eloquent speeches, and the Queen of Greece was one of his correspondents.  He shook hands with more ministers of all denominations, and of all nationalities than any man of this age.  He was as cordially treated by Archbishop Canterbury as he was by Bismarck at Berlin or the old Russian Archpriest Brashenski.  Dr. Schaff was a prodigy of industry.  During half a century he was the foremost church historian of this country; he led the work of the Sabbath Committee, and was the master spirit of the Evangelical Alliance.  He edited a volume of hymnology, and wrote catechisms for children; he filled professors’ chairs in two seminaries and lectured on ecclesiastical history to others.  He published thirty-one volumes and edited two immense commentaries; he was the president of the Committee on Biblical Revision, and he crossed the ocean fourteen times as a fraternal internuncio between the churches of Europe and America.  His prodigious capacity for work made Dr. Samuel Johnson seem an idler, and his varied attainments and activities were fairly a match for Gladstone.

To those of us who knew Dr. Schaff intimately, one of his most attractive traits was his jovial humor and inexhaustible fund of anecdotes.  When I made a visit to California—­journeying with him to the Yosemite—­his endless stories whiled away the tedium of the trip.  How often when he sat down to my own, or any other table, would he tell how his old friend, Neander, when asked to say grace at a dinner, and roast pig was the chief dish, very quaintly said:  “O, Lord, if Thou canst bless under the new dispensation what Thou didst curse under the old dispensation, then graciously bless this leetle pig.  Amen!”

Another eminent scholar who was wont to seek recreation at Mohonk was the venerable President McCosh, of Princeton University.  Since Scotland sent to Princeton Dr. John Witherspoon to preside over it, and to be one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, she has sent no richer gift than Dr. James McCosh.  For several years before he came to America he was a professor in the Queen’s College at Belfast.  Passing through Belfast in 1862, I looked in for a few moments at the Irish Presbyterian General Assembly, which was convened in Dr. Cook’s church, and said to a man:  “Whom can you show me here?” Pointing to a tall, somewhat stooping figure, standing near the pulpit, he said:  “There is McCosh.”  I replied:  “It is worth coming here to see the brightest man in Ireland.”  What a great, all-round, fully equipped, many-sided mass of splendid manhood he was!  What a complete combination of philosopher, theologian, preacher, scholar, and college president all rolled into one!  During the twenty years of his brilliant career at Princeton he displayed much of Jonathan Edwards’ metaphysical acumen, of John Witherspoon’s wisdom, Samuel Davies’ fervor and Dr.  “Johnny” McLean’s kindness of heart; the best qualities of his predecessors were combined in him.  He came here a Scotchman at the age of fifty-seven, and in a year he became, as Paddy said, “a native American.”