A shadow creeps across my hearth,
The cypress twines the holly bough;
I cannot frame the Christmas phrase,
For Christmas comes, without thee, now.
Along the line of threescore years,

In gifts and prayers, like tracks in snow;
I trace thy ever-living love;

And Christmas comes, without thee, now.

And yet, sweet Mother, though the thought
Will choke and tear my bursting breast;
And tears o'ercast this joyous day,

I would not call thee from thy rest.

Safe in the Paradise of God,

Thy home is with the holy dead,
Where Christmas boughs, are ever green,
And the Christ feast, is always spread.

RIVERSIDE, Christmas, 1858.

How young and fresh, the heart, under those white hairs, whose love welled up, from the same deep fountain, nearly thirty years apart, in such spring-tides of song.

Moving from Trenton, when the State House, and other public buildings, were completed, my Father's second home was in New York. He was a mere boy, when he went there, so young, that the venerable Dr. Barry took him daily, by the hand, from home to school, and back again. How many memories gather about this name. Dr. Barry was among the first teachers of his time, and among the first scholars, of any time. There was great love, between master and scholar; a love that lasted through life. And the modest dignity of the good Doctor changed its position most gracefully, when the relation changed, and the pupil became his Teacher's Bishop. Often, when the clergy were gathered, at Riverside, he repelled the playfulness, that would remind him, of the one whipping he administered. An older boy than my Father had insulted General Washington's name; and he could not brook it; but immediately gave him a sound whipping. When he went back, to school, bruised and uncomfortable from his victory, the Doctor, upon practical principles of justice, discovering that the other boy had received his flogging already, punished my Father severely. The patriotism and courage of the man, proved their existence early in the boy.

It was the habit in book-stores then, to leave the books opened, against the window. And the little boy lingered on the way to school, not to play, but to read the two pages that were against the pane; looking the next day, if some chance had not

opened them, at a new place. Leaving New York, he lost the benefit of Dr. Barry's teaching, but never the pleasure of his friendship, and never his love for him. "He was my Master," (so he wrote, in his Conventional Address, in A. D. 1852, the year in which Dr. Barry died,)" my oldest friend; my father; though my brother, and my son." I have elsewhere* poured my heart out on his ashes. A finer scholar, a more perfect gentleman, a more pious and benignant Christian, a Minister of Christ, more Christ-like is nowhere left among us. "Help Lord, for the godly man ceaseth; for the faithful are minished from among the children of men." The lamb and his first Shepherd, the Pastor and his Pastor, how are they folded now, by the Good Shepherd, in the green pastures of Paradise.

About A. D. 1808, the family removed to Geneva. It was only a quiet home life, with rather more incidents, than come now-a-days, into the life of a country town. But the only marked record of his life here, is connected with his school. Dr. Axtell, his teacher, was a Presbyterian Clergyman; and the boys learned and recited the Shorter Catechism of that Society. On the first catechising day, after my Father went there, in answer to the question, "What is the chief end of man?" he disavowed any knowledge of such a catechism, and utterly declined learning any other than the one his Mother had taught him. His determination was disobedience, and he suffered for it; being whipped and disgraced. But the spirit was not quelled. The offence was repeated, and upon his being sent to the seat of disgrace, near the door, so many boys, who knew only the Church Catechism, took their seats beside

In the address at his funeral, in which, with beautiful tributes to him, as a man, a Christian, and a Pastor, he speaks of him as a teacher, and his teacher, in these words:

"It may be doubted if any teacher ever was more successful, in attaching his pupils to himself; in imbuing them with high and holy principles, and impelling them forward in the path of duty and of honour. To him, his kindness, his influence, his example, the present speaker clearly owes it under God that he has had a part in the ministry of reconciliation.' The partiality of his dear and venerable Master, habitually designated him, when he was not ten years old, for the sacred office and he never ceased, during the twenty years of their relation to each other, as Bishop and Presbyter, to dwell with affectionate delight, on the period of their connection, as Master and Scholar, now six and forty years ago; and to trace out the course of providential orderings which had so intimately knit and consecrated their reunion. Dr. Barry was an accurate and varied scholar. The languages of Greece and Rome were, as it were, vernacular to him. Though free from every shade of pedantry, their choicest idioms were ever bursting from his lips, in his free intercourse with those who could appreciate them. He was pre-eminent in his vocation as a teacher. He loved it. He lived it. He rightly judged of it, as only not a priesthood. He was a dull boy, whom he could not imbue with his own ardent spirit. He inspired his pupils. He made men of them. And if they did not quite withstand the grace, which he invoked for them continually, he made them Christians. More than to all other teachers, the present speaker owes to him and this, although he was scarcely more than ten, when he had ceased to be his pupil."

