fear and looked forward to the grave and eternity with the calm eye of assured religious hope.

Dr. Pierce failed very rapidly after his visit to the Church mentioned above; but retained possession of his faculties and his consciousness, until Thursday evening. At that time, in addition to the members of his family and one or two neighbors, his colleague, and his devoted friend Rev. Mr. Shailer of the Baptist Church, in Brookline, whom he used playfully and affectionately to call his "oldest son," and with whom he enjoyed years of the most harmonious and confidential intercourse — were in attendance upon him. His last words were addressed to Mr. Shailer, in answer to an inquiry as to the manner in which he would be remembered in the evening prayer, and those words were, "Entire submission to the Divine will." Reclining in his easy chair, he lingered until the next forenoon, when, at half past eleven o'clock, with only one brief struggle, he fell asleep. He died in the Lord, the death of the righteous. Sketch of the Character of Dr. Pierce from the Christian Examiner.

Dr. Pierce was a distinguished man. Any person attending his funeral must have seen that he was a man of mark whom they were burying. There was a great concourse of people thronging with reverent and tender emotions around his coffin, and among them many men of eminent character and station. It was evident from many signs that those were not the obsequies of an ordinary man, or a mere official man. And those signs were not fallacious. When his death was announced, it was everywhere taken much note of by the press, and, in conversation, spoken of with a feeling of interest, by all sorts of persons, in the neighborhood and far in the country. We suppose that there was hardly a man in Massachusetts whose person was known to so many individuals in the State. It is seldom that so many and hearty expressions of affectionate respect, from so many quarters, follow an old man to his grave.

And how came he to be thus distinguished? — This is a question which, of course, has been often asked, and we repeat it now thoughtfully, and shall try to answer it. It may seem a question of some difficulty. For he had but a moderate share of those materials from which reputations are usually constructed. At college he was a diligent and successful scholar, and always retained his strong sympathy with scholarly pursuits and achievements; yet his learning, theological, classical, or scientific, was not extensive nor profound. The original resources of his mind were not great. He had not a spark of what is called genius. He had no eloquence in speech nor in writing. As a preacher he was not specially sought. He was nowise remarkable for the reach or strength of his understanding. He had little logic and less rhetoric. The only knowledge for which he was particularly noted was that of dates, and facts of contemporary personal history. He had good sense, and such soundness and sagacity of judgment as usually accompany integrity of mind and honest simplicity of purpose; but he was not deemed a sage or wise man, in such a sense that his knowledge was greatly sought in weighty and perplexed affairs. He always acquitted himself respectably on those public occasions on which he was called to officiate, but his published discourses do not constitute a permanently valuable addition to our literature. To those measures for ameliorating the condition of society in which he took part, he only contributed the testimony of his convictions and the weight of his character, — a large contribution surely, but still the question recurs, whence came that weight of character? And, withal, his social position was only that of an humble country clergyman.

So, he seems not to have been greatly favored with those qualities and circumstances which are the usual elements of public distinction. And yet we know that he was distinguished, with a widely extended and very desirable reputation. What is the secret of it? We shall find an answer where a Christian must most delight to find it, — in the qualities of his heart and in the rectitude and purity of his life.

Whenever a man spends a life as long as that of our late friend in one spot or neighborhood, and spends it in the diligent pursuance of his vocation, and has been found always just and upright, consistent, sincere, and truthful, exemplary in domestic relations and a kind neighbor, affable and sympathizing,— never formal, cold, nor mean, nor selfish, nor crowding, nor grasping, — without a sharp tongue or a rancorous spirit, — steady, friendly, benevolent, blameless, and devout, — bearing his trials well, and his temptations well, with none to taunt him with moral lapses, or charge him with social wrong, — keeping, we say, in one place, so as to be well known to two successive generations, — that man, when he dies, will be found to be distinguished, — it may be within a narrow circuit, if his position be obscure, — yet distinguished. And if he have a position only so conspicuous as that of a country clergyman, though without the least brilliancy of mental endowments or pulpit success, he will be found widely, greatly distinguished, and most honorably so.

Such a character and career imply a combination of gifts, efforts, and circumstances that is rare, more rare than the talents or social advantages which are the usual means of notoriety. Such a combination there was, to an eminent degree, in favor of the late minister of Brookline.

Born in Dorchester, he just moved over to that pleasant parsonage, only going round by Cambridge for purposes of education; and there he has dwelt for more than fifty years, and there he has died. During that period, we doubt if he has ever been accused of neglecting a duty or forgetting an appointment, or committing a mean, unjust, or immoral action, or speaking a false, or irreverent, or unkind, or insincere word.

But it would be unfair to describe him only by negatives. His was a positive character, and had great positive traits of excellence. He appears to have obeyed and carried out the two parts of the great commandment — to love God and love man — with unusual earnestness and thoroughness.

