om before I had seen at a little distance watching the movements of a
flock of wild pigeons. I took him for a sportsman; but he was a young
divine! I asked him if Dr. Beecher was about. He replied that he
guessed not, but he would be at the lecture-room in a few minutes, for
the bell that had just tolled was a summons to that room. "Does the
Doctor, then," said I, "deliver a lecture this morning?"--"No, it is
_declamation_ this morning." "Is it such an exercise," I continued, "as
a stranger may attend?"--"Oh, yes!" he replied; "it is _public_
declamation." He then directed me to the lecture-room. It was across
the yard, and under the chapel belonging to the institution. This
chapel is a very neat building, after the model of a Grecian temple,
having the roof in front carried out and supported by six
well-proportioned columns in the form of a portico. In a part of the
basement-story was the lecture-room in question. The students were
mustering. By-and-by Dr. Stowe entered. He invited me to take a chair
by his side, on a kind of platform. Professor Allen then came in, and
after him Dr. Beecher. The exercise began with a short prayer by Mr.
Allen. He then called upon a Mr. Armstrong, one of the students, to
ascend the platform. The young man obeyed; and, somewhat abruptly and
vehemently, rehearsed from memory a Poem on War. Suiting the action to
the words, he began--

"_On_--to the glorious conflict--ON!"

It quite startled me! Soon afterwards I heard,--

"And Montezuma's halls shall _ring_."

What! (reasoned I) is this the sequel to the Democratic meeting of last
night? Has Mars, who presided at the town-hall, a seat in the
lecture-room of this Theological Seminary? As the young man proceeded,
however, I perceived that his poem was, in fact, a denunciation of the
horrors of war,--not, as I had supposed, the composition of another
person committed to memory, and now rehearsed as an exercise in
elocution, but entirely his own. It was altogether a creditable
performance. The Professors at the close made their criticisms upon it,
which were all highly favourable. Dr. Beecher said, "My only criticism
is, _Print it, print it_." The venerable Doctor, with the natural
partiality of a tutor, afterwards observed to me he had never heard
anything against war that took so strong a hold of his feelings as that
poem. Dr. Stowe also told me that Mr. Armstrong was considered a young
man of fine talents and great devotion; and tha