LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
 GIFT OF 
 THE FAMILY OF REV. DR. GEORGE MOOAR 
 
 Class 
 
J 
 
 J\ 
 
 
LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 JOHN HOWARD RAYMOND 
 
 EDITED BY HIS ELDEST DA UGHTER 
 
 With tke respects of 
 
 A. L. BANCROFT & COMPAINY, 
 
 San Francisco. Cal. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 FORDS, HOWARD, & HULBERT 
 
 1881 
 
n\* 
 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1880, 
 BY HARLAN P. LLOYD. 
 
 S. W. GRKKN'S SON, 
 
 Printer, Electrotyper and Binder, 
 
 74 Beekman Street, New York. 
 
To MY MOTHER, 
 
 WHOSE WISH INSPIRED THE WORK, AND BY WHOSE DEVOTED 
 AID IT WAS ACCOMPLISHED, I DEDICATE THIS 
 
 RECORD OF THE LIFE 
 
 WHICH, BY ITS FAITHFUL COMPANIONSHIP, FOR so MANY 
 YEARS CHEERED HER OWN. 
 
 H. R. L. 
 
 149 
 
IT seems almost a violation of my father's nature, 
 which was most unassuming, to offer to the public the 
 record of a life on which he himself set so modest an 
 estimate; and I may, perhaps, confess to those who read 
 this volume with what hesitation it is published. It has 
 grown from a mere compilation of his private letters, 
 intended for the eyes of family friends, into an extended 
 memoir, as the circle of those manifestly interested in its 
 progress has gradually widened. It was a natural and 
 sacred impulse to gather together for preservation the 
 letters which held so much of himself, that a treasure in 
 which we had delighted might not be lost to our children. 
 But it was only when persuaded that the number of those 
 waiting to welcome it was large, among his former 
 pupils, associates, and personal friends, that I consented 
 to undertake a work in which I was totally inexperienced 
 the selection from a mass of correspondence and other 
 material such portions as might most characteristically 
 show his life and influence. The first decisive impulse 
 which I received was from the words of one who had 
 been in special sympathy with the plan, and who wrote, 
 " I did revere and love and enjoy the man, and I think 
 that some of the rich overflow of his life ought to be 
 gathered up, as the moisture is drawn into the clouds, and 
 sent forth to refresh the thirsty earth once more." It was 
 an inspiring thought that the story of his life might still 
 hold a blessing for those whom the life itself had blessed; 
 or even more, that others, to whom it had been unknown, 
 might glean from it some word of comfort or instruction. 
 It is only with this hope that I send it from my hand. 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 The original purpose of the undertaking has guided, 
 to some extent, the selection of material, and I have 
 naturally presented the familiar and domestic, rather 
 than the public, side of my father's life. If the view I 
 have given of his character seems to reflect something of 
 a daughter's partiality, I trust that the tone of loving 
 eulogy which pervades the contributed reminiscences of 
 others will furnish all the justification I need. His life, 
 indeed, was one of friendships, as well as intellectual ac- 
 tivities, and the affection of good men and noble women 
 was the best witness to his character. 
 
 To all who have assisted in this labor of love I gladly 
 offer most hearty thanks, especially to those whose per- 
 sonal recollections have added interest to the book, and 
 whose names, so far as I have felt authorized to use them, 
 are found upon its pages. My warmest acknowledgments 
 are due to my cousin, Mr. John R. Howard my father's 
 namesake, pupil, and close friend without whose en- 
 couragement and aid in my perplexing task it would 
 never have been completed. 
 
 HARRIET RAYMOND LLOYD. 
 CINCINNATI, O., Dec. 20, 1880. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTORY n 
 
 Retrospect of Birthdays Birthday Letters in 1874, 1873, 
 1870, 1869, 1866, 1852. 
 
 CHAPTER II. AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 32 
 
 1814 Boyish Days Birth in New York Summers on Long 
 Island Sound, and in Norwalk, Conn. School Life Entering 
 Columbia College College Life Instructors Disorderly Con- 
 duct among Students Expulsion Entering Union College 
 Graduation Law-reading in New York Religious Experience 
 A Winter in New Haven Dr. Leonard Bacon Prof. Hitch- 
 cock The Reasonableness of Religion Conversion. 
 
 CHAPTER III. HAMILTON DAYS 68 
 
 1834 New Aims Entering Hamilton Baptist Theological 
 Seminary Missionary Projects Revival Preaching in New 
 Brunswick, N. J. Professorship at Hamilton Calls to Albany 
 and Philadelphia Decision to remain Absorbing Nature of 
 his Duties Teaching, preparing Courses and Subjects for 
 Study, Preaching, etc. Friends Social Pleasures Love of 
 Nature " Fanny Forrester" Dr. Adoniram Judson Descrip- 
 tions of Hamilton Dr. Edward Lathrop Letter of Recollec- 
 tions from him Letter of Recollections from Dr. Thomas J. 
 Conant Letter, with Verses descriptive of Hamilton Summer 
 Joys Letter of Recollections from Mrs. J. T. Howard. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. EARLY MARRIED LIFE 133 
 
 Bachelor Life Falling in Love Intercourse and Letters- 
 Marriage A Glimpse into the New Home Studies in Literary 
 History Projected English Grammar Letter to Dr. G. R. 
 Bliss "D. D." Letter to Rev. R. R Raymond Various 
 Letters describing the Work and Interests of the Period Catho- 
 lic Union of Christians Question of the Removal to Rochester 
 Various Letters Rev. H. W. Beecher Foundation of Ply- 
 mouth Church Letter from Mr. Beecher Legal Complications 
 on the Removal Question Albany Ira and Hamilton Harris. 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 CHAPTER V. FATHER AND CHILDREN 181 
 
 His Relations with his Children Amusement and Instruc- 
 tion Fairy Tales Drawing Pictures Mending Toys Christ- 
 mas Trees Songs Letter Discipline The Im ossible Hand- 
 kerchief First Bereavement Death of Second Son Letters of 
 Consolatioa to his Brothers and Sisters in their Affliction 
 Further Bereavements among his own Children "The Happy 
 Land Letter" Letters to his Children Stories To a young 
 Daughter on becoming a Christian On the Duty of Christian 
 Giving On Amusements His Belief in Christian Liberty, but 
 not Lawlessness Teaching his Children to think and judge for 
 Themselves Table Talk Instruction in Natural Beauty, Art, 
 Music, etc. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. ROCHESTER 245 
 
 1850 A New University started at Rochester Raising Funds 
 Dr. Edward Bright William Sage S. D. Porter John N. 
 Wilder Drs. Cutting, Lathrop, and Anderson Visit to New 
 York and Brooklyn Dr. Lyman Beecher Thomas K. Beecher 
 Preaching by Dr. Welch, Dr. Storrs, and H. W. Beecher 
 Jenny Lind Work again Opening of the University He and 
 his Family live at Miss Maria Porter's House Its Inmates and 
 Visitors Emerson, Starr King, Curtis, Higginson, Beecher, 
 Evarts, Giddings, Cassius M. Clay, Horace Mann, Sumner, 
 Phillips, Garrison, Fred. Douglass, etc. Dr. Kendrick W. 
 H. Channing The Antislavery Movement Fugitive Slave Law 
 Daniel Webster Politics Kossuth Letter of Recollections 
 from Frederick Douglass A Plea for Free Speech Letter of 
 Recollections from Miss Elizabeth Peabody. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. ROCHESTER (Continued) 279 
 
 Warm-heartedness of the People Tranquil Duties and Restful 
 Vacations Angelica Returns to the City Prof. Richardson 
 Death of Mr. John N. Wilder Letter to Mrs. Wilder Letter 
 of Recollections from Prof. A. C. Kendrick Notes on a Hymn- 
 book A new Enterprise in Brooklyn Close of Connection with 
 the University of Rochester. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. BROOKLYN THE POLYTECHNIC 307 
 
 1855 Acceptance of its Presidency Ideas concerning the 
 new Institution Gathering of Instructors and Organization of 
 details Letter of Recollections from Prof. Robert R. Ray- 
 mondAnother from Profs. Robert Foster, George W. Collord, 
 
CONTENTSi vu 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Edward C. Seymour Shadow of Home Affliction Illness of 
 his Eldest Son Letters. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. BROOKLYN DOMESTIC LIFE AND VACATION 
 
 HOURS 336 
 
 Family Circle of Relatives Busy Days Summer Letters 
 of Work and Rest. 
 
 CHAPTER X. BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW 359 
 
 1859 Death of his Eldest Son Departure of his Sister's 
 Family for Europe Depression of Health and Spirits Letters 
 Death of his Sister's Eldest Daughter in Europe Letters to 
 the Traveling Party and to Friends at Home " Agnes of Sor- 
 rento" Letter from Mrs. H. B. Stowe Letters from Mrs. E. 
 B. Browning Poem by Mrs. T. J. Conant Death of Prof. R. 
 R. Raymond's Youngest Son in the Adirondacks Letters. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. TRIP TO EUROPE 397 
 
 1863 Decline of Dr. Raymond's Health Mr. Beecher's 
 Proposed Trip Abroad They go Together Letter of Recollec- 
 tions from Mr. Beecher Letters Raymond's Description of the 
 Trip At Sea Liverpool Chester Wales Warwick York 
 Chatsworth Stratford London Oxford Winchester 
 Salisbury Southampton Paris Switzerland Berne Fri- 
 bourg Mountain Climbing Glaciers The Italian Lakes 
 Turin Milan Venice Austrian Tyrol Munich Nurem- 
 berg Dresden Berlin Frankfort Heidelberg The Rhine 
 Cologne Brussels Ghent Interview with King Leopold 
 London Home. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY 498 
 
 1861 Appointment as a Member of First Board of Trustees of 
 Vassar College First Meeting Mr. Vassar's Transfer of the 
 Property to the Board 1864 Dr. Raymond called to the 
 Presidency Hesitation on Ground of Health and Provision for 
 his Family Letter to Board Final Acceptance Preparatory 
 Labors Traveling in Search of Instructors Letters Work at 
 Vassar Multitude of Details Miss Hannah W. Lyman sought 
 as Lady Principal Correspondence Plans and Principles 
 Opening of the College, September 20, 1865. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. VASSAR COLLEGE FORMATIVE YEARS 561 
 
 1864 The Course of Study, History of its Development The 
 "Vienna Pamphlet" Classification of Students Regulation of 
 Departments and Teachers Special Courses Code of Laws 
 Commitment of the College to High Standard Particular 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGtt 
 
 Notice of Departments Extracts from president's Annual 
 Reports for First Four Years. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. VASSAR COLLEGE FIRST DECADE 595 
 
 1875 Completion of New Museum Social Reunion Re- 
 view of First Decade by Dr. Raymond : Educational Tendencies, 
 New Problems, Position of Vassar, Advance of the College 
 in Numbers, Standard of Scholarship, Library, Art Gallery, 
 Museum, Self-Support Appeal for Scholarships for Poor 
 Young Women Wisdom of the President's Policy Letters 
 from Dr. Benson J. Lossing and William Allen Butler 
 University Convocation Commemorative Address by Prest. 
 M. B. Anderson Vassar Thoroughness Letters Attacks 
 upon Vassar A Reply from Dr. Raymond Letter from Dr. 
 M. P. Jewett Endowments for Scholarships Letters. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. VASSAR COLLEGE CORRESPONDENCE 634 
 
 Vacation Labors Search for Teachers Letters Gail Ham- 
 ilton Hartford Brooklyn New Haven A Commencement 
 at Yale Dr. Porter Eugene Schuyler Prof. Robert of West 
 Point New York and a Professor of Music Poughkeepsie 
 Death of Matthew Vassar Death of Miss Lyman. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. COLLEGE REMINISCENCES 658 
 
 The Secret of Dr. Raymond's Influence on his Students 
 Letter from a Graduate Extract from Sermon by Dr. Lyman 
 Abbott Letters of Reminiscence from Instructors and Gradu- 
 ates of Vassar Extracts from Valedictory Addresses '* In 
 Memoriam" from Vassar Miscellany. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. CLOSING DAYS 695 
 
 1878 Engrossments of Last Three Years Fruition of his 
 Labors The Vassar Commencement of 1878 His Enjoyment 
 of it, and Immediate Illness thereafter Letter from Dr. George 
 R. Bliss concerning his Life, Last Illness, Death, and Burial. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. FRIENDLY TRIBUTES 708- 
 
 Funeral Address by Dr. Edward Lathrop Memorial from 
 Vassar Board of Trustees Article by Prof. T. J. Backus Res- 
 olution from Polytechnic Board of Trustees Article by Dr. 
 Rossiter W. Raymond Letters from Dr. S. S. Cutting and Rev. 
 H.. W. Beecher. 
 
 APPENDIX. SERMON ON " THE MISSION OF EDUCATED 
 
 WOMEN" ; 725 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 March 7, 1879. 
 
 SIXTY-FIVE years ago this seventh day of March 
 began the life, whose gentle current bore blessings 
 to all who came within its influence. A beloved sister 
 said of it, " I used to tell dear John that he was the only 
 good thing that this blustering March ever brought." 
 And surely it was a good and gracious gift to this 
 rough world a life that brought the very calm of 
 heaven into the storms of earth, the sweetness of a 
 divine charity into human strifes ; that possessed itself 
 in patience amid perplexities and vexing cares, dis- 
 turbed in its calm poise only by the injustice or mean- 
 ness which it scorned, intolerant only of intolerance ; 
 a life that, traced to its most secret springs, was clear 
 as crystal, pure from the mingling of worldly aim or 
 passion ; a life which has become, to use the word of 
 one who honored it, an "ideal" to hundreds who felt 
 its quiet power, and owned the debt of inspiration and 
 of guidance. 
 
 No day in all the year brings back so vividly this 
 life of our departed father. For the first time within 
 the memory of his children, it is a day of mourning 
 trie day which was ever bright with greetings and 
 festivities, sweet with the fragrance of flowers and of 
 the friendship which they symbolized. For the first 
 time, the offerings fail which children and friends 
 delighted to bring to him. The birthday wishes are 
 
12 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 unspoken, the birthday letters unwritten ; the birthday 
 flowers bloom only in that Land whose odors reach us 
 in far-off dreams. Is this the " happy return" of that 
 day which other years have brought to us so joyfully? 
 And what is its return to him who loved our greetings? 
 Does he listen for them on that distant shore ? Does 
 he remember the day rich in the treasures that he so 
 prized? What has he found in the country whither he 
 has gone ? Oh that the answer might come to us in his 
 voice, which ever comforted and gave us counsel ! 
 When did we ever turn to him with doubt or eager 
 question without an answer? 
 
 To his own words we may come, the blessed words 
 left by him in the letters, that, with the life of which 
 they are the only written record, are our priceless in- 
 heritance. From this rich legacy we draw forth our 
 first precious stores. On this day which marks the be- 
 ginning of the life so dear to us, and which brings to 
 us the question, " Has it ceased forever?" let us turn 
 to his own expressions of steadfast faith, and " comfort 
 one another with these words :" 
 
 TO HIS ELDEST SISTER. 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE, March 7, 1874. 
 
 Thanks, my dear Sister, for your benediction on my new 
 year. It begins, as many of its predecessors have, under a 
 leaden sky and with anything but balm in its breath ; but 
 like them, I doubt not, it will bring its share of Spring 
 blossoms, and Summer flowers, and golden Autumn fruits, 
 and even its Winter days shall not want a beauty and cheer 
 of their own ; its clouds and storms, its frosts and chills, its 
 disappointments and griefs, shall they not all work out the 
 Father's will, and work together for our good ? 
 
IN TROD UCTOR Y. 13 
 
 Sixty years ago this bleak but blessed March morning ! 
 What a picture it looked in upon, in that little " seven-by- 
 nine " bedroom in Vandewater Street. The happy, serious- 
 thoughted young mother, shedding smiles and tears by turns 
 on the little red-faced new-comer, that nestled in her bosom 
 and "chortled" and smacked his tongue like good old " Father 
 
 W ," and the radiant father, whose eyes were wet only 
 
 with love and joy, bringing in his arms little fair-faced Two- 
 year-old to welcome the baby brother. Then, all this long, 
 weary, changeful, sad-and-merry "threescore years" on which 
 we look back, my dear S. the checkered scene of our pil- 
 grimage, our all of memory and of life was not, save as it 
 lay dimly adumbrated in those wistful parent-hearts : he, 
 doubtless seeing nothing but the sunshine; she, feeling, even 
 in the depth of her joy, the shadow of the griefs that were 
 so sure and so soon to come. Ten years later, and she had 
 passed through and beyond the shadow, which rested so, 
 long and so heavily on the faithful heart she left behind. 
 That first ten years of our life, how like nothing it appears 
 to us now, and yet how much did really occur within the 
 time, how many of the germ-thoughts and birth-experiences 
 which have produced the growths and fruits of after-life 
 were there! And, as memory summons up and passes in 
 review the five succeeding decades, one by one, I feel as I 
 am not accustomed to, how full life is what worlds of 
 experience, what a library of history, it contains even our 
 life, comparatively obscure and uneventful as it seems. 
 
 And are we to be told that all this rich and wonderful 
 past, now that it is gone, is nothing ? that those joys and 
 sorrows, those dear ones (oh how many !) passed beyond the 
 veil, our good deeds and bad, our struggles and our success- 
 es, were not and are not realities, but were mere phenomena, 
 transient nature-changes, the product of electrical forces 
 playing in the brain, that came and went, beautiful phan- 
 toms, like images across the mirror of the mind (itself a 
 
14 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 shadow like themselves), but left behind nothing permanent, 
 nothing enduring, nothing to be a "possession forever"? 
 
 Thank God, we have not so learned, and cannot so 
 believe, while our wits last. The past is a reality, and the 
 future is a reality ; and most real and precious of realities is 
 the resurrection of the past which the future is to bring, 
 when not only we shall come forth from our graves, but 
 with us all that we have done in the body, whether it be 
 good or bad, into the dear presence of Him who will cover 
 the bad with His righteousness and glorify the good with 
 His smile. He will restore to us all that we "have 
 loved long since and lost awhile" the angel-faces, the ties 
 of friendship rudely strained but never sundered, the 
 studies just begun, the plans full of beneficent promise to 
 which earth had denied the opportunity or the means of 
 execution. All of this life that we prize, and would have 
 again, will (who can doubt, as God is good ?) be given to us 
 again, the treasures of perfected remembrance and purified 
 love, our capital stock on which to begin the business of a 
 heavenly life. 
 
 Another ten years, and, more than likely, it will all 
 be ended here with us. We shall have found our chambers 
 under the green sod, and be sleeping by the side of dear 
 ones gone and by each other's side " in hope of the resur- 
 rection of the just." Or if either of us lag with here and 
 there another of our contemporaries " superfluous on the 
 stage," we shall feel that our work is ended, and wait 
 impatient for our summons. How like a shadow it seems in 
 itself! how full of inspiring significance it really is in its 
 relations to the future this swift-speeding, dream-like life 
 of ours, that holds eternity in its bosom like the oak in an 
 acorn's cup. . . . 
 
 His prophetic words were realized when scarcely 
 more than four of the ten years had passed. The con- 
 
IN TROD UCTOR Y. 15 
 
 viction was quietly deepening in his mind that his days 
 were numbered. Although in the full vigor of plans 
 for his work, he more than once expressed the belief 
 that it would soon be done, declaring that his utmost 
 expectation was to reach sixty-three, man's " grand 
 climacteric." But a short time before his sixtieth birth- 
 day, he had confessed to an absent daughter his first 
 surprise at finding how soon his " threescore years" 
 would overtake him. He adds a postscript to the 
 Christmas letter which, since her marriage, he had 
 never failed to send as his holiday greeting : 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE, Dec. 21, 1873. 
 
 . . . Monday morning, and I must close my screed. 
 My own health has seemed unusually good this fall. Yet I 
 feel the necessity of constant care to prevent my infirmi- 
 ties from taking a more disagreeable name. Do you 
 know that in less than three months I shall be sixty years 
 old? It seems very natural to you, no doubt; but the 
 discovery has almost petrified me with amazement. I 
 could not have thought it possible, and I feeling so youth- 
 ful and immature, and so much of my life's work "in 
 prospectu"! Only four years younger than my father 
 was when he died, as I then thought, at a good old age! 
 But I am more and more satisfied that we need not 
 grow old to ourselves; for, as we advance, the future ex- 
 tends more rapidly and more invitingly before us, and 
 we certainly should be growing not less but more capa- 
 ble of improving and enjoying it. Our hope, thank God, 
 is an immortal one, and a change of worlds only a change 
 of fields and an enlargement of opportunity. 
 
 And so, with a love as fresh and warm as ever, I wish 
 you and yours a merry Christmas and a happy new year, 
 and remain, Your unchanging FATHER. 
 
1 6 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 Where can we find a surer pledge of all that we 
 long to know than in these words, so strangely like 
 the last that he spoke on earth, that last precious tes- 
 timony to which we cling? With those words falling 
 on our ears in sweet and solemn cadence, these come 
 as a refrain, and our doubts are silenced. " How easy 
 how easy to glide from the work here to the 
 work There," was the experience of a soul that, in a 
 life of ceaseless activity, could believe " a change of 
 worlds only a change of fields and an enlargement of 
 opportunity." The latest utterance of his dying hour 
 had been the familiar language of his life, and we may 
 follow it back from year to year in the expressions 
 which he has left to us : 
 
 TO DR. GEORGE A. BLISS. 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE, April 24, 1873. 
 
 . . . I am glad to see that you are still able to carry 
 heavy burdens, though I confess I regret the necessity. 
 Yet why regret? This is not our place of rest, and when 
 we reach the end of our earthly labors the least of our 
 regrets will be their abundance. For myself, I think I 
 can honestly say, the more the better, if only what is 
 devolved upon me can be truly and well done. But every 
 year the sense of inadequacy grows upon me; the respon- 
 sibility steadily increasing, and my vigor, elasticity, and 
 hopefulness beginning noticeably to wane. If I had no 
 refuge in the faith of a personal God, sympathizing and 
 ready to help a Divine Master, full of pity and having 
 all power in heaven and earth if I felt shut up to inex- 
 orable natural law and inexorable moral law, and knew 
 no Christ who is above law, I should give out and give 
 up at once. But, thank God, that confidence does not 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 fail me yet; nor do I see that any of the developments of 
 modern science, wonderful and bewildering as they cer- 
 tainly are, nor any of the subtle suggestions of modern 
 unbelief, reach to the disturbing of the foundation on 
 which we have built. I think it will abide our time at 
 least and I pray that our children may not lose it, unless 
 a better is given them in its place if that be possible. 
 
 Have you examined Calderwood's " Moral Philoso- 
 phy"? I rather hastily adopted it as a text-book this 
 year. It has the advantage of distinctly recognizing the 
 most recent phases of ethical heresy, and is, I think, 
 essentially sound in theory. But the treatment is con- 
 fused and unsatisfactory, particularly for the tyro in such 
 discussions, and my seniors have not had a happy time 
 with it. Is there any text-book of ethics which does not 
 hinder more than it helps ? 
 
 We are all well, and the whole house send love and 
 greeting. 
 
 How I wish that we could meet! But patience! the 
 
 time is short. 
 
 Your loving brother JOHN. 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE, March 17, 1870. 
 
 MY DARLING DAUGHTER: Your letter did reach me on 
 the yth, and added a very peculiar gratification to the 
 many which contributed to make the day happy. I am 
 not at all sure that the swift recurrence of these signifi- 
 cant anniversaries, with their sharp reminder that one is 
 fast growing old, would bring much pleasure, to one of 
 my age at least, were it not for the accompanying ex- 
 pression of loves and friendships which grow riper and 
 sweeter with every passing year. I suppose I have 
 hardly a right, at only fifty-six, to assume the airs and 
 claim the honors of an old man. But spite of myself, I 
 
1 8 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 find my glance drawn forward, and cannot help suspect- 
 ing a decided declivity in the path before me, and though 
 the necessity of work, not only, but something, I trust, 
 of its inspiration, keeps me going, I am afraid that I 
 detect some growth of inertness, an increasing sense of 
 the luxury of repose, belonging rather to the second than 
 to the first half-century of life. Dii avertite omen! 
 
 Your mother has written you of all the pleasant things 
 that marked the day. But I should not have left it for 
 her to do had not an unusual crowd of business made the 
 writing of love-letters a thing out of the question. And 
 since then, what changes have come over our sky ! The 
 illness of " Grandma" filled us with anxiety, and your 
 mother would not have been surprised to have been 
 called at any moment to her bedside. And the very mail 
 which relieved us of that apprehension brought the sad 
 tidings of an unfavorable turn in Judge Lloyd's sickness. 
 We are disappointed of a letter to-day, and, if we dared, 
 would draw a little hope from that fact. Indeed, it is 
 hard to believe the worst, so slow are we, after all our 
 experience of this changing, sad, and dying world, to 
 anticipate occurrences which make up so large a part of 
 its daily experience. We are children of a larger growth, 
 and our views of life are childish to the last. When we are 
 come of age, and look back from heaven's maturity upon 
 these scenes, how we shall smile at the dullness of our 
 understanding and the slow growth of our faith, and 
 only wonder that, with all the light of experience and 
 revelation, we did not see things more nearly as they are 
 did not habitually anticipate such changes, and habitu- 
 ally rejoice in them, when, as in the case of your father 
 Lloyd, they were but the crowning of a Christian life, 
 the fruition of a sure and happy hope. 
 
 It would be too much, I suppose, to expect such views 
 to be habitual with a bride of months only, living in a 
 
IN TROD UCTOR Y. 19 
 
 crystal palace with a faultless husband, and so much to 
 fill her earthly present and future with the realities and 
 the visions of delight. But in the scenes in which you 
 are now moving, they will certainly seem fitting. Nor 
 would our relish of earthly blessings be less if we would 
 mingle more of heaven in our estimate and enjoyment of 
 them. 
 
 We shall wait with much solicitude for the next tid- 
 ings, hoping that they may be favorable to your wishes, 
 but praying that in any event the presence of the Master 
 may be with you, and the supports of grace be given to 
 the dying and living alike. 
 
 TO A FRIEND OF MANY YEARS. 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE, March 20, 1869. 
 
 MY DEAR old FRIEND : I think you will not object to 
 an epithet from which none but the shallow shrink, which 
 to the wise is significant of the most precious, if not the 
 fairest and most admired, things this world (" this poor 
 world " I should say but for the precious old things in 
 it) has to offer. So at least one may be allowed to think 
 who has passed his fifty-fifth birthday ! And, of all things 
 that time tries and ripeness improves, what is like an 
 old friendship ? It was so like you, dear E., to remember 
 my birthday in that far country (I should have forgotten 
 it even here, had I not been reminded), and so like you to 
 utter your thought in just this way. Nothing short of 
 your personal apparition in the flesh could have brought 
 you so vividly before me, to my " mind's eye " and my 
 heart's. It has been a day brimful of happiness to me, 
 for it brought so many palpable and beautiful expres- 
 sions of the love which I have done so little to deserve, 
 but which delights me none the less because I cannot 
 
20 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 explain it. Among them all, dear E., none touched a 
 deeper chord or thrilled me with a truer joy than yours. 
 It assured me that years of separation and silence- 
 silence for which I know that I am not blameless have 
 not estranged us. Your love, of course, I knew had not 
 failed, nor, I trust, has your confidence in mine. So, at 
 least, I interpreted the jessamines and roselets, and was 
 comforted. The flowers had suffered some for their long 
 journey, but there was enough of their original beauty 
 left to suggest the whole, and memories of the true 
 heart that sent them more than supplied the loss. 
 
 God has blessed me indeed with the love of many 
 hearts, and many close about me, whose kindly expres- 
 sions keep my cup constantly full. But the new ones do 
 not displace the old ones, though they may engross my 
 time and thoughts more perhaps than I ought to allow 
 them to ; yet, when memory gets a chance to recall the 
 absent faces and the former times, I find the old affec- 
 tion all unchanged, and, like some rare and rich old 
 wine, brought out to honor some choice occasion, all the 
 riper and more precious for the lapse of years. Is it not 
 a cheering promise of the day of resurrection, when 
 sleeping friendships shall also awake with the freshness 
 of immortality upon them, and the truth of God be 
 vindicated, that " love never faileth "? I believe it. If 
 there is anything immortal, it is love, for surely nothing 
 is more worthy of immortality. 
 
 TO MISS HANNAH W. LYMAN. 
 \Then Lady-Principal of the College.} 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE, March 8, 1866. 
 
 MY DEAR Miss LYMAN: Many, many thanks for the 
 lovely flowers which you sent to smile upon my birth- 
 day morning. All day yesterday and again to-day they 
 
IN TROD UCTOR Y. 2 1 
 
 have stood by my side, a presence of beauty, a ministry 
 of consolation. How often, when perplexed and wearied 
 with my work, have I lifted my eyes to them, so calm, so 
 sweet, so exquisitely delicate, so unearthly in their per- 
 fection, and drunk in balm and healing with the glance. 
 What a touch they have for a sore mind! How like a 
 living thought of God, filling the room with light ! How 
 they breathe and whisper of His love ! And it is not 
 profanation to say that I prize them all the more that 
 they assure me of a human as well as a divine affection. 
 Of this, dear Miss Lyman, be sure, that your friendship 
 so lately found, so highly prized is one of the things 
 that reconcile me to the possibility of "many returns" 
 of this day, here, so far from Home, and also that I 
 am ever gratefully and affectionately 
 
 Your friend and brother, 
 
 J. H. RAYMOND. 
 
 TO A DAUGHTER. 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE, Dec. 18, 1870. 
 
 MY DARLING CHILD : Your letters are like cold water 
 to a thirsty soul. It is an inexpressible comfort to know 
 how much you find that is congenial and happifying in 
 your new home and its surroundings, of which your de- 
 tailed descriptions give us such vivid pictures. And you 
 may be sure the constant prayer of our hearts is that the 
 sun may continue to shine long, long if I dared say it, 
 ever. But alas! such is not the lot of man. "The days 
 of darkness" will come, and be "many," and the wiser 
 prayer is that we may be so filled with the light divine 
 that outward darkness and light shall be both alike to 
 us. Is that a melancholy key to strike in these holiday 
 times? I think you will not so regard it. For why should 
 it dull our appreciation and enjoyment of inferior and 
 
22 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 transient blessings to think that we are not dependent 
 on them, to remember that we possess treasures which 
 would abide though they should be snatched away, the 
 thought of which will exalt and brighten them even 
 while they last? 
 
 In his frequent reference to the " abiding treasures" 
 we find a part of his very Confession of Faith. Many 
 years before, he had gloried in these possessions, in 
 writing to one whose friendship was indeed one of the 
 enduring treasures : 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ROCHESTER, Nov., 1852. 
 
 MY DEAR E.: Your last letter was doubly welcome, as 
 you. may suppose, first because of the good news with 
 which it was freighted, anjl then because it came from 
 one we so much love. For, naughty as we confessedly 
 are, dearest E., in this article of letter-writing, our hearts 
 fail not to "indite good matter" toward you whenever 
 your loved name is mentioned in our circle, or memory 
 recalls your image amid the pleasing and mournful 
 visions of the past. Sweet recollections! Yet why need 
 we cling to them as a chief treasure, or reluctantly yield 
 them as inexorable time bears them ever farther away? 
 Is not " our life" in the hope-lighted realm of the future? 
 Yea, is it not "hid with Christ in God "? The real value 
 of our experiences in the past is this, that they are to be 
 elements of our higher experience in the coming. I feel 
 an assured faith of this, that there is to be no wreck of 
 any of our affections, that there will be resurrections of 
 heart-joys which we thought utterly lost and buried, and 
 never to be renewed save in memories as tearful as they 
 are tender. Oh no ! it is not so. Our confidence is in 
 Him that doeth all things well, who saw the end from 
 
INTRO.D UCTOR Y. 23 
 
 the beginning, who is educating us, and has been all 
 along, for our immortal being, and who has had a mean- 
 ing in all those myriad experiences of ours, which as yet 
 seem to have been arrested in their unfolding, and sadly 
 cut off, immature and fruitless, a meaning which Heaven 
 will declare. Then why regret? If all that is dear in the 
 past is to be reproduced in the future, matured, exalted, 
 glorified; and if this our hope is not the cloud-pile which 
 fancy gilds into seeming " Islands of the Blest," even as 
 its beams are passing, to fade while we gaze into a gray 
 and chill and drear reality of shadows and coming storms, 
 but the serene discovery of faith under a broad fl<?<?-light, 
 definite, steady, ever brightening and strengthening as 
 we near it why shall we not " forget the things behind," 
 or use them but as stand-points whence to "reach towards 
 those before" ? 
 
 But I am writing as though I had a day before me, 
 and half a quire of foolscap to fill, when in fact I have 
 just snatched five or ten minutes before I leave my study 
 to go to tea, and have taken this scrap of paper to say 
 that we " love here still," and expect to love, and to love 
 you forever, whether here or there, and to be loved, and 
 often to renew the mutual assurance in modes more per- 
 fect and satisfying than this. 
 
 TO HIS ELDEST SISTER. 
 
 ROCHESTER, N. Y., March 2, 1854. 
 
 MY DEAR SISTER : What shall I say to avert the sen- 
 tence of condemnation which you have already passed 
 upon me ? Nothing ; for I have nothing much to say, 
 and you know it already. I have had a sort of miserable 
 time in general since I took that wretched cold at your 
 house, and have found it hard enough to endure my own 
 tediousness without venturing to bestow it upon you. 
 
24 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 But "time and tide" bear on the dull as well as the lively, 
 and so you and I are still cheek by jowl at this bright 
 beginning of a new spring, which I wish I felt sure would 
 be as bright in its continuance and to its ending. 1854 ! 
 and almost March 7! Well, we are forty now, and no 
 joke! How soon it will all be over, and then for a spring 
 whose continued brightness will be no matter of doubt! 
 then for a life not to be measured off by years, nor bur- 
 dened and crippled by infirmities! 
 
 Going back still farther in his life, we find it marked 
 by a dividing-line which is most significant. His fath- 
 er's death, which called forth the following letter, had 
 awakened him to a sense of the shortness of human 
 life, and, in words that seem almost prophetic, he de- 
 clares his belief that his own is just half spent. He was 
 thirty-two when his father died at the age of sixty-four; 
 he filled up the measure of the other half, and at sixty- 
 four was himself laid to rest beside that beloved father. 
 The same early friend who, in the very beginning of 
 his ministry, preached the funeral discourse of the 
 father, in the full ripeness of his powers paid the last 
 tribute to the son ; and the same heavenly words again 
 robbed the grave of its bitterness : " Blessed are the 
 dead which die in the Lord, from henceforth. Yea, 
 saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors, 
 and their works do follow them." 
 
 HAMILTON, Dec. 31, 1845. 
 
 MY DEAR BROTHER AND SISTER : Your melancholy 
 intelligence has just reached us. . . . But oh, how 
 much of mercy is mingled in this bitter cup ? To him, 
 our dear sainted father, whom it seems now that I never 
 revered and loved enough, is it not all mercy? His long, 
 
IN TROD UCTOR Y. 25 
 
 laborious, and changing life seems to have run its full 
 course and to be brought to a suitable close. Surely he 
 had seen enough vicissitudes ; he had felt enough of care; 
 he had performed his share of toil ; he had enough ex- 
 perience of the vanity of earthly things. Why should we 
 wish to detain him longer from his rest? At one time, 
 I did cherish anticipations for him of a long and peace- 
 ful evening to his weary day, a twilight rendered cheer- 
 ful by the attentions of children and grand-children, and 
 fading calmly away into the rest of heaven. But for a 
 year or two past, I have not felt any confidence in such 
 anticipations. I have not believed that he could be happy 
 in such a way. He has often of late seemed to me with- 
 out a home on earth, without employment, without any- 
 thing that he could feel was his. An inscrutable Provi- 
 dence had shattered the charmed circle of his home long 
 ago ; it could never be reconstructed. . . . Yet his 
 life was full of interest. It was a genuine poem, not 
 more so, perhaps, than life often is ; but to us, it must 
 seem one of most affecting interest a poem, in which 
 strains of joy and sadness, tenderness and grandeur, suc- 
 ceed each other in rapid alternations, or blend in strange 
 but ever beautiful and significant harmonies. I love in 
 imagination to retrace it from its lowly beginnings, 
 through all its shifting scenes, and then to look upon it 
 as a whole. It seems to me to have a fine keeping a 
 warp of firm and truthful consistency beneath the vari- 
 colored woof which his fortunes wove upon it ; and I 
 think it will afford a pleasing and profitable employ- 
 ment to us hereafter, to trace out the fundamental traits 
 in his character and history. 
 
 And it has had a fitting end, through the grace of our 
 adorable Redeemer a triumphant end. Who of us, then, 
 shall wish it otherwise? Oh, is it not much to feel that 
 the history of our dear parents is closed, is all completed, 
 
26 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 in such a style ? That they have passed beyond the dan- 
 ger of any sad reverse ? That they have "clean escaped'* 
 from this world where all the future is uncertain, and 
 every day is laden with cause of terror and anxiety? 
 "The memory of the just is blessed," and this is our 
 inheritance. . . . 
 
 "And we are orphans." Yes, dear sister, for ourselves 
 we have occasion to mourn ; for, in our -home-gatherings 
 hereafter, how we shall miss his cheerful voice, his bright 
 smile, his gentle admonitions, his ever-bubbling flow of 
 happy feeling and kindly affections ; and you will miss him 
 daily. But on the other hand, you will converse about him 
 much, his friends are all around you, your children knew 
 him familiarly. This consolation is denied me. Even my 
 wife had but little opportunity to become acquainted with 
 him, and I feel it as a real trial that my children will never 
 have his image on their hearts, will never feel any personal 
 interest in reminiscences of "Grandpa Raymond." It seems 
 to cut them off from the family center. But, my dear brother 
 and sister, we will not leave the vacuum unclosed. We will 
 press more closely together and maintain by interlinking 
 cords of love that family unity of which thus far he has 
 been the visible nucleus. And, looking upwards whither 
 he has gone, let us look for a final reassembling, a recon- 
 struction of our happy domestic system, in the mansions of 
 our Heavenly Father's house. 
 
 For myself, I feel that this day is a new epoch in my life ; 
 it may be the last ; what remains may be short. I pray that 
 it may be more productive of glory to God and good to 
 men than the almost fruitless past. One principal partition 
 between myself and the grave seems to be taken down. 
 The end seems vastly nearer than I imagined. I begin to 
 realize with more distinctness that I am a boy no longer, . 
 that manhood with all its responsibilities is here, though 
 with but little of its maturity, and that I must gird up my 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 27 
 
 loins and address myself to the race, for half my time has 
 run away, and I have hardly begun. Half my time ! Just 
 think of it ! I am just half as old as Father, and he has 
 died an old man ! " What shadows we are and what 
 shadows we pursue." How soon the icy tap of death will 
 be heard at our gates ! Oh that we may be prepared to 
 say " we are ready all is well all is peace." . . . 
 
 These were his father's dying words. The son's wish 
 was answered, and their spirit breathed in the last that 
 fell from his own lips. The conviction that his years 
 were just half numbered is again expressed, in a letter 
 written, soon after this, to another sister: 
 
 TO MRS. GEORGE R. BLISS. 
 
