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incessantly gained in intensity with age and experience—do they not form a treasure which Time only holds in trust for Eternity? With that modesty which is a true mark of real worth, he hoped to be remembered "for a time;" but can we ever forget him who never forgot us? The memory of those warm words, as they came from the depths of a loving heart, four decades and more of years have served only to keep all the greener: the words, "they are my children," uttered as our father literally 'handed' me and my brother over to his parental keeping, by placing our trusting in his welcoming hands. And how faithfully and lovingly that pledge has been sustained! In a very real sense, Dr. Miller's pupils were his children—the manasaputras of that mighty heart. According to the world's ways, he might be termed "an Elm without his Vine;" but passing rich has been that " dower of clustering charities," which his love has won as a heaven-awarded prize. Men have marvelled how Dr. Miller could, as he actually did, re-
