high phaeton.  The wheels turned under in front.  I have it yet.  He drove long-tailed horses, harnessed loose in light American harness, so that the whole rig had no possible resemblance to anything that would be seen now.  My father always excelled in improving every spare half-hour or three-quarters of an hour, whether for work or enjoyment.  Much of his four-in-hand driving was done in the summer afternoons when he would come out on the train from his business in New York.  My mother and one or perhaps two of us children might meet him at the station.  I can see him now getting out of the car in his linen duster, jumping into the wagon, and instantly driving off at a rattling pace, the duster sometimes bagging like a balloon.  The four-in-hand, as can be gathered from the above description, did not in any way in his eyes represent possible pageantry.  He drove it because he liked it.  He was always preaching caution to his boys, but in this respect he did not practice his preaching overmuch himself; and, being an excellent whip, he liked to take chances.  Generally they came out all right.  Occasionally they did not; but he was even better at getting out of a scrape than into it.  Once when we were driving into New York late at night the leaders stopped.  He flicked them, and the next moment we could dimly make out that they had jumped.  It then appeared that the street was closed and that a board had been placed across it, resting on two barrels, but without a lantern.  Over this board the leaders had jumped, and there was considerable excitement before we got the board taken off the barrels and resumed our way.  When in the city on Thanksgiving or Christmas, my father was very apt to drive my mother and a couple of friends up to the racing park to take lunch.  But he was always back in time to go to the dinner at the Newsboys’ Lodging-House, and not infrequently also to Miss Sattery’s Night School for little Italians.  At a very early age we children were taken with him and were required to help.  He was a staunch friend of Charles Loring Brace, and was particularly interested in the Newsboys’ Lodging-House and in the night schools and in getting the children off the streets and out on farms in the West.  When I was President, the Governor of Alaska under me, Governor Brady, was one of these ex-newsboys who had been sent from New York out West by Mr. Brace and my father.  My father was greatly interested in the societies to prevent cruelty to children and cruelty to animals.  On Sundays he had a mission class.  On his way to it he used to drop us children at our Sunday-school in Dr. Adams’s Presbyterian Church on Madison Square; I remember hearing my aunt, my mother’s sister, saying that when he walked along with us children he always reminded her of Greatheart in Bunyan.  Under the spur of his example I taught a mission class myself for three years before going to college and for all four years that I was in college.  I do not think I made much of a success of it.  But the other day on getting out of a taxi in New York the chauffeur spoke to me and told me that he was one of my old Sunday-school pupils.  I remembered him well, and was much pleased to find that he was an ardent Bull Mooser!