As to the first part, his personal religion was very positive. He was not a learned and acute theologian, but he was unfeignedly pious, and a firm and ardent believer. He did love and fear God with true practical devotion, and he was a disciple of Christ, in that he believed, and loved, and trusted his Master with all his heart.

His theological opinions, as to disputed points, were not, we suppose, very clearly defined in his own mind. As far as possible, he avoided taking sides in the great controversy between the Liberal and Orthodox parties, disclaimed all party relations and names to the last. And herein some may have thought that he showed an unworthy timidity or an unworthy courting of favor from both parties. But it could not have been from want of moral courage or from a time-serving spirit. For see how early, strongly, and without reservation he committed himself on the Temperance question, everywhere declaring in his loudest tones — and they were loud indeed — his thorough-going, uncompromising altruism on that subject, in opinion and practice; and that course, in some stages and aspects of the movement, must have appeared quite as likely to make him enemies as any theological decision. And besides, he had a parish that would have sustained him, probably to a man, in taking ever so decidedly the side which he must have taken, if he were to take any, and which he did take virtually. His somewhat peculiar feelings and position in relation to sects and parties are not to be referred to any moral defect.

The truth is, his personal sympathies were so broad and strong and warm, that he could not well bear to be separated from any body by party lines, — he so loved and yearned for good-fellowship among ministers. The lines were not drawn till some years after his ministry began; and when he and so many of his brethren came to be excluded, abruptly cut off, from the old Congregational communion, we can suppose that for a time, until he became used to it, it must have been the great grief of his heart to be suddenly turned out of doors by his old friends, ignored by them as a brother-minister of Christ, excluded from their pulpits and their fellowship. How it must have astonished and wounded him, — feeling that he was as orthodox, as sound in the faith, as ever he was, or as they were! And what a commentary it is on that stern policy of exclusion, that it shut out him as no Christian or Christian minister, — him, who was a minister through and through, and with all his heart, from his very infancy, — him, so pure a man, so evangelical in all his beliefs and words, such a real, hearty, fixed, oldfashioned, Bible Christian!

But he was only grieved, not alienated or embittered. He did not defy his former associates, or go into the opposite ranks to contend against them. He loved them just the same, would not be driven from his familiar associations with them, and, to the last, took as much interest in them and their institutions, their public occasions, and all their religious affairs, as he did in the affairs of those friends who were excluded with him, and who were ever ready to hail him as father, and reciprocate his confidence. And yet he was always true to his Liberal friends. When he found they were to be driven asunder from their old associations, he did not hesitate to go with them. And we know that to the end of his life he rejoiced that such had been his decision. It would have been violence to his whole nature to have joined what he always considered the illiberal side.

His theological views, probably, never underwent any material change from his-early youth to the day of his death, —none, that is, which he was distinctly conscious of. If he was carried along at all by the progress of opinion around him, he was hardly aware of any change of position in himself. His mind was not of a character to discriminate sharply between shades of doctrinal differences, and being himself where he always was, he could see no more reason for a sectarian division of the Congregational body in 1815 than in 1790. He was strictly conservative in theology. He entertained none of the speculations of the time, accepted no novelties, would give no hearing to those who promised to show a better way of truth than that which he had long walked in. He had early anchored his mind fast upon the Bible, and found his Saviour, and learned, as he thought, to read his law, and rest upon his promises, and through him to "worship the Father in spirit and in truth," and he did not think that anybody could teach him anything more or better than this. He thought that the important truths of Christianity were as plain to the spiritual understanding as they were ever likely to be made by human learning; and he did not want any young man to give him his spiritual intuitions as substitutes for the old texts about righteousness and love, grace and peace, joy in the Holy Ghost, and the resurrection of the just to eternal life. He thought he had long known well enough in whom he believed, and the way of salvation. So his faith grew up with him, and grew old with him. It seems never to have suffered any distractions or perplexities. He was very firm and very happy in it; and while it gave him a high standard of virtue, humility, and pious trust, he never troubled himself to suit it to the fashion or the philosophy of the day, and never saw any occasion to relay its foundations, or change its substance, or distrust old proofs of it, or search for new ones.

There is certainly something very respectable, to say the least, in that sort of mind that can go on through a long life in one religious track, turning neither to the right nor the left, let the wind of doctrine blow about him which way it would, — not indifferent, not cold, not a mere conformist, — warm, living, but steady, always the same, early finding the rock, and, assured it is the rock of ages, planting itself upon it, and never swerving, though all the world say, Lo here! and Lo there! There is some grandeur in such a position and career. We do not say that it is practicable or desirable for all persons. We do not say that it indicates the highest type of mind. It is not from minds of that stamp, perhaps, that the highest spiritual benefactions have proceeded. The world wants some bold, inquiring, progressive minds; and God wants them, for he has provided that there shall be such. Not all minds can abide in one stay. They must be sounding new depths; they must be looking always to the east and the west for more light, going forward, inquiring, proving, recasting their religious ideas. It is a necessity of their nature or their circumstances, and it is well. We will not say that they ought to do or be otherwise. But we do say, that whoever finds himself able and disposed to go through life in one settled faith, and that living and life-giving, needing no change, and seeking none, enjoying it, resting in it, living by it, and ever striving to live it out more and more in charity and in peace, — he is happy; he need not fear the taunts of the restless and progressive, who cannot be fixed themselves, nor bear to see any fixtures about them. He need not feel obliged to quit the tranquil lake because some call it stagnant, nor to launch upon the turbulent stream because some say there only is life. He will be countenanced by the examples of multitudes of as venerable and beautiful lives as ever were lived on earth, or closed in the hope of heaven.

