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member not only his innumerable pupils but also, in many cases, their relations and friends. The secret of this power lay not in his memory but in his love; it was not merely a feat of memory, it was a trophy of love. And surely there was a touch of the Divine in that capacious love which had a distinct place for each single object of its self-expression. For, the almost limitless variations of contour and complexion, amidst misleading degrees of similarity, between one creature and another, constitute not merely a rich provision for the charms of Nature but, even more, a convincing witness unto the direct interest of Providence in each individual. Dr. Miller possessed a remarkably retentive memory, even because he cherished such divine love for his 'boys.' It is such love that, in its own proper nature, begets love. It is of such love that the poet's prophecy comes true, 'What is time?' 'Man has Forever.'
And to the labours which this love entailed, to this Heaven-appointed task, Dr.