 HAMILTON, Jan., 1846. 
 
 How brief the time appears ! I can more distinctly see 
 how near the grave is. Father's age was only twice my 
 own. I then can remember almost to the time when he was 
 of my present age, and yet I had hardly thought my life 
 begun, and ever looked forward for the commencement of 
 my career. And is it possible, I ask myself, that at farthest 
 I have no longer time to live than I have lived already ? 
 Having ascended to the culminating point of life, so far as 
 its duration is concerned, must I henceforth tread a declin- 
 ing path ? 
 
 I wish that I might meet you in Brooklyn, in the coming 
 spring. I feel a growing desire to get closer to all that 
 remain of the sacred hearth-circle, as I more distinctly 
 realize how soon it will be entirely dissolved. Who next will 
 be called? We five have come up together from happy 
 childhood, bound into one by him who is no more. Gladly 
 would we detain each other, that neither in life nor in death 
 we should be separated. But one after another will drop 
 
28 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 away, and the survivors feel more and more lonely and cold 
 in their own journey to the grave. Who will go first ? Who 
 stay until the last? God grant that, from first to last, 
 each may be ready when his summons comes. Then will 
 the separation be but short, and the reunion speedy and 
 eternal. 
 
 I was greatly disappointed in not seeing something like 
 a suitable obituary from some of you, immediately after 
 Father's death. I took it for granted that the thing would 
 be done while you were all on the ground together. It 
 must be done yet, at least drawn up, whether published or 
 not. How thankful we all feel to Robert's active affection, 
 to which we owe it that the image of that dear face has not 
 vanished from the earth forever. Now we have the means 
 not only of perpetuating the yet fresh impression on our 
 memories, but of sharing the pleasure with friends, whose 
 recollections cannot be so vivid, and others who, never 
 having seen him, may learn from us to admire and love 
 him. And shall we not be equally anxious to preserve an 
 accurate delineation of his character, to transcribe, while 
 they are yet distinct in our minds, those features of mental 
 and moral beauty on which we shall never cease to dwell 
 with delight? I propose, therefore, that it be the business 
 of each, until we meet, to call up all those traits which have 
 seemed particularly interesting, and any illustrations of his 
 character which are impressed on the memory, and as far 
 as possible to recall, or ascertain by inquiry, the leading 
 incidents of his life, that a brief record may be made of 
 them for our own future satisfaction and that of our chil- 
 dren and friends. I have often wished also to know some- 
 thing more definite about Mother, her traits of mind and 
 character, her manner, her domestic habits, and especially 
 something of her early life. I have long intended to draw 
 from Father some information on these points ; but, like a 
 true Raymond, have deferred it till too late. 
 
IN TROD UCTOR Y. 29 
 
 The record that he wished was never made. The 
 grandfather whose name became a household word of 
 mingled brightness and vagueness was known to most 
 of his children's children only in reminiscences that 
 made up the family traditions. Quaint and pithy say- 
 ings, in which he delivered the counsels that had be-- 
 come familiar maxims, told us of a mind of striking 
 originality, while incidents in which he figured gave us 
 glimpses of a character in which strength was united 
 with a womanly tenderness and refinement, a character 
 capable of heroic sacrifice and almost stoical devotion 
 to duty. A family portrait had preserved his outward 
 features, and in the light that shone from them we 
 fancied we could see the play of pathos and humor 
 that was reflected in all we knew of him, so small a 
 part of all that we desired to know. How we longed 
 for a more perfect image of the life within, of " those 
 features of mental and moral beauty" that remained to 
 us only in shadowy outline ! 
 
 Far more imperfect was the knowledge of our grand- 
 mother, the cherished wife whom he had mourned for 
 a quarter of a century before his own death. From 
 childhood we had heard of the constancy with which, 
 every year as the anniversary of her death approached, 
 he gradually withdrew from the family circle, a gentle- 
 ness and gravity of manner becoming more and more 
 apparent, until the day itself was marked by his ab- 
 sence from table and fireside. Locked in his own 
 room, whose door was at no other time closed to his 
 children, he spent the day in the seclusion of a grief 
 which was the only experience he ever failed to share 
 with them. The memory so faithfully cherished for 
 twenty-five returning years made an indelible impres- 
 
30 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 sion upon hearts to whom the lost mother was the 
 embodiment of all things pure and high in woman- 
 hood. Faintly remembered by the oldest of her little 
 family, to us of the third generation she existed but as 
 a far-off ideal, a vision of that Past whose voices bring 
 only gentle and loving reports, whose dreamy distance . 
 softens all its figures into lines of beauty and perfec- 
 tion. 
 
 In the motherless group which she had left was a 
 boy of ten, on whose spirit this first shadow fell. 
 Standing midway in the family of five, he received the 
 confidences of a younger brother and sister, and the 
 devoted care and sympathy of the brother and sister 
 older than himself. For fifty-four years after the 
 mother's death the fraternal band remained unbroken, 
 knit together by ties of uncommon intimacy. For 
 fifty-four years the question so often asked remained 
 unanswered " Which of our number shall go first?" 
 It was not strange (if the loving testimony of brothers 
 and sisters may be accepted) that the life most tire- 
 lessly consumed with unselfish labors should be soon- 
 est spent ; that the circle should be shaken at its center 
 when he who had been brother, friend, and counselor 
 was cut down. A life so ripe and sweet needed not 
 the allotted threescore years and ten for its full round- 
 ing. It has ceased on earth. Shall it be left to fade 
 from the remembrance of those who come after us? 
 More powerfully than any living voice my father's plea 
 for a knowledge of his father has appealed to me, fore- 
 casting the time when others may be seeking him, too, 
 among the shadows of the Past ; and I have pledged 
 myself to a picture of his life drawn chiefly by his 
 own hand which shall preserve its distinctive features 
 
IN TR OD UC TOR Y. 31 
 
 to a large circle of kindred and friends. It is their 
 earnest wish that the image now so clear should not 
 be lost, nor become to later generations the vague and 
 distant vision of a character which does not need the 
 idealizing touch of time to give it grace. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 IT was impossible to begin the narrative of my 
 father's life without meeting certain difficulties. 
 All knowledge of his birthplace, early days, and the 
 scenes in which he moved before his marriage, was in a 
 most nebulous state. It was easy to understand his 
 own regret at the want of a father's memoir. Great was 
 our rejoicing when, after unsatisfactory efforts to ob- 
 tain the desired details, there was one day discovered 
 in the recesses of a book-case an undreamed-of treas- 
 ure, the story of those early years written in his own 
 words, of whose existence he had never spoken. When 
 a young college professor, he had been requested to 
 write a sketch of his personal history for a literary 
 society, to which each member had contributed, in 
 turn, in the same manner. He thus unconsciously 
 anticipated our questions, and to our floating and con- 
 fused ideas gave unity and distinctness. 
 
 He had been heard to say that he was sent to school 
 when three years of age, and from that time had never 
 been out of school except on regular vacations, passing 
 without intermission from pupil to teacher, tutor, pro- 
 fessor, president. It is not strange that a- history of 
 his life should be a history of schools and educational 
 systems. With what delight we seized upon the story 
 of his various teachers, and to their influence traced 
 the tastes and pursuits of his lifetime. 
 
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 33 
 
 A time-worn copy of Goo Id Brown's Grammar, re- 
 cently found among his books, bears this inscription : 
 " This book I studied thoroughly and (considering my 
 age) understandingly, under the instruction of the 
 author, in the winter of iS23-'24, when I was between 
 nine and ten years old. It was the foundation of all 
 the intellectual discipline I ever had." It recalls the 
 life-long enthusiasm with which he expatiated upon 
 the importance of this favorite study, and directs our 
 attention to his own account of the way in which it was 
 awakened by the famous old pioneer teacher himself. 
 
 Another of his hobbies was the importance of Latin 
 as a fundamental study. A multitude of witnesses 
 testify to the faithful persuasions which labored with 
 their unbelief, and influenced them to build upon this 
 sure foundation. The picture of the embryo scholar 
 stretched at full length upon that academical bench 
 and drinking in the mellifluous measures of a Latin 
 declension again and 'again repeated, foreshadows the 
 interviews with future pupils in which he presented the 
 truth in those earnest iterations. 
 
 In his early admiration for the New York High 
 School and its most excellent system we see the germ 
 of his own ideas of systematic management, and of 
 that talent for effective organization which, was after- 
 wards developed. And in the portrait of his ideal 
 teacher, with his modes of discipline and the high 
 motives to which he appealed, we can hardly fail to 
 recognize the exemplar which he himself followed. 
 
 The history of his college life was entirely unknown 
 to us. But it has not been thought necessary to with- 
 hold his recital of the bitter experience which yielded 
 gracious fruits. Our sympathy with the youthful 
 
34 JOHN H. RA YMOXD. 
 
 offender receives a little zest from the fact that the 
 policy of those responsible for his guidance was not 
 without grave errors. He was certainly taught to avoid 
 them in his own treatment of similar cases. In the 
 story of lessons thus early learned, \ve may not lose the 
 influence of a life so soon directed to the noblest aims. 
 The sports of his boyish days give a clue to the 
 relaxations of later life. The genius for inventing 
 games was "turned to good account for the benefit of 
 his own children, and the dramatic gift which vented 
 itself in a juvenile theatre provided us a perpetual fund 
 of entertainment. To those familiar with his passion- 
 ate love of the ocean, it is interesting to see how its 
 captivations won his boyish heart. He was ever a 
 most ardent lover. It w r as the same bright ocean to 
 which he turned in times of utmost exhaustion, and in 
 its sparkling draughts he twice received back the life 
 so nearly drained. The same peaceful ocean now 
 watches his last slumbers in Greenwood, and, stretch- 
 ing away in broad sheets of silver light, seems an earn- 
 est of the rest which he has found so near its bosom. 
 
 I. MY BOYISH DAYS. 
 
 . . . The life of a great man is concentrated in a 
 few sublime achievements with the details of which the 
 world is familiar : the bare mention of these awakens 
 wonder and delight. But a " brief biographical sketch" 
 of an insignificant man amounts to nothing, and cannot 
 serve even as an apology for its own existence. A most 
 republican equality prevails among the days and deeds 
 of such a man's life. All are equally inconsiderable, and 
 no good reason can be thought of for mentioning one 
 which will not apply to all the rest ; besides that, accord- 
 
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 35 
 
 ing to the old Scotch proverb, it takes "many a little to 
 make a mickle." On principles of modesty, therefore, I 
 shall probably make my tale a tedious one. From a 
 similar motive I eschew the formal dignity of the histo- 
 rical third person, and affect the simple sincerity of the 
 familiar first. 
 
 I was born, then, some thirty years aback, in one of the 
 most ancient and venerable sections of the goodly city of 
 Gotham, on a street hight Van De Water, a full-blood- 
 ed Yankee in the very center of Dutchdom. My parents 
 were a youthful couple from Connecticut, who had estab- 
 lished themselves in the great metropolis that they might 
 secure for themselves a wider field of enterprise, and for 
 their family ampler means and opportunities for educa- 
 tion. Eight children successively claimed their care ; of 
 whom three are not, but five continue to this present 
 day. 
 
 What omens attended my birth I am utterly unable to 
 say, save that I brought into the world a physiognomy 
 and a disposition which, if tradition have a good memory, 
 caused much maternal anguish. 
 
 My boyish life presents itself to the eye of recollection 
 under a two-fold aspect : the first, a winter-life, pent up 
 in city walls and under the eye severe of domestic and 
 scholastic discipline, the life of 
 
 ". . . whining school-boy, with his satchel 
 And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
 Unwillingly to school ;" 
 
 the other, a joyous, free, and happy summer-life, amid 
 green fields and under genial skies. 
 
 The homestead of my paternal ancestors was situated 
 in the town of Norwalk, Conn., on the banks of one of 
 those short, deep "creeks" as they are called, or, more 
 properly, narrow bays, by which the waters of the Long 
 
36 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 Island Sound run far up into the land to meet the silver 
 streamlets from the hills. At the point of junction you 
 would at that time generally find a mill-seat and a village. 
 Such was the situation of the village of Norwalk, about 
 a mile and a half from the Sound. A mile below, and 
 within sight of the green islands that lie scattered about 
 the mouth of the creek (a glorious spot for fishing and 
 chowder parties) stood my grandparents' house. And 
 thither it was my father's custom every summer, as soon 
 as the dog-star began to rage, to send all his family away 
 from the hot and pestilential breath of the city. What is 
 now a dull trip of three mortal hours in a steamboat 
 [since reduced to an hour and a half by rail] was then a 
 voyage in the primitive sloop, varying, according to the 
 state of tide and wind, from two days to a week, and full 
 of incident and adventure. How our young spirits 
 bounded within us as the gay vessel went careering over 
 the waves, now leaning her cheek against the waters un- 
 til her top-mast almost touched them, then suddenly 
 tossing up her head and dashing aside their caresses like 
 a wayward maiden that flouted her wooer but still want- 
 ed to be wooed. How we ran hither and thither, prying 
 into all the strange corners, scraping acquaintance with 
 the sailors, learning to coil the ropes and climb the 
 shrouds, and how we envied the freedom and romance of 
 the seaman's life! This feeling came to be a sort of fever 
 with me, and has left to this day an unconquerable at- 
 tachment to ocean scenery, and to everything that re- 
 minds me of a "life on the ocean wave." I do not know 
 but I might at some time have carried out a favorite 
 project of my boyish days, that of running away for a 
 life before the mast, were it not for a mortifying check 
 which my ambition received when about nine years of 
 age. One calm evening when the moon was shining 
 down through a thin white haze, I stood on the quarter- 
 
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH, 37 
 
 deck of one of those sloops, and fancied myself the proud 
 commander of a seventy-four, a buccaneer or a discov- 
 erer, plowing the waves of some far-distant sea. All 
 hands had gone below except one, the mate of the vessel, 
 who had stood at the helm until about the time the oth- 
 ers disappeared, and was now engaged in coiling away 
 some loose ropes on the deck. This finished, he turned 
 to me : "Look here, Bub. will you hold the tiller a little 
 while, and let me go below?" Certainly, no one could 
 be more willing. "There," said he, "do you see that 
 big tree on the point yonder ahead? Keep her nose right 
 on to that." And he left me alone in my glory. I will 
 not tell what dreams of wild adventure rushed through 
 my brain during the next half-hour. But at the end of 
 that time it occurred to me that the sloop kept herself 
 wonderfully straight and wonderfully still, so that there 
 seemed hardly any need of the helm at all. No wonder 
 it was a perfect calm ; and now that I turned my eye 
 upward, I perceived that there was not a rag of sail 
 standing, and it flashed like lightning on my recollection, 
 that the last thing the men did before going below, was 
 to let go the anchor. How like a shower-bath did these 
 discoveries fall on my kindled spirit, and with what sud- 
 den haste did I sneak into the cabin and to my berth, 
 though not so quietly as to escape the cachinnatory salu- 
 tation for which the mate's story had already charged a 
 cabin-full of passengers. 
 
 Arrived at the ancestral home, we spent the golden 
 summer-months in country sports. There I learned to 
 ride and drive, to swim and fish, to sail a boat and shoot 
 a gun, and do a thousand things for which the city offers 
 no opportunities to its pallid sons; and I might tell of 
 some adventures, 
 
 " . . . of hair-breadth 'scapes, 
 And moving accidents by flood and field," 
 
3 8 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 were it my bent to speak of things like these. Truth, 
 however, requires me to say that, on the whole, I never 
 distinguished myself by any high degree of success in 
 athletic games. True, I could swim like a duck, and 
 spent half my nonage in the water ; and I attained some 
 skill in the management of a boat. But there my ac- 
 complishments ended. I could not jump the length of 
 my leg nor run as fast as a smart kitten. I never raised 
 a kite in my life, though I sometimes made them for 
 other boys. At ball and cricket I " followed in the chase 
 not like a hound that hunts, but one that fills up the cry." 
 My toes could never endure the pressure of a skate-strap 
 for an hour together. Wrestling was my abhorrence, for 
 nothing ever hurt me more, in soul or body, than a hard 
 fall ; and as to actual fighting, my discretion was always 
 of more service to me than my valor. I was more sue- 
 cessful in those games and amusements which required 
 invention and manual skill rather than great agility or 
 strength, such as marbles, mumble-the-peg, jack-stones 
 and jack-straws ; was great at tit-tat-to, fox-and-geese, 
 and checkers ; and when I got somewhat older, obtained 
 considerable eclat (in connection with Aleck. H. and the 
 now Honorable H. C. M.) for our success in manufactur- 
 ing electric machines out of old junk-bottles; for a steam- 
 engine that would " go," made out of a big squirt for 
 cylinder, a little squirt for steam-box, and a piece of tin 
 gutter with ends soldered on for boiler; and above all, 
 for a miniature theater which we built in Aleck's garret, 
 with side-scenes and back-scenes, curtains and footlights, 
 dresses and properties all complete and played a play 
 therein ("The Turnpike Gate: a farce") to the infinite 
 amusement of Mr. H.'s black man Joe, his old fat house- 
 dog Watch, and five or six urchins of the neighborhood 
 who paid a penny apiece for admission. 
 
 But it was not "all play and no work" for Jack in his 
 
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 39 
 
 boyish days, though he would have been well satisfied 
 with that arrangement, maugre his ill-success in athletic 
 sports. Turn we to the darker side of Memory's vision, 
 to trace his progress through "the schools." In them I 
 may honestly claim to have spent my "quarter of a cen- 
 tury." Nay, it is impossible for me to recall the period 
 when I was not in some form or other a victim of aca- 
 demic incarceration. It is now too late to hope for a 
 release until the universal Emancipator comes and 
 breaks the bonds of life. 
 
 My first teacher was Mammy Collis, a name once 
 known and feared, I trow of many, though now, like 
 that of Shenstone's ancient dame, 
 
 " Lost in the dreary shades of dull obscurity." 
 
 The feature in her education which was most striking at 
 the time, and has left the deepest impression, was the fre- 
 quent and smart application of her thimble-shod middle 
 finger to the susceptible crania of her pupils, to the mani- 
 fest multiplication of their cerebral organs, a mode of 
 phrenological development not commonly noticed by 
 professors of that science. 
 
 My next teacher, who was a cripple, performed the 
 same philosophical operation with his crutch, used ham- 
 merwise, and I presume with equally beneficial results. 
 
 When about eight years old I was transferred to the 
 classical school of Goold Brown, the well-known author 
 of the best English grammar ever written, on the plan of 
 Lowth, and a teacher of very different order from the two 
 preceding. This gentleman was a Quaker, and to the 
 proverbial mildness of his sect added the kindly tenden- 
 cies of corporeal rotundity. He was, indeed, a jewel of 
 a pedagogue, the very incarnation of benevolent compla- 
 cency and the love of all his pupils. The supervision of 
 
40 JOFfN- //. RA YMOND. 
 
 order in the school was ostensibly deputed to a monitor, 
 selected generally from among the smaller boys, who sat 
 at an elevated desk in the center of the room, and whose 
 business it was to notice irregularities and report them 
 to the master. The ordinary punishment was the fine of 
 a penny or a toy (alas! for the unlucky dog who had nei- 
 ther, and yet dared to be naughty!), and the revenue aris- 
 ing from the fines inured to the monitor. Modern edu- 
 cators would shake their heads over the moral influence 
 of this method of discipline; but of its practical efficacy 
 there can be no doubt. Whether I loved most my teach- 
 er's bland smile or the emoluments of the monitorial 
 office, I will not, at this distance of time, pretend to de- 
 termine. Certain it is that I felt an unwonted anxiety 
 to please this teacher, and as the surest way into his 
 good graces I instinctively applied myself to the study 
 of English grammar with an enthusiasm which that study 
 rarely kindles in the youthful votary, and with a conse- 
 quent success of which I felt sufficiently vain. My kind- 
 hearted instructor was not slow to discover the bias of 
 my mind towards his own favorite pursuit, or to strength- 
 en that bias by all the means in his power. The result 
 was inevitable. I left his school in a year or two with 
 my head full of Brown's Institutes, and my doom sealed 
 beyond redemption. I was a predestinate " Professor of 
 English Grammar." 
 
 The next stadium in my educational career was a year 
 spent, together with an older brother, at the Hamilton 
 Academy [Hamilton, Madison County, New York] be- 
 tween the ages of ten and eleven. Ah! those w r ere hal- 
 cyon days to which I still look back as to a sunny spot 
 in the wilderness of the past. To an unenlightened little 
 cit like myself, Hamilton seemed a green forest-home in 
 the farthest West, the abode of absolute liberty and 
 primitive simplicity, away beyond all fear of frowns and 
 
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 41 
 
 rods and other foes to boyhood's bliss. Besides, a whole 
 year in the country was in my imagination equivalent to 
 a whole year of uninterrupted play. If this idea were 
 illusory, I met with nothing during the year to dispel the 
 illusion, either in school or out of school. 
 
 Left thus pretty much to my own discretion, I claim 
 some credit for having taken up, self-moved, two quite 
 important branches of my education. In the first place, 
 I commenced the study of Latin, and well do I remem- 
 ber the manner of it. Lying at full length on a bench 
 in the "upper chapel," as we used to call a large room 
 in the third story of the brick academy, my ear was 
 caught by the music of a Latin paradigm in process of 
 recitation by a class of tyros. Having nothing more 
 agreeable to think of at the moment, I " lent a listening 
 ear," and before the class had finished I could decline 
 " initis, mitis, mite mitis, mitis, mitts ;;////, miti, miti y etc., 
 with the best of them, "though," as Shakespeare some- 
 where remarks, " that's not much." The strain ran in 
 my head all that day. No matter where I was, or what 
 I did, all went to the tune of " mitis, mitis, mite," From 
 this time listening to recitations of the Latin class be- 
 came a favorite amusement ; until, with some assistance 
 from a borrowed book, I became almost as familiar with 
 Adam's Grammar as I had before been with Brown's. 
 
 The other branch was composition, which I commenced 
 by a volunteer essay on " Early Rising." For this am- 
 bitious effort I was abundantly rewarded by hearing it 
 read to the big boys as a specimen of what could be done 
 in that way by a little fellow without any aid from dis- 
 ciplinary incentives. From that proud moment the king- 
 dom of Rhetoric was set up in my bosom by the side of 
 the kingdom of Grammar. 
 
 One afternoon, as I was returning from some juvenile 
 excursion to my boarding-place, I saw my brother stand- 
 
42 JOHN II. RA YMOND. 
 
 ing at the window of our little chamber. He held up a 
 letter. In those days a letter from home was the summum 
 bo?ium, the acme of enjoyment. With dancing eyes and 
 blood and thoughts I rushed into the room to meet 
 alas! what a revulsion! The letter announced the sud- 
 den death of my mother. Long did my young bosom 
 swell with pent-up anguish. The following day tears 
 came to my relief, and then I wept, poor, smitten child, 
 for days, refusing to be comforted. Ah! had I under- 
 stood my loss, methinks I should have wept till now. 
 The magnitude of the loss, and the countless ways in 
 which it has unhappily affected my subsequent career, are 
 topics too painfully serious to be here set forth. Suffice 
 it to say that the shadow of that cloud still rests sadly 
 and coldly on my path; nor do I expect to emerge en- 
 tirely from its gloom until I look once more into those 
 soft eyes under cloudless skies in glory. 
 
 We returned from Hamilton in the spring of 1825 to a 
 home changed indeed, and saddened, but far from deso- 
 late. God had from the beginning blessed us, as a 
 family, with strong affections and a mutual pride; and 
 now, though despoiled of our chief treasure, we were still 
 rich in one another. During our absence my father had 
 removed to Brooklyn, L. I., then an insignificant village, 
 the advantages of whose location and whose prospective 
 importance few had the sagacity to discern. Here I was 
 put to school to " old Sam," as we used irreverently to 
 call him, to distinguish him from a younger brother, al- 
 though he was then a young man, and is now no less a 
 personage than the very Rev. Dr. Samuel S., editor of 
 the New York Churchman and coryphaeus of Puseyism on 
 cisatlantic shores. . . . 
 
 A single term appears to have satisfied my father as to 
 the probable value of this influence ; for in the fall of 
 that year I became a pupil of the New York High School, 
 
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 43 
 
 the first and perhaps the most splendid and successful 
 experiment of the Lancastrian (or monitorial) system 
 ever made in this country. The late Daniel S. Barnes 
 and the senior Griscomb, both men of mark, were at its 
 head ; and, aided by a large and efficient corps of assist- 
 ant teachers, had at that time five hundred pupils (all 
 males) under their charge. These were collected in a 
 three-story brick building of an elegant structure and 
 noble dimensions, built expressly for the purpose, in 
 which all the arrangements were made on the most libe- 
 ral scale, A complete philosophical and chemical appa- 
 ratus, well-filled cabinets of mineralogy and conchology, 
 a magnificent set of transparencies for the illustration of 
 astronomy, botany, anatomy, and other sciences, ample 
 yards fitted up with a great variety of fixtures for gym- 
 nastic and calesthenic exercises, the spacious walls of the 
 rooms within covered with all manner of instruction 
 paintings, mottoes, alphabets, diagrams, and other de- 
 vices these were some of the numberless appliances by 
 which, in that excellent establishment, the interest of the 
 pupil was constantly excited and richly rewarded. I 
 never knew a busier or a happier place. 
 
 Here, for the first time, I learned what " system" means in 
 the conduct of a school. Every minute in the week had its 
 employment assigned, and a departure from the established 
 arrangement, to gratify the caprice of individuals, was as little 
 looked for as an irregularity in the movements of the sun. 
 There were a hundred and fifty pupils in the highest room, 
 where I occupied a seat for about two years; and though our 
 studies differed somewhat, we all moved together on a plan 
 carefully adjusted to the several divisions. The recitations 
 were heard by monitors under supervision of the teachers. 
 So perfect was the order that not even the voice of a teacher 
 could be heard above the hum of business, which filled 
 that magnificent apartment like the music of a bee-hive, 
 
44 JOHN If. RAYMOND. 
 
 except at specified times or for some extraordinary com- 
 munication. All ordinary directions were given by means 
 of a " telegraph," to which a teacher's whistle or the bell of 
 the monitor-general would in the busiest moment attract 
 every eye, while at the sound every voice and every foot- 
 fall would be arrested as by the stroke of Death. The 
 range of studies at the High School was very wide, em- 
 bracing besides the ordinary branches of a complete English, 
 classical, and mathematical education, lectures on all the 
 natural sciences accompanied with copious illustrations, 
 elementary lessons in drawing and other ornamental arts, 
 and instruction touching a great variety of minor mat- 
 ters and manners, of great practical value, but rarely 
 noticed in our systems of public education. It was indeed 
 an admirable school; though for some reason its remarkable 
 efficiency did not survive the death of its founder, the in- 
 genious and somewhat eccentric Barnes, who was killed in 
 1828 (I think) by leaping from a stage-coach while its 
 frightened team were running at the top of their speed. 
 
 But the greatest benefit which I derived from my con- 
 nection with the High School was the acquaintance I then 
 formed with Daniel P. Bacon, the best and most beloved of 
 all my early teachers. He was at that time, though quite a 
 youth, the head teacher in the highest room, and superin- 
 tended the instruction of the classical and mathematical 
 departments. In the fall of 1827 he resigned this situation, 
 and opened a select school limited to twenty pupils of a cer- 
 tain stage of advancement, of whom I had the good fortune to 
 be one. Here I spent a year, and finished my preparation for 
 college under the eye of one whom I do not hesitate to pro- 
 nounce the most finished teacher with whom I ever became 
 acquainted. Thorough master of everything that he under- 
 took to teach, his aim appeared to be to give his pupils 
 views as complete and accurate as he possessed himself. If 
 he failed in any case, the defect was in the capacity of the 
 
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 45 
 
 scholar, and not in the teacher's faithfulness or skill. His 
 manners were as accomplished as his mind; and in every 
 particular, from the least to the greatest, he appeared to 
 his pupils the model of "all that might become a man." 
 His discipline was admirably adapted to the class of minds 
 with which he had to deal. It appealed primarily to their 
 sense of honor and self-respect. His principle was, to treat 
 his pupils as gentlemen, and to expect them to treat him 
 and one another so. The idea of being governed by the 
 rod he taught us to despise. Relying principally on our 
 sense of honor, he took care at the same time to cultivate 
 our sense of right ; and, I believe, was almost invariably 
 successful in impressing the conviction that nothing could 
 be worthy of a manly mind which a well-instructed con- 
 science disapproved. 
 
 I have now traced, as far as need be, the progress of the 
 physical and intellectual man (qu&re, boy?) up to the fall of 
 1828, at which time I entered the Freshman class of 
 Columbia College, in the city of New York, being a little 
 over fourteen years of age. Of my moral developments 
 during thi's period I have little to say. My natural dis- 
 position was amiable. I was always too indolent to be ugly, 
 and have often relinquished my rights rather thian take the 
 trouble to maintain them. My advantages for religious 
 instruction were excellent. My parents were both Christians 
 of an unusual order. Beginning their religious life as 
 Congregationalists, their own study of the Scriptures made 
 them Baptists in sentiment, and they acted on their con- 
 victions, at the sacrifice of a thousand precious privileges 
 and associations. At the time of my birth, my father was 
 a deacon in the Fayette (since Oliver) Street Church, then 
 under the pastoral charge of John Williams, father of the 
 present Wm. R. Williams, D.D. My father was a man- 
 of distinguished religious enterprise, was indeed far in 
 advance of most Baptists of that period in all his views and 
 
46 JOHN H. KA YMOND. 
 
 habits with regard to Christian action, and took personal 
 and prominent part in the various missionary and benevo- 
 lent movements which began to spring up in his day. One 
 object he had in view, in removing to Brooklyn in 1825, was 
 the setting up of the Baptist standard in a spot which he 
 rightly supposed (though at the time that was regarded as 
 one of his enthusiastic notions) was destined to become one 
 of the largest cities in the State. He commenced the first 
 Baptist meeting ever held in Brooklyn, and soon had the 
 satisfaction of seeing a little church planted, of which he 
 was the first deacon and the most efficient supporter, until 
 it grew beyond the need of any individual's assistance. He 
 was an ardent Sunday-school man, and filled the office of 
 superintendent longer back than I can remember and with 
 distinguished success. 
 
 It will not be doubted, therefore, that my infancy and 
 childhood were blessed with all the religious advantages 
 that could be furnished by a Christian home, the sanctuary, 
 and the Sabbath-school combined. Ah me ! the depravity 
 of a natural heart was more than a match for all these in- 
 fluences ; and the streets of a great city would of course 
 furnish abundant aliment adapted to nourish and strengthen 
 that depravity. 
 
 II. MY COLLEGE LIFE. 
 
 I am now at college, and a thousand recollections rush 
 upon my mind, waking a tumult of mingled emotions in 
 which pain and pleasure strive confusedly for the mas- 
 tery. Aware of the necessity of being brief, I hardly 
 know what to select as least unworthy of commemora- 
 tion. 
 
 Columbia College at that time (as also, I believe, at 
 the present) was noted for the excellence of its classical 
 course. It had resisted that tendency, then so prevalent 
 in the colleges of our country, to yield to the mathe- 
 
47 
 
 matical sciences an undue and disproportionate promi- 
 nence in the plan of a liberal education. The pure 
 mathematics, indeed, in the hands of the gifted but 
 modest Anderson, and the mixed mathematics under 
 Prof. Renwick, received a liberal share of attention. 
 Dr. McVickar was all that could be desired in the chair 
 of Philosophy, Rhetoric, and Belles Lettres. But the 
 classical department was the glory of the institution. 
 The elegant Dr. Moore, now President of the College, 
 was at the head of it, and Charles Anthon, then in the 
 dawn of his notoriety, was Adjunct Prof, of the same 
 and Rector of the grammar-school. He had the princi- 
 pal charge of the Freshman class, and was the most 
 absolute and relentless drill-master into whose hands 
 poor Freshmen ever fell. All things considered, proba- 
 bly no college in the country afforded better advantages 
 to one who knew how to appreciate and was disposed to 
 improve them. Yet, partly from the force of circum- 
 stances, and partly from my own childish perverseness, 
 my college course was very sadly impaired, indeed 
 almost wholly lost. Fortunately, my extreme youth, 
 which was the principal occasion of my failures, afforded 
 me a subsequent opportunity of measurably retrieving 
 the loss. But I will not anticipate. 
 
 I soon felt the advantage given me by the thorough- 
 ness of my preparation. Among the members of the 
 class, which numbered about thirty, were several noble 
 fellows with whom I should not think of comparing my- 
 self in point of general ability, and I have, therefore, 
 attributed it principally to the excellence of my prelimi- 
 nary training that I received any mark of distinction 
 from my teachers or classmates. 
 
 It was the custom of Prof. Anthon, at the close of the 
 first two months of the college year, to divide the class 
 into two branches, as nearly equal as possible in point 
 
JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 of talent and scholarship. This he did by appointing 
 two chiefs, orKscpaAai, as he called them (for he was a 
 sad pedant), and allowing them to choose from their 
 classmates alternately until the whole number was ex- 
 hausted. At the end of the next two months a new 
 division was made, the class this time electing their own 
 chiefs. At the end of the first session of six months the 
 first examination took place, at which time, as well as at 
 every subsequent examination, the class was arranged 
 by the Faculty in what was called the order of general 
 merit. 
 
 My college ambition was of just two months' duration. 
 It attained its complete gratification when Prof. Anthon 
 announced his appointment of J. L. O'Sullivan and my- 
 self as aiKecpahai, of the Freshmen. I felt satisfied now 
 that any honor the college had to bestow was within my 
 reach, and nothing more was necessary to satiate my 
 appetite and paralyze my exertions a striking proof, 
 by the way, of the wretched folly of appealing so exclu- 
 sively to motives of personal ambition in the great busi- 
 ness of education. My efforts to "shine" began to relax. 
 I was content with doing respectably, and was occasion- 
 ally caught nodding when I ought to have been wide- 
 awake, Before the close of the second two months, the 
 Professor gave, once and again, fearful admonitions of 
 an approaching "decapitation," and according to a com- 
 mon law in colleges, as I sank in the estimation of the 
 " Prof." my popularity increased in the class, and on 
 counting the ballots it was found that I was again elect- 
 ed (with O'Sullivan) by a considerable majority. I had 
 made my calculations to obtain the fourth or fifth place 
 in the "general order of merit." I could not be satisfied 
 with a lower place, and affected to despise a higher. It 
 is my present opinion that those calculations were not 
 far from correct; that so far as scholarship was con- 
 
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 49 
 
 cerned I could not have fallen below the sixth. My 
 friends claimed a much higher place for me. Judge, 
 then, of my feelings when my name appeared as the thir- 
 teenth on the list. There is but one explanation to be 
 given of this; viz., that it was intended by the Faculty 
 as a special rebuke for my manifest falling off, and as a 
 sharp stimulus to the renewal of my exertions, I do 
 not even now feel qualified to pronounce on the pro- 
 priety or wisdom of the act. It was doubtless well- 
 meant, but it was very ill-received both by myself and 
 by the class generally. It appealed to the last motive 
 to which my pride would allow me to yield, and I re- 
 garded it at the same time as an act of gross injustice, 
 for which no considerations of expediency could be a 
 sufficient warrant. It sank down into my spirit, already 
 working with many unhealthy passions, and awakened 
 feelings towards my instructors more nearly approach- 
 ing the malignant than I remember ever to have in- 
 dulged on any other subject. 
 
 This unhappy affair operated in almost every way to 
 my disadvantage. It rendered me reckless in regard to 
 the regular course of studies, and bent on manifesting 
 my contempt for the regulations and constituted author- 
 ities of the college in every possible way consistent with 
 my continuing a member of it. It was my boast that I 
 never opened a Latin or Greek book until I went into 
 the class, when, though I would not for the world have 
 confessed my anxiety on the subject to my classmates, I 
 managed to obtain a tolerable acquaintance with the 
 lesson. Even when my own turn came early in the 
 hour I was not inattentive to the remainder of the reci- 
 tation, for I was by no means unambitious of classical 
 culture, and I may fairly claim to have made the most 
 of my lame and awkward plan of study. In addition to 
 this, I always spent several days before that of examina- 
 
5 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 tion in going as thoroughly as I could over what had 
 been read during the session. This was done secretly^ 
 of course, as I would not have had it known that I paid 
 even this much respect to the prescribed course. My 
 gradually improved standing in the " order of merit" is 
 the best evidence I have that my performances were not 
 altogether contemptible even in the languages. To the 
 mathematical and rhetorical studies I professed to pay 
 more attention, though the negligent habits I was form- 
 ing soon affected these, and I now see that my entire 
 education was exceedingly injured by the false position 
 which I had assumed. I am convinced that nothing but 
 the admirable grounding which I had received at school, 
 and the opportunity afforded by my youth for after- 
 wards reviewing my collegiate course to some extent,, 
 prevented the absolute ruin of this part of my educa- 
 tion. 
 
 In one way only did I derive any benefit from this 
 state of things. My love of popularity and influence in 
 the class induced me to improve every other means of 
 intellectual cultivation within my reach. I spent much 
 time in reading; enlarged my acquaintance with the 
 English classics much more than I needed to at that 
 time, or could have done had I been faithful to my 
 duties; and became a sort of boyish oracle on subjects 
 of general literature and criticism. I wrote much and 
 always wrote as well as I could, spending more time on 
 compositions and orations than I should have liked to 
 admit; and, though often applied to, I do not know that 
 I ever refused to perform this service for any dunce or 
 drone among my classmates. But my chosen arena was 
 the literary society (the Peithologian) to which I be- 
 longed. Here I laid out all the strength I possessed, 
 and here I obtained all my college honors. The silver 
 medal for " Excellence in Oratory," which at the close 
 
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 51 
 
 of my Sophomore year I took away from a number of 
 honorable competitors (several of them belonging to 
 higher classes), particularly pleased me, and, next to 
 this, my repeated elections to the editorial chair of The 
 Academic, our society paper. Under these circum- 
 stances, I naturally acquired a deep interest in rhetorical 
 studies, and took unwearied pains to improve. I was 
 always fond of writing, but my attention was now turned 
 to oratory, for which I had no very decided natural bent. 
 It was my constant habit while in college to spend a 
 part of the day several times a week in the civil and 
 criminal courts, studying the style of debate and delivery 
 in vogue among the lawyers. For a similar purpose, in 
 part, I frequented the theater, and became a soit of con- 
 noisseur in theatrical criticism. Shakespeare I studied 
 with laborious assiduity and genuine relish, and this I 
 have never regretted. Such was the effect of my efforts 
 that I overcame in a great measure a natural bashful- 
 ness, which I had supposed would always unfit me for 
 public speaking, and my mind was entirely diverted from 
 the study of medicine, which had been my first choice 
 for a profession, and set on that of law. 
 
 If my studies were pursued in a manner of which I 
 have no reason to be proud, my general deportment as a 
 member of college was such that the recollection fills 
 me with shame and regret. The spirit of insubordina- 
 tion, an evil spirit, a foul fiend, in whom there is no 
 trace of manliness or generosity, took full possession of 
 me. This became characteristic of our class generally. 
 Whatever would most annoy our instructors, and most 
 effectually thwart their efforts to do us good, that was 
 our chief delight. 
 