In the other half of the Christian law, love to man, Dr. Pierce was not lacking. The most striking part of his character lay here. He had the kindliest of natures. His heart seemed a fountain of loving-kindness, always gushing up and running over. Time, and-experience of the world's coldness, never checked its stream or dried up a drop of it. What a cordial greeting was his! What a beaming friendliness on his face! We never knew the person who took so hearty an interest in so many people, and showed it by such unequivocal signs. He seemed to know almost everybody, and all about him. And it was not an idle, prurient curiosity; if it had been, it would have run into scandal, as it usually does in those who make it a business to know and report everybody's affairs. He had no scandal. His love saved him from that. He said pleasant things and kind things. There was no venom under his tongue, no acid in his breast. He probably never made an enemy, nor lost a friend. His affections were warm, his sympathies were quick. He was generous according to his means. He loved young men. For more than fifty years, without interruption, we have been told, he travelled to Cambridge several times a year to attend the public exercises, and listened to every student with fond eagerness, as to a son of his own, and for ever after remembered him, and in most cases knew all about him.

Age did not blunt these kind feelings, or quench one ray of their youthful glow. Here he was remarkable. Age did not tend in the least to make him shrink into himself, or to narrow the circle of his sympathies. After seventy he would start off with the ardor of a school-boy, and walk miles, just to see an old friend, and would live for months after on the pleasure of the interview. And he not only loved other people, but he loved to be loved. He seemed to value nothing in this world so much as kind attention, affection, good fellowship.

He was welcomed in all the pulpits to which he had access, not so much on account of his preaching as on his own account. People liked to see him and hear his voice, especially in singing, because his soul was in it. They liked to see him, he seemed such a personal friend. His bare presence was as acceptable to many, and perhaps as profitable, as the sermons of some much greater men, — he was so sincere, so hearty, so kind. A word from him, with his great, cordial, friendly voice, at the church-door or in the aisle, would, for multitudes, make ample amends for any dryness in the regular discourse.

It is very singular that such warm affections towards both God and man did not impart their unction to his intellect, and give a character of rich and glowing sentiment to his composition; but we believe they did not. They did lend animation and force to his delivery, but never gave their fire to his composition. He was not eloquent, or poetical, or affecting, in his writing. Somehow, there was a connecting link missing between his heart and his intellect. With feelings fresh, and warm, and pure enough to have made him a poet, an orator, and a splendid writer, he was not a bit of either. It was a singular instance of disconnection between the two parts of the mind. His great, fervent heart is not in his writings. But no matter, — he had it, and everybody knew he had it, and felt the influence of it, was warmed by its radiance, and gladdened by its benignity.

There is, then, no mystery about his extended reputation. This is the way it came, — by natural laws, interest for interest; all knew him because he knew all; all loved him, for he loved all; all are touched by his death, for all have lost a friend.

Our view of Dr. Pierce would be incomplete without some reference to his last days. Providence greatly favored him in his last sickness. His faculties were not impaired, and he was without pain. He was able, till the last, to sit up in his study and receive his friends. And how they poured in upon him ! — and how glad he was to see them! — overwhelmed, he said, with joy at their kindness. It was so congenial to him, that it seemed not to weary him. And he was so cheerful, so happy ! — nothing but happiness, he said, in his past life or present decay; happy, when he laid his hands on the children that came to him; happy in taking from kind hands the tokens of thoughtful regard that were brought to him; happy in greeting the troops of brethren and parishioners; happy in the grasp, that he knew would be the last, of a lifelong friend, and happy in the tears of affection he shed on the neck of a foreigner whom he never saw before, but loved tenderly, as the apostle of temperance and the benefactor of his race; happy, too, in pointing to the green spot before his house, where he said he should soon be laid; and happiest of all in the prospect of the life that was about to dawn on him. His faith was firm, his trust unfaltering. He not only submitted to God's will, — he loved it and made it his own. He loved God and man, earth and heaven, more than ever. And one could hardly tell with which hand his heart went out with most energy and warmth, that which grasped the dear ties of domestic and friendly love on earth, or that which pointed in joyous and triumphant assurance to the opening mansions of the blest.

"That is greatness," said one of our greatest men, referring to one of those interviews with him in his sickness — "that is greatness. We did not use to call him great, but he is great now; and what we commonly call great is very little compared with that."