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to Scripture, and the superiority of Bible Theism to the physical or philosophical views of Cosmos. In reaffirming in these lectures and elsewhere truths for which, like those ancient writers whom he most revered, he lived and would have willingly died, how many hearts has he gladdened with the vision of truth which fills the cold void of materialism with the loving presence of the Divine all-fatherhood! There are passages in his writings which, recalling the solemn utterances of Socrates and Plato, burn with an imagination lurid and terrible as that of Jean Paul's dreadful dream of Atheism, in which he portrays the wanderings of a despairing Christ through a godless and crumbling world.

It was fitting that Professor Lewis' last public appearance should be upon the Commencement stage of his Alma Mater; and there in 1876 he delivered that address, ranking in some respects among the best of his utterances, in which he congratulated his life-long friend, Doctor Jackson, upon reaching in sound heart and health the semi-centennial anniversary of his connection with the Faculty of Union College.

He loved his friends and associates with peculiar constancy. The classic ideal of guest-friendship was not unlike his friendliness to his friends and friends' relatives. He condescended to men of low estate or rather his sympathies were with them as though they were his peers. Who ever did more literary labor for others without reward? He had no pride of intellect. How patient he was, with people who insisted on his examining and correcting manuscripts destined to be rejected by the publishers, or if successful with publishers and the public, owing their success to the unrecognized influence of his revisions and suggestions! If irritated, he bore malice towards none. The slave and the outcast found in him a friend. He took little children into the embrace of his scholarship with those scriptural lessons which are taught in so many Sunday schools and by which "he being dead yet speaketh."


His versatility and the range of his accomplishments were surprising. In the higher mathematics he worke out original problems with diligence and delight. His enthusiasm for astronomy, of which one of his earliest printed articles treats, led him often in the nights of his sickness to ask, "Is Orion shining to-night? Is he bright?" His love for music was attested by occasional compositions and by his eloquent advocacy of its early cultivation as conducive to order and beauty and to the believing spirit. After he had lost all sense of hearing, he sometimes by fingering the notes upon the key-board, sought to revive the memories of music or to trace some new musical suggestion. His familiarity with the poets, especially with Shakespeare, was unusual. He sympathized with all phases of human life, so that (an omnivorous reader) the popular romance, or stories read in the original Arabic, or the scrap-book of olden times. were alike a refreshment after intellectual labor. Keeping himself informed as to the current events, he followed with intelligent interest the progress of modern science. I have not time to quote within the limits of this discourse the copious extracts I have made from his published works and from his early fugitive efforts, terse, pregnant and foreshadowing, as we have seen, the great productions of his life. that a uniform edition of his works may be projected and published, including those left by his wise forethought ready for the press, and preserving also the scattered jewels which fell so freely from his tongue and


I need not in this presence describe his striking personal appearance, his noble brow, his dark piercing eye, his flowing locks, his facile hand,

his alert movement. But the mental habitudes of such a man, naturally an object of much interest to all students, young and old, are not to be passed over in silence. As one informs me, who knew him well, before the beginning of my own student-life in college and our continued intimate association in its faculty, the doctor was from the first an incessant worker. He never set apart a study-hour or one exclusively for recreation. I would that he had! His walks were meditations, his only excursions were excursions in the fields of thought. He was never happier than in the cloister-like quiet of his study through the long summer vacations on the College hill. With doors locked and curtains half-closed, with back square against the arm of the settee and knees drawn up to hold an Arabic folio prayer-book of the ninth century, his contentment was supreme. He often went reluctantly to his meals (not unfrequently omitting them) and returned directly to his work. Sleep was another intrusion which he resented, always sitting up late into the night and yet rising at the hour usual with the family. Acute suffering and actual loss of power convinced him, when too late, of his mistake in not recognizing and obeying the laws of health. Neglect of them injured the sense of hearing and indeed all the faculties, lessening both happiness and hopefulness.

His reading included, as we have intimated, an immense number of books, ancient and recent, on every imaginable subject; but still he would re-read one book, even a favorite fiction (such as the Arabian Nights, Romola, The Mill on the Floss), over and over again. He was very fond of history. He delighted in re-reading his Euclid in the Arabic of three centuries ago. He enjoyed broad humor as thoroughly as he did the subtlest wit; sometimes by anecdotes of blundering utterance, illustrating a nice distinction in psychology.

