Fifty years ago one of the most famous celebrities in the Presbyterian Church was Dr. Samuel Hanson Cox, famous for his linguistic attainments, for his wit and occasional eccentricities, and very famous for his bursts of eloquence on great occasions.  He was at that time the pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Brooklyn, and resided in the street where I am now writing (Oxford Street); and the street at the end of the block was named “Hanson Place” in honor of him.  His large wooden mansion was then quite out of town, and was accordingly called “Rus Urban,” In that house he wrote—­for the New York Observer—­the unique series of articles on New School Theology entitled “The Hexagon,” and there he entertained, with his elegant courtesy and endless flow of wit and learning, many of the most eminent people who visited Brooklyn.  The boys used to climb into his garden to steal fruit; and, as a menace, he affixed to his fence a large picture of a watch-dog, and underneath it a dental sign, “Teeth inserted here!” The old mansion was removed years ago.

In 1846 he was the moderator of the “new school” Presbyterian General Assembly.  It was during the sessions of that assembly that the famous debate was waged for several days on the exciting question of negro slavery, and when some compromise resolutions were passed (for those were the days of compromise salves and plasters)—­Dr. Cox rose and exclaimed, “Well, brethren, we have capped Vesuvius for another year,” But “Vesuvius” would not stay capped, and in a few years one of its violent eruptions sundered the “new school” church in twain.

Dr. Cox was a vehement opponent of slavery, and his church in Laight Street was assailed by a mob, and he was roughly handled.  In 1833 he was sent to England as the delegate to the British and Foreign Bible Society, and at their anniversary meeting he delivered one of the most brilliant speeches of his life.  He came into the meeting a perfect stranger, while Dr. Hamilton, of Leeds, was uttering a fierce invective against American slavery.  This aroused Dr. Cox’s indignation, and when he was called on to speak he commenced with exquisite urbanity as follows:  “My Lord Bexley, ladies and gentlemen!  I have just landed from America.  Thirty days ago I came down the bay of New York in the steam tug Hercules and was put on board of the good packet ship Samson—­thus going on from strength to strength—­from mythology to Scripture!” This bold and novel introduction brought down the house with a thunder of applause.  After paying some graceful tributes to England and thus winning the hearts of his auditors, he suddenly turned towards Dr. Hamilton, and with the most captivating grace, he said:  “I do not yield to my British brother in righteous abhorrence of the institution of negro slavery.  I abhor it all the more because it was our disastrous inheritance from our English forefathers, and came down to us from the time when