hold, the church, and the concert-room. His appreciation of simple melodies heightened his enjoyment of the master-pieces of great composers, whose Oratorios and Symphonies were to him like familiar poems. The oftener he heard them, the greater his pleasure.
To those who knew him at a distance, and perhaps through his writings only, he sometimes seemed severe. He was certainly as fearless in the expression of his criticism as he was just in his standards. He disliked—it is not too strong to say that he hated—to see what he believed to be the truth covered up, or distorted, or neglected. In such a mood, he was not conscious how strong some of the expressions which he employed (lamenting, perhaps, their inadequacy), would appear to those who were used to genial criticism, and afraid of athletic discussions. But, in truth, our friend was as kind as he was just. He harbored no personal resentments; and I am sure that in all the controversies of a scientific character in which he was engaged, earnestness for the presentation of the truth was his impelling force. The effort to be conciliatory in tone, when he was censorious in fact, is often obvious in his published criticisms.
The amount of work accomplished by Professor Whitney in the class-room of undergraduates, in the guidance of advanced students, in the editing of Sanskrit texts, in the writing of papers for the Oriental and Philological societies, in contributions to current periodicals, in the collection of material for the St. Petersburg Lexicon, in the preparation of school-books, in the revision of Webster's Dictionary, and long afterwards in the