 The summer session of our Sophomore year was espe- 
 cially memorable for the height to which, we carried our dis- 
 orderly exploits. Dr. McVickar, the professor of Rhetoric 
 
5 2 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 and Belles Lettres, was temporarily absent on a visit to 
 Europe. Rev. E. D. Griffin, a young Episcopal clergyman, 
 with whose elegant " Remains" some of you are doubtless 
 acquainted, was appointed to fill his place for the time. 
 Griffin had himself just returned from a European tour, and 
 his person and manners, already distinguished for beauty 
 and grace rather than by any marks of unusual strength, 
 were rendered to our Sophomore eyes absolutely effeminate 
 and contemptible by the additional refinement of a foreign 
 polish. He was injudicious enough to prepare in writing 
 everything that he wished to say to the class. No matter 
 how familiar the subject, or simple the remark, we had it 
 in good set form, in elegant and, as we thought, ambitious 
 sentences, " excellently pronounced, with good accent and 
 good discretion." Probably we exaggerated the matter, for 
 it was doubtless easier for him to make fine sentences than 
 we could well understand. To us, his speech was (like 
 Claudio's) a ''very fantastical banquet, just so many strange 
 dishes." So after attending two recitations we formally 
 voted him " a cake unbaked," and not to be encouraged. 
 (A certain sugar jumble, made by a neighboring baker, and 
 a great favorite with the students, was thereupon christened 
 by his name, and, for aught I know, the cakes are to the 
 present day bought and sold as Griffins]. Thenceforth we 
 took a most effectual course to ^courage him. For in- 
 stance : There was no law against eating in the recitation- 
 room ; and, accordingly, you might often see an owl-eyed 
 fellow whose bodily appetite was sharper than his mental, 
 quietly munching an apple, or nibbling a bit of candy, when 
 he should have been feasting on intellectual dainties. The 
 particular case met with no objection. How would the 
 idea appear generalized? And so some Bright genius pro- 
 posed a "dinner-party at the eleven-o'clock recitation." 
 The day is fixed, a lecture-day, and the cards are issued, 
 every member of the class being invited and requested to 
 
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 53 
 
 "find himself." At the appointed hour, while all the class 
 were unusually busy in taking notes of the lecture, one after 
 another might have been seen drawing from his pocket his 
 chosen confection, and without any apparent consciousness 
 that his classmates were similarly employed, gravely com- 
 mencing the process of manducation. An edifying sight it 
 must truly have been, when about three fourths of the num- 
 ber were fairly at work ; and the sound of so many active 
 jaws blending with the busy scratch of so many pencils and 
 pens, how soothing to the sensitive nerves of our elegant 
 lecturer! This "feast of reason" was more than once re- 
 peated. 
 
 It was also discovered that a number of the class pos- 
 sessed musical talents which ought not to be buried. Some 
 of us could carry the air of the well-known poacher's song : 
 " It's my delight of a shiny night," introduced by the Eng- 
 lish buffo-singer Sloman, and at that time the popular 
 street-melody in the great metropolis. One fellow could 
 imitate the singing of a mosquito to perfection, and "wind 
 the gray-fly's sultry horn," until you would instinctively 
 flirt your hand across your nose to prevent him from alight- 
 ing. Two or three others could do the bumble-bee's bass 
 very tolerably. Quite a number were found to be children 
 of Jubal ("he was the father of all such as handle the 
 harp and the organ"), and manifested great skill in the 
 manufacture of musical instruments, generally out of a 
 piece of watch-spring stuck into the bench, or of wires or 
 catgut stretched between two carpet-tacks, similarly posited 
 instruments combining great simplicity of construction 
 with great brilliancy of effect. With such abundance of 
 material why not now and then have a concert? No sooner 
 said than done. The part of primo was assigned to G. D., 
 a nephew of the President, because he possessed a decided 
 ventriloquial gift, and could execute the solo part of the 
 song, in a perfectly audible tone, without stirring a muscle 
 
54 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 or giving any sign by which the source of melody could be 
 traced. When he reached the chorus, we all struck in with 
 a subdued but perfectly distinct hum, accompanied by 
 bumble-bees, blue-bottle, mosquito, and a variety of instru- 
 mental harmonies, every man meanwhile keeping his eye 
 sedately fixed on the business before him, and looking just 
 as innocent as he could. Such were some of the worst 
 specimens of disorder occurring during a term of uninter- 
 mitted confusion. Yet we managed our affairs with so 
 much caution that it was impossible for our tutor to fasten 
 an indictable offense on any individual, and the Faculty did 
 not see proper to call the whole class to order. 
 
 At the commencement of the next year, Dr. McVickar 
 had not returned. Mr. G. continued to lecture to the 
 Seniors; but a new instructor was provided for us, 
 now Juniors. The selection this time was a judicious 
 one. A Mr. Bates received the appointment, a young 
 lawyer very favorably known at the New York bar, 
 particularly for his practical shrewdness and humor. 
 The first day he met us, he came in about five minutes 
 too late, a very popular movement with us. His prede- 
 cessor had always been seated in his cathedra before the 
 class came in. Entering with a quiet business-like air, 
 Mr. Bates approached the Professor's desk, which was a 
 sort of pulpit; but before reaching it, he suddenly 
 paused, while we all looked to see what was coming. 
 Eyeing it for a moment, he remarked with a queer grave 
 look: "That's rather too clerical a place fora man of 
 my profession." There was nothing in the remark; but 
 the unexpectedness of it, the indescribable humor of his 
 manner, the entire contrast of the whole to anything we 
 were accustomed to see in that place, on so solemn an 
 occasion as the induction into a professorial chair, al- 
 together hit us so exactly on the funny-bone that we 
 burst into a roar of laughter. Meanwhile, he quietly re- 
 
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 55 
 
 moved the chair to the middle of the room, and sat down 
 cheek-by-jowl with us, as if for a friendly chat. So 
 tickled were we with his manner, that we never once 
 observed that he had taken such a position, directly in 
 front of the door, as to put an effectual period to all sky- 
 larking in the hall. But that was never felt as a priva- 
 tion; for he had at once completely conquered all dis- 
 position in the class to give him trouble. He was a fine 
 specimen of manly beauty, and after he had seated him- 
 self, it took but one glance of his large, black, laughter- 
 loving eye around the class to call out a thunderous 
 round of applause, which was repeated with emphasis at 
 the close of his short, sensible, and well-turned introduc- 
 tory talk. The recitation proceeded not merely with 
 decorum but with lively interest. Thus did a little 
 practical good sense accomplish in five minutes what 
 genius, learning, and the most finished cultivation, with- 
 out it, had, through a whole term, only served to render 
 more and more impracticable. 
 
 At the close of the recitation we voted " Bates a 
 gentleman;" and thenceforward another Professor's room 
 was designated as the theater best suited to display the 
 peculiar spirit and genius of the class. And there the 
 mischief went on, though of course with less vigor and 
 vivacity, for we were no longer Sophomores. 
 
 It is not to be supposed that the college authorities 
 looked with indifference on these manifestations; or 
 failed to see the necessity of improving the first favor- 
 able opportunity for correcting the evil. Accordingly 
 during the following winter, two of my classmates were 
 at different times sent away. I have forgotten for what 
 particular offenses, though it was well understood that 
 their connection with the general disorder of the class 
 had much to do in bringing about the result. 
 
 It was not till the close of the winter session that the 
 
JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 arm of the law fell upon me. The Faculty had selected 
 their opportunity wisely. The offense was one out of 
 which I could make no glory, even with collegians. The 
 evidence against me was in black and white and per- 
 fectly conclusive. I was cited before the Faculty very 
 quietly one day, at the close of our recitations, and 
 while the classes were dispersing. Here I was con- 
 fronted at once with the charge and the proof. There 
 was no room for debate; no confession was asked for. 
 The law and its violation were equally clear, and in five 
 minutes my connection with the College was at an end. 
 My predecessors in disgrace were both restored after 
 making suitable acknowledgments and pledges for the 
 future. But my doom was that of " the chief baker." 
 
 After detailing sundry efforts made to obtain a re- 
 versal of this summary penalty, the narrative proceeds: 
 
 There was enough, however, of the spirit of active 
 opposition remaining in me to lead me to enter heartily 
 into a proposition made by my private tutor, to obtain 
 my admission into another college. Several letters were 
 furnished me, which I presented in person to the Faculty 
 of Union College. I was kindly received, introduced 
 successively to the officers by whom I was to be examined^ 
 and, in the course of a single afternoon, duly admitted 
 and matriculated as Senior Sophisterof the class of 1832. 
 My connection with this institution was agreeable but 
 short. I entered the second term of Senior year, and be- 
 fore the close of the term, my room-mate (a son of the 
 late Dr. Richards, President of Auburn Theological Sem- 
 inary) was violently seized with a disease which proved 
 to be small-pox. This was hardly announced before I 
 was attacked with the varioloid, and, other cases follow- 
 ing, college soon broke up in great confusion and alarm. 
 
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 57 
 
 When I had sufficiently recovered, I left for home, hav- 
 ing obtained leave of absence and permission to com- 
 mence and pursue my law-studies during the remainder 
 of my course. The students were again scattered, near 
 the close of the summer term, by the appearance of chol- 
 era in the vicinity, so that there was no Commencement 
 that year. Some time during the ensuing autumn my 
 diploma was sent me ; but the sheep-skin trophy of my 
 victory was lost within twenty-four hours after its recep- 
 tion. I remember taking it home and throwing it on a 
 table in the hall, and that was the last of it. It could 
 not be found high or low. But I have never known a 
 time when it would have been of the least service to me, 
 or found any circumstance when I should have thought 
 of using it for any serious purpose, if it had been within 
 the reach of my hand. This is not the age or the coun- 
 try in which a piece of parchment disfigured with bad 
 Latin, bad engraving, and bad penmanship, can add dig- 
 nity to one's character or weight to one's influence, or in 
 which the want of it will exclude one from any field of 
 honorable labor to which his personal qualifications 
 adapt him. With us the fact is everything, the symbol 
 nothing, or next to nothing. And, so far at least as my 
 own observation extends, men get along nowadays by 
 exhibiting, not testimonials, but abilities. 
 
 I was just eighteen when, in the spring of 1832, I com- 
 menced reading law in the office of Seth P. Staples, Esq., 
 one of the mpst eminent business lawyers in the great 
 metropolis. Here I remained until the fall of 1833, at 
 the same time giving instruction to a limited number of 
 private pupils in Brooklyn. But neither my habits nor 
 my associations were favorable to the vigorous prosecu- 
 tion of study. My connection with the old Peithologian 
 Society at Columbia College (where I still retained an 
 influence which I did not deserve), with the Hamilton Lit- 
 
5 8 JOHN If. KA YMOND. 
 
 erary Association, in the formation of which I enlisted 
 with others in Brooklyn, and particularly with a small 
 clique of New York law and medicine students, who were 
 wont to spend an occasional afternoon, and discuss the 
 magazines and theatricals over our coffee at Delmonico's, 
 diversifying the entertainment now and then with a game 
 of billiards (horresco referens), often closing it with a 
 visit to the play or the oyster-room these connections 
 which, or like to which, the young student in a great 
 city is so liable to form, occupied so large a portion of 
 my time and mind, as to leave little of either for more 
 important pursuits. 
 
 I became first alarmed by observing that my afternoon 
 potations were losing their power to impart a pleasurable 
 stimulus to my nervous system. Increase as I might the 
 strength of the infusion, or the quantity imbibed, the 
 next morning found me prostrate and miserable, and at 
 length I would often leave the coffee-house as wretched 
 as I entered it. What was to be done? Wine would not 
 answer the purpose ; ardent spirits I always detested, 
 and w T as indeed at the time a member of the Old Tem- 
 perance Society; and I shuddered as I thought that opi- 
 um was in the next degree. The use of this noxious 
 drug \vas not uncommon about me. But I had read the 
 thrilling "Confessions" of DeQuincey, the "English Opi- 
 um-Eater," and I had a settled horror of the consequen- 
 ces. I made two or three unsuccessful efforts to reform 
 my habits altogether. The habits I could have mas- 
 tered, but my associations were too strong for me, and 
 I at length found the alternative distinctly before my 
 mind opium or exile? Happily I retained enough am- 
 bition and pride to decide in favor of the latter, and in 
 December, 1833, I left the city, and entered the New 
 Haven Law-school, then under the charge of Chief-Jus- 
 tice Daggett and the late lamented Prof. Hitchcock. 
 
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 59 
 
 With the city, I abandoned, at once and forever, all those 
 indulgences of bodily appetite which were manifestly 
 undermining my constitution, enfeebling my mind, and 
 degrading my morals, Alcohol in every form, tobacco 
 and all narcotic drinks and drugs were put under an in- 
 terdict, absolute and irrevocable ; and the " reflex influ- 
 ence" to use this pet phrase of the times the reflex 
 influence of the resolution an my character was like the 
 infusion of a new soul. My views of life, its interests 
 and its responsibilities, acquired a definiteness, a dignity, 
 and a charm to which I had been a stranger ; my aims, 
 before shifting and dreamy, took a fixed direction ; and 
 my purposes had something like significance and force. 
 In three months I had acquired more knowledge of the 
 law, and advanced farther in preparation for the business 
 of life, than in the whole two preceding years. I felt 
 that my boyhood was at an end, and manhood really 
 begun. 
 
 III. MY RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE. 
 
 I had been, as before intimated, religiously educated, and 
 from the active Christian habits of my father had enjoyed 
 the best opportunities for acquiring clear and correct no- 
 tions of the religion of Christ, both in its theory and its 
 practical operation. In the sanctuary and the Sabbath- 
 school the great principles of the Gospel were, from the 
 tenderest infancy, unfolded to my understanding and 
 wrought into my memory ; and at the fireside of my own 
 home I had daily opportunity of observing how happily 
 they harmonized with all that was amiable, enlightened, and 
 dignified in character; how much they contributed to sus- 
 tain an habitual and manly cheerfulness, amid all the toils 
 of business and under the severest toils of life. As my 
 father was a sort of pioneer in religious effort and spent 
 the choicest years of his life in rearing up a Christian 
 
60 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 church in a hitherto uncultivated field, he always had 
 employment for his children, as fast as they became old 
 enough to render any assistance, in maintaining the various 
 interests connected with the infant and struggling cause, 
 As members of the choir, teachers in the Sabbath-school, 
 collectors of mission funds, etc. etc., we always had some- 
 thing of a religious kind in our hands and on our tongues , 
 and took a sort of pride in making things go right. Though 
 none of us were professors of religion, we claimed to be 
 ** lobby members" of the Church ; and like the lobby mem- 
 bers of the legislature, we fancied ourselves among the most 
 active and useful of the whole concern. 
 
 All this outward activity, however, sprang from no proper 
 motive, from no real interest in the Gospel or attachment 
 to its Author. It was a matter partly of natural feeling 
 and of habit, and partly of mere family pride and a deter- 
 mination that a favorite scheme of our father's, which few 
 encouraged and many directly opposed, should not fail of 
 the most entire success. It appears strange to me now, in 
 the retrospect, how naturally the greatest extremes of feel- 
 ing and conduct seem to have united in me at that time. 
 It could hardly be called an unusual occurrence, after 
 spending the whole of Saturday afternoon and evening in 
 the billiard-room, at a jovial supper or at the theater, and 
 returning home at perhaps one or two o'clock, with heated 
 blood and whirling brain, to rise after a hasty sleep, full of 
 ardor for the business of the sacred day, meet my class of 
 Sabbath - school scholars morning and afternoon, attend 
 three meetings, doing duty in the choir, staying with my 
 father, the other deacons, and the sexton after each service, 
 to talk over necessaries and put things to rights, and finally 
 going home in the evening to discuss with my brothers and 
 sisters the merits of the preaching, praying and singing, and 
 the general prospects of the cause ! 
 
 The heart is deceitful above all things; and it was easy, 
 
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 61 
 
 under these circumstances, for a vain and thoughtless boy 
 to imagine that he understood this whole business of reli- 
 gion. Many cases of conversion and some interesting revi- 
 vals came under my notice, and, having naturally a some- 
 what speculative turn and a particular fondness for study- 
 ing character, I took pleasure in inventing modes for 
 accounting for these phenomena on philosophical princi- 
 ples, without recourse to any supernatural influences, or sup- 
 posing anything divine in the religion of Christ. Of course 
 I succeeded entirely to my own satisfaction. This skepti- 
 cal way of thinking once begun, the habit gradually strength- 
 ened itself, until every principle of religious belief was 
 unsettled and my mind was in a state of utter confusion on 
 the most important of all subjects. Not that I was con- 
 scious of any confusion, indeed I fancied that my views 
 were exceedingly clear, compared with those which generally 
 prevailed either among the friends or foes of religion, and 
 as definite as the nature of the subject would admit. The 
 true philosophical position on all supernatural subjects (this 
 was my fundamental doctrine) is an absolute indifferent- 
 ism. All that is meant by " the supernatural " is that which 
 lies beyond the province of reason, beyond the reach of 
 our faculties, whether to ascertain by their own exercise, 
 or to judge of, when affirmed by others. I contended that 
 we were not only unable to penetrate the spiritual and divine 
 without the aid of revelation, but equally unable to test the 
 truth and reality of anything professing to be a revelation. 
 I refused, therefore, to be called either a believer or an un- 
 believer prided myself on always maintaining the negative, 
 not only against the Christian, but also against the avowed 
 opposers of Christianity; and thought that the whole of 
 human wisdom on these subjects was contained in a remark 
 attributed to Dr. Franklin, who, when within a few minutes 
 of death, being asked whether he believed in a future state of 
 existence, is said to have replied, " That I shall soon know." 
 
62 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 This form of skepticism, while it is the easiest of all to 
 maintain in argument, and entirely congenial to the pride 
 of intellect (for though it circumscribes human knowledge 
 within the narrow limits of sensible and perishing things, it 
 does so on high philosophical grounds and in opposition to 
 what it deems the vague and superstitious notions of the 
 multitude), is at the same time utterly destructive of all 
 moral and religious sensibility in the soul. Accordingly, 
 for years, while living in daily converse with Christians 
 whom I revered and loved, and taking no pains to avoid 
 the influence of the Gospel either in public or private, I do 
 not remember that I ever felt for five consecutive minutes 
 the pressure of serious reflection, or thought of making a 
 personal application to my own case of anything which I 
 heard or saw on the subject. 
 
 During the winter that I spent in New Haven, my mental 
 and moral habits were all improving ; and in the same pro- 
 portion preparing me more and more to be suitably im- 
 pressed by the great truths of religion. Very soon after 
 entering the law-school, I turned my mind to the formation 
 of a definite plan for life. My objects were of course all 
 secular ; but they were at least manly and of some practical 
 value. And so sensible did I become of the weakness and 
 folly of living, as I had before done, wholly in the present 
 and for the gratification of the predominant feeling of the 
 moment, that I recorded a solemn resolution that " for all 
 the future, I would never knowingly do a thing which my 
 reason disapproved or leave a thing undone which reason 
 required me to do." This resolution was of course formed, 
 with a very imperfect idea of what it involved, and with no 
 conception whatever of my utter inability to carry it out. 
 To live rationally seemed an obviously reasonable thing; I 
 saw no reason why I should not do it, and every reason 
 why I should; " to live rationally," therefore, became my 
 favorite motto and my daily rule of conduct. This was 
 
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 63 
 
 certainly a great advance on my previous aimless way of 
 living; and operated powerfully during my subsequent con- 
 flict on the subject of personal religion. 
 
 I was in the habit of attending public worship regu- 
 larly at the old Central (Congregational) Church, then and 
 now under the care of Rev. Dr. Leonard Bacon. I was 
 delightfully impressed with the beautiful simplicity and 
 propriety which characterized the devotional exercises 
 in that large, intelligent, and serious congregation. The 
 effect produced on my mind especially by the singing, 
 in which the whole assembly united under the conduct 
 of an admirable choir, has made me ever since an earnest 
 advocate for " congregational singing." Dr. Bacon is so 
 well known by his published writings that I need say 
 nothing to convince you that his ministry was precisely 
 adapted to just such a case as mine. I also became ac- 
 quainted in that interesting city with many other illustri- 
 ous instances of the combination of practical godliness 
 with the noblest powers of intellect and the most exten- 
 sive erudition. Professor Hitchcock of the Law-school, 
 one of the finest specimens of men that I had ever seen, 
 was an active Christian, and conducted on the Sabbath 
 a Bible-class of one or two hundred members, embracing 
 a large proportion of the talent and learning connected 
 with the principal religious society in the city. 
 
 At my own boarding-place I had daily before my eyes a 
 signal illustration of the beauty and dignity of a consist- 
 ent Christian character which did not escape my notice. 
 The room adjoining mine was occupied by a fellow- 
 student, whom the more I knew the more I loved, ad- 
 mired, and profoundly respected. I never felt the least 
 difficulty, in perceiving, or the least humiliation in ac- 
 knowledging, that Polk was my superior in everything 
 that adorns or ennobles human character. His talents 
 were commanding. He had taken high honors in college, 
 
64 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 and stood confessedly first among the law-students. He 
 was deservedly popular among all sorts of people for his 
 invariably urbane manners and generous spirit. But 
 what most impressed you in the man was his lofty moral 
 traits. There was no sort of display, no apparent effort 
 to seem good; to be good, manly, pure, devout, seemed 
 to him as natural as breathing. No one could feel his 
 presence as a constraint, and yet, whenever he was pres- 
 ent, conversation seemed of itself to take a higher and 
 healthier tone, one felt benefited by inhaling the moral 
 atmosphere which surrounded him. He never made a 
 formal attack on my conscience, and yet I felt his whole 
 intercourse with me as an eloquent recommendation of 
 the religion which he not merely professed but manU 
 festly loved, and set infinitely above all those other attain- 
 ments for which he was so much admired. And I could 
 not conceal it from my own mind that if it was not his 
 religion that gave such elevation to his character, it was 
 at least in a thorough and manly exemplification of the 
 principles of his religion that the elevation of his charac- 
 ter was made manifest. I am not aware that any or all of 
 these circumstances had any immediate effect to arouse 
 my conscience or disturb my self-complacency and sense 
 of personal security. But I can see now that they were 
 all tending to deepen my convictions of the inherent ex- 
 cellency of the Christian religion, considered as a system 
 of moral truth, a rule of human action and of manly char- 
 acter. My perceptions were still shut to the realities of 
 the unseen world. 
 
 Our Winter session closed on Saturday, the i4th of 
 March, 1834 (seven days after the completion of my 
 twentieth year). My room-mate left the same day, to visit 
 his friends, and I made my arrangements for spending the 
 vacation of two weeks in a thorough review of the studies 
 of the term. The next day, during the Sabbath, I attended 
 
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH, 65 
 
 worship as usual, but retain no general recollection of the 
 services, which indeed I thought, on the whole, less interest- 
 ing than common. " What is the matter with the doctor 
 to-day?" said I to myself, as I walked home in the evening 
 to my solitary room. " He seemed wonderfully prosy for 
 him ; he said but one spirited thing to-day, and that might 
 have been better said." And as I raked open my fire and sat 
 down before it, without lighting my lamp, my thoughts 
 reverted to that passage, the only one which seemed to have 
 left the least impression on my mind. And I began to repeat 
 it audibly, as if to justify my conviction that it might have 
 been more impressively pronounced: " Is religion a 
 delusion, or is it not? Answer me, my hearer; and man- 
 fully abide by your answer. If it is, reject it, but reject it 
 frankly and openly ; if it is not, Oh ! then, as a rational being, 
 at once embrace it." Once, twice, thrice, I repeated it, 
 until in the darkness and stillness of that lonely room, the 
 thought stood out before my mind with a distinctness which 
 almost amounted to an absolute personality, and I can con- 
 vey no adequate conception of my feeling, as that tremen- 
 dous, awful thought, swelling momently in magnitude as I 
 sat contemplating it, gradually turned itself upon rne and 
 pressed its pungent appeal home upon my conscience. 
 Gradually I felt the conviction stealing over me that a crisis 
 in my history had come, one that could not be evaded, but 
 one which I dreaded to meet. " As a rational being." The 
 appeal was to my reason, by which I had solemnly promised 
 to be governed in all the affairs of life. Should I be recreant 
 to that resolution in the most important affair of all ? "Act 
 rationally; act rationally" rang in my ears, like the voice 
 of seven thunders. Investigation was all that was required 
 a candid and adequate investigation, with a full determi- 
 nation to abide by the result. With all my speculations on 
 the subject of religion, I knew (strange that I had never 
 thought so before) that I had never given it an investigation 
 
66 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 of this kind, had never weighed its personal claims fairly, 
 fully, or with any view to a practical compliance with 
 my ultimate convictions. Was it not reasonable that i 
 should? Could I rationally neglect the matter longer? 
 Could I ever expect a more favorable opportunity than was 
 offered in the two weeks of unbroken leisure and undis- 
 turbed solitude now before me ? The possible consequences 
 of such an experiment stared me in the face the abandon- 
 ment of all my cherished objects of pursuit, an entire change 
 in my mode of life, my amusements, my associations, a life 
 of humble, self-denying, prayerful obedience to all the 
 requirements of the Gospel; and all the depravity of my 
 nature rose against the thought with a malignant energy 
 which terrified me while I could not repress it. On the 
 other hand, awakened Reason plead, with her calm but now 
 intense and searching voice " Infinite interests are at stake : 
 act rationally. You are possibly exposed to the loss of an 
 infinite good, to the endurance of eternal ruin. Now, the bare 
 possibility of such a calamity is, of itself, a matter of infinite 
 moment. A serious investigation may resolve possibility 
 into a certainty, and reveal a way of escape. Here, then, 
 is enough to justify the employment of all time, and the 
 sacrifice of every temporal good, for the solution of this 
 problem : for when an infinite interest is at stake, it is 
 mathematically evident that no finite interest can reasonably 
 weigh a feather against it." Such was the plea of Reason, 
 while every passion of my nature fought against her. 
 
 The struggle was long and intense, but I thank God 
 that Reason for once triumphed, not indeed in her own 
 strength, but roused and quickened (as I now believe) by 
 the convincing power of the Holy Spirit. I deliberately 
 resolved to lay aside everything else, and devote at least the 
 ensuing fortnight to a final settlement (if a settlement were 
 possible) of my opinions on the subject of religion, and the 
 adoption of a line of conduct in relation to it, which my rea- 
 
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 67 
 
 son would justify. Before retiring, at a late hour that night 
 I made the following entry in my " Commonplace Book," 
 from which I now copy it, under the head of " Meditations 
 on Religion :" 
 
 " Js the religion of Christ a delusion, or is it not ? I fear to 
 think it is, and I fear to think it is not. For if it be a 
 reality, it is an awful one to me ; and if this be nothing but a 
 mockery, what is the truth ? What am I ? Whither tending ? 
 For what is existence useful ? To what end shall I direct 
 it ? By what principles of action shall it be governed ? 
 
 " These are questions, in every respect deserving of 
 attention. Shall I not then give attention to them? I 
 ought I must I will and here I record my fixed resolu- 
 tion to embrace and act upon the truth, whatever I may 
 discover that to be. And Thou, my God and Maker ! (if 
 such a Being exist, and take an interest in the interests 
 of his creatures) witness, then, my determination ; lead me 
 to the truth, and fix me on it firmly and forever." 
 
 The answer to the questionings of that night, and to 
 that prayer for light, are given to us only in the life 
 that now began. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 HAMILTON DAYS. 
 
 THERE could hardly be a greater contrast than be- 
 tween the old and the new aims of the young stu- 
 dent. The sacrifice which he had faced in that hour of 
 conviction was never less than when it first appalled him. 
 How could he make it? How could he turn from the 
 field that stretched out so alluringly before him, invit- 
 ing the use of his peculiar gifts, and tempting him with 
 golden promises to one which offered such a different 
 harvest? He seems to have realized all that was in- 
 volved when he gave up the practice of the law in the 
 city of his birth and of his heart, to study for the min- 
 istry in a secluded village. It was strange that the very 
 powers of reasoning which had fitted him for the legal 
 profession should have been employed to turn him 
 from it. But it was a higher voice than that of Reason 
 that called him from the sphere to which he had looked 
 forward so eagerly, and it is only in its teachings that 
 we find the secret of his altered life. He used to speak, 
 in later years, of an "0//^r-worldliness" which made 
 some lives beautiful, and nothing can better describe 
 the change in his own nature, or the quality that, from 
 this time, adorned his spirit. His constancy to the 
 purpose now formed is shown in a conversation recalled 
 by his brother-in-law and intimate friend, Dr. George 
 R. Bliss: 
 
HAMILTON DAYS. 69 
 
 I never of late years cross the railroad-bridge over the 
 Chemung River at Elmira, N. Y.", without taking pains to 
 get a look at the old carriage-bridge which lies a little 
 lower down. It recalls one of those trysts kept annually 
 by your dear father and myself in our summer vacations 
 of years long gone by. I remember in particular one 
 beautiful sunset hour which we spent walking forward 
 aud back over that old bridge, while the city was yet a 
 village, and the scream of the locomotive had never 
 waked the echoes of those hills, which so beautifully en- 
 circled the peaceful scene. Our conversation chanced to 
 turn upon a gentleman who was then prominent in the 
 political affairs of that State, and bade fair, from his pre- 
 vious course, to attain to any public distinction which he 
 might desire. It was your father's recollection of former 
 intimacy with him which brought up the topic. The)'" 
 had been friends in youth, school and college mates, at 
 home in each other's homes. Many incidents of their in- 
 tercourse, interesting to me, were detailed in a manner 
 which betrayed a permanent heart-attachment of your 
 father to his friend. 
 
 "And I sometimes ask myself," he said, "whether I 
 have acted wisely in putting aside the ambition for such 
 worldly eminence, to which I think I might, without pre- 
 sumption, have equally aspired." I see now the thought- 
 ful, almost saintly look, and hear the tone of heart-felt, 
 cheerful earnestness with which he went on to express 
 his deliberate satisfaction in the choice which he had 
 made, rather to serve Christ only, and in the ministry 
 for souls. His very words I would like to be able to re- 
 call ; but the spirit of them was thoroughly that of the 
 
 hymn : 
 
 "Jesus, I my cross have taken, 
 All to leave, and follow thee." 
 
 This was while he was yet too young to have indicated, 
 
7 JOHN //. RA YMOND. 
 
 except to the foreseeing faith of his intimate acquaint- 
 ances, the wide usefulness to which he was inevitably 
 destined. Farther on in his life, no one would ques- 
 tion that in any, even the purely secular view, his course 
 had turned out at least as honorable and happy as that 
 of his then advancing friend. 
 
 This spirit of consecration seems particularly char- 
 acteristic of the fifteen years which he spent in the lit- 
 tle village of Hamilton, Madison County, N. Y., where 
 he went after his conversion, in the fall of 1835, first to 
 study, and then to teach in the Baptist Theological 
 Seminary there. Here he threw himself into the work 
 of teaching and preaching with a fervor that consumed 
 all sense of self. Volumes of letters, during this time, 
 written in a microscopic hand on closely-covered pages, 
 give the history of his aspirations and most tireless 
 labors. Entreating one to whom he had given his 
 heart, and who afterwards shared the lot which he had 
 chosen, to seek with him the joys of heaven, he writes ; 
 " The path to that eternal rest is the path of self-denial," 
 and the words seem the key to the life upon which he 
 had entered. Its one question was, " How can I best 
 spend my powers for others ?" its one absorbing interest, 
 now as in his last thought on earth, the Work to which 
 the Master had called him. 
 
 The outline of a day at the " Hamilton Literary and 
 Theological Institute," soon after his arrival, must have 
 presented to family friends a striking contrast to his 
 comfort-loving tastes of former days. The early morn- 
 ing twilight finds him " feasting his eyes upon a scene 
 of singular beauty :" 
 
 Looking out from my little window in the direction of 
 
HA MIL TON DA VS. 
 
 the beautiful valley which lies at the foot of our college 
 hill, and where sleeps the little village of Hamilton, I 
 see spread out before me a vast sheet of water, placid as 
 sleep, and stretching away far as the eye can see, till its 
 farthest verge is lost in the horizon. Its surface is here 
 and there broken by a woody island, which rests on the 
 bosom of the lake, in primitive silence. The illusion is 
 yet most complete, created, as I presume you have 
 already surmised, by the collection of mists upon the 
 valley below, while our eyrie height is lifted above their 
 upper surface. The moon is shedding her soft but de- 
 ceptive light upon the whole, seeming to reveal all the 
 reality, yet actually rendering the illusion more perfect. 
 Had I the vivid imagination of my poetic sister, I might 
 transport myself to another world or another age than 
 this. I could gaze upon the Insulae Fortunatae, or the 
 bright " Islands of the Blest," or upon some scene of 
 Fairy Land. What character I should myself assume, I 
 know not; but as I look about my little cell, half lighted 
 by a solitary lamp, I feel very much like a "hermit 
 hoar" who with his tomes of mystic lore has quit the 
 haunts of men, and fled to this peaceful spot to hold un- 
 interrupted converse with nature incorrupt and with the 
 spirits of the mighty dead. But while I write, the charm 
 dissolves, the lake is seen to move and sway to and fro, 
 and now it slowly rises on the bosom of the night. The 
 islands have disappeared, and soon we shall be envel- 
 oped in the damp realities of a bona-fide fog. 
 
 We shiver to hear that, "two hours before, the col- 
 lege bell broke the slumbers of the night." A half- 
 past four rising-bell and five-o'clock chapel exercise, 
 followed by the prayers which are held unitedly in 
 every room in the building by the respective room- 
 mates, still leave " an hour for private devotions and 
 
7 2 JOHN II. RAYMOND. 
 
 study, before breakfast." There does not seem to 
 have been danger of any immoderate indulgence in 
 this pristine repast. The philosophy with which he 
 seasons his theologic diet gives it a truly Attic flavor: 
 
 At half-past six breakfast, and hungry fellows to eat 
 it. I have described the character of the meals, and I 
 confess myself pleased with it. At even our plainest 
 meals, I am disappointed to find that such simple fare 
 can taste so good. Why, this is your only genuine Epi- 
 cureanism, which finds the choicest relish in the most 
 simple viands that our Divine Benefactor has provided 
 for our support and enjoyment. What an obvious waste 
 of resources is it in that man who procures at an ex- 
 pense of dollars and hours just so much pleasure, and 
 not half so refined, as need cost him only minutes and 
 cents! I say, not half so refined a pleasure. Why should 
 rules and principles, the authority of which is acknow- 
 ledged in every other department of taste, be rejected 
 here? And what man of correct taste in works of art, 
 prefers the gorgeous and glaring to the natural and 
 simple? Who is he that prefers the flaring tawdriness 
 of a modern fashionable edifice to the chaste dignity of 
 a Grecian temple, or turns from the pure pages of Addi- 
 son or Goldsmith, Shakespeare or the Bible, to devour 
 the paltry affectation of Bulwer or Byron forsaking the 
 "wells of English undefiled" to drink the waters of a 
 corrupted stream. Let him, whoever he be, sit down to 
 feed upon the luscious poisons of modern cookery. But 
 let the individual of correct taste, of cultivated mind, 
 and especially the Christian philosopher, find a more 
 delicate and refined relish in the sweetness of nature's 
 unadulterated productions. 
 
 The day is filled up with recitations and the prepara- 
 
HAMILTON DAYS. 73 
 
 tion of sermons. For, immediately after the change 
 in his views, he had united with the Baptist church in 
 Brooklyn then the only, now,consolidated with others, 
 called the " First Baptist Church in Pierrepont St.," 
 and without delay received from it his license to preach. 
 
 He was baptized in the East River, from the pretty, 
 wooded point which at that time jutted out where the 
 Wall Street Ferry-house now stands, the throng of 
 friends from church and family grouped on the shore 
 under the rural bluffs of the Pierrepont place. A 
 strange contrast to the elegant residences of "the 
 Heights," and the crowded ways, the bustling steam 
 ferry-boats, the busy wharves and storehouses of the 
 river-front at the present day ! 
 
 Soon after going to Hamilton he became deeply in- 
 terested in the work of foreign missions, in which he 
 felt convinced there was a part for him. The let- 
 ters of 1836-37 are filled with his desires and struggles 
 on the subject, and with arguments in reply to the lov- 
 ing remonstrances of friends. We cannot follow the 
 course of this discussion, except to record the fact that 
 its result was to fix him in the home-field which had 
 already opened to his labors ; but it seems well to re- 
 produce two of his letters on the subject which well 
 illustrate his spirit, not only in this but in all the af- 
 fairs of life : 
 
 i. To his Eldest Brother, MR. I. W. RAYMOND. 
 
 HAMILTON, N. Y., Jan. 1836. 
 
 My mind has been somewhat directed of late to the 
 field of my future labors. I have not room here to 
 detail my feelings. I will only suggest that I have felt 
 it my duty to take a view of the whole field which is the 
 
74 JOHN II . RA YMOND. 
 
 world. The great work of Bible translation has been on 
 my mind. A sanctified science must be introduced into 
 Asia. Preachers of the Word must be educated there y 
 from among the nations. God has given the work to 
 our denomination. He has opened a central point in 
 Assam, where our brethren Thomas and Bronson have 
 gone, which is in the midst of an intelligent people, in a 
 healthy climate, under British protection, commanding 
 immediate access to Hindostan, Thibet (perhaps Chinese 
 Tartary), the great China, the countries of Chin-India 
 (Siam, Cambodia, etc.), and Burmah. Take the map 
 and see where Assam lies, and consider the interesting 
 providence which has invited the Board of Missions, and 
 inquire if God does not design it to be the center of 
 missionary operations for Asia on a scale far surpassing 
 our former meager efforts and commensurate with the 
 growing claims of the Redeemer's cause. The question 
 is, Who will go? We want men who will lay them- 
 selves out for a long and tedious labor. They must be 
 thorough scholars and deeply acquainted with the Word, 
 and they must be content to wear out their lives in 
 hidden and painful toil. Oh! if I were fit, how I should 
 rejoice to go ! I will just mention that, having had it 
 long on my mind without communicating to any other 
 individual my feelings, I was somewhat surprised to 
 learn that other judicious and devoted brethren had 
 been thinking and praying over the same subject, and 
 that their eyes were turned toward me as one of the 
 men who ought to prepare for the labor, I want the 
 prayers and counsel of my dear friends at home, though 
 I ought to say that I have not done justice to the sub- 
 ject or my own feelings by these meager hints. I mean 
 to write soon at greater length. But cease not to pray 
 that I may be "guided by counsel." 
 
HA MIL TON DA YS, 7 5 
 
 HAMILTON, March 19, 1837. 
 
 The peaceful evening of another Sabbath invites my 
 mind to repose, and my heart to wander away to "home, 
 sweet home." Ah, dear Father ! those magic words I 
 begin to realize their power. But I dare not dwell on 
 the theme. Let us remember that here we have no abid- 
 ing place, no continuing city. Why should we allow our 
 affections to entwine themselves about these earthly ob- 
 jects, when we know that every tie that binds us here 
 must sooner or later be torn asunder, though its fibers 
 be our own heart-strings and we die a thousand deaths 
 in the severance. Home yes, a sweet home there is, on 
 which we may safely rest our affections and our hopes. 
 Let us seek that country, and habitually feel that our 
 inheritance, our Father, our brethren are there. The 
 brief partings which at farthest we may experience in 
 our mortal life, the distance of this little globe between 
 us, will then dwindle to their real insignificance. 
 