him, that the law was repealed, and a separate class recited every week in the Catechism of the Church. It is a little thing; but it has in it, his perfect loyalty, his confident devotion to the Church, his patient courage, and the instinctive leadership, the being born a king, which grew into the great powers of his manhood. Of his Church-training at Geneva, he has thus written:

The Rev. Dr. Orin Clark was the Pastor of my boyhood. The wax was soft, and the impressions are deep. My Father went to Geneva in 1808. The Church, what little there was of it, was then "a stranger in a strange land." Geneva was an outpost. "Father Nash" had been there, and the venerable Davenport Phelps. These were the pioneers of the Church. They came, once a month. I can see him, a perfect gentleman of the old school, as he rode up, on his white horse; putting me in mind of General Washington. The intervening Sundays were supplied with lay reading, by two most excellent men, John Nicholas, and Daniel W. Lewis. Judge Nicholas was prominent in political life. Mr. Lewis was a sound and learned lawyer. He came to Church on horseback, with his niece and adopted daughter, now Mrs. Shelton of Buffalo, on a pillion behind him. There was no church built when we went to Geneva. Indeed my Father was the builder of Trinity Church. The Rev. Orin Clark, then a young man, came in aid of the Rev. Mr. Phelps. He struck me then, and the impression remains, as very like Archbishop Tillotson. I had seen his portrait, in some old folio. I was catechised by him, and prepared by him for confirmation.*

Here, too, the indications of his love of books, are more and more prominent. The shop window, which was his library, in New York, expanded with his growing interest into Mr. James Bogert's book-store, in Geneva. This was his daily resort, in all leisure hours. Nor did he ever forget the kind interest in him, which gave him a welcome place, in that storehouse of information and instruction. In those days, books were scarce and dear. And my Grandfather had just that suf ficiency of means, to live with every comfort, and by some care and saving, to secure an academic education for his son. was a great gift, therefore, and an unforgotten kindness, which offered to the hungry student, the varied stores of food, in a well-selected book-store. In 1841, my Father, in a published notice of Mr. Bogert, made some allusion to it, and the following extract from a letter of Mr. B.'s to President Hale, (of Hobart Free College, Geneva,) proves his continued interest and pride in his boy friend :

It

Certainly if he derived any advantage or gratification from the privilege afforded him, at that remote period, it is to me a pleasing reflection, which I may be allowed to acknowledge, without assuming

* Sprague's Annals of the American Episcopal Pulpit, p. 543.

to myself any particular credit for it. Indeed, I was more than compensated for it, at the time, by the presence of his cheerful countenance, for I became much attached to "GEORGE," as styled in his boyish days, and admired his fondness for reading, especially "good books," and the eager desire manifested for obtaining useful knowledge. I always looked for him, as a thing of course, to spend his leisure moments in my store, in his usual employment, and frequently would leave him in charge, while engaged in other matters. For some time his Father's family occupied the dwelling part of the building, in which my business was conducted; and usually, if George's presence was required there, he was sought and found in the store.

The notice which called this out was in an article in the New York Churchman, A. D. 1841, headed "Babble about Books." I am indebted for it, to the kindness of my Father's old and very close friend, the Rev. Dr. Seabury. "These were the days of few, but those good books, and never shall I forget, never can I repay, the debt I owe, to James Bogert, then the publisher and editor of the Geneva Gazette, and the chief bookseller in the West, for the kindness, with which he gave me access to his more than treasures. May goodness and mercy follow him all the days of his life."

My Father never did forget him. His name was familiar to us as his old and faithful friend; and his long lists of persons, to whom he should send pamphlets, all included his name.* And the unforgetfulness seems mutual.†

Since this was written Mr. Bogert writes to me from Geneva: "Your Father, was in the practice of sending me, most if not all of his publications; his Oration on Washington, delivered on the 22d February last, I found here on my return from Brooklyn on the 19th of April, addressed to me by his own hand."

