THE MEMORY OF AN HUMBLE SERVANT.

BY THE EDITOR.

"DEATH OF ARNOLD BROOKS.-On Monday morning last, the 24th of February, Arnold Brooks, colored, died at his residence, in this place, at an advanced age He was widely and favorably known as the hostler at the Mansion Hotel in this place, at which house and in which capacity, if we are correctly informed, he served for a period of about forty-five years. For some months he has been confined by sickness, which resulted in his death as above stated-which event was not unexpected to him, and for which he signified his readiness. Peace to his ashes."-Mercersburg Journal.

To many of our older readers, "Arnold Brooks ” was a familiar fixture in Mercersburg, Pa. But who was "Brooks," pray? tall, lank, muscular negro, dark as ebony. A great friend of horses, and of the students. In this changeable country, with its restless, unsettled laboring classes, it is a rare thing for a man, and that a black man, to stick to his post for a period of forty-five years. During this time Brooks filled his position, under different employers, with uniform acceptance. He was hostler at the Mansion House when Marshall College and the Theological Seminary were first removed to Mercersburg. Although he never "passed through College," neither was he ever "a member of the Faculty," still he sustained an important relation to the Institution.

He passed a test examination as a faithful servant, during a service of nearly half a century. And he took the high honor of an honest man. He fed and groomed the horses of many of its best friends. On Commencement days he was in his glory. For this day was to Mercersburg, what a great Fair, or grand political Convention, is to larger places. Its principal streets were lined with carriages, of all of which Brooks had charge. Many a prominent citizen of Franklin county, Pa., and of Washington and Frederick counties, Md., will testify, that, on such grand occasions, they always found pleasure in committing their "teams" into the trustworthy hands of "Arnold." While the "boys" were rolling off their graduating eloquence, upon which, of course, the cause and salvation of humanity depended, and while Dr. Nevin held us spellbound with his learned baccalaureate, the faithful Ethiopian was busy grooming his horses. Not that he felt no interest in literature. Indeed, in his own way, he was a brave defender of the institutions. The students were his fast friends, and he was their's. And the slightest wrong offered to our learned President, he resented with no measured emphasis. To be sure, some of his

speeches were not up to the best models of scholarship. Especially was he somewhat loose in his philosophical terms. Some of the naughty students roguishly misinstructed him. When any of the citizens, as it sometimes happened, would say ought against the Institution or its Faculty, Brooks would thunder a volley of large words at these offending parties, words out of which no mortal could get anything but the most ludicrous nonsense. But that mattered not, Brooks meant it all right. He did his duty as well as he could. It was simply his way of applying Mercersburg Theology, in defending his friends.

"Now, see

When the removal of Marshall College to Lancaster was agitated, in 1851 and 1852, Brooks took the matter greatly to heart. For, take the College from the village, and his occupation, if not "gone," would at least materially suffer. Besides, he was loath to part from his friends, the students and professors, and their supporters. One day a European gentleman friend visited Dr. Schaff. At his arrival he gave Brooks, in mistake, a five dollar gold piece for a "quarter," for attending to his trunk, &c. Dr. Schaff soon after asked him to refund the $4,75 to his friend. here Dr.," quoth Arnold, with a quizzical shake of his large head, "I'll tell you what I'll do. If the College stays here, I will pay you back the $5,00. If it dont, I won't." As the College left, he kept the money. This is the only unjust act of the kind I know about Brooks. When the people of Mercersburg held townmeeting to oppose the removal of the College, Brooks told some of them one day : "No use, gentlemen, no use. If Dr. Nevin is for it, you might as well give it up. You can't get ahead of that three story head of his."

Our friend, Rev. G. B. Russell, of "Our Church Paper," who has a larger fund of College jokes than any man we know of, tells the foregoing incident in the following form. Since writing the above, my eye has fallen on this in his paper. I prefer this version as the returning of the money is more in keeping with Brooks' general character.

About that time a German student came to the Seminary, and Brooks, as usual, took the new student's trunk up to the Seminary building; for which the young man handed him in the twilight, a piece of money, which, instead of being a silver quarter, turned out to be his last five dollar gold piece.

It was given in mistake. The matter was afterward mentioned to Brooks, who thought at first that, as the college would soon be gone, and so these windfalls would therewith cease, he had better keep what he had honestly obtained. But when we explained te Arnold that it was an inexperienced German, who had but littlo money left, and that he was after all not a college student, but be

longed to the Seminary, he at once changed his mind. Raising himself to his full manly height, with his long index finger extended in his most impressive gesture, he said, "If that's the case I'll give the Dutchman his gold again, even if the little niggers suffer for it." I learn that an oil painting of "Old Arnold" is in the office of the Mansion House. He deserves the honor. see his phiz taken, as

He deserves the honor. We should like to it looked, when with hat in hand, he received "a quarter" from a person to whom he was handing the lines. The broad, grateful smile, showing his snow-white teeth and the white of his eyes, significantly twinkling with grateful joy.

The war brought Brooks many a restless day. Mercersburg, being within a few miles of the border, was subject to chronic invasions by the Southern army. The air was filled with frightful rumors. At any hour the Southern cavalry was likely to dash into town, and carry off every negro they could lay their hands upon. Anything but slavery for our swarthy friend. He had no little trouble to keep out of their reach.

