John Fiske I met soon after his graduation at Cambridge.  It is odd to recall him when one thinks of his later physique, as a youth with fresh ruddy face, tall and not broad, a rather slender pillar of a man, corniced with an abundant pompadour of brown hair.  He was just then making fame for himself in the domain of philosophy, contributing to the New York World papers well charged with revolutionary ideas which were then causing consternation, so lucidly and attractively formulated that they interested the most cursory reader.  Perhaps John Fiske ought always to have kept to philosophy.  Mrs. Mary Hemenway, that princess among Ladies Bountiful, told me once the story of his change.  He made to her a frank statement of his situation.  He was conscious of power to do service; he was married, had children, and was embarrassed with care about their bread, butter, and education after the usual fashion of the scholar.  John Fiske said in those days the difficult problem of his life was to get enough corn-beef for dinner to have hash for breakfast the next day.  Must he descend to desk and courtroom work to make a way, or could a way be found by which he might do his proper task and at the same time be a bread-winner?  “Write American history,” said Mrs. Hemenway, “and I will stand behind you.”  She was inspired with the idea of making America in the high sense American and saw in the young genius a good ally.  The chance was embraced and John Fiske after that dipped only fitfully into philosophical themes, writing, however, The Destiny of Man, The Idea of God, Cosmic Roots of Loveland Self-sacrifice, and Life Everlasting.  He gave his main strength, to a thing worth while, the establishment in America of Anglo-Saxon freedom.  Would he have served the world better had he adhered to profound speculations?  As the patriarch in a household into which have been born a dozen children and grandchildren, I have had good opportunity for study.  What so feeble as the feebleness of the babe!  It depends upon its mother for its sustenance, almost for its breath and its heart-beats.  The sheltering arms and the loving breast must always be at hand as the very conditions of its existence.  I have watched in wife and daughters, as what grandsire has not, the persistent sleepless care which alone kept the baby alive, and noted the sweet effusion of affection which the need and constant care made to flow abundantly, nor do the care and consequent outflow of love cease with babyhood.  The child must ever be fed, clothed, trained, and counselled; and the youth, too, of which the baby is father, must be watchfully guided till the stature is completed.  The rod of Moses smiting the rock evoked the beneficent water, the unremitting parent-care striking the indifferent heart evokes the beautiful mother and father love which grows abroad.  We cannot love children well without loving others, their companions, and at last the great worldly environment in which they and we