In the same letter Mr. B. writes, "Gradually I became better acquainted with George. He was of a fine, manly bearing, always cheerful and engaging, and I formed a strong attachment for him. Afterwards I removed from the lower to the upper part of the village, and Mr. Doane's family occupied the dwelling part of the building in which my business was conducted-the Book store, and Printing Office being in front. Finding George had a taste for reading, and as Books at that day were costly and not so abundant as now, gave him free access to my store and to the books in the old Geneva Library' then kept by me. Here he was to be found at almost all times when not engaged in School. His Mother often remarked, that when George was wanting they knew where to look for him. The old Academy was situated exactly opposite to me on the west side of the Square-now dignified by the name of Washington Park;' and from thence, at noon and evening, George and his excellent Preceptor, Rev. Andrew Wilson, might be seen crossing directly over to my store, to indulge in what they seemed to consider an intellectual repast.

"Mr. Wilson died 26th of June, 1812, and was succeeded by Mr. Ransom Hubbell, at whose school George continued. I had such entire confidence in George that I frequently left him in charge of the store while engaged in my labours in the Printing Office, or temporarily absent on business. It afforded me great pleasure to see his mind expanding with his advance in years, and to observe his inveterate love for books and thirst for knowledge.

"I recollect few striking incidents in connexion with George, altho' there may have been many now forgotten. His general demeanour was such as to win friends, and he was naturally graceful and polite. I have seen him rise from his seat at his

VOL. I.-2

After preparing for College, under Mr. Ransom Hubbell, in A. D. 1816, the schoolboy entered the second term of the Sophomore year, in Union College, Schenectady,* under the Presidency of the venerable Dr. Nott, " the best President, (or Prex, as the boys call him,)" as he writes to his Father, "in the United States." Our only records of his College life are in the College bills, and his own letters. The former are witnesses to his uniformly correct obedience to the laws; but one fine being recorded against him, during his life there. And the latter, lying before me with the crowding memories of his young life, and the Mother's love that treasured them so carefully, bear witness to his filial devotion, his manly love, his constant selfdenial, his utter unselfishness, his early love of books, his studious habits, his deep and quiet religious feelings, his faithful Churchmanship; the corner-stone, in truth, of that great building, perfect in strength and usefulness and beauty, of his ripened and perfected manhood. The unconscious and unstudied familiarity of a boy's letter home, is the unflattering mirror of himself. Here and there comes in, the bud whose maturity of flower and fruit, we have seen and tasted. And while the intellectual character gives promise of its greatness, in the love of books, and faithful devotion to study, which mark his College days; there are beautiful promises here, which all his life fulfilled, of the freshness and tenderness and thoughtfulness of his love. The head and heart, that grew together to an equal and unequalled greatness in the man, were singularly balanced in the boy. Free from the impure indulgences, which turn so much love into foreign and fatal channels, and yet not hardened by his engrossment in study; his heart gave always the fulness of its abundant affection to his home darlings, the faithful Father, the devoted Mother, the companion Sister, and the little home pet, on whom he lavished (as once more he did in later life) love's most inventive vocabulary of pet names. own fireside when his sister, younger than himself, came into the room, and tender her a chair, and admired him for this mark of respect to the sex, even when a boy.

"The family of Mr. Doane, removed to New York in the Spring of 1816, at which time my intercourse with the future Bishop' was interrupted, and I only saw him occasionally on my visits to the city on business, when, if in town, George would call to see me. Since that period I never saw the Bishop, until he called to see me, with his family, (as you doubtless recollect,) about the year 1845, when on an Excursion to the Falls."

"I well remember the first time that I ever saw the expression' Alma Mater.' It is now fifty years ago. It occurred in a curious anecdote of Dr. Isaac Barrow, recorded in a book which it is probable, no one here has ever seen: Maternal Instructions, by Mrs. Elizabeth Helm.' I knew no Latin then, nor for three years after; but I was struck with the look of it; guessed out its meaning from the context, and never forgot it. I have scarcely seen the volume since; but those first Latin words I had ever met with impressed me, with a desire for Academic Education, and kindled in me a love of learning, whose flame in half a century, has never flickered."-Baccalaureate Address.