let him stop.  For many years I spoke with him at meetings for city missions, total abstinence, Sunday schools and other benevolent enterprises.  He used playfully to call me “one of his boys.”  At a complimentary reception given to J.B.  Gough in Niblo’s Hall, Mr. Beecher and myself delivered our talks, and then retired to the opposite end of the hall.  Dr. Tyng took the rostrum with one of his swift magnetic speeches.  I leaned over to Beecher and whispered, “That is splendid platforming, isn’t it?” Beecher replied:  “Yes, indeed it is.  He is the one man that I am afraid of.  When he speaks first I do not care to follow him, and if I speak first, then when he gets up I wish I had not spoken at all.”  Some of Dr. Tyng’s most powerful addresses were in behalf of the temperance reform; he was a most uncompromising foe of both of the dram shop and of the drinking usages in polite society.  He also denounced the theatre and the ball-room with the most Puritanic vehemence.

Dr. Stephen H. Tyng’s chief power, like many other great preachers, was when he was on his feet.  He should be heard and not read.  Some of the discourses and addresses which enchained and thrilled his auditors seemed tame enough when reported for the press.  In that respect he resembled Whitfield and Gough and many of our most effective stump speakers.  The result was that Dr. Tyng’s fame, to a great degree, perished with him.  He published several books, of a most excellent and evangelical character, but they lacked the thunder and the lightning which make his uttered words so powerful, and probably none of his many books are much read to-day.  The influence of his splendid and heroic personality was very great during a ministry of over fifty years, and the glorious work which he wrought for his Master will endure to all eternity.

To have heard Dr. William Adams of New York at his best was better than any lecture on “Homiletics”; to have met him at the fireside or in the sick room of one of his parishioners was a prelection in pastoral theology.

The first time that I ever saw him was fully fifty years ago; he was standing in the gallery of the old Broadway Tabernacle at an anniversary of the American Bible Society, and Dr. James W. Alexander pointed him out to me saying—­“Yonder stands Dr. William Adams, he is the hardest student of us all.”  It was this honest incessant brain work that enabled him to sustain himself for forty years in one of the conspicuous pulpits of the largest city in the land.  He always drew out of a full cask.  Let young ministers lay this fact to heart.  It was not by trick or happy luck, or by pyrotechnics of rhetoric that Dr. Adams won and kept his position in the forefront of metropolitan preachers.  The “dead line of fifty” was not to be found on his intellectual atlas.  One of the last talks with him that I now recall was on an early morning in Congress Park, Saratoga.  He had a pocket Testament in his hand, and he said to me, “I find myself reading more and more the old books of my youth; I am enjoying just now Virgil’s Eclogues, but nothing is so dear to me as my Greek Testament.”