Keeping pace with his thoughts, his pen was always busy, as a vast quantity of marginal and loose memoranda attest. For forty-five years, without a day's failure, he noted down the incidents of his personal and household life, a walk, payment of a bill, arrival of letters, visitors, topics of an interesting conversation, and invariably the state of the weather; although never recording his sentiments or reflections. His grief over a beloved daughter's death sought relief in the touching form of a little book of consolatory verses from the Bible, each one beautifully written out in Hebrew, Greek and Latin. His hand-writing in all languages was clear and symmetrical. He was never content with the first form of his thought or expression, and seldom sent a first draught to the printer. He re-wrote the whole of Plato against the Atheists and of the Vedder Lectures, at least three times. He disliked and habitually put off letter-writing because of this necessity which he felt for accurate and full expression even on ordinary subjects. His love of symmetry led him, in arranging his books on the shelves of his library, to regard not simply their subjects but their appearance and size. His books in fact were his only indulgence, nay, his necessary companions. His library was as essential to his enjoyment as to his literary life. Many years before the semi-centennial celebration to which we have referred, it was the privilege of his old friend, Doctor Jackson, as the eldest member of the faculty, to convey to him a pecuniary testimonial which far more than removed a distressing mortgage then resting upon this library. His surprise and gratitude were like those feelings with which upon his last birthday he received a floral tribute accompanied with loving lines from his brethren of the faculty. He valued the sentiment and the affection,

and his appreciation was as quick and natural and out-spoken as that of a child.

The brief day of life drawing to its close found him still laboring for the Master, whose claims are vast but whose reward is infinite; for, his "Biblical Expositions" for children, though the last of his works, were, it has been remarked, as important as any; and this because of the immense numbers and peculiar impressibility of the class addressed. They were distributed monthly throughout the country. Through six months of confinement to a bed from which he never arose, they were completed according to the original plan, despite the pangs of sciatica, sleeplessness, slow wasting, and physical weakness that refused to hold the pen. With eye bright, recollection prompt and true for nearly every needed verse of the Bible or passage of an author, with reason clear and penetrating, he still wrought in his seventy-fifth year the work of many men, and such work as few at their best accomplish.

On looking through the most prized volumes of his library, soon after his death, I saw written on a blank leaf in his Hebrew Bible, the following note: "This Hebrew Bible was purchased in 1829. For a number of years, it was read through twice a-year; then once a-year, and since repeatedly. Almost every difficult place has been made the subject of marginal or separate comment, every rare word noted and every rare meaning preserved in mnemonic marginal signs. It is much disfigured, but a much-studied and to me a very precious book." This precious book and its diligent study were the foundation of his posthumous monument, destined long to endure in biblical articles and comments and translations of the holy scriptures, and more especially in his metrical version of the sublime book of Job; which last he considered "the crown of all his works." By the thoughtfulness of a tender heart and the last tribute of a loving hand, a Hebrew psalter was buried with him, because he had often expressed his sympathy with the classic custom of placing the warrior's arms and trophies in his tomb. Even in family prayers, he always read from the Hebrew, Syriac, Greek or Latin text or from a version in a foreign tongue, rendering it fluently into admirable English. And that worn Hebrew Bible, filled with his notations, was the armory in which he was unconsciously gathering weapons for future conflict. It was the reservoir from which flowed streams making glad the people and church of God.

And the public at large recognized the services he was rendering. His reputation is not simply local nor only national, but extends to the world. of scholars and to the numberless hearts of those who love the Scriptures. It was his sincere belief that the authority of the Bible rests not simply upon a theory of inspiration but rather upon the general acceptance of, and veneration for, the book as the Word of God; so that its supreme influence upon human life and conduct must out-last all controversies about it, and all theories concerning it. His ideal of the Bible Christian was so high that, like St. Paul, some of whose traits he possessed in a remarkable degree, he would say, "I am least of all and not meet to be called a disciple of Christ, but I believe His Word, I love those who love my Lord, and my hope is in the atoning merits of Jesus as therein disclosed." An author and a reader of many books, he placed above them all, at the summit of literature, the Book of books, and regarded all knowledge but as steps leading up out of darkness to the revealed light and enduring truth of the Word of God.



Until the opening of the Convocation, I had supposed that another hand would prepare the notice due to the memory of Professor Barton. In default of this, however, I cannot let the occasion pass without a few words, brief and imperfect as they must necessarily be, concerning the character and work of my former instructor, and for many years esteemed senior, colleague, and friend.