 Your letter, with those of other friends, was mostly 
 occupied with the subject of the proposed mission, and 
 you doubtless will feel anxious to know what is the pres- 
 ent state of my mind on this subject. I have left the 
 whole matter to the decision of my Master, after having 
 taken those steps which I believed to have been directed 
 by His providence and spirit. On this point, I have heard 
 or seen nothing which alters my views. The whole mat- 
 ter I have therefore referred under God to those, my 
 fathers and brethren, to whom the churches have en- 
 trusted the superintendence of this department of their 
 Christian labors. I have the most entire confidence that 
 God will conduct the matter to the right issue. If I have 
 not mistaken His will, He will open the door for me. If 
 He has work for me to do at home, I believe that I shall 
 find it out. But do not cease to pray for me, that I may 
 not be left to delusion on the one hand, or to unfaithful- 
 
76 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 ness on the other. I acknowledge that I have begun to 
 realize more fully the power of those natural feelings 
 which must be subdued and sacrificed. I knew, of 
 course, and partially realized, the fact that it would be 
 no slight thing to sever these precious ties, but while 
 my mind was dwelling more exclusively upon the impor- 
 tance of the object to be secured and the claims it had 
 upon my exertions, I thought I could freely give up all. 
 And God helping me, I believe I shall. I mention this 
 feeling that you may be a little careful what kind of dis- 
 suasions you use to prevent my departure. Any good 
 reason why I should remain, any reason drawn from the 
 interests of Zion and of souls, or the glory of the dear 
 Redeemer, let me hear and feel its full force. But be- 
 yond this, I pray you, spare me. My entreaty is, if the 
 Lord have need of me, "hinder me not," nor send me 
 away with a broken heart. Do not hem up my way with 
 all the endearments of home and country, for if God 
 calls, and they lie in my path, I can do nothing else than 
 tread them under feet and go on my way. I rejoice that 
 you have said Amen to the enterprise. May you continue 
 of that mind. And when you write or speak to your 
 poor boy, remember how weak and treacherous his heart 
 is, and do not lend your aid to turn it, like the deceitful 
 bow, aside. 
 
 The momentous question was decided for him by 
 the fact that the Board of Missions did not feel ready 
 to undertake the plan proposed, of supporting Bible 
 translators in the foreign lands, but preferred the 
 simpler, if less thorough, plan of sending missionaries 
 who should do their own translating. After this de- 
 cision to remain, he had joyfully anticipated a pastoral 
 charge with its active and inspiring duties, but was 
 here destined to a still further sacrifice. 
 
HA MIL TON DA YS. 7 7 
 
 An incident that occurred in the spring of 1837 
 will show how efficiently he could have labored as a 
 pastor and preacher. During the spring vacation he 
 went, in company with a young student friend named 
 Ketcham, for three weeks of special religious services 
 with Dr. Greenleaf S. Webb, then pastor of the Baptist 
 church in New Brunswick, N. J. The venerable man 
 is still living there, at the age of ninety-three, beloved 
 and respected, though no longer sustaining the labors 
 of a pastorate. In these special sermons they aimed to 
 arouse the spiritual sense of the community, which was 
 already awakened and prepared to receive such an 
 impulse ; and it resulted in a revival of such in- 
 tensity that the entire town was moved. For three 
 days the merchants closed their stores ; groups of 
 men were standing about the streets talking of noth- 
 ing but religion ; prayer-meetings were held in every 
 house ; and a New York broker, who lived in New 
 Brunswick, meeting young Raymond's brother-in-law 
 in the street, said : " You had better go down and 
 see to your brother John ; he has been preaching 
 down in Brunswick, and all the people have gone 
 mad." And, in fact, the fire thus kindled burned 
 and spread for months after the young men had re- 
 turned to Hamilton, until a large part of the State of 
 New Jersey felt its influence. It is one of the notable 
 episodes in the church history of that State. 
 
 A little monthly paper Footsteps of the Flock pub- 
 lished in the interest of the same church in which the 
 great awakening commenced, in its issue of October, 
 1874, says: 
 
 "The extent of this visitation of God's mercy eternity 
 
78 JOHN //. RA YMOND. 
 
 only will disclose. It is estimated that about six hun- 
 dred, out of a population less than six thousand, gave 
 evidence of a change of heart, and united with different 
 churches. Of this number about one hundred and sixty 
 connected themselves with the First Baptist Church. 
 But this was not all. Visitors here who came uncon- 
 cerned went home rejoicing in the new life; and as they 
 told the story of what God had done for them, found 
 the Spirit's power attending them and their efforts, and 
 thus the work spread to the surrounding country and 
 cities. On the river road from this city to Bound Brook 
 it was stated that there was scarcely a family that had 
 not been blest in a greater or less degree. God was 
 calling not in the fury of the whirlwind, but by the 
 * still small voice of His Spirit.' ' 
 
 But the aggressive and inspiriting delight of the 
 preacher was not to be his duty after all. The great 
 want of the Church in those days, and particularly in 
 the Baptist denomination, was an educated ministry. 
 He was a predestined teacher, and soon felt it his duty 
 to remain in the institution, and prepare others for the 
 work in which he longed to engage himself. Again he 
 turned from a congenial field and from the great world 
 of action whose voice seemed calling to him in the re- 
 peated invitations which he received from prominent 
 churches. 
 
 He writes from Albany, where he had gone to supply 
 the place of a much-loved pastor, the Rev. Mr. Covell, 
 whose early death was deeply mourned by his bereaved 
 church : 
 
 ALBANY, Sept. 26, 1837. 
 
 The brethren are very urgent that I should tarry with 
 them for a time at least, until they can find a suitable 
 
HAMILTON DAYS. 79 
 
 pastor; but as yet I cannot feel that there is enough rea- 
 son to interrupt the progress of the course which I have 
 marked out. And yet I am grieved and distressed to leave 
 this people, as a flock without a shepherd, to the mere 
 contingencies of a chance supply. They already suffer 
 deeply from an unsettled state of affairs. But what can 
 be done? If I could divide myself into fifty parts, and 
 make each a man, I might find a similar field of labor for 
 all, and find myself in the end equally at a loss to send 
 one portion to occupy my post at Hamilton. The Lord 
 raise up more laborers! I have had an invitation from 
 the church in Buffalo, a rich and strong body, occupying 
 a most important and critical position, but similarly des- 
 titute. The sad deficiency of qualified men may be esti- 
 mated by the fact that such churches go a-begging to 
 boys. I think the churches must begin to awake to the 
 necessity of providing mental culture for the rising min- 
 istry. If deaf to the voice of Providence, they must ex- 
 pect to suffer themselves the consequences. For myself, 
 these things magnify in my view the importance of the 
 enterprise in progress at Hamilton, and form additional 
 arguments in favor of my return there, to lend what aid 
 I can in supplying this serious and growing deficiency m 
 the vineyard of the Lord. Nothing but the most clear 
 indications of Providence, I am persuaded, ought to, and 
 I am determined nothing else shall, prevent my so doing. 
 I suppose I might obtain eight hundred or one thousand 
 dollars per annum as pastor, whereas at Hamilton I 
 should only expect to clear my expenses. Still, unless it 
 be unavoidable, and obvious duty, I do not wish to be 
 governed at all by pecuniary considerations. 
 
 It may not be easy for modern eyes to see the 
 temptation in these dazzling sums, or the heroism in 
 refusing such an all-sufficient income. But it more 
 
8o JOHN II. RA YMOND. 
 
 than once it cost him a struggle to resist it. He had 
 entered with zeal, during one of his vacations, into the 
 duties of a vacant pastorate in Philadelphia, and felt 
 sympathetic drawings .towards the City of Brotherly 
 Love and its refined delights. But again he remains 
 firm : 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, Sept. 23, 1841. 
 
 It is clear that I might have a call to settle with the 
 Spruce Street church if I would allow my name to be 
 presented as a candidate. And I assure you, when I take 
 counsel of self, there are strong inducements to my con- 
 senting. A delightful place of residence, access to plenty 
 of books and to literary society, and the means of mak- 
 ing my family perfectly comfortable, and prosecuting to 
 advantage my own personal improvement, are tempta- 
 tions which I find it not a little difficult to resist. My 
 public influence would also be more immediate and ex- 
 tensive than it can be in my present situation. Thus 
 far, however, I have manfully refused to hear anything 
 on the subject, and set my face like a flint Hamilton- 
 ward, with the assurance that duty lies in that direction. 
 
 It would hardly have been in human nature for a 
 regretful shade not to fall now and then upon his 
 cheerfulness. It was often deepened by his sense of 
 isolation from the home-friends to whom his heart 
 turned so constantly: 
 
 You don't know how often I feel as though I were 
 away from home, so long as I am away from Brooklyn. 
 It may be only the common feeling of all towards the 
 home of their childhood and youth, but it is a settled 
 habit of my nature, and it is in vain to struggle against 
 it. I sigh to be amid the stir of the great Babel, to min- 
 
HAMIL TON DA YS, 8 1 
 
 gle in and make part of the great ocean of life which 
 boils and tosses there. The only reason why I don't 
 conclude that there is my proper field of labor, is, that 
 so far as I can analyze my own feelings, I long rather 
 for a passive than an active participation in the tumult T 
 that is, to feel its influence on me rather than to exercise 
 any definite influence on it. The very things I am do- 
 ing, or trying to do, I feel that I should accomplish so 
 much more rapidly and effectively there than, in this 
 dull place, or any like it, and it would be strange if I 
 found no opportunities and incentives to do many other 
 things for which there is here no chance. But a truce 
 to these barren longings. My work is before me for the 
 present here, and when it goes hence, it wilt go farther 
 from the center of life, though I trust more directly in 
 the way of its great tides. 
 
 His younger brother Robert had been led by an 
 experience similar to his own to abandon the practice 
 of the law and the bright prospect which it held out 
 to him in the city of Cincinnati, and to study theology 
 at Hamilton, where for two years the brothers lived 
 together in happy intercourse. But the call of the 
 younger to a church in Hartford, and his acceptance 
 of it, awakened in his brother John some of the old 
 longings. He writes to the elder sister in Brooklyn : 
 
 HAMILTON, March, 1 7, 1842. 
 
 In this decision of Robert's I have a peculiar sacrifice 
 to make, one which I can hardly describe, and which 
 another will hardly understand. I have half hoped that 
 events might be so ordered, as to place us side by side 
 in the great battle in which we have both enlisted, that 
 the same field and form of service might be assigned us, 
 that I might feel the animating influence of his spirited 
 
82 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 co-operation in prosecuting the work that seems set 
 before me. But I have fully abandoned the notion, and 
 with it many rose-colored visions have vanished. I 
 feel alone, very much alone, in connection with a de- 
 nomination that I love, striving for objects which few of 
 them regard as of any great importance. (I speak not 
 of education in general, which I think is increasingly 
 appreciated, but of my own particular objects and plans.) 
 But I feel myself bound to the wheel. With my present 
 views and impressions, I can never abandon this work. 
 I am thankful, however, that the work itself is delightful. 
 It is a delight, and the prospect of living in it is not a 
 cheerless one but the reverse, although it costs some 
 natural sighs to bid farewell to boyish dreams of public 
 station and extensive influence, and to sit down in the 
 silence and obscurity of my little study to protracted 
 and uncared-for toils. 
 
 But come, dear sister, bless our cottage with your 
 cheerful face and your words of wit and wisdom, and 
 banish the anticipations with the remembrances of 
 sorrow. 
 
 HAMILTON, Oct. 2, 1843. 
 
 Since our return, I have felt more keenly than ever 
 how far we are removed from those who are dearest to 
 us of all the world. I did not half finish, or rather I did 
 not half begin talking while I was in Brooklyn. I was 
 so wondering happy; the week whirled by, so like a 
 merry dream; and off we went at last, as sudden as we 
 came. It was not until I was fairly in motion that I 
 waked wide up, and since then I am continually looking 
 back, and wondering if it was real, and grieving that it 
 is all over and cannot be repeated. 
 
 When we reached Utica, "Well," said I, "we have 
 
HAMILTON DAYS. 83 
 
 come to the mouth of the well, very soon we shall be 
 going down;" and here we are at the bottom. My feel- 
 ings are truly very much like those of a man in such a 
 situation, or of the miner at the mouth of the shaft, 
 down which he must go to his dark and silent home, 
 bidding adieu to the cheerful light of day and the 
 cheerful ways of men. Our range of vision seems so 
 circumscribed, the light is so shorn of half its brightness 
 before it reaches us, that a man might as well live in a 
 coal-mine. 
 
 However, they say that truth lies at the bottom of a 
 well, and a life in a coal-mine may be turned to profit- 
 able account, if one will dig. So, off coat, and at it 
 with a good heart, and trust the Lord for provision and 
 a recompense. 
 
 The cloud upon his spirits is invariably dispelled by 
 a real face-to-face encounter with his work. After a 
 brief vacation, he tells us how " It only needed the 
 return of term-time and business to make me all my- 
 self again. Yes ! that Very same old bell whose tones, 
 four weeks ago, were funereal, and whose every stroke 
 fell on my heart like a leaden weight, now sends the 
 blood thrilling and joyous through my veins, and 
 stretches every nerve like the soldier's 'when the blast 
 of war is in his ear.' " 
 
 At another time, he awaits the opening of the term 
 " as restless as a hound for the slipping of the leash." 
 
 And again : " The * headachy feeling ' was owing 
 to several nights of broken rest. To-day, I am as 
 clear as a bell and as chirk as a grasshopper, and just 
 as happy to be at my own work as ever a bantam rooster 
 was, a-crowing in his own barn-yard. Term opens finely 
 never had a larger number of new students in the 
 
JOHN H. RA YMOND, 
 
 spring and everything is. moving first-rate, just as 
 things will move in Washington, next March, when 
 Harry Clay takes hold of the helm. No need of any 
 new administration here, however, we reckon." 
 
 Extracts from various letters during these years give 
 an idea of the absorbing nature of his duties : 
 
 TO c. E. M. 
 
 HAMILTON. Oct. 25, 1838. 
 
 The amount and difficulty of my business surpass my 
 anticipations, which were certainly not inconsiderable. I 
 am surprised to find how little has ever been done in the 
 institution towards organizing this department of study. 
 In Moral and Mental Philosophy, a course has been planned 
 which I shall not find time this year materially to alter. 
 But Rhetoric, Belles Lettres, and Grammar have been very 
 much overlooked. It has devolved on me to mark out an 
 entire course of study and to arrange the plan for pursuing 
 it, as to time of recitation, text-books, etc. This plan 
 the classes now in an advanced stage of their studies can- 
 not of course pursue, and I am required, therefore, to 
 prepare a modified one, adapted to each of the higher 
 classes. Added to this, I have a good deal to do to pre- 
 pare myself for this business of personal instruction. For 
 example, in English grammar, having no suitable text-book, 
 I have been obliged to make out my own system, and to 
 contrive plans to get it before the minds of the students, by 
 oral instruction and black-boards. This has cost me a 
 good deal of labor in investigation, reflection, and writing. 
 Altogether, I find my time from 5.30 A.M. until 10 P.M. 
 completely absorbed, and on retiring each night I have 
 occasion to regret that the day has not been twice as long. 
 
 My principal difficulty thus far has been that I have not 
 been able to throw off from my mind at night the subjects 
 
HAMILTON DAYS. 85 
 
 which have engrossed it during the day. In vain do I 
 attempt to turn the current of my thoughts to topics more 
 agreeable. A constant sense of the incompleteness of my 
 arrangements, the necessity of urging them forward, and of 
 anxiety lest something should be found unprovided for, as 
 constantly draws my mind back to business ; and I gener- 
 ally go to sleep with my mind on business and wake up 
 with my mind on business. 
 
 Well, I would not have it otherwise, if I can only accom- 
 plish all my objects in the end. I have no idle, no heavy 
 hours. Time flies on fleet and silken wings. I have reason 
 to hope that I am doing all the good I possibly can. I 
 know that I am doing something which will be of benefit 
 to the cause of truth and the best interests of humanity. I 
 am in less danger of doing foolish and wicked things, or 
 thinking foolish and wicked thoughts. So far as I am 
 acting according to the will of the Lord, I am laying up in 
 store a good foundation for the time to come. Then why 
 should I not be happy and devoted? why not grateful for 
 the privilege of being spent in such a service, the perform- 
 ance of which at once promotes my own good, blesses men, 
 and honors God ? 
 
 HAMILTON, November 30, 1838. 
 
 I turn away from a wilderness of Hebrew, in which I 
 have been roaming this evening, and find in this sweet 
 privilege a grateful retreat, " the shadow of a great rock 
 in a weary land." Those black gallows-faced Oriental 
 characters, over which I have pored till my brain whirls, 
 are yet dancing before my eyes, so that if you find me 
 writing backwards, or in the old Hebrew square letter, 
 before I finish my sheet, you need not be surprised. It 
 is very late, but I cannot let another day go by without 
 bearing to my Love the assurance that her image is still 
 
86 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 in my memory and in my heart, refreshing me by its 
 constant smile amidst my busy labors, and cheering me 
 with the hope of a more perfect union. I do assure you, 
 I have for a week past felt the need of such a comforter. 
 I have been suffering from the temporary effects of some 
 irregularities in sleep and diet, to which I have been re- 
 cently subjected. In writing No. III. of " For What Do 
 I Study?" last week, I was* obliged to employ hours very 
 far advanced in the night, until 12, i, and even 3 o'clock. 
 At the same time, my morning's recitation at half-past 6 
 must be heard, and I must be up in season to be ready 
 for it. 
 
 It is a bad thing to be a "universal genius," and worse 
 still to be regarded as such without possessing any 
 legitimate claim to the title, for then one has all the 
 inconveniences attending the character, with none of the 
 ability to sustain them. So it is with me. To preach 
 here and there and everywhere; to teach in every various 
 department Hebrew, Latin, rhetoric, elocution, and the 
 Scriptures; to write for this publication and for that; 
 these, with unnumbered others, are the mingling calls 
 which break upon my ears and distract my brain. The 
 worst of all is, I have never learned the happy art of 
 " Saying No, and sticking to it," which like a shield of 
 triple brass protects its possessor from such fiery as- 
 saults. 
 
 I think it is Dr. Samuel Clarke who says that " the 
 old proverb, which declares that it is ' bad to have too 
 many irons in the fire,' conveys a false though plausible 
 sentiment." "No," says the Doctor, "you can't have 
 too many keep them all at work shovel, tongs, and all 
 the rest the more the better only keep them going." 
 Aye, Doctor, but " there's the rub." If I felt prepared 
 and competent for all this labor, I should like it well 
 enough. But while I feel that I have hardly begun my 
 
HAMILTON DAYS. 87 
 
 own education, to be called on to impart instruction in 
 so many forms, and through such various channels, is a 
 little trying. 
 
 But stop, my pen you are on the wrong track. I 
 don't know why I should have been betrayed into such 
 an enlargement upon the multiplicity and urgency of 
 my duties, as though they were of more than ordinary 
 importance. You must not let my long stories give you 
 any uneasiness. It's my nerves that tell such stories 
 not myself. Sitting down, as I generally must after the 
 duties of the day, to talk with you, the most prominent 
 subject that forces itself, nolens volens, on my attention is 
 my weariness. And so I talk about it. But it's not the 
 part of a Christian to indulge in such complaints, much 
 less to shrink from such a glorious work because it is 
 laborious. I have much more reason to complain of 
 myself and of my inertness, than of my lot and its cares 
 and labors. 
 
 June 24, 1839. 
 
 ! completed yesterday a week of unusually pressing 
 business, the performance of which, though fatiguing, has 
 been equally pleasant, because I have been favored with 
 health, a clear mind, and gratifying success. A maga- 
 zine article occupied me until too late on Friday evening 
 to do anything else; and then I had before me the rather 
 alarming necessity of preparing two new sermons for 
 the Sabbath within the brief space of Saturday afternoon, 
 and after the exhausting exercises of Saturday morning. 
 The Lord, however, favored me with good health and 
 elasticity of mind, and I can truly say the work has been 
 pleasant. 
 
 I have just had a restful little episode in a walk to 
 Prof. Conant's hill, where I found him and his good 
 
JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 wife drinking in the balmy freshness of the forest air, 
 under one of his grand old beech-trees. This was a 
 temptation not to be resisted, and throwing myself upon 
 the greenest and softest knoll I could select, I sighed, 
 "Ah, Mrs. Conant, for the innocence of paradise, when 
 a man could be lazy and not guilty!" Never mind her 
 answer, nor the good long, drowsy confabulation of the 
 next hour. 
 
 November 27, 1839. 
 
 To-morrow is Thanksgiving Day ; but I shall take the 
 liberty of feeling grateful a little in anticipation of its 
 arrival grateful for this peaceful hour which I may 
 spend with you. Since I last wrote you we have found 
 it necessary to modify one of our courses of study, so as 
 to increase the number of daily recitations, and the re- 
 quest has been made of me to take a portion of this ad- 
 ditional work. But I can hardly believe it my duty to 
 weaken and dissipate whatever of mental force I may 
 possess, by spreading it over a slirface so unreasonably 
 wide. So I showed my good brethren my situation, and 
 convinced them that duty to myself and the weighty 
 trusts which I already so ill sustain, forbade my com- 
 pliance. Indeed the conviction seems to be gaining 
 ground in the Faculty that the field of labor assigned 
 me, embracing the distinct departments of Mental and 
 Moral Philosophy and that of Belles Lettres, is entirely 
 beyond the ability of any one man to occupy properly. 
 I begin to cherish a hope that I may some time obtain 
 relief. Very peculiar providences have recently directed 
 our attention to a gentleman in Philadelphia (Rev. Mr. 
 C.), a fine scholar and successful teacher, who it is thought 
 might be added to the Faculty. Should he come, his 
 proper department would be that of Rhetoric and Belles 
 
HA MIL TON DA VS. 89 
 
 Lettres. I should, of course, be at once relieved of half 
 my burden, and at liberty to concentrate my entire ener- 
 gies on my chosen and beloved pursuits in Mental and 
 Moral Philosophy. " Oh, glorious hope!" Is it too good 
 to be realized ? It seems that then, with you at my side, 
 and my soul blessed with spiritual light, I should have 
 nothing to wish for nothing wanting to complete my 
 earthly comfort. 
 
 Thursday the 2&th. It is now Thanksgiving morning, 
 and a soft and beautiful day it is. If our hearts are half 
 as grateful as is this delicious spring-like air, our offer- 
 ings to-day will not be unacceptable. 
 
 I was led in my private devotions this morning to at- 
 tempt a review of all God's gracious dealings with me, 
 and an enumeration of the peculiar mercies which I have 
 experienced, and to contemplate the blessed prospects 
 which spread out before me. " Surely goodness and 
 mercy have followed me all my days." 
 
 We have had an interesting discourse from Prof. Co- 
 nant this morning, " Using the world as not abusing it," 
 illustrating the principles of Christian morality in rela- 
 tion to the acquisition of the means of temporal enjoy- 
 ment. It was an able production, strictly in keeping 
 with the character of the occasion. 
 
 And now, a note from Mrs. Conant lies before me, with 
 a plan for the remainder of the day. She says, " Come 
 on Thursday, and spend a good long afternoon and even- 
 ing with us. Let us on that day give 'philosophy and 
 philology' to the winds, and let mince-pies, sociality and 
 poetry reign supreme. A query arises as to what one 
 of our good Pilgrim Fathers would have said to such a 
 view of the festival. Nevertheless, I am inclined to be- 
 lieve that decent mirth well befits the time. I wish the 
 dear C. were here." 
 
 Amen to that, say I ! 
 
9 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 Friday Morning. Well a good long afternoon and 
 evening we made of it, to be sure, and a very pleasant 
 one too. My spirits bubbled and flashed like newly 
 opened champagne. Various were the topics introduced 
 and discussed in 
 
 " Discourse not trivial, yet not dull, 
 Nor such as with a frown forbids the play 
 Of fancy, or proscribes the sound of mirth. 
 Nor did we madly, like an impious world, 
 Who deem religion frenzy and the God 
 That made them an intruder on their joys, 
 Start at His awful name, or deem His praise 
 A jarring note." 
 
 Mrs. C. always mentions you. You have a place in 
 her noble heart which I am confident you will not easily 
 lose, and which you will always find a warm one. 
 
 It is cheering to take with him another view of the 
 picture, and to find in these social joys relief from the 
 endless round of duties. The life at Hamilton appears 
 to us in a two-fold light, and we turn from the graver to 
 the brighter side. If it was a life of weariness and 
 plodding work, it was one of many peaceful recreations 
 also, and of much rest and profit to his spirit. What 
 solace and refreshment he found in the companionship 
 of friends and of his beloved books, or in the charms 
 of Nature, always a minister of gladness to hirrH Here 
 he first learned to win from Nature her secrets, and 
 came to such an understanding with her that she was 
 ever afterward his friend. She taught him her " re- 
 creating" power, as he plunged into her shades to 
 escape from some heavy-hearted mood, and felt all the 
 exultation, the bounding freedom of a soul quickened 
 
HA MIL TON DA VS. 
 
 9 1 
 
 into new birth by her wondrous touch. Hamilton was 
 the spot where, as we have learned from the sketch of 
 his " Boyish Days," he had realized his childish dream 
 of happiness in the country, the " abode of absolute 
 liberty and primitive simplicity," in which no rude 
 laws interfered with his enjoyment of forest, field, and 
 stream. And it ever remained to him the same pure 
 Arcadia. All his pictures of it sparkle with fresh and 
 dewy touches. We find him in the morning, " sallying 
 from the Institution, axe on shoulder, seeking the dis- 
 tant forest, with thoughts bent on the overthrow of 
 sundry of its majestic sons ;" or in another sylvan 
 retreat, a "quiet spirit-healing nook," communing with 
 his own heart of heavenly things. Now, in the fading 
 light of a summer day, he is " writing in the deep hall- 
 window, drinking in the evening song of the birds, and 
 ever and anon feasting the eyes with a glance upon 
 the lovely meadow and hills on the west. The sky is 
 clear as amber, and the golden light of the sun, long 
 since sunk from view, is rapidly fading into twilight's 
 gray," while he pours out his heart to distant loved 
 ones. 
 
 And now we have a moonlight picture, as he draws 
 his lesson from the scene : 
 
 The round moon has just risen above our eastern horizon, 
 and is shedding her silver flood over hill and plain, meadow 
 and grove. A cooling shower has just passed over us, and 
 left the air as fresh and sweet as the atmosphere of Eden, 
 and the last fleecy cloud having disappeared from the 
 heavens, the eye gazes up into the glorious vault and rests 
 upon no single speck to mar its " dark and deep and beau- 
 tiful blue" or to impair the overwhelming conception of its 
 shoreless immensity. How indescribably tranquil! The 
 
9 2 JOHN If. RA YMOND. 
 
 silence may be felt almost heard. Yes, from this very 
 silence a still small voice seems to flow in from every quar- 
 ter upon the soul, and it says, " My son, through these my 
 works behold their God and thine. A present Deity is 
 ail around thee. 
 
 ' He fills, He bounds, connects and equals all.' 
 
 Nature sleeps secure under His protection, and from her 
 glad face the smile of His goodness is reflected. So do 
 thou confide in Him, and though your sins have once sepa- 
 rated between your God and you, rejoice in the interposing 
 grace of the divine Redeemer, who, by the sacrifice of Him- 
 self, has forever put away sin and abolished its penalty. 
 Let not your heart be troubled ; believe in God, believe also 
 in Him." 
 
 I look out from my little window upon the hill which 
 rises behind our buildings and towards the beautiful grove 
 that crowns its brow. There sleep two who but a few 
 days since were in our midst, sharing with us the joys, the 
 labors, and the afflictions of life. They have ceased from 
 all, and there they lie, oh how peacefully ! while the bright 
 moon shines on the roofs of their narrow mansions, with a 
 tranquillity like their own. 
 
 Another letter gives a minute description of the 
 scenery of the place, and reminds us of other hill-tops 
 from which he afterwards looked down, and of his 
 keen enjoyment of the smallest detail of beauty in the 
 landscape. 
 
 The scenes which charmed his eye were admired and 
 enjoyed by others. They were touched not far from 
 this time by the graceful pen of " Fanny Forester." 
 The stream which she immortalized as " Alderbrook" 
 wound its way through a picturesque valley embraced 
 
HAMILTON DAYS. 93 
 
 in the view from one of his favorite " points of obser- 
 vation," and the little vine-wreathed cottage on its 
 borders, where she spent much of her childhood, was 
 but a few miles from Hamilton. While still quite 
 young, she had come with her parents to reside in the 
 village. It remained her home during her brilliant 
 career as a magazine-writer, and was the scene of her 
 romantic courtship and marriage with Dr. Judson, the 
 " hero-missionary," whose visit to that theologic center 
 excited the veneration and enthusiasm described in a 
 subsequent chapter. Here a warm personal friendship 
 was formed by her with members of the college- 
 circle, including Prof. A. C. Kendrick, who became her 
 biographer, and Mrs. H. C. Conant, who in her well- 
 known memoir of Dr. Judson recounts the story of 
 " The Earnest Man." In Prof. Kendrick's " Life and 
 Letters of Mrs. Judson" he thus locates the little 
 town : " Thirty miles south from Utica, in Central 
 New York, on the head-waters of the Chenango River, 
 and at the head of the charming valley which follows 
 the windings of that stream in its picturesque course 
 to the Susquehanna, lies Hamilton, one of the most 
 beautiful interior villages of the State, and the seat of 
 the literary and theological institution known as Madi- 
 son University." The university buildings commanded 
 an outlook of the lovely valley, and my father was 
 never tired of gazing at the picture. He writes to 
 friends at home : 
 
 HAMILTON LIT. AND THEO. INSTITUTION, ) 
 July 31, 1836. f 
 
 I have wished a thousand times that you could share 
 with me the delightful rambles which I take over the 
 hills and through the woods of this diversified and 
 
94 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 beautiful country. The scenery is. highly interesting 
 and romantic. The face of Nature is broken up into 
 hills and valleys, blending with endless variety and 
 into the most strikingly picturesque views. I have 
 found a great many points of observation, from which 
 the prospect has charmed me exceedingly, each differ- 
 ing very materially in its details from ail the rest, 
 though all partaking of the general features of bold- 
 ness and beauty which characterize the surrounding 
 country. The extent of these views appears to me to be 
 a happy medium. They are not so limited as to fail of 
 amply satisfying the mind, nor so large as to render 
 them difficult of comprehension or to weaken the effect 
 of their varieties of contour and color. The latter is 
 the case, I think, with the prospects from Union and 
 from Hamilton (Clinton) Colleges, especially the latter, 
 which, situated on a very high hill, overlooks a seem- 
 ingly limitless extent of country. But the distance at 
 which you see them renders the inequalities of the sur- 
 face very indistinct, and the vast tract with which they 
 are brought into comparison makes them so insignifi- 
 cant as hardly to be observable. The entire effect is di- 
 luted, and the scene becomes, on the whole, tame and 
 insipid. The greatest distance which you can see from 
 our hill is directly in front of the buildings, and is 
 probably not more than seven miles. This is looking 
 down the valley in which the village stands. The hills 
 between which it lies are perhaps on the average two or 
 three miles apart. The summit of their ridges is clothed 
 with forests, whose edges are irregularly broken by 
 green pasture-lands, sloping smoothly away and melt- 
 ing into a perfectly level plain. The rich combination 
 of hill and plain, of forest and meadow and cultivated 
 field, every feature of which can be distinctly perceived 
 and appreciated by the eye, the whole clothed in Nature's 
 
HAMILTON- DAYS. 95 
 
 loveliest hues, and relieved by the pretty little village 
 which sleeps in the center of the plain, presents an 
 entire picture on which my eye is never tired with 
 looking. 
 
 I have been disposed to distrust my own taste in this 
 matter, supposing that I was possibly misled by my 
 deep interest in all that concerns the institution. But 
 my opinion has received a confirmation which justifies 
 my most ardent adherence to it. Dr. Penny, President 
 of Hamilton College, recently visited and expressed 
 himself highly delighted with our location. Dr. Penny, 
 you remember, was lately the pastor of a Congrega- 
 tional church in Northampton. He has traveled in 
 Europe, and his authority in point of taste is undis- 
 puted. You will find his views of our site in a letter 
 published in the last Register, and evidence of his good 
 taste in the graceful style with which that letter is 
 penned. . . . 
 
 Besides the general scene, there are particular spots, 
 walks, nooks, and corners which have already become 
 favorite places of my resort and associated with the 
 memory of most interesting seasons of meditation and 
 devotion. We have groves which would not have dis- 
 figured the retreats of Academe, and whose solitudes 
 (if I may be allowed the misnomer) are daily visited 
 and awakened by the votaries of Apollo and of Polyhym- 
 nia, muse of eloquence. We have a mountain streamlet 
 whose source is high up towards the summit of the 
 ridge, in the dark recesses of the forest which crowns 
 its brow. Emerging from the forest, it steals its way 
 rapidly along the bottom of a small ravine, covered 
 from view by the trees which, growing from either bank, 
 overhang and wholly conceal it from the view of the 
 observer without. It runs along in this way, constantly 
 and rapidly descending over its rocky bed, until it sud- 
 
96 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 denly reaches a perpendicular precipice of twenty or 
 thirty feet in depth. After taking its fearless leap, the 
 little stream hastens on its way, for it has not reached 
 by far the foot of the hill. 
 
 There is one spot upon this brook which is an 
 especial favorite of mine. It is before you reach the 
 cataract, and where the stream is shut up in the bottom 
 of the ravine. As you approach it from without, you 
 perceive nothing but the dense foliage of the interming- 
 ling branches. You make your way through them, and 
 step cautiously down upon a prostrate trunk which has 
 fallen across the stream, and enter the little apartment 
 which you seek. This is a cool chamber, open at the 
 two ends, the two sides of which you may touch at the 
 same moment with your extended hands. Its walls are 
 the verdant banks of the ravine; its floor, the rocky 
 ledge over which the streamlet flows; its ceiling, the 
 overhanging branches. Your seat and its back are 
 formed by two trunks which have fallen across from 
 bank to bank. Oh, what a place for meditation and 
 prayer, the music of the waters blending with the 
 melody which your heart sends up to God! 
 
 If Nature was a cordial to him, what a well-spring of 
 rest and joyous refreshment he found in the delights of 
 Friendship ! One who loved him has spoken of his 
 " capacity for refined friendship, and his life-long con- 
 stancy therein," and this might well seem the chief 
 jewel of a heart that had room for all good and beauti- 
 ful things. The story of my father's life might be the 
 story of his friendships, and it is impossible to trace 
 it without weaving that silver thread into the narra- 
 tive. We follow it, through changing scenes, to his 
 very latest years, and find the first loves the very last 
 
HAMILTON DAYS. 97 
 
 and best. Many others were added, and each had a 
 place which was kept inviolate. In every new field of 
 labor, duties and depressing cares were cheered by 
 the same genial intimacies. But there were no closer 
 ties than the shining cords which bound his heart to 
 the faithful ones first chosen, and no friendships of 
 later time yielded fruits so sweet and ripe as those 
 rooted among " the green hills and fragrant forests of 
 old Hamilton." 
 
 Among the very first and warmest of those friend- 
 ships was one which lasted as long as life itself. The 
 Rev. Dr. Edward Lathrop, who was his fellow- 
 student at Hamilton, was associated with him in the 
 labors which were the crowning work of his life, and as 
 a member of the Board of Trustees of Vassar College, 
 and finally as its chairman, shared his most intimate 
 confidences. The companions who in youth had taken 
 " sweet counsel " together were united in graver cares 
 and counsels, until for one all cares were over, and the 
 other was left to fulfill the last sad office that friend can 
 perform for friend. The memory of this friendship was 
 embalmed in the words spoken in that sorrowful hour. 
 It is again referred to in a recent letter : 
 
 From REV. EDWARD LATHROP, D.D. 
 
 STAMFORD, CONN., July 23, 1880. 
 
 Nothing can be more gratifying to me than the 
 remembrance of my life-long acquaintance with your 
 honored father, and especially the intimacy of our friend- 
 ship in those years, now long past, when, as yet, no great 
 sorrow, and no weight of great responsibility, had sup- 
 pressed, to any extent, the joyousness of youth. My 
 acquaintance with your father began not long after my 
 
98 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 arrival at Hamilton, somewhere between 1835 and 1,837. 
 We were together a great portion of the time not occu- 
 pied in study, now rambling through the woods (he was 
 an enthusiastic admirer of nature in her primeval and 
 wildest forms) and then, arm in arm, strolling down to 
 " the village" on some social errand, or to participate in 
 some religious meeting. That which always impressed me 
 as a peculiarity and a most happy combination in your 
 father's characteristics was his love of fun, combined 
 with the most delicate recognition of what is gentle- 
 manly in deportment and what is right in morals. He 
 could appreciate a good joke. He was genial as a com- 
 panion, ardent in his friendship, and always ready in his 
 own humorous way to contribute to the entertainment 
 of his associates; and yet at no time did he seem to for- 
 get that he was a Christian, nor to lose sight of the 
 serious life-work which was then just before him. 
 
 After our college-days were ended, our personal inter- 
 course was necessarily less frequent; but neither separa- 
 tion nor time affected the. nature and depth of the friend- 
 ship formed in earlier years. Although my friend had 
 risen to the dignity of Professor, and afterwards to that 
 of President of a College, whenever we chanced to 
 meet, he was in heart and in manner just what he was 
 when we were known to each other only as " John" and 
 
 "Ned." 
 
 I recall also, in going back to those early days, the 
 image of your dear mother, whose sweet and gentle 
 nature won, as it well might, the appreciative heart of 
 your father. I almost hesitate to speak in this connec- 
 tion of one whose delicate and refined sensibilities would 
 repel such allusion to herself if uttered by a stranger. 
 But I cannot forbear to say, in writing to you, her daugh- 
 ter, that the girl whom I knew as Cornelia Morse has 
 fully realized the predictions of your father's early 
 
HAMILTON DAYS. 99 
 
 friends, and has demonstrated, in her noble, patient, self- 
 sacrificing life, the discernment and wisdom of him who 
 at the " breakfast-table where he first saw her face, took 
 the resolution which he never repented." May God long 
 spare to you her counsel and her love. 
 
 Your information is quite correct with regard to your 
 Grandfather Raymond's funeral sermon, which I 
 preached in the old First Church, Brooklyn. 
 
 I feel that I have given you a very imperfect idea of 
 my estimate of your father's worth and of my own feel- 
 ing towards him. If you could know my heart, you 
 would understand how much I loved him, how 
 thoroughly I respected him, and how lonely and sad I 
 felt when God took him. 
 
