"None saw his spirit in decay,
None saw his vigor ebb away."
In his seventy-ninth year he was removed, as a sentinel from his post, without the warning of a moment, but not unprepared for the transition.
His son, James A. Hillhouse, both sustained and brightened the honors of his ancestry. The delicacy and grace which mingled with his masculine force of intellect, seemed an infusion from the mind of his mother, and he was ever proud to acknowledge that deep and sweet influence, which he repaid with the warmest filial love. His native taste for literature was fostered by education, and on the reception of his second degree at Yale College, he pronounced an Oration on the "Education of a Poet," of such finished excellence, as to attract peculiar attention.
In it, he says, "From the riches of ancient learning, to which he will first be introduced while acquiring the rudiments of a classical education, the poet will derive incalculable benefit. Amid the treasures of antiquity, he will find the productions of many a kindred spirit, and while be listens to their sweetness and majesty, the fire of genius will burn within him.
"In the earlier stages of his progress, pains should be taken to reduce their beauties to a level with his comprehension, and as he becomes skilled in antique lore, they should be his chosen companions. His daily and nightly labor should be to comprehend the force of their ideas, and the beauties of their expressions. Every