Poor "Old Arnold," I trust, has gone where " the good darkies go." When I reached Mercersburg the first time, in the Spring of 1846, as a timid "Preparatorian," he was at his post. And at my last visit to the "old camping ground" of our student days, I can hardly describe how glad I was to grasp his large, black, hard, worn hand, see his broad grin of a smile, and hear one of his oldfashioned haw-haws. His curly hair had turned gray, and his step was less lithe and firm than when I had last seen him. Sadly I thought, ere long, we shall "pull up" at the old Mansion House, and find Brooks departed. Now that I call him up to fond memory, I picture him as a second "Uncle Tom." In his general make-up and disposition, but not in saintliness and patient suffering, was he like Mrs. Stowe's ideal darkey.

With an unattractive exterior, he yet had the power of making many friends among his superiors. He was honest, trusty and true, to man and beast, and became sincerely attached to both. It did one good to see with what gentle consideration he patted and caressed a horse, though he had never seen him before, and would never own him. It almost seemed as if he considered the horse not far beneath him in the scale of being. Where is Bergh, the friend of the dumb animals? I commend the memory of my black friend Brooks, to his kindly consideration. He deserves a monument. Let the inscription thereon be:

"Here lies a friend of dumb animals, who always gave a horse all the hay and oats his master paid for. He was faithful to his employers, grateful to his patrons, and did what he could to found and build up prosperous literary institutions, by using his powers, in his humble way, to black the boots, and kindly care for the horses of their friends and supporters."

I never learned anything about Brooks' religious belief. So far as I know," his life was in the right." Fain do I hope that he believed in Him, who died to redeem our race, regardless of color. I am not certain but what he had a number of young Brooks's. If so, I will vouch that he was a good father to them. Surely some heart must have bled when he died. Some dark faces have been

There are such, and cold and ugly things they are. Not much's the wonder either, since a Sunday-school room generally means a 'Basement;' which being interpreted again, signifies a cellar-a cave-an ice-house. Damp and chilling is such an embrace Mother Church gives her children on a Sunday morning. The step-dame, Madam Commonwealth, loves them not more tenderly, but more wisely, and builds large airy chambers above ground, with towers and spires. "Buried alive!"-I exclaim over such an entombed flock of the Saviour's lambs. Glad am I though, that the days of the Catacombs are about leaving us for a second time. May they never return!

There is, for another thing, an unendearing parlance in the names which we use. Take first, "Superintendent "-a fine syle labic mouthful! Children generally learn to spell and pronouncit about the time they are preparing to leave school. Think of asking our infant pigmies to say Su-per-in-ten-dent! I would just as soon drill them on Om-o ron-thol-o-gos-phor-rus. Might not 'Overseer 'Superior' Shepherd' and similar names prove easier to say, though they fall not far behind in length? AssistantSuperintendent' is a pyramid turned on its apex, and consequently too bulky and unsafe a thing for a little one to deal with. Let it crumble speedily, when the school is dismissed and out of danger. "Anniversary. The happiest day, in the whole number of three hundred and sixty-five days, is known under this most sapless name. For all the warmth it emits to a child's sense, it might as well be Abrakadabra. Don't talk about its expressive Latin!

That is not on the programme at all. It is heart-language that we must impart there, and that I speak of now. I say 'Jubilee' is better by far, even if it is not a whit more English. It jingles so merrily-and there is much in sound, I always think. And all the more do I think so, whenever it is flippantly asked'What's in a Name?' These are some of the cold terms, called over the heads of warm-hearted children, which fall like cold raindrops, chill, run down sluggishly, and hang to us like-like-like Icicles!

Our addresses are heart freezing. Nine of every ten, I venture to declare. I think of an Infant school I was to talk to once. But alas! the little ones had to be addressed first by their Overseer. (I never address the dear babes!) Well: he froze their hearts tight shut, just before I talked to them, by exhorting them to "discriminate" and make an "application" of what was to be said. I could not get near to them, after that. They were shy of meand all because of what was to follow--whatever the unknown task might mean, to "discriminate" and make "application." I am sure an icicle formed underneath every little heart that day. I cannot, of course, say what the great warm heart of JESUS breathed upon those little ones whom Jewish mothers laid in His arms; but no one will question that their hearts beat warmer and happier, and that no icicle hung coldly down, after He spake unto them. Airtight stoves are to be commended; but your warmthtight speeches in the Sunday-school produce- -Icicles.

The social atmosphere is at 30, Freezing. I am fond of the soldier's step and carriage. But Christians cannot parade to heaven by it. A Sunday-school may be made West Point-like in this manner; but the more unlike that, the better. Teachers and officers sometimes march and counter-march, to and fro, dignified and stiff-walking Icicles. The work is all done neatly enough, to be sure. The drill is admirable, throughout. They serve the Lord, and each other, and the children, much as Martha did. But I think all the while: "That good part which Mary had chosen,' will never be taken from you--because you never had it! Engaged in the common labor of love, still it seems a set task with many to show with how little of love's spirit their duties may be discharged. Heart-fire, which is Love, will warm a Sundayschool and speedily thaw all Icicles.-Sunday-School Times.

PROPERTIES OF LOVE.-Love is indefatigable; it never wearies. Love is inexhaustible; it blooms and buds again; and the more it is diffused, the more it abounds.