 Other attachments were formed, as the student 
 became tutor and professor. There was never, perhaps, 
 a more harmonious circle than that which gathered 
 under the shades of the college-hill, composed of the 
 families of the Faculty, with a few other congenial 
 spirits. We of the second generation dimly remember 
 the joys that have made those days bright with glad 
 and vivid recollections to our elders. The bond which 
 united the parents reached to the more youthful hearts, 
 and strengthened with the passing years, until they 
 now rejoice in a golden inheritance of friendship, a 
 very birthright to those who beheld the dawn of life 
 at Hamilton. 
 
 It was a happy fortune that cast the lots of so many 
 of that circle together in later homes. In Rochester, 
 whither a large number of the professors removed 
 in 1850 to establish a new University, the familiar joys 
 were continued, and still subsequent years found some 
 of the same tried friends united in Brooklyn. A cen- 
 
loo JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 tral figure in the group that met so often in friendly 
 conclave was one whose loving companionship bright- 
 ened life through all these changes. We find him first 
 presented to the acquaintance of Brooklyn friends in 
 the continuation of a letter already partially quoted : 
 
 I did intend, in this letter, to introduce to you an 
 individual whom I love very much. It is our Professor 
 of Biblical Literature, Prof. Conant, a man of most pro- 
 found and accurate learning, acute and philosophical 
 mind, unbending Christian integrity, and the most affection- 
 ate and endearing spirit. His whole character is exceed- 
 ingly admirable. Unassuming and simple in his conver- 
 sation and in all his habits of thought and conduct, plain 
 and placid, you yet cannot be an hour in his society with- 
 out feeling that you are with a strong man. He is un- 
 questionably the main pillar of the institution. He has 
 inspired us all with an enthusiasm in the prosecution of 
 biblical learning, and 'is preparing a great amount of work 
 for us next year in biblical studies. If he is spared to the 
 institution, we shall not be in want of competent translators 
 into the various languages of the East. 
 
 The fruits of an illustrious life have verified this 
 early appreciation of the eminent Oriental scholar, 
 whose labors in the revision and interpretation of the 
 Scriptures are now so widely known. Nothing could 
 exceed the reverence in which he was held by the 
 younger members of our family, not only as a father's 
 cherished friend, but as one who kept the keys to those 
 strange hieroglyphics that so baffled our childish eyes 
 and seemed to shut out from them a world of mystery. 
 Syriac, Arabic, Chaldee, Hebrew the whole Semitic 
 family how we wondered over the ponderous tomes 
 
HA MIL TON DA YS. I o r 
 
 in our rainy-day explorations in the study on the 
 hill! 
 
 This honored friend most kindly contributes his recol- 
 lections of the life at Hamilton : 
 
 From DR. THOMAS J. CONANT. 
 
 MY DEAR H : It is with great pleasure that I com- 
 ply with your request for my early remembrances of your 
 dear father. 
 
 My acquaintance with him commenced in 1835, when 
 he came to the Hamilton Literary and Theological In- 
 stitution, to complete his preparation for the ministry. 
 He was then twenty years of age. He had originally 
 selected the practice of law as his profession. While 
 acquiring its practical details in a law-office, his atten- 
 tion was drawn to the subject of personal religion. A 
 skeptical tendency, not uncommon in inquisitive young 
 minds, had somewhat dulled the influences of his early 
 Christian home. But after earnest searching for the 
 truth he heartily received the teachings of the New Tes- 
 tament as divine. Recognizing the Saviour of the world 
 therein revealed, and trusting in Him as his own, he re 
 solved thenceforth to preach to others the Saviour he 
 himself had found. 
 
 In this was shown the habitual direction of his mind 
 in all after years : to accept nothing but on evidence and 
 full conviction of its truth, and then to hold it with a 
 firm, unfaltering grasp. 
 
 It was made the duty of the Faculty to examine ap- 
 plicants for admission in relation to their religious expe- 
 rience and reasons for entering the ministry. With 
 modest self-possession he recounted his mental struggles 
 with the doubts which had darkened his way, and how 
 they yielded to the force of evidence until the truth was 
 
102 JOHN //. RA YMOND. 
 
 clearly revealed. His analysis of the processes by which 
 conviction was reached ; of his mental exercises under 
 the searching tests of the divine teachings; of the grounds 
 on which he at length found rest and peace in a saving 
 faith in Christ all impressed the minds of the Faculty 
 as giving assurance, in one so young, of no ordinary 
 powers of development. 
 
 As his teacher in Hebrew and Greek I had opportu- 
 nities to observe his aptitude for acquiring language ; 
 not so much a readiness for acquiring words and their 
 combinations as the deeper and more subtle philosophy 
 of speech as the mind's instrument of thought, which 
 fitted him to excel in exegetical studies and in the de- 
 partment of language to which he was subsequently 
 called. 
 
 It was during these studies that he proposed to de- 
 vote his life to a particular branch of missionary work ; 
 namely, the translation of the Holy Scriptures into the 
 various languages* and dialects of the East. Three of 
 his companions in study were associated with him. 
 Their plan was to act in concert, apportioning among 
 them the wide fields of missionary labor, each working 
 in his own field; to acquire the vernacular use of a lan- 
 guage by intercourse with the natives; and, while not 
 neglecting the oral preaching of the Word, to make the 
 translation of the Bible their main business. A college 
 of translators would thus be formed, acting on the same 
 principles, and producing a uniform and harmonious 
 rendering of the Word of Life in different languages, 
 and relieving the preachers of the Word from the labor 
 and drudgery of the grammar and lexicon. Their object 
 and the proposed plan were submitted to the Faculty, 
 and with their approval were laid before the Board of 
 Missions. But the time had not come; and the Board 
 courteously declined the proffered service. How differ- 
 
HAMILTON' DAYS. 103 
 
 ent would now be the aspects of those fields had the 
 energies of Dr. Raymond's far-reaching and organizing 
 mind been devoted to that necessary branch of mission- 
 ary work ! 
 
 But you desire particularly my impressions of our 
 early intimacy in the social and domestic circle. During 
 our long residence at Hamilton and Rochester he was 
 the ever-welcome and cherished guest at our family 
 fireside. Of a genial temperament and unfailing cheer- 
 fulness; in conversation grave or gay, sparkling with wit 
 and humor or serious and thoughtful; earnest and play- 
 ful by turns; satirical without offense; easy and refined 
 in manners, ready to enjoy a jest or to discuss a prob- 
 lem, he was ever the life and charm of the circle. 
 
 I cannot do better than to give you the picture of 
 our life at Hamilton, drawn in after years by my now 
 sainted wife. " Our social enjoyments," she writes, "were 
 intense, and entered a hundred-fold more into our heart- 
 life than in these wider spheres since become familiar. 
 The two or three among our immediate associates, of 
 temper and aims congenial with our own, we fastened to 
 us 'as with hooks of steel.' Our households were almost 
 as one family. The summer rambles in the woods, the 
 winter sleigh-rides, the weekly tea-drinkings all the year 
 round, were always in common. Hardly could the house- 
 wives of the circle enjoy a successful experiment in the 
 culinary art, or the gathering of an extra fine basket of 
 summer fruit, unless all could gather round the fortune- 
 favored board and rejoice together over the simple 
 dainty. How easy and free, how full of genuine heart- 
 mirth, yes, and of intellectual stimulus also, were those 
 little gatherings ! More good wit, atrociously success- 
 ful puns, and sparkling mots, were wasted in those bird- 
 cages of parlors on some of those genial evenings, than 
 would have sufficed to spice a whole London season, 
 
104 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 comparing the chronicles of my memory with the re- 
 corded specimens of Sydney Smith and Douglass Jerrold. 
 How loath we always were to part! And yet, however 
 late the hour, we in the cottage under the beeches were 
 never satisfied unless our special One could linger after 
 the rest, to finish up the treat with a draught of con- 
 verse drawn from the innermost fountains, sealed to all 
 others. For even in that narrow and closely affiliated 
 circle the heart asserted its regal prerogative of choice, 
 maintained the order of its court in the ascending ranks 
 of ' dear, dearer, dearest,' and spurned, as if it had thou- 
 sands to select from, a democracy in love. That single 
 friendship, how its pure, kindly, reviving influence 
 beautified our monotonous existence! I have read of a 
 flower in the deserts of Africa, a pure white flower* 
 springing up here and there from the barren, thirsty 
 sands, which holds in its bosom a supply of clear water, 
 sufficient for a saving draught to the perishing traveler. 
 Friend of our yout\i, such wast thou to us; nor can after 
 friendships, formed in more prosperous days, sparkling 
 fountains in the rose-gardens and rills through verdant 
 lawns, ever stand side by side in our affections with that 
 cup in the wilderness, which to our deepest social yearn- 
 ings was then our all." 
 
 To these social enjoyments were added more substan- 
 tial pleasures. An evening every week was sacred to 
 literary studies; to readings in favorite authors, with 
 criticisms on their peculiar characteristics and merits, 
 interspersed with written essays, translations from the 
 German poets, and the like. Professor Raymond's 
 reading was the perfection of elocution; not in art, for 
 in his reading there was none of it. It did not seem the 
 effect of study; or rather, when by study he had master- 
 ed the writer's thought, his utterance of it seemed the 
 natural and spontaneous expression of his own. Whether 
 it was Shakespeare in tragedy or comedy, or Christopher 
 
HAMILTON DAYS. 105 
 
 North in "Noctes Ambrosianse," or Boswell showing his 
 idol or himself, or whatever he read, he was unsurpassed 
 and inimitable. Even the thoughtful younger tribes 
 would cuddle in corners, or crouch behind the chairs of 
 their elders, to enjoy his vocal interpretation of a favorite 
 author. It was a rare gift; and in no other have I ever 
 heard it in equal perfection. To the latest years of his 
 life, it was one of the anticipated pleasures of his visits 
 to our family circle. 
 
 Our summer rambles and summer-evening gather- 
 ings were enjoyed in a still narrower and dearer circle. 
 His family relatives and home friends were accustomed 
 to seek, in the coolness and repose of that secluded val- 
 ley, a refuge from the heat and noise of city life. Too 
 many yet remain of that inner circle to allow me to 
 speak, as the heart dictates, of the friendships thus 
 formed, and still cherished among life's choicest trea- 
 sures. Their record is embalmed in precious memories 
 of the past, and in volumes of correspondence, the pen 
 in absence doing the office of the eye and tongue. 
 
 During the two-and-twenty years of our connection 
 as colleagues at Hamilton and Rochester, he was my 
 nearest and most trusted friend. Never, in all after 
 years, occurred anything to abate my trust in him, or 
 cool the warmth of friendship. As he matured in years 
 and experience, and became a counselor as well as friend, 
 I could safely rely on his truthfulness, the unswerving 
 rectitude of his evenly balanced mind, unbiased in its 
 judgments by our personal relations. 
 
 Unselfish in public as in private life, he did his ap- 
 pointed work in his appointed sphere; never seeking 
 position for himself, accepting that to which he was 
 called, with all its burdens and responsibilities manfully 
 and cheerfully borne. 
 
 Pupil, companion, friend, and counselor, farewell ! 
 
 T. J. CONANT. 
 
Io6 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 The passage quoted from the late Mrs. Conant gives 
 us a glimpse of the gifted mind and heart whose stores 
 contributed so richly to the enjoyment of that halcyon 
 time. It was found among her writings after her pen 
 was forever silenced, and was then first seen by the 
 one of whom she wrote. How deeply it stirred his 
 heart is seen from his own words : 
 
 DR. RAYMOND TO DR. CONANT. 
 
 MY VERY DEAR FRIEND : How shall I begin to tell 
 you how I prize the inestimable gem ? how sufficiently 
 thank you for sending it to me in just this form ? I 
 knew that I had been honored by her peculiar friend- 
 ship, but such an expression of it, traced by her own 
 dear hand, and in words so beautifully characteristic, I 
 had never hoped to possess. It has affected me deeply, 
 more and more so the oftener I peruse it, and shall be 
 preserved while I live, as a sacred memorial of a friend- 
 ship, the dearest and most precious of all that my memo- 
 ry enshrines. 
 
 Every day I feel more sensibly how much I, too, have 
 lost in her. Every day deepens my regret that I should 
 have suffered other engrossments for so many years to 
 deprive me so much of her society (and yours, for it was 
 one and the same thing), that I should have deferred to 
 an uncertain future the plucking of those ripened fruits 
 of friendship which now death has swept beyond reach. 
 
 " Forever" ? Oh, no, we know it is not so. That future, 
 though removed a little farther than we hoped, and lying 
 now "within the veil," is not uncertain. The seed of 
 such affections is divine and "remaineth." However 
 interrupted, wherever transplanted, its growth and fruit- 
 age shall be immortal. We shall meet again all of the 
 beloved circle now grown so large and full and rich. We 
 
HAMILTON DAYS. 107 
 
 shall meet, and in fairer " rose-gardens" than the love- 
 liest of earth, beside purer streams, nobler forest-shades 
 than those we have enjoyed together here, shall reknit 
 those broken meshes and renew the converse so sudden- 
 ly and sadly silenced. Meanwhile, Doctor amatissime, 
 I prize beyond all power of expression, the warrant you 
 (and she) have now given me to mingle my tears with 
 yours as partner in your heart's loss as privileged to 
 stand in some sense alone by your side, within a charmed 
 circle drawn by her own loving pen. With all the tender 
 sincerity inspired by such a thought, let me assure you 
 of a sympathy as life-long as your great grief, while I 
 write myself 
 
 Faithfully yours, J. H. R. 
 
 A chief joy of those early associations was the part 
 borne in them by those nearest to him by birth. The 
 bond which held him to these chosen friends, inter- 
 linking with the sacred home-ties, made a chain doubly 
 riveted. To each of his brothers and sisters Hamil- 
 ton was at different times a home, save to the elder 
 brother, to whom absorbing business interests in New 
 York left no time for the summer rest so grateful to the 
 others. It is hard to put aside letters in which the 
 loved names are repeated on a thousand pages, without 
 giving to each one a place in the history of those days, 
 with all the varying circumstances that made them 
 memorable to each. But time would indeed fail to tell 
 of all these joyous hours ; of the delights experienced 
 with the brother whom a happy providence sent to 
 share for a time his studies and pursuits, and whose 
 sparkling presence was the promise of all mirth and 
 flashing wit ; or of his sheltering love for the younger 
 sister, so early left motherless, who at one time found 
 
io8 JOHN H. RA YMOND, 
 
 a home under his roof. To this sister he owed the 
 strengthening of one of the tenderest friendships of 
 his life, formed in his first years at Hamilton with the 
 Rev. George R. Bliss, then a tutor in the university, 
 to whose care he afterwards transferred her. He tells 
 the story in a few words : " M.'s days are halcyon as 
 ever, and her evenings ! with the Sabine bard may she 
 exclaim, l O evenings worthy of the gods ! ' Or with 
 Cowper, 
 
 ' O evenings, I reply, 
 
 More to be prized and coveted than yours, 
 As more illumined and with purer Bliss! ' " 
 
 A single scene gives us a grouping of the family 
 party. A golden day of summer finds them exploring 
 a picturesque ravjne in the neighborhood of Sherburne 
 Falls, some miles distant from Hamilton : 
 
 Thick woods cover the steep sides of the banks to 
 their very summits, and seem to seclude the sweet spot 
 entirely from the dusty world, the " painted pomp" of 
 our every-day existence. We wandered up and down 
 the stream, and found and made a multitude of pretty 
 pictures, one, when the girls sat in a picturesque group 
 under a natural viny bower, Mr. C. stretched out at full 
 length at their feet. On the opposite side, a little moun- 
 tain brook came tumbling down into the stream, and 
 across its mouth lay the mossy trunk of a fallen tree, on 
 which reclining, your humble servant, 
 
 " lay along, 
 
 Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out 
 Upon the brook that crawls along this wood." 
 
 Away up stream, you might see Bliss carefully assisting 
 Sis over a bridge of stones there, plague on that rolling 
 
HAMILTON DAYS. 109 
 
 Stone, it has slipped from under her, and splash! she 
 goes; but no matter it's only her "wet goods" dress 
 quite natural, you know, for that to take to the water. 
 Clear off, as far as you can see through the overhanging 
 branches, the white waters foam down too distant to 
 be heard. But where's Robert? There, look directly 
 over your head, away up among the thick trees. I can 
 just see his white pants can't you see ? Well hear! 
 Do you know that rich bass? Hark! catch every note 
 "My heart's in the highlands." Bravo! Can that be 
 beat? Yes! "Some love to roam" follows fifty per 
 cent better. And listen once more " The Vale of 
 Avoca" exquisite exquisite! There, Bob, come down, 
 that's the gem; you couldn't equal that if you sung a 
 Week. And so Bob thought, and the picture was broken 
 up. 
 
 But with none in the family band was his heart in 
 closer affiliation than with the elder sister, who, being 
 nearest him in age, was the first to share his confidence. 
 Upon her, as the oldest sister, the father had laid the 
 responsibility of drawing the others together; her 
 home in Brooklyn was the central gathering-place ; to 
 that the brother's heart ever turned with longings un- 
 speakable, and in his own a welcome was ever awaiting 
 her. What a volume of pure communing is written in 
 his remembrance of " sweet converse with a spirit near- 
 est of all on earth to my own." The following letter 
 to her, which revives some of those summer scenes, is 
 given with the lines which it contains, notwithstanding 
 her protest : " I should certainly object to putting into 
 print the poetical lines in your father's letter to me. 
 They are not worthy of him except for just the time 
 and circumstances for which he wrote them, and their 
 
no JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 charm consists in local and social allusions that none 
 would understand, save those who were personally in- 
 terested. Your father was not a poet, dear child, ex- 
 cept in heart and soul, and I would have no false claims 
 made for him." 
 
 It may not be necessary to claim poetic merit for the 
 verses that were intended only for sympathetic eyes. 
 They are given simply as a rhythmical picture of those 
 peaceful pastoral delights, and a fuller description of 
 them than can be found elsewhere in his words: 
 
 TO MRS. J. T. HOWARD. 
 
 HAMILTON, Nov. 7, 1843. 
 
 MY DEAR SISTER : This hour to love and thee ! Bro. 
 Kincaid is gone,vand I am under no temptation to hurry 
 off a hasty scrawl which would give me as little satisfac- 
 tion in writing as you in reading. So I sit me down 
 leisurely in my little new study, and begin, intending to 
 write for my own entertainment, and to get through, 
 when it may please the Fates. And a very snug little new 
 study it is, a merry roaring stove in one corner, and my 
 dear old book-cases all around me, with their friendly, 
 cheerful, and (ah, what a blessing in this Protean world!) 
 unchanging smile and that same Protean, perplexing, 
 ever- whirling and brain-confounding world so far off! I 
 can hardly hear its surges, ever restless without, and oc- 
 casionally dashing against the walls of my retirement, 
 and making its quiet seem yet the more peaceful and 
 profound. My mind has become much relieved of those 
 anxieties which you are aware harassed it so much last 
 year. I see it to be absolutely impossible for me to leave 
 H. for at least some time to come, and your absolute 
 impossibilities are the most sovereign of sedatives to 
 compose an uneasy mind. It need not distress you, dear 
 
HA MIL TON DA YS. HI 
 
 sister, to have me speak in such good spirits, as though 
 it were thence to be inferred that I felt no need of you, 
 and all my dear distant friends, to complete my happi- 
 ness; for, I assure you, it has cost all my philosophy to 
 purchase this content nay, more : my philosophy was all 
 gone long before the oppressive sense of loneliness, which 
 for weeks after your return hung on my spirits, would 
 away; and at last I was obliged to draw (most heavily, 
 you will probably say before you get through this page) 
 on my poetry (" Risum teneatis, amici" which is Horace 
 for * Stop your laughing, folks '). And thus wailed my 
 pensive muse : 
 
 They're gone, all gone! those joyous days, 
 When balmy Summer shed her rays 
 From ever blue and laughing skies, 
 And made the earth a paradise. 
 In green and gold the fields were dressed, 
 The foot the flowery carpet pressed, 
 And through the grass, with ardent looks, 
 The noon-beams chased the virgin brooks; 
 Which ever, as they coyly run, 
 Throw tinkling laughter at the sun; 
 While fragrance hung upon the air. 
 And birds careered and caroled there, 
 And insects swarmed in tireless play, 
 Dancing their giddy life away 
 In bacchanalian merriment, 
 As fiercely gay, as swiftly spent. 
 Then love and beauty lapped the earth, 
 And all was music, all was mirth. 
 
 They're gone, all gone! the gentle flowers, 
 Whose life's the poetry of ours; 
 Speaking beyond the power of art 
 In silent numbers to the heart, 
 And waking in the enraptured breast 
 Feelings that may not be expressed. 
 
112 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 All, all, alas! have passed away, 
 
 And stol'n its luster from the day; 
 
 The modest beauties and the proud, 
 
 The solitary and the crowd; 
 
 Bright-eyed ones laughing o'er the meads, 
 
 And mourners with their drooping heads; 
 
 And worshipers with tearful eye 
 
 Ail-meekly lifted to the sky; 
 
 The violet that mused alone, 
 
 Like hermit, 'neath a mossy stone; 
 
 The meek-eyed daisy, primrose pale, 
 
 The queenly lily of the vale; 
 
 From field and hill they all have passed, 
 
 And left this dead prosaic waste. 
 
 They're gone, all gone! each happy bird, 
 Whose song the waking morning heard: 
 The road-side sparrow chirps no more, 
 Nor swallow skims the meadow o'er; 
 Nor from the river's reedy brink 
 Carols the tuneful bobolink; 
 Nor linnet, hid among the leaves, 
 His curious note unwearied weaves. 
 No parent-robins gather food 
 To still their open-throated brood; 
 There, where the cunning nest was seen, 
 Snug-built behind the foliage-screen 
 Of vines that o'er the portal crept, 
 And where unscared the birdlings slept, 
 Though underneath friends cosy sat, 
 And whiled the time in lively chat, 
 Or "sweetly sympathetic" wept, 
 While plaintive night-winds round them crept. 
 
 And they are gone, the friends so loved, 
 With whom we sat, with whom we roved; 
 Sometimes discoursed in serious mood 
 Of things that sober people should; 
 And sometimes (blush we to confess ?) 
 Spent time in wiser idleness; 
 
HA MIL TON DA VS. 113 
 
 Set the "unruly member" free, 
 
 And bade it wag in lawless glee, 
 
 And lungs to crow like chanticleer 
 
 Till Echo answered far and near. 
 
 We kicked the football-jest about 
 
 Till we had fairly kicked it out; 
 
 Loud laughing when the mark we hit, 
 
 And louder when we missed of it. 
 
 Or took Dan Goethe's " Faustus" down, 
 
 With grammar eke and lexicon, 
 
 To find the meaning of our lesson, 
 
 And where we could not find one, guess one; 
 
 Or, foiled at last, would smile to see 
 
 " Der Meister" solve the mystery. 
 
 And now and then a peep we took 
 
 At " Dr. Sam" in Bozzy's book; 
 
 Enchanted with the grand old cur, 
 
 Sage, critic, lexicographer, 
 
 Poet, and wit, as rolling there, 
 
 He bolts Sir Joshua's generous fare, 
 
 And belches forth such sparkling gems 
 
 As pale the sheen of diadems; 
 
 And all the goodly group the while 
 
 Their thoughtful admiration smile. 
 
 Gibbon and " Lankey" and Beauclerk, 
 
 Garrick and " Goldy," Thrale and Burke, 
 
 And (instar omnium!} mighty Boz, 
 
 More than the Great Sublime he draws. 
 
 We ranged the realm of fancy's lore, 
 
 Turned Shakspeare's wondrous volumes o'er, 
 
 In wildering moonlit mazes lost 
 
 With Hamlet and his father's ghost; 
 
 Or, chuckling, watched the garden trick 
 
 On Beatrice and Benedick; 
 
 Dropped tears o'er Desdemona's fate, 
 
 And gave Petruchio joy of Kate; 
 
 With many an observation sage 
 
 Shed light upon the doubtful page; 
 
 Untied all knots, and brought to view 
 
 More beauties than the author knew. 
 
114 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 Or, throwing books and business by, 
 Forth sallied to the open sky, 
 And roamed, a merry company, 
 Exultant, noisy, far and free; 
 Climbed to the hill-top's breathless height, 
 Thence turned to gaze (oh goodly sight!) 
 Where green Chenango's glory lay 
 Beneath the enamored eye of day, 
 At softly slumberous ease reclined, 
 Her green robes waving in the wind, 
 With liquid-silver ribands wound, 
 And leafy garlands wreathed around, 
 And yon far-gleaming lakelet set, 
 Like jewel in her coronet. 
 The fiery god arrests his car, 
 And bends to breathe his passion there; 
 While tHfe full chorus of the groves 
 With nuptial songs salute their loves; 
 Sounds of the distant waterfall 
 Embassing the sweet madrigal. 
 Then, plunging into forest shades, 
 We sought the cool sequestered glades, 
 Where pensive Nature dwelt alone, 
 From sight and sound of men withdrawn, 
 And, myriad-voiced, her Maker praised, 
 In temples His own hand hath raised. 
 But all-unworshipful were we, 
 Shouting aloud our graceless glee; 
 Laughing in consecrated bowers, 
 And plucking all the holy flowers; 
 Or, huddled in some leafy nook, 
 Along the margin of the brook, 
 With songs and cachinnations there, 
 Startled to life the sleepy air. 
 
 Ah! happy days were those, I ween! 
 Those days of gladness and of green. 
 But now, alas! in vain we rove 
 The faded field, the fading grove, 
 And search each memory-haunted spot 
 For those we love we find them not! 
 
. HAMILTON DAYS. 1 15 
 
 The season has begun in town, 
 And every Gothamite is flown: 
 Where late we saw their soulful faces 
 We find but cold and empty places, 
 And freezing silence smites the ear, 
 Bent their familiar tones to hear. 
 They're gone, all gone! the summer hours, 
 The friends we love, the birds and flowers; 
 And these entrancing memories seem 
 The fragments of some fading dream. 
 
 But while we mourn, of these bereft, 
 Thank Heaven our happy home is left! 
 And other friends, a cherished few, 
 And cheerful work enough to do. 
 Then let us do, with willing mind 
 And ready hand, the work assigned; 
 Rejoicing still to think how soon 
 The days of absence will be gone, 
 Stern Winter and his icy reign, 
 And all we love come back again! 
 
 Having rolled off this burden, and " rid my bosom of the 
 perilous stuff," I was, as you may imagine, considerably 
 relieved and obedient to the suggestions contained in the 
 " application" above, I set myself at work. By the way, 
 have you read Carlyle's " Past and Present "? />., looked 
 into it for no mortal could wade through the whole. I 
 cannot help sort o' liking that fellow, even while I abhor his 
 affectations. Pity him I must. He does seem to be strug- 
 gling after truth, and to be far in advance of the great mass 
 of unbelievers nay, of many who profess to be believers of 
 some, perhaps, who are, though hampered by the cumbrous 
 folly of human systems and philosophies. How thoroughly 
 he despises the universal cry for "happiness! happiness! 
 happiness !" and this generation of immortal souls, religious 
 and irreligious, that have no higher end to aim at ! How 
 profoundly does he feel that all this cry and all this hot 
 pursuit are vain, necessarily, universally, eternally vain ! 
 
JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 that men cannot make themselves happy by any effort 
 directed to that end, that no improvement of circumstances, 
 whether affecting the body or the mind, can do it, that the 
 "practical philosophy" and the loudly lauded " enterprise" 
 of the age are destined to inevitable failure, and are fast 
 working out the demonstration of their insufficiency and 
 shallowness ! How clearly does he discern the shame and 
 desolation which are making haste to overwhelm " the wise, 
 the scribes, the disputers of the world" in these latter times, 
 as befell those of antiquity; " hath not God made foolish," 
 etc. But, sensible as he is of the " darkness," he will not 
 come to the "light." The only true wisdom is still foolish- 
 ness with men. % The one only Gospel, than which if any 
 man preach another, he is accursed this will not suffice. 
 And what is the new scheme ? Hear him : the latest 
 Gospel in this world is, " Know thy work, and do it. ... 
 All true work is religion. . . . Admirable was that of 
 the old monks, Laborare est orare work is worship." 
 Ah! if he had said "the work of the Lord," he would 
 have come nearer the mark, for God has said "// shall 
 not be in vain." And yet this would not be the proper 
 starting-point. Why will he not hear the gracious voice 
 of the only Saviour : " Come unto me all ye that labor and 
 are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" ? Give ! Ay, 
 there is the rub; then whose shall be the glory? Poor, 
 proud man, struggling for the light, yet loving darkness 
 better! If you have not seen the book, you'd better, should 
 it come in your way. 
 
 We make but little progress in the " Noctes," having 
 agreed not to read it except when the Conants are with us. 
 That German, which Prof. Conant's return was to trans- 
 mute with such marvelous facility into a vernacular dialect, 
 is all Dutch yet. Hows'ever, we have a weekly meeting, 
 and that furnishes a motive to get a weekly lesson, which 
 is a great advance for me. By the way, have you read 
 
HA MIL TON- DA YS. 117 
 
 Goethe's " Magician's Apprentice" (Der Zauber-lehrling] ? 
 If not, read it, and then try your hand at a poetical trans- 
 lation, preserving the spirit and meter of the original, and 
 when you are ready to give it up, call on me, and I will 
 send you one ! 
 
 Our clockwork on the hill is again wound up and going. 
 It strikes the hours as usual, with intolerable accuracy, and 
 "I obey its imperious requisitions," as Dr. Cox said, when, 
 just as he got fairly going, the clock told him to stop, 
 and I obey with about as bad a grace. But things are cer- 
 tainly running with admirable smoothness, and it is a pity 
 and a shame that all should be in danger of stopping for 
 the want of a little more grease on the wheels (a little more 
 grace also might be of some advantage). The Faculty, how- 
 ever, do begin to feel serious apprehensions lest our great 
 enterprise is to be arrested, if not wholly defeated, by the 
 want of the right kind and right measure of interest in 
 those who should sustain it. It is the deep conviction that 
 this danger exists, and that our chief security now, under 
 God, is the completeness and efficiency of our internal 
 arrangements. It is this mainly that has set my own mind 
 at rest on the question of leaving. 
 
 Good-by, dear sister, and brother, and all. I and mine 
 love thee and thine, and ever will so long as my name's 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 In trying to present a picture of those early days, 
 we may be forgiven for sharing with others a letter 
 written to meet a special personal want, and to supply a 
 knowledge of that distant time to the memory that 
 touches it so vaguely. None better knows the life 
 that we seek to follow, than the beloved sister whose 
 own was so closely inwrought with it. None can 
 better paint the days which, to those who faintly 
 recall them, have such a dream-like charm, or better 
 
Ii8 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 supply the links between the present and that far-off 
 past. 
 
 From MRS. JOHN T. HOWARD. 
 
 BROOKLYN, Nov. 5, 1879. 
 
 No, dear H., I cannot do it. It would be impossible for 
 me to exhume all the sacred nothings of the past, that go 
 to make up for me a treasure richer than gold or gems. To 
 the public they would be empty and void these precious 
 reminiscences of mine and they would add nothing to the 
 interest of the book you contemplate. To you, my dear, I 
 doubt not they are of interest, because you love me, and 
 connect me with your remembrances of your dear father. 
 I am willing to write of him to you, but not for " the hydra- 
 headed." Not that I despise it. No, I respect its claims, 
 and I honor its judgment too much to impose my chatter 
 upon its already overburdened soul. What I have written 
 is for you, and I send it more as an instigator to you, 
 another element in your mental atmosphere, than as any- 
 thing complete in and of itself. 
 
 It is about sixty years ago that my memory recalls a 
 plain and simple home, made bright with intelligence 
 and warm with love, presided over by parents whose 
 earnest and cheerful piety made the strongest impression 
 upon our youthful hearts. There was little personal 
 appeal or direct conversation on the subject of religion, 
 but we had the practical illustration of its influence and 
 power ever before our eyes. 
 
 Long before I could have been old enough to reason 
 about it, my feeling was that to be a Christian was to be 
 perfectly happy as happy as my father. The Sabbath 
 was the most radiant day of all the week to him " the 
 Lord's day," as he always called it with joyful empha- 
 
HA MIL TON DA YS. 119 
 
 sis. As he brushed his coat, and made preparation for 
 church, he sang snatches of hymns: 
 
 "Sweet is the work, my God, my King, 
 To praise thy name, give thanks, and sing." 
 
 " My God, the spring of all my joys, 
 The life of my delights." 
 
 The key-note was ever happiness and joy. On one 
 occasion I heard him singing these words : 
 
 1 Show pity, Lord; O Lord, forgive. 
 Let a repenting rebel live ;" 
 
 and I remember wondering why my father should sing 
 that, so strong was my childish faith in his saintship. 
 
 The eldest brother was but fifteen months older than 
 myself, and John, your father, was only eighteen months 
 younger ; consequently we three were very close com- 
 panions. A happy childhood has but few salient points; 
 it lies in the memory like a glowing atmosphere, rather 
 than as a picture of well-defined forms and colors. I 
 remember little but our playing and singing together 
 until I was about twelve years of age. The sudden 
 death of our mother then awoke me with a shock into a 
 sad consciousness of life, and of the possibility of sorrow. 
 At this time my elder brothers were both away from 
 home at school, at Hamilton, N. Y., and the remembrance 
 of that long lonely winter, and of my father's agony of 
 spirit, has never faded from my mind. The returning 
 spring brought back the two brothers, and hope and joy 
 sprang up within my youthful heart. 
 
 Ward appeared old and grave, and naturally became 
 the companion of our father, who confided to him all his 
 sorrows, and leaned upon his unusually mature judg- 
 
120 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 ment. John and I at once like "kindred drops" melted 
 into unison. In this connection an amusing incident 
 comes vividly to my mind. After the first few hours of 
 greeting were over, we went hand in hand to the book- 
 _shelves to examine the treasures old and new. As we 
 turned over and talked of one and another, I drew forth 
 a small bright-colored volume, exclaiming, " Oh, John, 
 this is an entertaining book!" He took it in his hand, 
 read aloud the title "The Adventures of a Donkey" 
 quietly and unsmilingly laid it down, and said, "I do not 
 read that kind of book much now." "What do you 
 read?" I askecl. "Well," said he, " Homer's Odyssey, 
 and other works of that nature." Perhaps you can 
 imagine how crushed and humiliated I felt. I remem- 
 ber now the sensation of the warm blood flooding my 
 cheeks as I meekly replaced the book, and inwardly con- 
 fessed myself trivial and inferior. You may also be able 
 to sympathize with my mood when about a week after 
 this conversation I was sent to find John and call him to 
 his dinner, he having failed to put in an appearance. I 
 searched the house in vain, and at length found him in 
 the garden, snugly ensconced behind the arbor, so intent 
 upon "The Adventures of a Donkey" that he was lost to 
 all sense of hunger or sound of dinner-bell. 
 
 My triumph was complete; and all trace of masculine 
 conceit from that time was mercilessly put down by faint 
 allusions to Homer's Odyssey. But the balance of pow- 
 er was pretty evenly maintained. No individual was per- 
 mitted long to enjoy the hour of triumph. The turning 
 back of that special joke upon myself I do not remem- 
 ber; but as 1 have given you one family picture, fairness 
 would dictate that you should have its pendant. There 
 is somewhere still extant, I believe, a sketch of me drawn 
 by your father's ready pencil. After our mother's death 
 the eldest daughter naturally became the feminine head 
 
HAMILTON DAYS. 121 
 
 of the household, and in this sketch she is represented as 
 seated by the fire in the family sitting-room, a basket of 
 freshly ironed clothes by her side for repairing, a threaded 
 needle in her hand, and across her lap several pairs of 
 mated stockings ready for mending but alas! above the 
 stockings, and hiding them from the sight of the young 
 housekeeper, is a large volume of Shakespeare, over 
 whose open page her head is bending in complete ab- 
 sorption. The picture was too true, and for many years 
 " Shakespeare and stockings" was a familiar by-word in 
 the household. But verily, " Time brings in his revenges," 
 and I have lived long enough to enjoy them. When I 
 see the modern young lady studying Shakespeare with 
 all her helps her commentators and her annotators 
 making her analyses, and coolly measuring her author's 
 heights and depths with her two-inch rule, without even 
 the pretence of a thought toward the family hose, I am 
 not so ashamed as I used to be of that picture of the young 
 girl of sixteen; for the stockings always did get them- 
 selves mended before Saturday night, and the Shake- 
 speare was enjoyed if not analyzed and synthesized 
 and "summarily comprehended." Blessed father! he 
 never allowed blame to fall upon me, nor would he per- 
 mit my elders to call that time wasted which was spent 
 in reading " nothing but poetry," as was the formula in 
 those far-away days. 
 
 At the time of the " Donkey " adventure, John must 
 have been about eleven years of age. From his earliest 
 youth, however, he was a genuine book-lover and book- 
 collector, and planned two book-cases for his treasures 
 when but a boy. How happy were those days in the 
 long, long ago, when a set of new books brought home 
 by him were gloated over by us together with as much 
 delight as any with which Charles Lamb and his sister 
 ever rejoiced over a piece of rare old china. He was 
 
122 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 deeply interested in Goold Brown's Grammar, when 
 not more than nine years of age. When he was just ten 
 years old his mother, wishing to reward some faithful 
 performance of duty, asked him to choose the book he 
 most desired. Without a moment's hesitation he selected 
 a long-coveted work on English grammar, the charms of 
 which were unrivaled by the most exciting tales, and 
 which he afterward treasured as our mother's last gift to 
 him. Grammar was indeed one of our standing subjects 
 for joke with John. How unmerciful was our raillery of 
 each other in those youthful days! Now that I know 
 more of the world and of human nature, I am astonished 
 that such sharp dealing did not produce resentment or 
 alienation. But it did not. A happy retort or a good 
 joke covered a multitude of sins of offense. Indeed, no 
 one thought of taking offense ; he that gave the best 
 reply was the "best fellow," and there was, I suppose, a 
 tacit understanding that the antagonism was all upon 
 the surface, while beneath lay an unvarying basis of the 
 truest love and respect. 
 
 When I was about eighteen years of age and brother 
 Robert twelve, we both became subjects of the x great re- 
 ligious revival which in 1830-31 swept over the land. 
 Then my heart awoke indeed, and my whole soul went 
 out for my brother John. He was at that time in col- 
 lege, and with all the pride of youthful intellect looked 
 down upon the unphilosophical excitement that agitated 
 the community. He believed in the dignity of human 
 nature, and thought it beneath man, made in the image 
 of God, to be so easily moved. He never said an unkind 
 word to me, or tried in anyway to influence my action; 
 but, without his saying it, I felt that he regarded the 
 whole movement as a mere temporary excitement. In- 
 stinctively I avoided much conversation with him upon 
 the subject; but night and day my prayer went up to God 
 
HA MIL TON DA YS. 1 2 3 
 
 on his behalf, and the consciousness that my life and 
 conduct was in some sort before him as evidence of the 
 power or weakness of Christian belief exerted in turn 
 great influence over me. 
 