The Rev. John Graeff Barton, LL.D., late Professor of the English Language and Literature in the College of the City of New York, was a member of a distinguished Pennsylvania family, and was born in Lancaster, in the year 1813. He was educated, I believe, at St. John's College, Md., and after graduating studied theology, and was ordained a minister of the Protestant Episcopal Church. He did not, however, take charge of a parish, but engaged in teaching, though often assisting brother clergymen in their work. He was for a number of years connected with the Flushing Academy, under the Rev. Dr. Francis L. Hawks, and ultimately became vice-principal of that institution. In the year 1852, he was invited by the Board of Education of New York to take the chair of English Language and Literature, which they had just established in the city, College. He accepted the appointment, and discharged the duties of the position until his death in May last-a period lacking but a few months of twenty-five years. In the year 1860, he was elected Provost of the University of Pennsylvania, but declined the honor. He received the degree of LL.D. from Columbia College in 1873.

So far as I can ascertain, there was no other college in the country which had a chair of English, at the time when Dr. Barton entered upon the duties of his professorship. The necessity of a scientific and thorough study of our language and literature were not well recognized a quarter of a century ago, and comparatively few, even of our educated men, knew the rich reward which such study would yield. It is a matter of congratulation that the trustees of the college had the foresight to open the way for the work, and that they chose one so well qualified to be the pioneer in the new field.

It was his duty then to plan and develop an entirely new course of study as well as to instruct. Time will not permit me to give a detailed account of the system which he so carefully elaborated, and for which his solicitous care never ceased. He was an enthusiast in his work, and to his success in inspiring enthusiasm, the many students who have profited by his instruction will bear willing testimony. Thoroughly master of his subject, he was none the less master of the art of imparting his knowledge. His explanations were clear and complete, fixed in the listener's mind by a prodigal wealth of illustration, and repeated and varied, until the dullest could comprehend. But the patient teacher was also the strict examiner, and the careless, inattentive student always found his powers of evasion futile, and his ignorance pitilessly laid bare. studiously polite intimation, "We will pass to the subject if you please," invariably checked any effort to conceal deficiency with a flow of words. And so well was this recognized by the students, that, although his examinations were always severe, the percentage of failures in his department was smaller than in any other in the college.


The doctor's command over his classes was remarkable. The boldest and most reckless elsewhere found the atmosphere of his room an influence not to be resisted. He rarely even reproved; and when he did so, it was usually in the gentlest manner. But the calm blue eye could flash upon occasion; and, while always merited, terribly stinging was the quietly uttered but unerringly aimed sarcasm which punished the luckless youth who forgot to act as a gentleman among gentlemen.

In person, Dr. Barton was tall and stately, of a quaint formality of speech, and with the courtly manners of the olden school. This courtesy never failed; not even in the last sad days, when mental suffering was so great that the strong intellect was tottering on its throne. I cannot better sum up his character than by calling him a true man, the loss of whom his friends and the friends of higher education must deeply


In the metropolis, and scattered through the nation, are men from those whose hair is thickly streaked with grey, to the stripling that has scarcely left the walls of Alma Mater, who have sat under his teaching. Their numbers swell high up among the thousands, and I know that one and all will join with me, their fellow and representative, in writing above the grave, where, after a life of usefulness, "wrapt in the deeds of his deathless endeavor" he sleeps, the words of Halleck:

Green be the turf above thee,
Friend of our better days!
None knew thee but to love thee,
Nor named thee but to praise."


By Professor WILLIAM D. WILSON, D. D., LL. D., L. H. D.

John McGraw, a trustee of Cornell University, and one of its largest benefactors, died at his home in Ithaca, Friday, May 4th, 1877.

Mr. McGraw was born in Dryden on the 22d of May, 1815. His parents were very poor, and all the education they could afford him was obtained at the village schools. His earliest business days were passed in the store of "Squire" Joseph Benjamin, he afterwards going into business with his elder brother, Thomas McGraw. About the year 1850 he removed to New York and became largely interested in business both in that city and in Jersey City. At this time Mr. McGraw resided at a beautiful villa in Morrisania.

In 1861 he came to Ithaca and made it his home.

Notwithstanding the immense lumber business that he carried on in the West, Mr. McGraw took an active interest in the affairs of Ithaca. He was one of the original founders and trustees of the First National Bank, and in 1869 was elected president of that flourishing institution, retaining the office until his death. About the year 1868, in company with Mr. C. M. Titus, Mr. McGraw purchased the Bloodgood property, which comprised about the entire south-west portion of the village, and under the supervision of these gentlemen the almost worthless land has become the most beautiful and desirable part of the town.

But greatest of all benefits conferred on Ithaca by Mr. McGraw is the splendid pile that rears its tower on yonder hill, known as the McGraw

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