 About three years after this time a letter from him 
 brought the glad tidings of his conversion at New 
 Haven, where he was then pursuing his studies in the 
 Law-school. In the interval I had become a wife and a 
 mother, and being at the head of a household I still felt 
 myself his elder. But the depth and fervor of John's 
 religious experience, the earnestness and enthusiasm 
 with which he at once devoted himself body and soul to 
 the work of Christ upon earth, the elevation of his 
 whole being, indeed, soon altered our relative positions. 
 My heart did him reverence, and he became my elder 
 brother, my faithful monitor, my blessed comforter, my 
 honored and beloved friend. He immediately resigned 
 the study of the law, for which he was by nature admir- 
 ably fitted, having the rare faculty of suspending judg- 
 ment until he had thoroughly considered every side of a 
 case, and went to the Theological School at Hamilton, 
 N. Y. 
 
 It is not necessary, and would be hardly possible even 
 to allude to the many interesting events that from this 
 time kept us in the most lively sympathy; his conflict of 
 mind upon the missionary project; his courtship and 
 marriage, which introduced to our family circle one of 
 the loveliest flowers that ever graced it; the birth and 
 sudden death of his first-born son, and births and deaths 
 in my own immediate household; in short, the varied 
 tide of life, which came rushing upon us both like a full 
 river. But, whether joy or sorrow was borne upon its 
 current, our hearts were still as one. 
 
 Now came the happy Hamilton days, the idyllic days 
 of which you ask to hear. Strange it seems, dear H., 
 
124 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 that you should not know more about Hamilton the 
 lovely village where upon the dawn of a 4th of July 
 morning, amid the ringing of bells and the roaring of 
 peaceful cannon, you first opened your eyes upon the 
 light. The ten succeeding years were bright and happy 
 years to me. Forced to seek a retreat from the heats of 
 the city with my little family of children, we went sum- 
 mer after summer for two months or more to Hamilton, 
 then a little green nest in the bosom of softly undulating 
 hills forest-crowned and, as it seemed to me, bathed in 
 ever-living light, so near they lay to heaven. True, I 
 have heard that frost. and snow, and rain and mud did 
 sometimes make their appearance, but in all my sojourn 
 there I never saw aught but grace, verdure, and beauty. 
 Our companionship consisted mostly of the professors 
 and their families; and the perfect freedom of our inter- 
 course, the absence of all formal conventionalities of 
 etiquette or dress, made our summers delightful as well 
 as restful. 
 
 Here I first became acquainted with Professor and 
 Mrs. Conant. The manner of our introduction was 
 amusing and characteristic of Hamilton ways. Your 
 father's library had overrun its bounds, and taken pos- 
 session of the adjoining hall. With book-shelves well 
 filled upon both sides, there was but a narrow passage- 
 way left between. 
 
 One morning I had strayed into this hall and was en- 
 joying the delicious air, perfumed with new hay, that 
 stole through the end window and blended itself with 
 the odor of Russia leather and books in general. I had 
 got hold of a volume of Kant, and was bending all my 
 mental energy to the understanding of a passage that 
 was far beyond me, and, being outwardly burdened with 
 half a dozen selected volumes under one arm, had sunk 
 down upon the floor, oblivious to everything around. A 
 
HAMILTON DAYS. 125 
 
 slight movement recalled me to consciousness, and look- 
 ing up I beheld a lady and gentleman regarding me 
 with an amused complacency. I sprang to my feet, and 
 your father, appearing opportunely at the study door, 
 introduced me to " Professor and Mrs. Conant." This 
 was the beginning of a golden friendship which for forty 
 years has run its course without let or hindrance with- 
 out the shadow of a cloud to dim its clarity. Dr. Co- 
 nant still survives, our loved and honored friend. Mrs. 
 Conant has passed onward, the first of our pleasant cir- 
 cle to be "called up higher." She was a woman whose 
 friendship was in itself an inspiration. To a full and 
 genial nature, and a mind rarely comprehensive and 
 enriched by the most generous culture, was added an 
 aptitude for the most noble and enthusiastic friendship. 
 To be all that was "lovely and of good report," it was 
 only necessary to gain a place in her heart. Every weak- 
 ness or blemish in a friend was overwhelmed in the ocean 
 of her love. Not many were admitted to her intimacy, 
 but how rarely privileged were the elect! Her vivacious 
 spirit enkindled the whole circle, which was in turns 
 electrified by her ready wit, touched by the tenderness 
 of her loving heart,-or moved to its depths by the ear- 
 nestness of her religious convictions. I count it an 
 honor to have been entered upon her list of friends, 
 and this also constitutes part of my debt of obligation 
 to my brother, for whose sake my claim was first ad- 
 mitted. 
 
 I know not how I can describe to you the pleasures of 
 those sunny days, or put into words the subtle enjoy- 
 ments that elude expression. The very simplicity that 
 was their charm forbids description. Professors Conant, 
 Eaton, Kendrick, Richardson, and Spear, with their fami- 
 lies, composed our pleasant and congenial circle in Ham- 
 ilton, to which in time were added Professor Bliss who 
 
126 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 married our sister Mary. Ann, the youngest of our group 
 and brother Robert, with their families. 
 
 Our general gatherings were informal and full of 
 interest, but the charm peculiar was in the unexpected 
 meetings. The strolls over the hills, and the mornings in 
 the open air under the beech-trees; the evening readings, 
 sometimes grave and sometimes gay when we were 
 eagerly scanning the pages of Blackwood for some new 
 poem fron\ Elizabeth Barrett, or joyfully seizing a new 
 volume from the " Great Unknown" the author of 
 " Waverley," or from Thackeray or Dickens. Later came 
 Tennyson; and one bright summer Arthur Hugh Clough 
 was the diamond that flashed across our path. What 
 merriment we had over his " Bothie of Tober na Vuo- 
 lich"! I seem yet to hear the chorus of laughter, from 
 deepest bass to highest treble, evoked by his pages. 
 How we enjoyed an occasional dip into Bozzy's " John- 
 son," the perfect abandon of the " Noctes Ambrosianae," 
 or the deeper tone of an evening with Shakespeare! 
 These, as variations from the frequent discussions among 
 the theologues over questionable translations of Scrip- 
 ture passages, or on differing views of doctrine. Our 
 themes of interest were various, and a hearty spirit of 
 kindess and good-will pervaded the entire circle like an 
 atmosphere: 
 
 " How calm, how cloudless, passed away 
 Our long, long summer holiday." 
 
 After his fifteen years at Hamilton and a professor- 
 ship of five years at Rochester University, your father 
 came back to his early Brooklyn home as President of 
 the Polytechnic Institute, and for eight happy years we 
 lived side by side, A door was cut through our connect- 
 ing piazzas that we might have free intercourse, and again 
 
HA MIL TON DA YS. 127 
 
 our daily life-streams blended. Happy years! did I say? 
 Yes, radiant with heaven's own light; though among them 
 is numbered the sad and shadowed year that saw the 
 light of life go out from both our households. In Octo- 
 ber, 1859, a happy party passed across our threshold, 
 full of hope and bright anticipations. My son and 
 daughter, and a bright young cousin, her companion, 
 started with my husband and myself on a voyage to Eu- 
 rope. The only sad drop in our parting cup was the 
 farewell to your father's family, who were watching over 
 their eldest son, then suffering from a long and wasting 
 illness. Our farewell to the dear boy we feared would 
 be a final one; but who could have dreamed that the 
 bright, beautiful girl, who ran back for one more last 
 word with the dying boy, was so soon to follow him, to 
 make her way also, though from a foreign country, to 
 the same "shining shore"! Before the close of that 
 week another procession issued from your father's door, 
 bearing all that was mortal of their son to Greenwood, 
 and leaving the parents under the deepest cloud of de- 
 pression they had ever known. The first letters we 
 received in London brought to us the sad tidings. Our 
 sympathies flowed back to our sorrowing ones, and 
 Annie's tears fell freely over the loss of this favorite 
 cousin. Dear child ! it was her last sorrow. The seven 
 succeeding months of her life were peculiarly happy. 
 Her gay and joyous spirit exulted in new scenes, and our 
 varied experiences of travel brought to her the most 
 exquisite enjoyment. After three months' sojourn in 
 Florence and Rome, she was very desirous of making a 
 little trip into southern Italy. In Naples she had a slight 
 attack of malarial trouble, but soon recovering we made 
 our way our bright and flowery way to Sorrento, Sa- 
 lerno, and Paestum, and returning reached Rome and 
 Florence in safety. In Venice she was again attacked 
 
128 JOHN IL RAYMOND. 
 
 with malarial fever. We pushed on to Milan, anxious to 
 be in northern Italy. Too late, alas! it proved for her. 
 In five days she succumbed to the disease, and fell asleep 
 to wake no more on earth. For her it was not death,, 
 but translation. She went to sleep smiling at the phy- 
 sician's assurance that she was better she awoke in 
 heaven. She had passed over the dark river without 
 consciousness. For her no farewells, no sighs for the 
 dear absent father, or the sister and brothers in her dis- 
 tant home. * Fair and bright as had been her dreams of 
 Italy, earnestly as she had longed in her days of illness 
 to enter the magnificent Cathedral of Milan, under whose 
 very shadow she was lying, what must have been her 
 joyful surprise as she opened her eyes upon the glories 
 of heaven! For her sake we could be almost willing to 
 bear the shock that paralyzed us. Mrs. Browning gives 
 expression to our thought: 
 
 " Well done of God! to halve the lot, 
 
 And give her all the sweetness. 
 To us the empty room and cot, 
 
 To her the heaven's completeness." 
 
 The charm of our travel was over, and sadly, yet with 
 a struggling submission to the will of "our Father," we 
 turned our faces homeward. And your father was ready 
 to administer comfort to us able through his own tears 
 to "see the victory from afar," even the victory that is 
 given to our faith in the unseen and eternal. Upon his 
 loving heart I leaned, and by reliance upon human love 
 learned anew to trust the Divine. 
 
 Your father was by nature so lovely and so just that 
 he was freely acknowledged to be the central influence 
 in our large family circle. Every debatable matter, 
 whether in the conduct of life, in religion, in science, in 
 esthetics, in politics or whatever might be the point of 
 
HA MIL TON DA YS. 129 
 
 difference was referred to him. Among the young 
 cousins nothing was more common than the remark, " I 
 will ask Uncle John," or the question, " Will you leave 
 it to Uncle John ?" and all were so sure of justice, of a 
 calm consideration of every side of a subject, that he was 
 the always-accepted referee. 
 
 His decisions were so free from passion, his knowledge 
 from assumption, his rebuke from asperity, that all will- 
 ingly deferred to his conclusions. I could give many 
 instances of his practical wisdom, and of the tact with 
 which he played mentor to me as well as to my children. 
 On one occasion, being thoroughly indignant at some 
 real or fancied wrong, now utterly forgotten, I wrote to 
 the offending party a letter giving a sharp and definite 
 expression of my feeling upon the subject. Inclosing 
 the letter in an envelope, I gave it to one of my children 
 to take in to Uncle John for his opinion. The child soon 
 returned, saying: "Uncle John says, now that you have 
 probably relieved your mind, you had better put this let- 
 ter into the fire." I paused a moment, then laughed, my 
 anger gone, and the letter died in the ashes of the grate. 
 But the lesson lived in my heart. I have burned other 
 letters since then, and have learned to wait awhile before 
 sending to any one words written under the spur of vexa- 
 tion. 
 
 In this connection a winter-evening scene comes to 
 my remembrance. I was sitting at twilight with my 
 daughter before a cheerful fire. A difference of opinion 
 had arisen between us, and we were discussing the mat- 
 ter rather warmly as mothers and daughters sometimes 
 do. The door opened, my brother entered, and Annie 
 exclaimed: "I will ask Uncle John!" "You may," I 
 replied, "and so will I." 
 
 He drew up a chair and seated himself between us, 
 looking smilingly from one to the other. " Uncle John/ 1 
 
130 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 said the maiden, "when a girl has come to be seventeen 
 years old, and is supposed to have a fair share of com- 
 mon-sense, do you not think she should be allowed to act 
 according to her own judgment of what is right and 
 what is proper?" "And, Uncle John," I continued, " do 
 you not think a girl of seventeen owes some deference to 
 the judgment and opinion of her mother?" For a mo- 
 ment or two he was silent as he sat looking intently 
 into the fire. Then, without a glance toward either of 
 us, he said: "Were I speaking to the young lady alone, 
 I should remind her of the wisdom that years and expe- 
 rience must have brought to her mother, and of the 
 mother-love that could have no motive but her highest 
 good. Were I speaking to the mother alone, I should 
 suggest that often the best way of bringing our children 
 to maturity is to grant them the freest exercise of their 
 powers, even permitting them to profit by their mistakes. 
 And to both I would say, that were each more anxious 
 to guard the rights of the other from infringement than 
 to maintain her own, there could never have arisen a 
 necessity for this question." Silence was our only reply. 
 We were answered wisely and well, and upon a princi- 
 ple so broad, unselfish, and noble as to include and settle 
 not only the momentary difficulty, but every possible 
 contingency of the future. 
 
 During the last fourteen years of his life he filled the 
 office of President of Vassar College. His official duties, 
 and the ardor with which he addressed himself to the 
 development of his high conception of the education and 
 elevation of woman, necessarily interfered somewhat with 
 his outward demonstrations of interest in family friends. 
 But how rich has been our enjoyment of his occasional 
 visits, how fair the sunshine that always entered with his 
 beloved presence! "Uncle John has come!" was never 
 .spoken but in a joyous tone, and with the fullest confi- 
 
HA MIL 7 'ON DA YS. 1 3 1 
 
 dence that whatever might be the avocations or even 
 embarrassments of the family for the moment, the an- 
 nouncement would be joyfully received. He could not 
 come at a wrong time he was so loving, so beloved! 
 
 I could not tell you the half that he was to me: how 
 he taught me to enjoy nature religiously ; how he led 
 me to appreciate the sentiment of instrumental music, 
 explaining in his own inimitable manner the de- 
 velopment of themes and the meaning of composers, 
 so clearly and poetically that it was equivalent to in- 
 troducing into my being a new faculty a power of cloth- 
 ing sounds with ideas thus enlarging for a lifetime my 
 capacity for refined enjoyment. There was in his mind 
 a native grace that led him instinctively to see and ap- 
 preciate everything that was beautiful, and an under- 
 standing that comprehended bearings to me obscure, 
 and I gladly learned of him. 
 
 How my whole life unrolls to my backward gaze! And 
 how in my many joys and my few great sorrows does 
 the image of this dear brother stand ever at my side! 
 In difficulties, how wise was his counsel; in bereavement 
 and sorrow, how tender and heavenly were his words of 
 comfort! After his death, which seemed to take a part of 
 my very life from me, I felt that I did not know how to be 
 calmed, until I heard some loving word from him, and ex- 
 claimed again and again, " Oh! if I could but have a letter 
 from brother John!" It was the first sorrow of my whole 
 long life borne without help from him, and the language 
 of my heart was, " How can I do without him? Who can 
 so gently and wisely lead my thoughts from the silent, 
 cruel grave up to those choral shining regions where I 
 do believe my parents and children live, where God my 
 Saviour reigns ?" A life, to me, without my brother John, 
 was a wholly undreamed-of contingency, and although 
 for the last ten years our intercourse has not been so fre- 
 
JOHN //. RA YMOND. 
 
 quent as in the years preceding, yet I knew that he was, 
 and that his heart was true to all earthly loves and friend- 
 ships, ever the same and unalterable. Why shall I not 
 think so still? Is he not the same, only more glorious, 
 "made perfect"? To realize our dear departed ones as 
 existing in a higher sphere and under nobler conditions, 
 helps our belief in God and heaven. They become to us 
 more than words, and consciously influence our after-lives. 
 One cannot easily yield to scepticism, or lose the hold 
 on eternal life, with a dear father gone from earthly 
 being, gone in the full ripeness of his mental powers, in 
 the full maturity of deep affections. Gone whither? Oh! 
 not into empty space, not merely to be resolved again 
 into the material elements. If, as the philosophers as- 
 sert, no particle of matter has been lost since the forma- 
 tion of the world, how can we believe that soul -proper- 
 ties, more precious than gold or rubies, will suffer loss, 
 or go out like an expiring wick when the earthly body 
 faints and fails ? No, dear H., let us hold on to this 
 precious faith of our fathers and our fathers' fathers, till 
 we also " appear in Zion, and before God." 
 
 S. T. H. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 
 
 ' 1 ^HE labors of those early years were brightened by 
 -L many joyful influences. But among all the sources 
 of comfort and cheer from which my father replenished 
 his strength, one ever remained the central fount. 
 Here all streams of refreshing met in one sweet con- 
 fluence. To the joys of Friendship had been added 
 the serene and satisfying delights of Home. Of all the 
 lights that fell upon his way, none shed a brighter 
 radiance than that which shone from his own fireside, 
 and none had more power to dispel the shadows from 
 his spirit. He was accustomed to attribute whatever 
 of good he might give to the world to the strength of 
 heart gained in this dear refuge, and we constantly see 
 how its pure happiness gave shape and significance to 
 his thoughts of the Heavenly Home. 
 
 To understand his full appreciation of this blessing, 
 we must go back to the time when he was without it, 
 in his first years at Hamilton. He had begun to 
 realize the incompleteness of life, when we find him 
 " sighing for the wings of a dove, or a lodge in some 
 vast wilderness, or one fair spirit for my minister, or 
 any other poetical expedient for escaping the loneli- 
 ness and perplexing cares of this dull world." 
 He continues: 
 
 I am weary of this old-bachelor life. It is a dog's life 
 
*34 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 no, not a dog's; that is a reflection on canine sagacity and 
 sociality : it is a log's life, if life that may be called which 
 life is none. O Solitude ! where are thy charms ? 
 
 Oar whole Faculty met last evening, for a delightful 
 gathering at Mr. Edmunds's. We have grown to a noble 
 circle, nine pair and an odd sheep. They laughed at my be- 
 ing an exception to the general rule, and seemed to consider 
 it a very unfortunate condition for me to be in. However, 
 I told them jthat they formed two opposite sides of a beauti- 
 ful arch, and that there must be an Odd Fellow for the key- 
 stone. But when I came back, alas ! from the merry scene 
 to my cold, dark, solitary, cheerless rooms, you may imagine 
 of whom and of what I thought. Oh ! how impatient do 
 I feel of the long and tardy-gaited time which must limp 
 tediously away before I, too, shall have a home cheered by 
 the light of loving faces and the music of affection's voice ! 
 
 He had first become conscious of this need on one 
 memorable morning when a new face appeared at the 
 breakfast-table, in the family where he boarded in 
 Hamilton. The tale of the breakfast-table never lost 
 its romance to his children, who delighted to hear 
 of the sudden conviction that startled him in that 
 prophetic hour, and of the knightly vow which he took 
 then and there. To the maiden of seventeen, absorbed 
 in the gayeties of a visit to that village-metropolis 
 of Letters and Learning, the reverend college-tutor of 
 twenty-three, who expected to " go on a mission," was 
 a paragon of ripeness and profundity who must forever 
 be an outsider to her bright world. It was more than 
 a twelvemonth before she learned what a different 
 destiny was in store. Two more years intervened 
 between their betrothal and their marriage in 1840, and 
 in the mean time his foreign missionary plans, through 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 135 
 
 the decisions of others, had been exchanged for the hopes 
 of the happy fame-field. While he was busy preaching 
 and teaching, his future wife was pursuing her studies at 
 the Utica Female Seminary, then at the height of its 
 prosperity and fame. There was abundant oppor- 
 tunity for letter-writing in the long interval. Great 
 was the mystery, in subsequent years, hovering around 
 a certain chest in our garret, known to contain our 
 father's letters of that period, until, having reached an 
 age of suitable appreciation, we were permitted to open 
 and read to our hearts' content. What a revelation of 
 pure delight, of kindly wisdom and youthful propriety! 
 a mountain-pile of information and advice on pretty 
 much every topic within the range of philosophy or 
 belles-lettres, beginning with the first he had ever 
 addressed to his fair correspondent, a marvel of 
 heights and depths. The theologic leaven had begun 
 to work in her youthful heart, when in riding one 
 evening over one of the beautiful hills that surround 
 the village, struck with the loveliness of the scene, she 
 exclaimed, " Oh, why did Eve sin !" and an answer to 
 the question furnished a theme for the twelve closely 
 written foolscap pages which constituted our father's 
 first " love-letter." Exceeded only by the stately 
 courtesy of our grandfather Raymond's letters to his 
 affianced bride, with their address of " Esteemed and 
 Honored Friend," my father's correspondence during 
 these two years offers a compendium of learned and 
 loving counsel on all possible subjects of womanly 
 culture, physical, mental, and moral, which is strongly 
 suggestive of his future mission. 
 
 A volume of his letters would hardly be complete 
 without specimens of these model missives, if each 
 
136 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 were not a volume in itself. In one, he enjoins her to 
 remember Jeremy Taylor's directions : " First, take 
 care of the soul; second, take care of the body; third, 
 take care of the mind." In another, he advises her to 
 cultivate sobriety, warning her against the dangers of 
 the levity which he has himself found a snare, and by 
 way of a salutary sedative, recommends her to pursue 
 the study of Greek, and to extend her readings in 
 mental and moral philosophy. One of the most 
 voluminous contains an elaborate discussion of the 
 problems propounded in her last ; and he writes patient 
 pages of argument to explain " Whether Man is not 
 distinguished from the brutes by Reason and Intellect 
 as well as by Conscience ; whether the moral sense is 
 only another faculty of the mind, or whether it consti- 
 tutes a third distinct and superior element possessed by 
 Man in his separate organization." She has asked 
 again: "If right and wrong reside in the intention, 
 since the intention is mutable, how can right and 
 wrong be immutable?" furnishing a text for more 
 abstrusenesses and all manner of delicate balancings and 
 fine dissectings of motive. 
 
 The health of the soul and that of the body are not 
 forgotten in his zeal for mental development. Many 
 rules are given for her religious guidance, and he 
 earnestly remonstrates against the overtaxing of her 
 physical strength, declaring that, " No gratification of 
 the pride can be cheaply purchased which -costs the 
 smallest sacrifice of health. Cheerfulness of spirits, 
 gracefulness of manner, freedom and force of intellect 
 (I had almost said purity of heart and enjoyment of 
 religion), all depend to a greater or less degree upon 
 the state of the physical system." 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE, 137 
 
 The ponderous pages are fortunately relieved by a 
 little playfulness and by much tender feeling, and he 
 sometimes diverts his logic to the proof of points of a 
 more personal interest. All breathe the same spirit of 
 consecration, and entreat her sympathy in the great 
 objects to which he is devoted. In all he longs for the 
 day when it will be a united service, as he chides "the 
 dull-paced hours that creep so slowly away, and must 
 creep, oh how many, and how long, before this separa- 
 tion is forever over?" 
 
 The " wished-for day" came at last, and the marriage 
 took place at Angelica, a picturesque town nestling 
 among the Allegany hills in western New York, then 
 the temporary home of my mother's parents, and 
 destined to become a gathering-place for their children 
 unto the third and fourth generations. A letter to his 
 father in Brooklyn, then living, gives an account of the 
 important event : 
 
 HAMILTON, May 24, 1840. 
 
 MY DEAR FATHER: ... I reached Angelica on Friday 
 the 8th inst. The wedding was fixed for the following 
 Tuesday, and I found no small stir among my cousins- 
 to-be, in preparation for the occasion. Notwithstanding 
 the earnest dissuasion of the good minister who married 
 us (a brother of Judge Hull), and the unconcealed prefer- 
 ence of both C. and myself for a plain and quiet wedding, 
 Mr. Morse had concluded that he could not have his only 
 daughter married without some public proof of his interest 
 and affection for her, and his views were fully and decidedly 
 seconded by his brother-in-law and partner (the Judge), 
 under whose roof they were living. Hence it had been 
 determined that the wedding must surpass anything which 
 those parts had ever known. And so the bustle of prepara- 
 
I3 8 JOHN H^ RAYMOND. 
 
 tion went on. " All hands engaged, the royal work grew 
 warm." I had not been there long before I caught the 
 infection, and became as much enlisted and industrious as 
 the most ardent of them all. On my wedding-day, I can 
 say with truth, I did a harder day's work than I had done 
 for months before. 
 
 At length the happy evening came, and the people 
 came, and the parson came, and we came with the rest, 
 and the ceremony was performed in the most approved 
 style. The minister's part especially was made exceed- 
 ingly interesting by Rev. Leverett Hull, an uncle and a 
 very able and pious Presbyterian clergyman, who reminds 
 you by his appearance, manner, cast of mind, and interest- 
 ing style of conversation, of our esteemed friend Dr. Car- 
 roll. After the ceremony came the congratulations and 
 usual et ceteras, and a most delightful evening, wholly dis- 
 appointing all my fears. Of the fine appearance of the 
 rooms, the splendor of the supper, the well-tempered hilar- 
 ity of the guests, what avails it to speak? Imagine such an 
 affair turning out in every respect as well as the nature of 
 it would admit, and you have the whole story. But what 
 of the bridal party all this time ? Well, they were as hand- 
 some and as happy as as as they are ever likely to be 
 again, and I trust not unthankful to the Giver of all good 
 gifts. 
 
 Wednesday we took to prepare for our journey, and of 
 course did not anticipate any calls, so that I expected to 
 write you before leaving Angelica. Before breakfast was 
 over, however, the young Angelicans began to flock in, and 
 it was soon announced that I must not expect to have it all 
 my own way, and our friends would not be satisfied with- 
 out at least a forenoon's ride with us. Accordingly, a 
 large party on horseback had been collected, with a carriage 
 for us, and no denial could be taken. 
 
 Bright and early on Thursday morning we started on 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 139 
 
 our journey in a private carriage, accompanied by two 
 cousins as far as Auburn, where we took the cars, arriving 
 in Utica on Saturday evening; and on Wednesday we 
 drove to Hamilton. During the whole time the weather 
 was delightful, and the country wore its freshest and most 
 lovely aspect. But all these things went but a little way, in 
 comparison with the joy which I felt in the attainment of 
 such a treasure as rny dear C. I feel more and more con- 
 fident, as I know more of her, that she is gold clear through, 
 and will wear brighter and brighter. In one respect espe- 
 cially I have great cause of thankfulness, that God has given 
 me a wife of sincere and settled piety, and possessed of 
 much of the spirit of entire consecration to Himself. What- 
 ever sacrifice I may be called to make as a servant of the 
 Lord Jesus, I have every reason to believe that instead of 
 increasing its weight, her cheerful, patient, self-forgetting, 
 and affectionate spirit will relieve me of more than half the 
 load. I cannot but feel confident that the affection which 
 I have given her in all the fervor of youth, will grow with 
 my growth, mature with my maturity, and fail only when 
 flesh and heart together fail, and the loved objects of earth 
 are lost amidst the opening solemnities of the eternal world. 
 As soon as we get a little more settled, you shall hear 
 from us again. 
 
 We are tempted to remember the promise and to 
 take a peep into the new home. The summer months 
 had rolled away, gladdened by the coming of the 
 summer visitors, and the first winter of wedded life 
 had begun: 
 
 To his ELDEST SISTER. 
 
 November 4, 1840. 
 
 I have had a foolish notion for two or three winters past, 
 that it would do me an exceeding deal of good to visit my 
 
140 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 old home in the season of snows and frosts and long even- 
 ings and fireside circles and comforts. But better than 
 that would be to have you here by my fireside yes, mine, 
 for I have one now and a dear one truly. But I remember 
 me that the whole aspect of things in my little study is 
 transformed since you were here. The light, cool, summer- 
 like air of the room has been exchanged for one of snug- 
 ness and comfort. It is astonishing what a change is made 
 by the carpet, with its dark, rich, brown colors. Then the 
 dark green of the Venetian blinds, in place cf the blank 
 canvas curtains which were there before, and above all, 
 a neat little Franklin stove, shedding its cheerful light and 
 genial warmth over all. In the corner, between the south 
 and west windows, is my old stand-up desk, covered with 
 the implements of toil. 
 
 Snug s the word to-night, unless " cosy" suits the matter 
 better. Without, the cold November rain is pattering stead- 
 ily ; within, the stove hums cheerily. C. is sitting on the 
 other side of the table on which I write, reading by the 
 same light, the dear old lamp that has so often shed its 
 steady and unfailing beams on my bewildered way. I know 
 you would like to drop in and finish the evening, and the 
 old arm-chair that stands leisurely toasting its shins before 
 the fire seems to say, " How joyfully I would receive her, 
 and make myself subservient to her comfort!" From over 
 either door, my Milton and Shakespeare look benignantly 
 and approvingly down on the peaceful scene. But my 
 little literary Cupids, alas ! for their melancholy fate. You 
 remember how they stood on the top of my book-case, with 
 studious eyes ever intent on book or tablet, silent but per- 
 suasive monitors, eloquent panegyrics of patience, assidu- 
 ity, and fixedness of purpose. " What though in solemn 
 silence" they sat continually, " in reason's ear they still" 
 uttered their voice, seeming to say perpetually, "not sloth- 
 ful in business." But alas! their silent eloquence is plunged 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 141 
 
 in profounder silence. The story of their untimely fate is 
 a short one, and "yes, madam, it shall be briefly told." I 
 had taken them down one day, while overhauling my 
 library. They stood below on the ledge of my book-case, 
 when a lumbering tome, the product of some heavy brain, 
 fell from my hands directly upon them. It was too much 
 for their fragile frames. It broke down their " physical con- 
 stitution," and they have never been able to resume their 
 studies since. Peace to their fragments ! 
 
 I am as busy as ever this winter. It is my lot again to 
 have the labor of organizing a new department. I hope, 
 however, it is the last change for a while at least, and I 
 have everything to' encourage me thus far. I have had 
 claims to urge in the Faculty, involving considerable change 
 in our internal arrangements, and have succeeded in carry- 
 ing every single measure I wished, and much more than I 
 had ventured to anticipate, so that now I have every oppor- 
 tunity for success in my profession. If I fail, it will not 
 be for want of a chance, but, by the Divine blessing, I do 
 not mean to fail. 
 
 This is but one of many glimpses of the peaceful 
 study where he had set up his literary gods, and where 
 he felt the spell of their benignant presence. He tells 
 us something of the studies which he pursued under 
 their tutelary watch : 
 
 HAMILTON, June 16, 1844. 
 
 This has been my busiest year. 
 
 I thought I had about reached the end of that most 
 tedious of all tedious labor, the daily preparation for 
 daily meeting a class, when you have to work against 
 time, and may not stop even to take breath because the 
 immediate business of the day is pressing. To be sure, 
 I knew that in the regular list of studies assigned to my 
 
142 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 charge stood " History of Literature," and the present 
 Senior Class was to begin the exercise. But I never 
 dreamed of any special difficulty. The subject was one 
 to which I had given considerable attention, at one time 
 and another, and the materials were so abundant. Alas! 
 I never stopped to think how the very copiousness of my 
 materials was to be the greatest of my troubles. 
 
 "What a delightful field you are in, this term!" said 
 Mrs. Conant to me the other day. " An ocean of sweets." 
 "Yes, madam, a billowy ocean, and as good a place to be 
 drowned in as any you will find." 
 
 My examinations have thus far been confined to the 
 remotest ages of antiquity, the earliest records of Chi- 
 nese, Indian, Egyptian, and Grecian literature, where all 
 is obscure and fabulous. All day long I wander amid 
 the fogs and mists of that dim twilight, striving to re- 
 duce to some intelligible shape the monstrous forms and 
 incredible events that surround me, and at night I lie 
 down to dream of Menu, and Job, and Con-fuh-tse, and 
 Thoth, and Orpheus, and pore with aching brow over the 
 mystic pages of some Sanscrit Shastra or Purana, over 
 sacred Shoo-king or the sage Choo-He, or over some up- 
 dug relic of hieroglyphic lore, in a " still-beginning, never- 
 ending " effort to determine whether the characters be- 
 long to the spfecies Demotic, Enchorial, Epistolographic, 
 Hieratic, Kuriologic, Symbolic, Tropic, Anaglyphic, or 
 ./Enigmatic rather inclining to think them the last ! 
 
 July 6//z. I just raise my head for an instant above 
 those billows, to say that deliverance has not yet come. 
 I struggle in deep waters, not, however, now, those of 
 the Mediterranean, but those of the German Ocean, or 
 North Sea. Is it indeed almost a month since I wrote the 
 above ? Since then I have traveled through more than 
 ten centuries of Greek and Roman literature, and am 
 now lost amid the thick darkness of the Middle Ages, 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 143 
 
 straying over the icy cliffs of Denmark, Norway, and 
 Iceland, and straining my vision backward into the mid- 
 night of the old Scandinavian mythology. I have be- 
 come deeply interested in these studies, more, I think, 
 than I ever was in any other. Bat it is hard work, after 
 all. And I daily wonder at my own ignorance, and groan 
 as I catch glimpses of what there is to be known. 
 
 He had felt much embarrassment from the inade- 
 quacy of text-books to meet his want, especially in the 
 teaching of English grammar, and he filled in the inter- 
 vals of his regular work with a grammar of his own 
 writing, which narrowly escaped the fate of publication. 
 We find reports of its progress running through his 
 correspondence : 
 
 To REV. GEORGE R. BLISS. 
 
 (Then preaching in New Brunswick, N.J.) 
 
 HAMILTON, Oct. 13, 1844. 
 
 DEAR BROTHER BLISS: You probably thought to excite 
 our envy by the glowing descriptions of your Jersey cli- 
 mate and your luscious catalogue of fruits and vegeta- 
 bles. " You prattle out of fashion and dote on your 
 own comforts." Have you had snow two inches deep 
 and heavy enough to break down the branches of the 
 forest with a noise like the feu-de-joie of musketry? We 
 have. But seriously, however much we might delight 
 to anticipate the comforts of your situation, we do not 
 "begrudge" them to you. We are glad to learn that 
 our good friends in New Brunswick appreciate so justly 
 the treasure we have lent them for a little season, and 
 are disposed to tender it with such generous care. We 
 are not surprised beyond measure that the radiance of 
 
J 44 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 merit should even have penetrated the opacity of Dutch 
 optics and forced a tribute from the lofty representatives 
 of Hyper-Calvinistico-Pedobaptistical divinity. May 
 no leaf fall from the chaplet of your glory, and your 
 shadow, doubtless augmented by the abundant provi- 
 sions in which you rejoice, never be less. 
 
 As for me, during the past summer I have known a 
 great deal more about labors than fruits or honors. I 
 took up the history of literature for the first time with 
 the Senior Class, and had, as you can well imagine, quite 
 enough to do to keep up with them through the year. 
 The exercise, however, was one of deepest interest to 
 me, and, I think, not wholly unsatisfactory to the class. 
 During the vacation, which has been a very pleasant 
 one, I have been at work more or less on my grammar, 
 and shall continue that piece of business at least through 
 the present term. I have got Part I., Phonology and 
 Orthography, arranged pretty much to my mind, and 
 shall proceed at once to Part II., on " Language Consid- 
 ered as Significant," w r hich will embrace three chapters: 
 the first containing an Analytical Outline of the whole sub- 
 ject; second, Synthetical View of Etymology; and third, 
 ditto of Syntax. Prosody will occupy Part III., under 
 which name, according to usage, I shall discuss a variety 
 of matter unessential to language, but pertaining to it as 
 accidents, ornaments, etc., etc. You perceive that a plan 
 of this kind will require in the filling up as full an exhi- 
 bition of the principles of general grammar as of the 
 peculiarities of the English. I justify the combination 
 in my Introduction by the argument that a correct sys- 
 tem of general grammar is the proper basis of every 
 particular grammar; and that this, although assured in 
 the grammars of ancient or foreign tongues, ought to be 
 fully exhibited in a grammar of the vernacular, because 
 the latter is the true starting-point of grammatical 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 145 
 
 study, and the most suitable occasion for imparting to 
 the learner the outlines of the general system. Said I 
 right ? . . . 
 
 You ask: "Don't you little un-Doctored men there 
 feel very small? I should think you would want the 
 departments separated now, and not expose yourselves 
 on the same platform with so many dignitaries." 
 
 My dear fellow, your question is as unintelligent as 
 (pardon me) it is impertinent. It betrays a strange 
 ignorance of the relations that bind us together. Know 
 you not, wise sir, that " we are a unit," and swim to- 
 gether on this " sea of glory"? And why should we 
 now, of all times, desire a separation ? Did the new 
 Corporal's wife " feel small," think you, when she an- 
 nounced to her clamorous brood (her light infantry) 
 that it was " only Daddy and Me " who in virtue of the 
 matrimonial oneness were in common illustrated by the 
 newly acquired distinction ? Did the Corporal's boots 
 "feel small" and wish to be off when the Corporal's cap 
 came to be surmounted by the official feather, or did the 
 Corporal's sword sneak into its scabbard because, for- 
 sooth, it hung beneath the gilded upperlettes ? Odi profa- 
 num vulgus, et arceo i.e., you are a common fellow, 
 odious, vulgar, and profane, and your frivolity is un- 
 seemly and offensive. Think what a " Faculty" page 
 we shall be printed on in the next catalogue, with four 
 pairs of those semilunar coruscations a-gleaming at our 
 head, truly "an army with banners" (vexilla sublatissima). 
 The vision is inspiring, and thus saith my Muse: 
 
 D. D. 
 
 O Dainty Diagraph! Delicate Device! 
 Deathless Distinction's Double-Diadem! 
 Divine Devotion's Dignified Disguise, 
 And Doughty Dominie's Delicious Dream! 
 
146 JOHN If. RA YMOND. 
 
 Dead as a Defunct Dutchman that Dumb Donkey is, 
 Whom ye Do not Delectate, Darling, mellow- D's! 
 Dapple our Digs with Decorations Dear, - 
 Dazzle the eye, and Detonate the ear. 
 No Demon thy Dilated Disks shall Dim, 
 Or Demigrate thy Dualistic gleam; 
 No Dagger-tongued Detractors thy Designs Defeat, 
 No Dull, Demented, Demi-Dunces e'er Delight. 
 Dire, Dire shall be their Doom who Dare Defame, 
 D,readful their Death, and Desolate their name! 
 Down to Damp Ditches shall their Dust Descend, 
 And Dark Destruction be their Dismal end. 
 
 How is that blessed sister of mine; and how does she 
 like the pastoral life? Ah! come back to our green fields 
 and be at rest. C. sends heaps of love, and so does 
 Your affectionate brother 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 To REV. ROBERT R. RAYMOND. 
 
 HAMILTON, July 5, 1845. 
 
 MY DEAR "PASTOR FIDO:" (Don't say I called you 
 "dog;" that's Italian,) It is my clear impression that I 
 do not correspondentially owe you one, because, look 
 you, that last of yours was written on business and as a 
 matter of necessity. Were it the most precious specimen 
 of fraternality ever spontaneously developed, it was more 
 than answered by the personal visitation which I have 
 since made to your parts. But "we be brethren," and 
 in these little affairs you will always find me disposed to 
 act liberally. 
 
 A letter just received from S. tells me that your mind 
 is made up to old Union and the Semi-centennial this 
 summer, and that you mean to meet me there, and after- 
 ward make your visit here, like a man. So far, good! 
 If you have fully conceived the idea, I need waste no 
 time in pointing out the grandeur, the glory of it. We 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 147 
 
 shall embrace each other in the bosom of alma mater 
 I feel sure of it. 
 
 What do you think I am so busy about this summer? 
 I am hammering away at "that grammar," and the way 
 the chips fly is a caution. But oh, it's "chaos come 
 again:" I am still floundering in the morasses of English 
 phonology and orthography. But I am in it for now, 
 and sink or swim, survive or perish, I must on. Who 
 knows but I am doomed to a life of drudgery in the 
 mines of philology and grammar ? Years of it I must 
 anticipate at the very least. Pity and pray for me that 
 what little remains of the juice of intellectual and spirit- 
 ual life may not be dried up in the process. I do seri- 
 ously feel the work of exsiccation begun. My religious 
 experience for the past year has been singularly dull, for 
 other reasons, probably, as much as for this. My in- 
 creased responsibilities in the institution, while favora- 
 ble in some respects, tend to absorb my thoughts more 
 entirely in worldly cares and objects, and so to deaden 
 my feelings to spiritual themes. But I am not contented 
 to let it remain so longer. I want to get back to the 
 Saviour's feet, and to enjoy once more his favor, which 
 is life, and which triumphs over all outward hindrances 
 to progress in spiritual knowledge and grace. This is 
 one reason why I want you to come and make me a long 
 visit, and I hope you will come in a frame of mind that 
 will enable you to assist me, that the opportunity may 
 be one on which we shall look back with great delight 
 and with gratitude to God, who has made us possessors 
 of like precious faith and helpers of one another in the 
 upward path. In this wish I know my dear C. will 
 heartily unite. We both need quickening anew, and 
 shall hope much from a few weeks' intercourse with a 
 brother fresh from the field of Christian labor, and from 
 daily study of the word of God. And then we must 
 
148 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 overhaul one another's notions on a variety of subjects 
 that have come up since we last met, and on which we 
 may now but will not continue to differ. 
 
 Till then, farewell, with many, many loves for yourself 
 and all the dear ones round you. 
 
 The expected visit took place, and we may have a 
 glimpse of the fraternal greeting: 
 
 HAMILTON, Aug, 26, 1845. 
 
 This is the first day in which I have sat down in my 
 study, with any of the feeling or the fact of leisure, since 
 four weeks previous to our anniversary, when I was sit- 
 ting (just as I am now) at my little table, and calmly 
 nibbing my pen to perform this very epistolary act, 
 when ! You see I had reluctantly given up my cher- 
 ished project of attending the Union Festival at Sche- 
 nectady, for the very purpose of doing up several little 
 items of business, so as to have the full comfort of 
 Robert's visit. I expected him the next evening cer- 
 tainly, and there were two or three letters and a prom- 
 ised article for one of our literary societies which must 
 be completed before his arrival, and I felt just like do- 
 ing up the work like a man, when rap, rap! goes the 
 knocker the door opens. Heavens, whose voice is that? 
 It's Bob's, as I'm a tea-pot ! Away goes pen and paper, 
 away go all thoughts of the absent, away goes the pro- 
 fessor, and in one short no-time the affectionate brothers 
 rushed into each other's embrace. The fellow, finding 
 that I was not to be at Schenectady, had taken the cars 
 at 9 on Tuesday evening, and arriving at 4 next morn- 
 ing, had engaged a buggy and driven, nor paused in all 
 his course, until he stood before the green door of my 
 humble cottage and looked through two pairs of gold 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 149 
 
 rims into fraternal eyes. He read a welcome there, I can 
 assure you, and the rest need not be told. I find my 
 business (save and except what could not be put off) 
 just where I left it on that memorable morning. 
 
 To Rev. GEORGE R. BLISS. 
 
 HAMILTON, Nov. 10, 1845. 
 
 Yesterday was a memorable day for us, and witnessed 
 a scene that will live imperishable in the recollections of 
 many. Having appointed the afternoon as the time for 
 organizing our infant church, we were anticipating a day 
 of solemn interest, and you may judge what a thrill ran 
 through my breast on receiving early in the morning a 
 notice from Dr. Kendrick, informing me that Dr. Judson 
 was at his house (having arrived the preceding evening, 
 not merely unexpectedly, but wholly contrary to our 
 expectations), would remain through the day only, and 
 would see the Faculty at 9 o'clock in the morning. We 
 accordingly had a delightful interview with that apos- 
 tolic man at Dr. K.'s study. I had been led to expect an 
 inferior-looking man, but was most agreeably disappoint- 
 ed. Rarely have I seen a countenance or a mien more 
 expressive of true intellectual and moral greatness. Re- 
 finement in every feature, indications of suavity and 
 firmness most strikingly blended, and a certain indescrib- 
 able expression of Christian simplicity, godly sincerity, 
 sobriety, and sweetness thrown over the whole man like 
 a celestial robe. His smile struck me as singularly 
 significant and lovely, diffusing its sudden light over his 
 dark and profoundly serious features, like sunshine 
 breaking through the rifted clouds. His conversation 
 was to me as delightful as his personal appearance was 
 impressive, and as I looked on the man, and all the 
 
150 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 startling and romantic incidents of his wonderful life 
 passed in review before me, and I thought how unsought 
 and apparently unprized was all the eminence to which 
 his modest and laborious career had brought him, I felt 
 impressions of admiration and love surpassing any with 
 which I ever remember to have looked on man. In the 
 forenoon we worshiped together in the village, Mr. S. 
 preaching and afterward acting as interpreter or mouth, 
 for Dr. Judson, in some sweet remarks expressive of 
 gratitude to the churches for their generous support (!) 
 and of profound grief and shame "before God and man" 
 for the poor use he had made of their benefactions ! 
 
 In the afternoon we met on the Hill. Remarks by Dr. 
 Kendrick, followed by a ten-minute sermon on the 
 theme " Look to Jesus" (deeply affecting), and closed by 
 Dr. Maginnis, in his happiest vein. We afterward 
 assembled in my recitation-room to organize the church, 
 and closed with prayer by Dr. Judson. It was a remark- 
 able scene when he stood up with ^streaming eyes to 
 invoke the divine blessing on this infant church of the 
 Lord, and all gathered close around him and bent our 
 ears to catch his whispered words. We felt that the 
 occasion was rendered more impressive and memorable 
 by his presence, and true spiritual prospects of the church 
 were brightened by his prayer. Dr. Judson expressed 
 himself greatly pleased by what he saw, "a wonderful 
 school," and said that he had had no such visit since his 
 arrival in America. 
 
 To Rev. GEORGE R. BLISS. 
 
 March 2, 1846. 
 
 Dr. Arnold says, you remember, that there is no good 
 excuse for neglecting one's correspondence with one's 
 friends, and that such negligence is always to be attri- 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 151 
 
 buted to sheer indolence or thoughtlessness. I have no 
 doubt that this is the true doctrine on the subject, often 
 as I have to make excuses for delay. Wherefore, having 
 taken my pen so promptly this time, I burn with virtu- 
 ous indignation against all dilatory letter-writers, and 
 glow with genial self-complacency in the consciousness 
 of supreme merit. Kai GV noiei O)J.OIGO$ xaScoZ /xei$ 
 rvTtov t/^dZ. 
 
 You see by my Greek that I have read Dr. Arnold's 
 letters to some purpose(!) By the way, Arnold was a 
 delightful fellow, wasn't he ? Rather fast to be safe, per- 
 haps ? Race-y, as well as racy, eh ? What an idea of 
 the church ! "a brave man struggling in the toils of" 
 superstition. Longing for liberty, but missing the way 
 out. 
 
 Your long-looked-for letter came at last, and well 
 came. The only fault I had to find was that after wait- 
 ing so long, one has to put up with so little. A letter- 
 sheetful of conversation once a quarter, with you, is 
 just enough to give edge to my discontent, and make me 
 long for opportunities to talk, or, better, to hear you talk 
 on the subjects which you have just room to touch on, 
 and a thousand more of equal interest. Methinks (and 
 as Carlyle sa'ys, mefeets) that I would willingly part 
 with six months of ordinary life, for one good week's 
 visit with you. But for the full enjoyment of friendly 
 intercourse, for the free, uninterrupted, unrestrained 
 intercommunion of thought and soul, I suppose we must 
 be content to wait until we get Home, " where the wicked 
 cease from troubling." Meanwhile, we have something 
 else to do than talk or even think and search for truth. 
 Work, work, work. " Know your work and do it." Car- 
 lyle's latest new gospel is (as you and I know well 
 enough) only a part, but an important part, of our pre- 
 cious old Gospel, and, rightly understood, the most im- 
 
152 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 portant part. For " our work" is the " work of the Lord," 
 and the work of God is to believe on Him whom He has 
 sent, and to keep His commandments, and (delightful 
 service !) " to make known His way upon earth." " Let 
 us therefore be steadfast, immovable, always abounding 
 in the work of the Lord, knowing that our labor is not 
 in vain in the Lord," not fruitless either for ourselves or 
 others. What a blessed assurance, in a world where 
 everything seems so hollow and worthless, where things 
 seemingly so pregnant with blessings bring forth only 
 wind, or at least, like Macbeth's "juggling fiends that 
 palter with us in a double sense," " but keep the promise 
 to the ear and break it to the heart." Faithful in this 
 cause, we are disappointment-proof nothing can cheatv 
 us out of our great reward. 
 
 I have had an opportunity to try my hand this winter 
 at a kind of business which is to me somewhat new I 
 mean, academical discipline. We have had a case of a 
 tedious and difficult kind a conscientious (!) wrong- 
 headed and wrong-hearted fellow, who felt bound, as a 
 faithful servant of the Lord, to find all the fault and 
 make all the difficulty he could, and to get as many as 
 possible to help him the very worst kind of rebel, and 
 requiring peculiar treatment, in order to dispose of him 
 without sacrificing his less criminal confreres. Now, so 
 it fell that the management of the case devolved on me. 
 Professor Taylor used to do up this kind of work, and so 
 ably that we have felt considerable anxiety lest we of 
 the Literary Department should find it difficult to do 
 without him. It was rather a hard nut for a youngster 
 to crack, but I paid attention to it, and have no reason 
 to complain of a want of appreciation of my performance, 
 among either Faculty or students. I really began to 
 think that I had more taste for this kind of business than 
 I ever imagined before. I have always feared my back 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 153 
 
 was not stiff enough to grapple a real hard one success- 
 fully, but I find when one's blood gets a little warmed, 
 one's faculties work more sharply, and I think I should 
 rarely meet with a worse test case than this. 
 
 To his SISTER. 
 
 (Called to the Presidency of Granville College?) 
 
 HAMILTON, April 7, 1846, 
 
 DEAR S. : We have just been reading your hasty letter 
 to Mrs. Conant, and unanimously vote it " first rale." You 
 can't think how a slight flush of " indignation or something 
 of that nature" sets you off. It lights up your whole air beauti- 
 fully, and concentrates into vivid forked lightning-flashes that 
 wit which otherwise might have played over the page with the 
 aimless languor of the summer heat. I used to be terribly 
 scared at the occasional developments of this electrical 
 inspiration, but I have looked upon so many without hurt 
 to a hair of my head, and have seen so many pass by, 
 leaving the face of the firmament as serene and lovely as 
 ever, that I have ceased to fear. 
 
 Seriously, dear S., if you imagine that I had come to the 
 conclusion that I ought to stay at home, without many a 
 pang, you did me great injustice, for I never could contem- 
 plate the necessity without a feeling of impatience, that it 
 required all of principle that I possess to subdue. 
 
 As to Mrs. Conant's visit to Brooklyn, this Spring, I am 
 afraid that it can't be had the wherewithal being no- 
 where-at-all. She talks about it with tears in her eyes, and 
 as though her mouth sympathized with them in their watery 
 estate ; but the estate wont liquidate the expenses, and so 
 poor Hope is put off until the Fall. And now if you have a 
 heart to resent it, the Lord forgive you ; but as to your 
 staying away this Summer, it is not so, and it can't be. 
 Just remember. This may be the last opportunity you will 
 
154 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 have to see us in Hamilton, for what would you think of my 
 accepting the presidency of Granville College, Ohio? I 
 have just received an official communication from the Trus- 
 tees, and may have it if I will. Madison University would 
 doubtless suffer, should 1 leave ! Dr. Kendrick assures me 
 that she could not recover the blow in five years ! But then 
 on the other hand, there stands " the great State of Ohio," 
 waiting for some one to take the helm and guide her on to 
 glory. But heigho! the question has got to be seriously 
 considered, though I thus trifle with it, and considered, too, 
 by myself. And what shall I say ? Pray for me, my dear 
 sister, that in this, as in every action of my life, I may do not 
 my own but the Master's will. 
 
 Have you heard the rumor of a matrimonial engagement 
 between Dr. Judson and Miss Chubbuck ("Fanny Forrester?") 
 Do you know that it is true ? If it is not known in Brook- 
 lyn, keep it quiet, for it will doubtless occasion much dis- 
 cussion. When it begins to be talked about, say on my 
 authority that there are much weightier reasons for such a 
 connection than the world (or the church) will be likely to 
 suppose, and that though remarkable, it is by no means 
 wholly unsuitable. 
 
 To Rev. ROBERT R. RAYMOND. 
 
 HAMILTON, Nov. 16, 1847. 
 
 I am deep in philological ethnology this winter, and am 
 fast becoming acquainted with every blessed language, 
 dialect, idiom, and tongue, and all the families, tribes, stocks, 
 branches, divisions and subdivisions thereof, spoken under 
 the whole face of the heavens, with their names, I mean. 
 Save me from knowing all their ridiculous quail-tracks ** by 
 sight" and their worse than ridiculous gibberish by hearing. 
 All this, of course, has a remote bearing on " The Grammar," 
 and I should not dare to say that I have not found it deeply 
 interesting. 
 
EARLY MARRIED LTFE. 155 
 
 My book advances slowly on the " productive" plan, as 
 Roswell Smith calls it. When shall the end be ? I read to 
 Prof. Kendrick my " Introductory Outline" the other day, 
 in which I have laid the foundation for my whole system. 
 When I had finished, the Professor brought down his hand 
 with emphasis on the table and exclaimed, "You will effect 
 a revolution in -the study of grammar." "Sir," said I 
 (rather Johnsonically, you perceive), "you speak the language 
 of my ambition's hope." My better judgment, of course, 
 tells me that neither the suggestions of young ambition nor 
 the decisions of a partial friend are to be trusted in such a 
 case. But it is not in my nature not to feel encouraged by 
 such an expression from one whose opinion on such a sub- 
 ject is so worthy of respect. 
 
 Have you read " Modern Painters," one of Wiley and 
 Putnam's last' Summer's publications ? If not, get it by all 
 means. It will cost a little attention at first, but as soon as 
 you have pierced the shell, and see what the author is at, it 
 becomes easy reading, and is to me as delightful as it is 
 instructive in all the practical mysteries of landscape- 
 painting. As a guide to the observation of nature, and an 
 instructor in the criticism of this particular branch of art, I 
 know of nothing to compare. A dashing, immature book 
 in some respects, but full of philosophy and science and 
 thought, and fine specimens of expression. 
 
 .... The article on "Truth" in the last number of the 
 Christian Review, is from Dr. Eaton, have you read it? 
 Have you compared Conant's and Stuart's translations of 
 Rodiger's Gesenius ? They offer a perfect contrast in man- 
 ner, as you may suppose. Stuart makes not the most 
 distant allusion to Conant's beautiful version of Gesenius, 
 and (so far as "silence" can be made "expressive") mani- 
 fests supreme contempt for him and his claims. And yet 
 his own book is a perfect abortion, full of the most stupid 
 and (fortunately for Conant's purpose) ludicrous blunders. 
 
156 JOHN H. R-A YMOND. 
 
 The doctor has in pickling a most awful flagellum. He 
 thinks old Moses never had his " will broken," and the time 
 has come when it must be, or his neck. So look out for 
 breakers. Conant's publishers, the Appletons, have called 
 on him for information as to the precise point of difference 
 in the character of the two books, and the grounds on which 
 they may claim superiority for his. His answer will be 
 printed in. pamphlet form, and probably make the ears of 
 every one that heareth to tingle, and of some, to smart. 
 Stand by for a crash ! 
 
 [The pamphlet was duly issued in 1847, entitled, 
 " Defence of the Hebrew Grammar of Gesenius against 
 Prof. Stuart's Translation. By the Original Translator" 
 (Prof. Conant having seven years previously introduced 
 the admirable German work of Gesenius to English 
 scholars in America and England). The result of the 
 " crash" was to put a quietus on the later and less care- 
 ful book. Dr. Conant always freely accorded great praise 
 to the philological enterprise of Prof. Stuart as the pio- 
 neer who introduced the fine influence of German schol- 
 arship into the study of Hebrew in this country, despite 
 the fears and suspicions of the orthodox. But when 
 that enterprising spirit culminated in a crude and care- 
 less re-translation of a work which had been already 
 presented in English by himself, and widely known as 
 both accurate and adequate, Dr. C. took up the cudgels 
 on behalf of the author whom he believed to be mis- 
 represented by the new version.] 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 HAMILTON, Nov. 21, 1846. 
 
 And so, Carissime Prater, you took it somewhat hard 
 that I should remain a day longer in Brooklyn, and then 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 157 
 
 return home without stopping at Hartford. But do you 
 well ? Think of me. Was it no privation to me, to feel 
 absolutely obliged to forego that pleasure ? If you took 
 it hard, be assured I took it harder. Just imagine the 
 feelings with which I whizzed by the fraternal manse 
 so near that, had the window-blinds been open, I might 
 have looked in upon the dear circle there; so near that I 
 almost seemed to catch the savory vapors of the parson's 
 waiting cheer; so near but let me forget that ! 
 
 I learned at Brooklyn of the new plans which you have 
 under consideration, and cannot but hope that a change 
 of scene and an ultimate change in the place, and per- 
 haps in the form, of your labors will restore your wonted 
 health. How I wish we could be together, not for a few 
 fleeting hours or days, but "for good and aye." Is it 
 not possible that we may get yet together, all of us, to 
 live and labor in one place and what place so suitable 
 as the old home? Or is this only one of those dreams of 
 earthly rest and enjoyment which it is so foolish to in- 
 dulge, but so impossible to drive away ? The thought 
 of your /^-migrating to the old spot quickens the blood 
 in my veins, and my heart will be asking : Why may not 
 I go too? I like the idea of your taking hold of a New 
 York religious paper. It would afford you a fine field, 
 and one which you could not fail to occupy successfully. 
 With you at the helm of hebdomadal influence, we should 
 feel strong here. 
 
 Some weeks ago I delivered a hasty address to the 
 Society of Inquiry on " Christian Union" (the Scriptural 
 and only true idea thereof), a train of thought suggested 
 by the recent talk and movements on that subject. It 
 was well received, and requested for publication in the 
 Christian Review. I consented to revise it for the pur- 
 pose, but conscious of my want of sufficient acquaint- 
 ance with the literature and history of the subject, I be- 
 
JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 gan to read. One thing led to another I became inter- 
 ested in the whole field of investigation into which I had 
 been so unexpectedly introduced, and I soon found that 
 instead of one I had twenty problems for solution, each 
 branching off into as many different directions, and all 
 inviting to thorough and protracted study. As my re- 
 marks bore mainly upon outward unity (so much under- 
 valued by. Protestant writers), I have been drawn into 
 examining the whole subject of church organization 
 "a mighty maze," as human reason has exhibited it 
 and yet, thanks to the providence of the great Architect, 
 " not without a plan," and a very simple and an equally 
 glorious one, if we would be content to exchange our 
 imposing but shallow devices for that unpretending 
 scheme which is so full of the meekness and the majesty 
 and power of its Infinite Author. From what little J 
 have now read and thought on the subject I am satisfied 
 that it is susceptible of a more effective exhibition than 
 it has yet received, one which should through and 
 through 
 
 "Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, 
 If they would patiently receive the medicine." 
 
 But mind, I don't expect to make such an exhibition just 
 yet. My article, which I call "Perfect in One," touches 
 but a single point namely, that the Scriptural plan 
 requires some outward unity of organization (as well as 
 an invisible spiritual unity), without attempting to deter- 
 mine what is the form of that unity. I write in opposi- 
 tion to the popular indifferentism on the subject, and to 
 show that indifferentism is not Scriptural and cannot 
 afford a sufficient basis for a Catholic union of Chris- 
 tians. If you know of any recent publication in which 
 that specious doctrine is broached, I wish you would 
 send me a copy. Has any fuller account of the pro- 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE, 159 
 
 ceedings of the Evangelical Alliance been published 
 than appeared in the New York Observer? And has 
 Dr. Cheever's sermon at the dedication of Pilgrim 
 Church been put in print? If so, I should like to get 
 hold of both. 
 
 But I must close. I will not undertake to tell you 
 " how greatly I long after you all, because I have you in 
 my heart." Particularly since I heard of Robert's con- 
 tinued ill-health I have felt as though I wanted wings to 
 fly to you, that I might see exactly how things stood 
 with you and know what opinion to express as to the 
 future. As it is, dear brother and sister, I can only 
 commend you to the care and guidance of our heavenly 
 Father, and entreat you, dear Robert, to be prudent. 
 If there is any danger of a seated disease, do not in- 
 crease the danger by unnecessary exposure or labor. 
 Would not a jaunt to Hamilton do you good? 
 
 How are your chick-a-dees? Tell them if they forget 
 their uncle they'll get a terrible smacking. 
 
 With love evermore, 
 
 I rest, thy brother, JOHN. 
 
 The quiet life at Hamilton was almost over. The 
 question was agitated of removing the University to a 
 new and more prominent location, nearer the great 
 currents of business enterprise, and many of its best 
 friends were in favor of the change. Prof. Raymond 
 was, from the first, one of its strongest advocates, and 
 perhaps no one did more than he towards the final 
 arrangement. The measures necessary to secure an 
 act of the State legislature authorizing the removal 
 of the University to Rochester, labors to prevent the 
 repeal of that act, to secure another act granting a new 
 charter, and the effort to raise a new endowment fund 
 
160 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 all involved much energetic action. It was just the 
 stimulus that he welcomed ; and the natural opposition 
 which the movement met from those of differing views 
 gave opportunity to his special gifts, whether for hon- 
 orable warfare or skillful adjustment. 
 
 Aside from his earnest conviction that the Baptist 
 University of the State should have a more advan- 
 tageous location, it was perhaps not unnatural that, 
 after fifteen years of unremitting work in the same 
 limited field, he should have labored under a feeling 
 of personal restlessness. This was at all events an 
 experience repeated at subsequent stages of his labors, 
 when, the difficulties of organization being conquered 
 and the machinery being completed and set in perfect 
 working order, both health and spirits sank beneath 
 the pressure of protracted routine work. His elabora- 
 tion of every plan was carried into the minutest detail ; 
 but when it was at last complete he sought a new Idea 
 to work for. He seemed to need the inspiration of a 
 broad plane of action, something to employ what ap- 
 peared almost a creative talent. The absence of this 
 incentive, together with the overtasking of strength and 
 nerves in long-continued confinement to desk or class- 
 room, can alone explain the moods of depression which 
 offer such a paradox to his habitual cheerfulness. It 
 is but fair to say how few there were who ever knew 
 of them, even among his inner circle of friends. The 
 universal testimony is to the joyousness and even 
 mirthfulness of his nature. We are taken into his 
 deepest confidence in his letters to the sister-confessor 
 whose ear was ever open to his outpourings. The 
 correspondence with her during the last years at Ham- 
 ilton betrays the disquiet which we can easily forgive 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 161 
 
 when we see how quickly it yields to the slightest 
 cheering influence : 
 
 HAMILTON, October 23, 1847. 
 
 You know how often I have had a depression of feel- 
 ing, from the extreme loneliness and inactivity of our 
 secluded place, especially when returning to it from the 
 bustle and vivacity of the great cities and thoroughfares 
 from which we are so effectually cut off. This painful 
 feeling never weighed more heavily on me than when 
 coming home this fall, and as I lumbered and jounced 
 along over a wretched road in a miserable old stage- 
 coach, from 3 P.M. until after midnight of a cold, wet 
 night, my only consolation was that there was some 
 prospect of an effectual and permanent change. And 
 most devoutly did I pray for the success of all measures 
 tending thereunto. 
 
 The folks had all retired, giving me up for the night. 
 But I found a warm stove and a big arm-chair and some 
 nice biscuit and butter, and all the precious et ceteras 
 that make up tht blessedness of " home, sweet home," 
 and as I looked round on the familiar objects and felt 
 myself once more in the embrace of Home, I could not 
 without some twinges of compunction recall the feeling 
 of discontent and the thoughts of change which I had 
 been indulging, but which now fled before the genial 
 vision like scared ghosts and goblins, at the breaking of 
 dawn. The ugly phantoms have not " protruded" them- 
 selves (Dr. Cox) on my musings since. 
 
 Our present house is very comfortable, and we enjoy 
 its ample rooms; but it is a little hard to transfer our 
 affections from the dear old cottage. We are more 
 reconciled to the change since the Conants have estab- 
 lished their domicile there. It is really pleasant to have 
 them so near at hand, and to see how they enjoy the 
 
1 62 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 transit from that cold and comfortless- tenement on the 
 Hill, which is really unfit for winter use, to the snug, 
 cosy darling little jewel of a home, which still seems so 
 much like our own that we could endure no one else in 
 it at all, at all. When they are finally settled, and after 
 we get a little over the excitement of our prospective 
 removal to Rochester, we shall calculate on many a 
 pleasant winter evening beside their cheerful stove, the 
 same busy little genius who for four successive winters 
 sung his merry song for us, and plied his tireless powers 
 to diffuse a genial warmth to almost every corner of the 
 house. Oh, it was a dear home! Earth will afford no 
 other such a one, but heaven (blessed thought!) a better, 
 when all the lost ones gone before, and all the loved ones 
 scattered far asunder, will be gathered into one, within 
 our heavenly Father's house, to go no more out forever! 
 In the presence of such a thought, dear sister, how 
 quickly fades all the glory of this world! how all our 
 projects and prospects for the present life lose their 
 interest, and the spirit pants for those nobler joys! 
 
 HAMILTON, Dec. 17, 1847. 
 
 I have not been without some apprehension, dear S., 
 that your mind might be again under the cloud whose 
 somber shade made the world so dark to you a while 
 ago. I do not know why I should fear so, unless it be a 
 reflection from my own dull spirit, which you know is 
 seldom luminous with its own light, and which feels more 
 than usually solitary and destitute of aids just now. Dear 
 C. has burdens enough of her own to carry, of the sub- 
 stantial kind, in that great, bouncing baby a noble fel- 
 low, who has knocked himself a great hole in my bosom, 
 and is welcome, but at the same time an unfilial scamp, 
 who just knocks his mother down and stamps on her a 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 163 
 
 dozen times a day. Still, we are all well, and ought to 
 be happy, for surely the means of enjoyment are multi- 
 plied abundantly. But I must confess to a strong feel- 
 ing of dissatisfaction with the world and myself. " Weary, 
 stale, flat, and unprofitable" does it all seem, and whether 
 the difficulty is in myself or in things around, still does my 
 vexed spirit fret against its prison-bars. To be chained 
 down by stern necessity to this narrow spot, while the 
 broad earth and the great universe are all around, and 
 the dear objects of love are scattered far in this and other 
 worlds, is there a soul whom it would not chafe? Week after 
 week, to tread the tiresome round of petty duties, while 
 a thousand wide-spreading fields of thought on every 
 hand invite me, and my aching desires pant, like grey- 
 hounds in the leash, for leave to enter, but are still held 
 back, again and again and yet again denied, until their 
 eagerness has spent its strength in air, and the heart 
 relapses on itself, indifferent and sick. 
 
 Do not think I cherish a disposition to murmur against 
 that wise and gracious Providence which has blessed me 
 so immeasurably beyond my deserts, and even in my 
 trials is working out my good. Oh, let me ever recog- 
 nize the mercy of my God in all His dealings with such 
 a wayward one as I! Still, trials are trials; and what trial 
 more severe than to be " cabined, cribbed, confined" 
 in such a world as this, while through our dungeon win- 
 dows we may look out into a universe of life and liberty 
 and .love. Oh for a new " Professor Morse" for some 
 celestial magnetism which should annihilate these ugly 
 laws of space and time! not for thought only, but for 
 souls, and bodies with them. Could such a system of 
 wires be extended over the land, it would be something 
 to tell of. Do you say that Love is that magnetism for 
 souls? Yes, but where are the wires ? Alas, alas! Death 
 is the only inventor that has yet solved this problem for 
 
164 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 loving hearts. And I much doubt whether we shall ever 
 attain to this perfection of soul-intercourse save by his 
 ancient, awkward, but not obsolete way. Well, he will 
 teach us the art, and I love him for it. Do tell me, Susy, 
 am I singular in this, to me, habitual way of thinking? 
 Is mine the only spirit that chafes against the walls of its 
 cage; the only one that feels that it cannot endure to live 
 by minutes and move by steps step after step in slow 
 and weary succession, each step but a few inches long, 
 and these steps not "onward, ever onward," but " round 
 and round and round and round" within the same tire- 
 some compass, while so much of all we care for is beyond 
 the narrow bounds? Poor Hamlet! he was right after 
 all when he pronounced " the world a prison, in which 
 there are many confines, wards, and dungeons, Denmark 
 [meaning Hamlet beyond all question] being one of the 
 worst." Thanks be unto Him that hath come to "pro- 
 claim liberty to the captives, the opening of the prison- 
 doors to them that are bound"! Oh! shall it ever be ? 
 Emancipate from this dungeon-world, and the yet more 
 hateful " body of this death," our term of penitentiary- 
 confinement at hard labor for life fairly ended, and our 
 discharge made out, and our joyous souls in actual pos- 
 session of the liberty of the children of God could we 
 ever begin to speak our gratitude to the great Deliverer? 
 Oh, joyful immortality of liberty and praise! 
 
 HAMILTON, March 24, 1848. 
 
 Surely some good angel must have been hovering over 
 you, dear S., while you penned that sweet letter, " shak- 
 ing thousand odors from his dewy wings." It bore the 
 balmy fragrance faithfully hither, and has comforted and 
 strengthened all our hearts. It lifted a mountain of 
 anxiety from us, for we had begun to fear almost every 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 165 
 
 bad result from your long-continued sufferings. What 
 would I not have given to have been near you, with you! 
 But it is a consolation to know that you have not only 
 had the sympathies and assistance of the dearest earthly 
 friends, but the presence of Him who " giveth songs in 
 the night." Oh, my sister, how have the disciples of our 
 Lord almost forgotten the idea of suffering to His glory! 
 To dp and to give is the sum-total of our service. But the 
 primitive saints honored Him by patience, fortitude, and 
 triumphant faith amid calamities and pains. 
 
 The one absorbing subject here is Removal. I had to 
 smile at the idea with which you close, of my "sitting 
 afar from scenes of excitement," and sending into your 
 troubled regions "a peaceful rill from Siloa's mount." 
 Certain it is that the surges which toss us are not those 
 of a troubled main. But the full significance of a "tem- 
 pest in a tea-pot" we have for the last two months been 
 made to understand, and the rage of the elements, 
 though there have been temporary lulls, we apprehend 
 is yet far from having subsided. 
 
 So brother Ward thinks I had better finish my house 
 and move in. My compliments to the old gentleman 
 perhaps he would like to buy, as he seems to think a 
 Hamilton residence desirable. I can recommend the 
 domicile in its present state as an airy habitation for 
 summer, and a still more airy one for winter, and would 
 be glad to sell for twice as little as it cost. Poor old 
 frame! there it has stood in shivering nudity up against 
 the bleak sky, grinning ghastly omens on the village, 
 provoking maledictions from the pious and public- 
 spirited citizens thereof, waking in my own breast bitter 
 memories of minus five hundred dollars, and calling forth 
 adjurations like the following, as I have passed daily by 
 it, to and fro: " Hence, horrible shadow ! Unreal mock- 
 ery, hence ! Avaunt and quit my sight ! Let the earth 
 
1 66 JOHN H, RA YMOND. 
 
 hide thee ! Thy bones are marrowless; thy blood is cold! 
 Thou hast no speculation (none of the profitable kind, 
 certainly) in those eyes which thou dost glare with." 
 Seriously, I have no expectation of ever finishing it, or 
 ever owning, or even occupying, a house here longer than 
 through the coming summer. 
 
 We are looking forward to the grand and final reunion 
 in old Hamilton, when you come in July. To such sea- 
 sons, dear Sister, we shall bid adieu with sorrow indeed. 
 But how little they make up of life in Hamilton you can 
 hardly think, and if they occurred thrice as often and 
 continued thrice as long, the claims of duty and of the 
 great public interests for which we labor would be para- 
 mount. 
 
 June 23, 1848. 
 
 MY SISTER DEAR : The days are flying, and you are to 
 be here by Saturday of next week. Now don't fail to be 
 here by that time, because you know the 4th will come 
 mighty quick after the ist; and Robert is coming, and 
 would be sorry not to have a squint at you. Besides, 
 the speech, you know; but enough said, I know you will, 
 and at the thought "my heart leaps up" as neighbor 
 W.'s did when he "seen a rainbow in the sky." It is the 
 sign and the pledge of "a good time coming," a time of 
 love and sunny joy. Old Hamilton is washing up and 
 putting on her greenest bib and floweriest tucker, and 
 shining in all her glory of leaves and grasses, to greet 
 and make you happy. I tell you, she looks nice; and at 
 this moment the birds singing sweetly around me seem 
 to be pleading in behalf of " the present location" with 
 all the power of their eloquent music. But then I re- 
 member that the lawyers always talk equally well on 
 both sides, and so I doubt not the birds do. And could 
 I be transported to some green hill-side near the queen- 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 167 
 
 city of Western New York, I should hear airs as divine, 
 rendered yet more powerfully persuasive by the blend- 
 ing tenor of the silvery Genesee and the rich base of its 
 rapids and distant falls. Before the bright conception 
 Hamilton hides her diminished head and pales her inef- 
 fectual fires, and I go for Removal as strong as ever. I 
 have had " impressions" not a few since my return this 
 time, and the multitude of my thoughts have troubled 
 me. The feeling seems to be that the Lord hath need 
 of me, as He had of another animal of the same species 
 on a certain occasion, and I seem to myself to be wait- 
 ing for the arrival of the messengers who in His name 
 shall summon me away alas! how unfit for such an 
 honor, to bear my master, in His cause, whither He may 
 direct me! If a call should come, I feel now that there 
 is so little to bind me to my present situation that 
 nothing would be easier than to "loose and let me go." 
 Bnt of that more when I see you. 
 
 HAMILTON, May 10, 1848. 
 
 Prof. Conant seems to have been much interested in 
 what he heard of Mr. Beecher while he was in Brook- 
 lyn, and, for Tasker's sake, I certainly rejoice in his suc- 
 cess. I give you fair warning, however, that I stand in 
 doubt of him. At the least, he is as yet on the outside 
 of my heart. That he is a man of generous, ardent im- 
 pulses I have no doubt, and mayhap of genuine natural- 
 ness (though that is a rare attribute); but if irreverence 
 and self-worship, in any form, are a part of his nature- 
 that is, are characteristics I won't love him till he gets 
 rid of 'em. I commend him to your instruction on these 
 points, and according to his profiting shall be my appro- 
 bation of the young man. 
 
1 68 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 The year 1848 had been marked by the beginning 
 of another life-long friendship. The Rev. Henry Ward 
 Beecher had come to Brooklyn the year before as pas- 
 tor of Plymouth Church, an enterprise of deep inter- 
 est to my father because one of its three founders 
 indeed, the one in whose mind and by whose activity 
 the project originated was Mr. John Tasker Howard, 
 the husband of his eldest sister. Attracted by the new 
 Congregational movement, in which that denomination 
 were about that time aggressively beginning their great 
 extension outside of New England, Mr. Howard had 
 left a Presbyterian church to assist in the organization 
 of the Pilgrim Church in Brooklyn, and shortly after 
 saw in the sale of an old church-building the opportuni- 
 ty of starting still another independent congregation. 
 After a few months of existence the new church called 
 Mr. Beecher, then a young man of thirty-four years of 
 age, and his acceptance of the call gave an immediate 
 and abounding life to the enterprise. His genius, his 
 eloquence, his fresh and peculiar methods of presenting 
 truth, produced an electric effect on the community. 
 While still a little doubtful " whereunto these things 
 would grow" doctrinally, many were led captive by his 
 resistless fervor and his great royal nature. This new 
 comet which had darted across their religious and social 
 system was the subject of free correspondence between 
 my father and his Brooklyn friends, and with their cus- 
 tomary reliance upon his judgment they looked forward 
 to the time when a visit to his old home should give 
 him opportunity to see and hear for himself, and to 
 pronounce his verdict upon their new friend and pastor. 
 Slow as he had been to give his confidence without the 
 sight, all doubt was dispelled by an acquaintance which 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 169 
 
 ripened into intimacy, and continued during thirty 
 years of the truest friendship. Their first meeting was 
 in Brooklyn in the spring of 1848. But in the follow- 
 ing summer Mr. Beecher went to attend the Com- 
 mencement of Hamilton College, and preach before 
 the " Society of Inquiry," at Clinton, N. Y. This was 
 twenty miles distant from the town of Hamilton, where 
 he then made a brief visit at my father's house, there 
 joining the party of Brooklyn friends in their summer 
 festivities. A letter from his pen tells of the pleasures 
 of that visit, and of the friendly covenant which was 
 then formed: 
 
 Mr. BEECHER to Mr. J. T. HOWARD. 
 
 CLINTON, July 24, 1848. 
 
 MY VERY DEAR HOWARD : I believe I took no oath to 
 write you a letter, note, or billet doux; and as I seldom 
 write either, I wish you to have a suitable emotion of 
 vanity at this signal exertion on my part to youward. 
 However, in this little vacation I have improved, for I 
 have written, besides an unusual amount to my wife, 
 several letters to old friends and former correspondents 
 who will be astonished out of all propriety at receiving 
 an actual letter from the latent friend. 
 
 Clinton is indeed situated in a beautiful valley, and 
 as seen from College Hill, the prospect is very fine. I 
 believe that I should look out of the window more than 
 I should study if I were a student here. Good-by till I 
 date from Hamilton. 
 
 HAMILTON, July 26. 
 
 In a few minutes John and I are off for the "fish-pools 
 of Heshbon;" that is to say, the trout-brooks where we 
 can catch shiners and pout. 
 
 I have had two or three glorious talks with this same 
 
JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 John, and we agree to a hair, so far. Indeed my heart 
 has gone forth unto him greatly, and I find all the pre- 
 monitory symptoms of falling in love with him. Here 
 comes the buggy. 
 
 Evening, n o clock. Did ever two fellows spend a finer 
 day together! Why the way I talked for three mortal 
 hours on a stretch in the morning was enough to tire a 
 Hercules, Then we fished and caught enough to save 
 our reputation. In the afternoon, he took up the "thread 
 of discourse" and led off in the same self-sacrificing man- 
 ner, and now, I am confirmed in love and admiration, and 
 wanted to tell him so, but " darsent" But I guess he was a 
 little reciprocal, for he said at the tea-table to-night that 
 he had taken me into the family, so that I was a regular 
 member! I found that my good friends had prepared 
 my way before me, and so I was ready to begin where 
 others would have ended after weeks of acquaintance. 
 I was captivated with Mrs. C. right off, and had begun 
 to flirt a little with the Professor himself a deep-hearted 
 man. I am quite delighted with Hamilton, and if I could 
 make the people half as fond of me as I am of them, 
 there would very soon be a mutual understanding be- 
 tween us. Indeed, I did hint a little to Kendrick and 
 John about giving me a call to the University, and 
 offered to go through fire (if not water) to oblige them! 
 
 UTICA, Friday morning. Here I am, an hour and a 
 half before car-time. I rejoice with exceeding great joy 
 to set my face homeward. I long to see you all. For 
 although I have had one of the most various, exhilarat- 
 ing, and delightful weeks possible, yet I begin to be 
 home-sick. What under the heavens those people can 
 do who have nobody to love and nobody to love them, I 
 don't know. Ah! if ever I am called to leave Brooklyn, 
 will it not be to me like rending soul from the body? 
 Heretofore, I have had to labor often up hill; to carry 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 171 
 
 everything, inspire everything, and do everything, besides 
 which there was sorrow in my house and sorrow in my 
 heart. But now I seem to have gone over to the oppo- 
 site extreme; what comfort is wanting how many dear 
 friends who love me far beyond what 1 deserve whose 
 kindnesses are ceaseless! Sometimes, when I think of all 
 God's mercies to me, my feelings rise and almost suffo- 
 cate me! 
 
 I used to brace myself up under sore trials by saying 
 to my soul, "Thou art not a man if thou canst not endure 
 all that God will lay upon thee." But now it is question 
 how I shall come out of prosperity. Will not the sum- 
 mer melt what the winter could not blow away? I long 
 to live in sympathy with such a mind as Paul's I long 
 to have such a fullness of heart that whoever loves me 
 shall find himself growing better for it. Could any 
 epitaph be more simple but noble than this of the New 
 Testament, " He went about doing good" ? A commen- 
 tary on that sentence would be like clothes on a lily- 
 covering up without adorning or setting forth. 
 
 H. W. B. 
 
 Mr. BEECHER to Prof. RAYMOND. 
 
 HARTFORD, Aug. 30, 1848. 
 
 MY DEAR PROFESSOR: If good resolutions were only 
 letters, what voluminous epistles you would have had 
 from me! Alas, that a thought-a-type could not be invented! 
 What an advance will that be when one can slip a sheet 
 of prepared paper into his hat, upon which the electricity 
 of the mind shall act as the light does upon a photographic 
 plate, and sally forth. Upon his return oh joy! all that 
 he has thought would be found transferred to the paper! 
 The advantages of* this new invention promise to be so 
 many that I hope no time will be lost in prosecuting the 
 
I7 2 JOHN II . RAYMOND. 
 
 matter to a discovery. Thus a paralytic author might tri- 
 umph over the infirmity of his hands; a mercurial head like 
 mine might, for once, write as fast as it thought. A paper 
 night-cap would give one in the morning alt his dreams; 
 a suitable head-book would register the most perfect of 
 journals, for thus all that we think would go down, good 
 and bad and go down just as it happened, a thing I sus- 
 pect that is not always to be found in pen-made journals. 
 Then, too, what self-knowledge might not this afford 
 should we believe in our own identity? Each evening 
 would put a new volume into our hands, for I suppose 
 that we all think at least one volume in a day if all our 
 cogitations were written. What a fiction it would be! 
 alas, the strangeness of fiction and the stubborn validity 
 of fact! For who does not throw the filmy veil of self- 
 esteem upon his life, through whose witching colors all 
 looks change to a heightened excellence? Who could 
 bear to read in a volume at evening all the somethings and 
 nothings, all the evil and good, all the frets and fancies, 
 all the venturesome ranges of thinking, the vain imagina- 
 tions, the hopes, fears, suppressed angers, involuntary 
 opinions of men, and, above all, the critical thoughts 
 which one has of even the best? For who lives without 
 great faults ? and who lives with habits of attention with- 
 out seeing them? Yet to see in full print that which other- 
 wise only glances through the brain, and whose trace is 
 lost as is the stream of a meteor would be shocking. 
 
 There was I not foreordained to be a letter-writer? 
 For who can spin a longer yarn than this out of such a 
 little lock of wool ? 
 
 New England contains so much that a reflecting mind 
 in passing through it is in danger of having nothing to 
 write, for no one wishes to write an encyclopaedia, and yet 
 even that would not contain the things to be written. 
 Just at present, however, the theological world is on the 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 173 
 
 qui vive for Dr. Bushnell's sermons. His Cambridge ser- 
 mon on the Atonement, and his late New Haven sermon 
 on the Divinity of Christ, together, I suppose, with one 
 next week to be delivered at Andover, will soon be pub- 
 lished in a volume. No sooner is that done than three 
 or four batteries, already loaded to the muzzle, will open 
 on him, and we shall see a great <rdw<?7zade. The Prince- 
 ton men Dr. Taylor (probably), the East Windsor men 
 with Dr. Tyler at their head, and some Boston men, will 
 take the matter in hand. Can't you start one of your 
 professors to take the matter up and put the heresy un- 
 der water, for its everlasting extinction? Although I 
 cannot agree with Bushnell, I can as little with his re- 
 spondents; nor do I see any benefit in a controversy. It 
 will be a fierce technical dispute about propositions at 
 the expense in the churches of vital godliness. It is 
 therefore a joyful matter to me that the points of disa- 
 greement do not touch the practical use to be made in 
 preaching and personal experience of the doctrine of 
 Christ's sacrifice for sin. It seems to me that the only 
 thing on earth that truth is good for is to convert men 
 from evil to holiness. That truth which has temper to 
 do that is manifestly divine, and to be believed for its 
 work's sake. I am sure I am willing to stake any individ- 
 ual truth on the test by which Christ ventured his whole 
 mission. When will ministers learn that putting up 
 fences and disputing about landmarks is not an equiva- 
 lent for the careful cultivation of the soul, for whose sake 
 alone a fence is of any worth ? 
 
 As for myself, I mean to go home and labor and preach 
 and pray for a revival, and if I can, to have so much to do 
 within as to have no ear or heart for the storm that rages 
 without. So others may blow the bellows and turn the 
 doctrines in the fire, and lay them on the anvil of controversy, 
 and beat them with all sorts of hammers into all sorts of 
 
174 JOHN II. RAYMOND. 
 
 shapes ; but I shall busy myself with using the sword of the 
 Lord, not in forging it. 
 
 I shall not soon forget that gem of a visit to Hamilton. 
 It is not often that everything conspires to make a visit 
 brimful of interest without a drop being spilt to the ground. 
 I look back upon it as upon a dream. It seems as if I had 
 read it all in a novel, and remembered you all as so many 
 sharply drawn characters. You and 1 were rambling about 
 so much together that I think of you as one outside the 
 cover of the book, a reader with me. 
 
 [Here follows a humorous description or " portrait- 
 gallery," as he calls it of the various members of the 
 Hamilton circle,, with other personal matter.] 
 
 This tirade has quite put my picture-gallery in con- 
 fusion, upset my frame and spilt my paints ; yet I will 
 scrape up enough to give the outlines of the Reverend Visi- 
 tor himself for I have observed that all great painters have 
 succeeded well in drawing their own likenesses. Imag- 
 ine, then, a tall, portly man, rather precise in manners, 
 evidently reared in a school in which etiquette ruled out 
 nature, naturally taciturn and singularly careful when he 
 does speak to say only, and the most, profitable things ; 
 whose feeling has manifestly been subdued until one doubts 
 whether he ever had much ; never venturing upon jests and 
 humorous frivolities, and therefore wearing a face full of 
 premature care. It is quite manifest that this reverend 
 divine has been saved from the cloister or the cave by being 
 born one or two hundred years too far down the stream of 
 
 time. There ! if from that portrait you cannot discern 
 
 the original, may heaven help your wits ! 
 
 But really this is too bad. I take my " corporal oath" that 
 I intended no such prolix infliction when I began, but we 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 175 
 
 slipped down the epistolary hill so easily that 1 hardly per- 
 ceived the motion. Now that we are safely at the bottom, I 
 will save your patience the necessity of further travel by 
 blocking up the road with the name of 
 
 Your friend (that would be), 
 
 H. W. BEECHER. 
 
 During this year, the Plymouth Church building was 
 destroyed by fire, and the congregation were for a 
 time dependent upon the hospitality of sister churches. 
 That this great misfortune would be overruled for 
 good to the church and its zealous pastor who la- 
 mented the hindrance of his work, was firmly believed 
 by his newly-found friend, who expresses his faithful 
 wishes for him in writing to a sister in Brooklyn: 
 
 HAMILTON, January, 1849. 
 
 I came home last evening, with my mind intent on 
 sending you the communication due ; but the whole 
 thing was driven out of my head by an event such as 
 don't occur in " these parts" every week in the year 
 no! not even in happy Brooklyn. What could it be? 
 you say. And sure enough, what could it be but the 
 apparition, as unexpected as of your own, of our Rob- 
 ert and his Ros sitting cheek-by-jowl by my ingle-side, 
 and comforting themselves in the genial beams of my 
 domestic altar ! For you must know that we are here 
 in the midst of January, and rejoicing in the fact that 
 the forests are not all cleared yet around this Cen- 
 tral Metropolis of the Republic of Letters. They rode 
 out from Syracuse in a buggy, and needed, as I tell 
 you they received, a warm reception. Well, I had al- 
 most let another day slip through my fingers, and only 
 just bethought me, as I entered the door of the Conant 
 
176 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 cottage a few moments ago, whither we have come to 
 take tea. So, you see, I have called for pen and ink, and 
 seated myself to scribble you a line, but with what suc- 
 cess remains to be seen. Robert is talking a steady 
 stream in the adjoining room, and Mrs. C. is ha-haing 
 treble and the Professor haw-hawing bass accompani- 
 ments, so that I can hardly hear myself think. 
 
 I have been about half sick since I returned, five days 
 ago, from Albany, owing to excitement and labor there. 
 Still, I must confess, I like the fun. It is what I have 
 needed for years, something hard to do, something to 
 bring me in contact with men. And it is with some 
 reluctance that I come back to the old treadmill. I 
 spent two Sabbaths in Albany, and occupied the Pearl 
 Street pulpit (Dr. Welch's) both days, and I assure you, 
 when I found that my talks had made some impression, 
 and that if I would give a word of encouragement I 
 might be sure of a united call to that most inviting field, 
 it cost me something of a struggle to shake my head 
 and forbid the presentation of my name. But I did it 
 " honor bright." This is no time for the most insignifi- 
 cant man to talk of deserting the ship. Let us fight 
 this battle through, and see how things stand then. One 
 thing rather encourages me, and that is that I feel 
 my qualifications for pastoral success not diminishing, 
 but (so, at least, I fancy) on the whole rather increas- 
 ing. And who knows but you may see me yet, not a 
 Beecher, but still a preacher not without some degree of 
 success. 
 
 That name reminds me to say that I could not mourn 
 very much over the burning of the old Plymouth, be- 
 cause I am very sure that the Lord designs it for 
 good. Give my best love to the Dominie. I do feel sad 
 when I think of the interruption to his work, but am 
 satisfied that the occurrence will turn to good account 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 177 
 
 in more ways than one, which he can foresee better than 
 I could describe. Perhaps, having fewer sermons to 
 write, he may get time to give me a scratch of his pen. 
 That surely would be one blessing growing out of his 
 calamity. Tell the blessed boy that my heart reaches 
 after him through interposing space, and grapples him 
 unto itself as with hooks of steel. I do esteem him very 
 highly in love for his work's sake, and for his worth's 
 sake. As to his doctrine (is that the rub yet?), if it were 
 my dying charge, I should say to him, "Preach what you 
 believe" not on the shallow ground that what any man 
 honestly believes is fit .to be preached, but because, if 
 I know what the Gospel is, H. W. B. knows it, and 
 beyond measure more deeply, richly, sweetly, and pow- 
 erfully. Only let him preach it (and he will preach 
 it more clearly and copiously every month he lives, 
 unless God deserts him) and I shall be satisfied a 
 point the importance of which I trust he will duly ap- 
 preciate. My prayer for him is that God may be with 
 him, multiply his troubles and his comforts, his foes and 
 his friends, give him afflictions to fight and cour- 
 age to fight them, and just as much success as will not 
 stand in the way of greater success to come; keep his 
 proud spirit chastened to a Christ-like tenderness, his 
 fiery and impetuous will chained to salvation's car and 
 on the track of truth, his soul full, full, full of love, and 
 like a gushing fountain ever towards the needy and the 
 lost, and, in a word, everything about him just so that 
 he may suitably and safely receive all the honors and 
 blessings which God has to bestow on his most highly 
 favored ones. And if my prayer for him can in any 
 particular be improved, let me know how, and I will 
 amend it. 
 
 Remember me particularly and affectionately to Mrs. 
 Beecher, of whose discernment I have had a very high 
 
I7 8 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 opinion, and of her love the strongest assurance, ever 
 since she discovered my resemblance to you. I must 
 not be forgotten, either, to the children of the Manse, 
 because I " took to" them and have them in my heart. 
 And so, with love to all who love him, writes 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 TO HIS WIFE. 
 
 
 
 ALBANY, July 20, 1849. 
 
 What can you have thought of this long silence ? I can 
 hardly tell how long it is since I wrote you, nor where I 
 have been in the interval. A busier week, or fortnight 
 rather, I certainly never spent, and I hope it will prove 
 work worth the while. A week ago last Monday, we 
 received intelligence from Albany that one of our suits 
 was to come on, last Monday, at Cooperstown, together 
 with a call for testimony on a great variety of points. It 
 fell to my lot to get up a large number of the affidavits. 
 This was three days' busy work and three nights', too, 
 for that matter. Then I had to make out my own, which 
 was expected to be very full and accurate. And as it 
 was important to have some testimony from Utica, and 
 to have some one familiar with the facts present at the 
 argument, I must go to Albany. When I reached Albany 
 the argument was deferred till the 2yth of July, and our 
 attorney had made up his mind to get another of the suits 
 ready for the same time, and nothing would do but I must 
 off coat and at it. We worked just as rapidly as we 
 could, and, having got all the papers ready, I left Albany 
 at 2 o'clock P.M. yesterday, took a horse and buggy for 
 Waterville last night, arriving about midnight ; was up 
 early this morning and spent the forenoon in getting 
 another necessary affidavit; took a new horse and, with- 
 out stopping for dinner, spent the most of the afternoon 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 179 
 
 in getting still another, and have just served the papers 
 on Judge Nye in time to accomplish our purpose. Mr. 
 Harris thinks I would make a tolerably good lawyer, and 
 says he will take rne in as partner at any time. To-night 
 and to-morrow I spend in getting some more testimony 
 here, to be used at the time of the argument, and on 
 Monday I expect to return to Utica for the same purpose. 
 Perhaps I may have to go farther, but am getting rather 
 sick of the fun. 
 
 In Albany I had delightful quarters at the house of Mr. 
 Hamilton Harris, the Judge's brother. I rode down with 
 him one morning to see my old friend Mclntosh, who 
 lives in the veritable old Schuyler mansion, where Mrs. 
 Grant was before she was Mrs. Grant an exceedingly 
 interesting relic of the olden time, in perfect preserva- 
 tion, and furnished with princely magnificence. 
 
 OSWEGO, July 28, 1849. 
 
 Amidst the whirl and dust and smoke and clangor of 
 the combat, your dear image often rises to my mind's 
 eye; and oh! how happy I should be to look upon the 
 dearer, dearest reality ! I am now sitting in the court- 
 room, where the lawyers are fighting away; and seeing 
 nothing that I can do just now to help on the battle, I will 
 rest my weary soul by a few minutes' converse with yours. 
 What a fortnight or three weeks this has been to me! It 
 has carried me back to the ancient or legal or ante-evan- 
 gelical dispensation in my own history, when I, too, was 
 a son of Themis, and a law-office was my home, and com- 
 plaints and answers, and depositions and notices, and 
 orders of court were my daily and familiar companions. 
 I presume I have written two or three hundred folios of 
 affidavits for myself and others within three weeks past, 
 
1 80 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 and traveled to and fro, from Hamilton to Albany, from 
 Albany to Hamilton, from Hamilton to Waterville, Syra- 
 cuse, Auburn, Elbridge, and now to Oswego, and had 
 my head and hands full, so full as to exclude almost 
 everything else, and to compel my heart to be unfaithful 
 even to you, so far as temporary forgetfulness is infi- 
 delity. But that infidelity is all atoned for, my heart 
 being judge, by the enhanced ardor and delight with 
 which the arms of my tired spirit are thrown around you, 
 when now and then I do catch a glimpse of you. But 
 love-making, I suppose, is not according to the rules of 
 court, though it be of courting, and so I will turn to other 
 matters, adjourning that until we meet. 
 
 Keep up good cheer. I trust our meeting is not far 
 distant. 
 
 Yours faithfully (since firs.t I saw you at the 
 breakfast-table), J. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 FATHER AND CHILDREN. 
 
 THE life which has been shown in many of its re- 
 lations had yet another side. To none is its 
 memory more hallowed than to those who learned 
 from it the treasures that a Father's heart can hold. 
 The first impression left upon my memory is the clasp 
 of a father's hand in an evening walk, in which the 
 shifting splendor of sunset clouds blends with the 
 light of the fatherly smile that gave such assurance of 
 love and protection. From that hour there is hardly 
 an experience in life which does not recall his sympa- 
 thetic enjoyment or loving guidance. 
 
 It is difficult to draw the line between the amuse- 
 ment and the instruction which his children owed to 
 him, the brightest pleasure was so skillfully combined 
 with all his teachings, like the interlacing threads of 
 warp and woof. In how many ways he contributed 
 to our happiness, from the songs and stories and merry 
 frolics that made our childhood a delight, to the higher 
 enjoyment which he taught us to take in everything 
 beautiful and true in books or nature or the world of 
 art ! The artistic care with which it was his habit to 
 finish everything that he touched was characteristic of 
 all that he did for his children. He would hardly give 
 greater elaboration to a literary criticism or university 
 lecture, than to the enchanting fairy-tales which he 
 wove for us into such a web of glittering beauty and 
 
1 82 JOHN II. RAYMOND. 
 
 fascination. He did not fail to " point the moral" as 
 well as to " adorn the tale," and out of all the bewilder- 
 ing complications and the ingenious development of 
 the plot emerged the lesson, which was all the more 
 effective from being dressed in such gay colors. His 
 most carefully prepared sermons could hardly contain 
 a more complete exposition of truth or subtle analysis 
 of human character, or a more forcible application to 
 his " dear hearers," than the long Bible-stories, in 
 which the familiar actors appeared again and again, 
 invested with an ever-fresh interest, as we followed 
 them through every shade of feeling and experience 
 to the dramatic end. 
 
 Our only trouble was lack of the time required for such 
 protracted entertainments, and our patience was sorely 
 taxed in waiting for the hour of leisure that came so 
 seldom. How we counted the days to vacation, which 
 was always our gala-time ! Then the old pen that 
 never stopped writing was turned to better account, 
 according to our way of thinking, in the puzzles and 
 charades that taxed our guessing powers, or the merry 
 rhymes that commemorated some family event. Or it 
 was exchanged for the pencil which drew such magical 
 pictures, or the tools which mended our broken toys 
 and made for us new ones. One great source of de- 
 light was the games which he invented, like those of 
 his own youthful choice, taxing the head rather than 
 the hand. Everything was carried to the utmost per- 
 fection of detail. A little manuscript volume is pre- 
 served in which a set of rules to a missing game, which 
 he attempted to restore, is multiplied fifty-fold, cover- 
 ing every possible combination and contingency, and 
 carrying the interest to the intensest height. Never 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 183 
 
 were there such jackstraws as our father's knife cut, in 
 an endless variety of forms so delicate that the fate of 
 the player hung upon a hair-breadth touch. 
 
 Nowhere was his graceful and painstaking art dis- 
 played to our greater delight than in the yearly Christ- 
 mas-tree which he wrought into such a wonder of 
 beauty to our eyes. Every drooping branch must be 
 a curve of faultless symmetry, and its gay burden of 
 gifts and decorations so disposed as to produce the 
 most brilliant effect of contrasting color. Nor was it 
 complete till words and music were composed for the 
 accompanying Kriss Kringle song, in which we could 
 see the jolly old fellow " so blithe and gay," " with his 
 peaked hat and his reindeer sleigh," fairly feel him 
 bound " over the crinkling ice and snow," and hear 
 his bells with their " merry, merry ching," "as up to 
 the roof the reindeer spring." 
 
 In any of our projects our only anxiety was once to 
 win his interest. For we knew that when he had given 
 it the first moment of attention, we might be sure of 
 an exhaustive treatment of the whole subject. He 
 confesses this weakness in warning one of his children 
 of its danger. " S. accepts your promise, and says she 
 ' bides her time.' Let her bide. Don't write to her, 
 or to any one, except when you can do it without tax- 
 ing your strength. Is it of any use to add learn to 
 write short ? I am afraid not. I recognize myself in 
 you ; a constitutional necessity whatever is said or 
 done O f going just so much into detail, and giving to 
 every part a certain fullness of finish, which is none 
 the less a necessity because the desirableness of com- 
 pression- is apparent." 
 
 This characteristic furnishes him an explanation for 
 the delay of a long due letter: 
 
1 84 JOHN //. RA YMOND. 
 
 This dolce far niente is an enormous devourer of time. 
 Hour after hour and day after day slip down its smooth, 
 mysterious gullet, uncounted, un-sensed, and, alas! irre- 
 vocable. One thing I have noticed which is wholly 
 inexplicable that, no matter how many things there 
 may be demanding attention, and no matter how per- 
 fectly easy it would be to dispatch half a dozen of them 
 at odd moments of a day of hard work, during this 
 dear, delicious vacation, it is never possible to accom- 
 plish more than one thing in one day. Are there three 
 or four business letters to be written without delay? 
 You never get but one finished in time for to-day's mail. 
 Have you promised one child a kite and another a story? 
 Happy the one who holds the first lien, or is the first to 
 foreclose, for the assets are never sufficient to reach the 
 second mortgage. And woe to you if just as you get 
 seated at your table to attend to " that little matter" 
 which w T ill not bear another hour's delay, one of the 
 chicks brings her slate and asks you how to draw a 
 chimney to her house. You seize the pencil to dash 
 three lines in briefest answer to her question, and when 
 the sun goes down you cannot for the life of you recall 
 a single thing you have done that day except that in the 
 morning you finished up an elaborate, comprehensive, 
 and spirited landscape in slate-pencil, which elicited gen- 
 eral admiration and many regrets that it had not been 
 done on paper, so as to have lasted beyond noon. 
 
 I have had a good time with the children this summer. 
 We are devoting ourselves to the " carpenter and joiner" 
 business, and have been getting up a wonderful play- 
 house. As the work advanced, I grew more and more 
 interested in it, saw forty ways in which I could improve 
 on my original idea, and (according to my besetting in- 
 firmity) kept refining and adding fancy touches until I 
 find it has really drawn on my strength, and yet I am 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN-. 185 
 
 not quite ready to stop. But I have had a good time 
 working at it, and so have the children, watching the 
 progress, and we are going to have a mighty pretty 
 thing of it when it is done. I begin to suspect my father 
 spoiled a highly respectable carpenter when he sent me 
 to college and gave me a professional education. 
 
 He devoted himself quite as zealously to the enter- 
 tainment as to the discipline of his children, the family 
 government being as much a system of rewards as pun- 
 ishments. Fortunately for us, he was a firm believer 
 in moral suasion, appealing always to our own sense of 
 right, and then leaving us to the tender mercies of our 
 own conscience. Whatever responsibility he may have 
 felt with regard to making use of the terrors of the law 
 was all discharged in experiments upon his oldest chil- 
 dren, these not being attended with sufficient success 
 to encourage repetition. He must have had his trials, 
 if we may judge from the flattering tributes to different 
 members of his flock which we find in his letters. Our 
 sympathy is awakened by the first allusion to his pater- 
 nal perplexities: 
 
 - continues the same wayward, variable, unac- 
 countable spirit that she ever was. Her path runs 
 through a rapid succession of alternating lights and 
 shadows. "By fits she's sad; by starts she's wild." 
 There is no mezzotint in her composition all contrasts 
 and all extremes, her lights are always blazing and her 
 shadows profound as Styx. She puzzles my philosophy 
 awfully, and makes as sad work with my art disciplinary 
 as Napoleon did with the scientific tactics of his veteran 
 antagonists. I have pretty much abandoned the idea of 
 bringing her up, and shall let her come up her own way; 
 that is, if she will. 
 
1 86 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 Little Robert is a more intelligible Christian-like baby. 
 He begins to show an aspiring nature. His ruling pas- 
 sion is to climb; his controlling destiny, to fall: and be- 
 tween the two he has had much experience of the ups 
 and downs of infant life. Stools, chairs, sofas, tables, 
 and piano are each in turn "young ambition's ladder," 
 and " when he hath attained the topmost round, he then 
 unto the ladder turns his back, looks into the clouds 
 and " falls, like Wolsey or Napoleon. He begins as 
 though he were born to be a splendid exemplification of 
 Sic itur ad astra, and ends as though by some envious 
 stroke or hocus-pocus trick fate had dashed out that 
 motto and substituted Facilis descensus. 
 
 Of another three-year-old he writes : 
 
 He is the most easy, self-complacent, self-righteous 
 little sinner you ever did see. " Father, I did be good 
 when you was gone. I did be good till when you was 
 praying," is the tune most of the time. He is going to 
 heaven on the Arminian track by good works, which are 
 just as easy and natural to him as bad ones are to the 
 commonalty. 
 
 He was less disturbed by the displays of natural de- 
 pravity in his later children than in his first experiences, 
 having learned not to expect precocious developments 
 of early piety : 
 
 How I wish you could see our 5 the very picture (no 
 
 the reality) of ruddy health, and hear him shout ! 'Twould 
 make your lungs to crow like chanticleer. I am afraid he is 
 getting a little " bahd" to use his own pronunciation. He 
 certainly is not the Infant Model of Deportment, which his 
 eldest sister at one time fancied she had almost made. But 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN-. 187 
 
 then he is gloriously healthy, and I confess I take a little 
 naughty satisfaction in that. He does not seem, physically or 
 spiritually, in immediate danger of canonization, and I am 
 afraid I thank the Lord for that, with entire sincerity and 
 heartiness. Being the only boy in the family, he seems to 
 think that consistency requires him to be boy only. " All 
 boy" he certainly is, full of noisy life, impatient of metes 
 and bounds, eager for perilous ventures and far-away ex- 
 peditions, constant in transgressions, and equally ready, when 
 night comes, to repent and promise amendment. " Ah, 
 mother," says he one evening, after a day of forbidden 
 wanderings, " I think I shall have to go to hell, for I can't 
 help running away." 
 
 The baby well, she isn't quite perfect after all. / took 
 he.r in hand to-night, after she had brought nurse Marden to 
 a non-com, and kept her mother an hour from the party. 
 As soon as she saw that " Captain Scott" had arrived, 
 the young coon came right down, and went to sleep like a 
 dose of paregoric, which speaks well for her discernment 
 and discretion. 
 
 The hopeful view which he was inclined to take of 
 youthful development was often a support to the 
 drooping faith of our long-suffering mother. We quote 
 from his advice to her, notwithstanding some of its 
 heresies : 
 
 For yourself, let me advise you to take things just as 
 easy as possible. Let the children run let them quarrel- 
 let them get crazy, and dirty, and saucy, to their hearts' 
 content. I believe it will be better for their health, and as 
 to mind and manners, we'll find time for those hereafter. I 
 suppose you will shake your head at that advice, and I know 
 "Grandma" will. But I give it seriously and with reference 
 particularly to your health and that of our dear child. 
 
1 88 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 For one summer, I want you both to be as free as possible 
 from restraint and care. If the children about her are not 
 vicious, I would let her play with them as much as she 
 pleases, and when she wants to go anywhere, just let her go. 
 And when you wish for any reason to draw her from any 
 particular haunt, do it (as far as possible) not by calling her 
 into confinement, and giving her what she will regard as 
 tasks, but by getting up some counter-attraction. Give her 
 a lump of sugar and break her will. I don't want her to 
 write and study any more than she inclines to, but want her 
 mind held back rather than urged forward. " Retard her 
 development." Give her father's love and many kisses, 
 and tell her to be good for his sake. 
 
 There seem to be two extremes to which parents are 
 liable to run, either of which is to be regretted. One is* to 
 worry their children with constant, minute supervision, and 
 themselves because they see no immediate fruit of their 
 labor. The other is, for this same reason, to give up in 
 despair, and let them go without instruction and care. 
 Immediate results we must not look for. Line upon line, 
 line upon line precept upon precept, precept upon precept 
 here a little and there a little, is the only way. And this, 
 faithfully practiced, cannot fail in the end. The impression 
 is made, first, upon the mind. Children get correct ideas of 
 what is right, and amiable and lovely in character; then, 
 as they grow and their love of approbation comes out, they 
 gradually learn to prefer a little self-denial, rewarded by 
 smiles and affection, to a selfish pursuit of present enjoy- 
 ment without ; and finally, if grace touch their hearts and 
 they become enamored of virtue for her own sake, they have 
 something to guide them in their efforts to improve and 
 refine themselves. So, hope on, and hope ever; give the 
 daily admonition, reproof, and counsel, just as circumstances 
 require, not expecting to see the child perfect, but looking 
 
FA THER AND CHILDREN'. 189 
 
 for the fruits in the matured virtues of the woman. I don't 
 see perfect children anywhere ; I see none but what, closely 
 watched (as one watches one's own), betray many unlovely 
 traits. There may be one now and then; but, I tell you, 
 little Cornelia Morses don't grow on every bush. And 
 many a child of most unhappy showing has proved in 
 Womanhood an ornament to her sex. The very elements of 
 her character, which untaught and ill-directed have made 
 the child deservedly disliked, have in a different form and 
 direction given strength and beauty to the full-grown 
 woman. 
 
 He often expresses his doctrine of love as the ali- 
 ment on which the soul most truly thrives. He says 
 of a possible error of management : " I fear that we 
 
 have held up to too high a standard. She is 
 
 surrounded by such paragons of perfection as con- 
 stantly to discourage her, and the thought that her 
 shortcomings are set in the clear light of such unerr- 
 ingly critical eyes is anything but inspiring to the 
 hope or purpose of amendment, or conducive to 
 amiable feelings towards the law that ever con- 
 demns and, if it does not frown, at best but en- 
 dures. In an atmosphere of love she is sure to do 
 better." It was the golden atmosphere which he ever 
 created. From earliest infancy we were compassed 
 about with a father's love and sympathy. And 
 with the sympathy came the loving help that never 
 failed in our most childish trials. How many scenes 
 come up to recollection when his ever-ready aid made 
 crooked places straight ! Our youthful dilemmas fur- 
 nished material for the lessons in mental and moral 
 philosophy which began so early. In his own thorough 
 way he went to the bottom of every trouble, and the 
 
19 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 cause once found the cure was sure to follow. Or, if 
 it were a grief too deep for reason, it was never beyond 
 the reach of the fatherly comfort that was so sure to 
 heal. It could not be too trivial for a sympathy that 
 saw all things from the sufferer's stand-point. Of all 
 the sorrows which that sympathy consoled, none is 
 more vivid than one of days long past, when he found 
 an unhappy child weeping over a hopeless and uncon- 
 genial task. The time had come for the first lesson in 
 feminine accomplishments, and motherly fears were 
 aroused by the utter lack of zeal manifested. The 
 decree had gone forth to hem an impossible handker- 
 chief and appeals and tearful defiance only made it 
 more inexorable ; for once the gentle mother-sway was 
 firm as rock. To add the last bitter drop, a fascina- 
 ting book had been confiscated, and the key turned 
 upon the hapless prisoner until the work should be 
 accomplished. What an idea of infinity dawned in 
 that woful hour, and stretched away in that white 
 expanse of handkerchief, as life lost its charms, and 
 the waves of hopelessness rolled over the soul ! Into 
 such midnight darkness came the fatherly apparition 
 that chased away the Giant Despair, with the soothing 
 hand that wiped away the tears, then took the needle, 
 and slowly and patiently plied those endless stitches 
 till the last one was finished. Help has since come in 
 many greater trials;. but memory can never lose the 
 vision of the fatherly spectacles bending over that tear- 
 sprinkled handkerchief, while through them beamed 
 the light of hope and joyful deliverance. 
 
 The bond that knit his heart to his children was 
 made doubly tender by bereavement. If his deepest 
 happiness came through the affections of Home, 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 191 
 
 through them also came sorest chastening. The 
 sacred home-circle had ever been to him the type of 
 all that was pure and perfect ; but it was not enough 
 that he should be drawn to Heaven by the sweet at- 
 tractions which its joys prefigured. The blighting of 
 those joys and the loss of its loveliest treasures must 
 drive him to the Home of which he so often writes, 
 " where the lost treasures will be restored, a thousand- 
 fold more precious ; where the circle will be complete 
 and glorious and eternal." The letter that contained 
 the joyful announcement of the birth of his first-born 
 son was followed, in six months, by one giving the 
 painful circumstances of his death. The young mother 
 had taken her first child home to gladden the eyes of 
 the proud grandparents. It was on her return, in the 
 long stage-journey, that the accident occurred which 
 became familiar to other children as the most tragical 
 chapter in our family history. The following letters, 
 written to different family friends, refer to this and 
 other bereavements : 
 
 HAMILTON, Aug. 27, 1841. 
 
 O my Beloved Ones, our precious little boy is gone, 
 and we are left bereaved and desolate our choicest 
 treasure, the fondest of our earthly hopes, cut off by a 
 single stroke. How sudden and severe the stroke ! my 
 unsubdued heart will sometimes say, Cruel, oh how cruel! 
 I never knew till now how much I -loved him, how much 
 I reckoned on his future growth. In all my arrange- 
 ments even for next winter, I find his little form filled a 
 place in every plan, in every picture of anticipated hap- 
 piness. Hopes all blighted in one bitter moment ! Be- 
 reaved, bereaved and desolate ! I can feel no interest in 
 anything ; the charm of life has fled. For think, he was 
 
1 92 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 our first-born, and our only one; taken, too, at a moment 
 so unexpected, while his poor mother, full of pride and 
 joy, was hastening home to show me the improvement 
 which six short weeks had witnessed in this idol of our 
 hearts, and which she had carefully concealed from my 
 knowledge, that my surprise might be the greater. 
 
 How eagerly I had looked for the day of my loved 
 ones' return ! It came, and they returned indeed. But 
 oh, how different the meeting from that which I expected! 
 poor dear C. a bruised and broken-hearted mourner, and 
 for our happy darling an icy form of clay. 
 
 Since Commencement, brother R. with his family have 
 
 occupied a room at Mr. 's, and on Saturday afternoon 
 
 I was lying on his bed, trying to solace an aching head 
 with thoughts of C. and Johnny, whom I expected that 
 
 evening. About three o'clock Mr. 's son came to the 
 
 door and informed M. that her sister was below and 
 wished to see her. Supposing it to be sister Mary Ann 
 who had called, she asked him to send her upstairs. 
 " She can't come up," was the reply. " She is in the 
 stage with her babe. Her babe is dead !" You must 
 imagine our feelings. In a few moments my poor 
 afflicted C. was in my arms, and the dreadful news was 
 confirmed. We proceeded at once to our own room, and 
 there removed the covering in which the remains of our 
 darling were enfolded, beautiful in marble. Oh, my dear 
 sister, what a sight for a father's eyes ! How different 
 from the sweet image which had lived in my memory ! 
 those bright and laughing eyes, were they indeed closed 
 forever ? That sweet smile, was it forever fled ? Should 
 I never again feel the quick spring of those active little 
 limbs, on the expectation of which I had been living so 
 long? And above all, must I bid adieu to all my antici- 
 pated delight in watching and guiding the development 
 of his mind, and seeing him, by the blessing of God on 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN-. 193 
 
 our own exertions, growing up to a happy and useful 
 manhood ? How much pleasure we had anticipated in 
 showing him to our friends in Brooklyn ! Under the 
 constrained moderation with which we spoke of him, 
 how did our deceived hearts swell with pride ! And 
 indeed he was a sweet child, and full of promise. But 
 what avails speaking of his loveliness ! He's gone ; we 
 are childless, all our plans for the future are robbed of 
 their chiefest charm ; we begin life anew and from the 
 lowest depths of prostration. God grant it may be a 
 wiser, as it must be a sadder, life than that which ended 
 in our dear babe's grave. 
 
 The melancholy story was soon told. They left Ange- 
 lica on Thursday, and after a pleasant ride to Bath, 
 started again at two o'clock Friday morning, the baby 
 comfortably sleeping, never again to open his eyes on 
 this sin-stricken world, never again to bless his mother 
 with the light of those much-loved eyes. Cousin Andrew, 
 who sat on the middle seat near the door, had taken him 
 from C.'s arms, and all were drowsy and silent, when sud- 
 denly the stage was overturned, the force of the shock 
 with which the ground was struck being the first intima- 
 tion they had of danger. In an instant A. attempted to 
 raise the babe, but found that its head had been thrown 
 through the open window, and the post of the door, falling 
 upon it, held it fast. Assistance was immediately given, 
 the stage raised, and the little fellow taken out still 
 breathing. They were obliged to walk a mile to the next 
 house, where physicians were sent for, and every atten- 
 tion rendered. But to no purpose ; the Lord had called 
 for our dear boy, and he must go. His skull was frac- 
 tured in two or three places, so that, though he lived 
 about two hours, the only sign of life was a gentle 
 breathing, probably without any sense of pain whatever. 
 In this condition he breathed away his sweet spirit in the 
 
194 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 arms of his mother. Their first thought was to stay 
 there till her father could be sent for. But as that would 
 occasion so long a delay, she concluded to commit her- 
 self to the protection of her heavenly Father, and come 
 on immediately home. 
 
 I would not have you suppose, dear S., that there are 
 no lights in this dreary picture, or that we are dwelling 
 only on its shades. In the first place, how kindly all 
 was ordered for the darling boy ! When we hung over 
 him, last spring, and watched his agony while apparently 
 in the very embrace of death, it seemed too much to 
 bear, and again and again were we ready to pray that 
 God would end his sufferings by taking him to Himself. 
 Yet when the last struggle seemed to approach, our 
 spirits still shrank back, and more earnestly we cried 
 that he might be spared. Our prayer was heard: he was 
 restored to life, a happy life, and continued just as long 
 as our heavenly Father saw best. And now he is not 
 called again to suffer, and to wear away existence amid 
 disease and pain. Fatigued with excess of pleasure, he 
 falls asleep in his mother's arms, and at the appointed 
 instant the bright dreams of infancy are at once ex- 
 changed for the glorious realities of the heavenly home. 
 How delightful to follow him to that bright world ! what 
 a welcome from the band of loved ones to whom we 
 have before bid farewell ! Spared just long enough for 
 Cornelia's mother to see and embrace him, who can 
 doubt that he has since rested in the bosom of mine ? 
 And then how wonderfully Cornelia has been supported! 
 When I first heard the news, I thought of her with 
 intensest anguish. What must she not have suffered for 
 thirty-six long hours, bringing along a weary way a life- 
 less babe to its eagerly expectant father ! There seemed 
 to be not a gleam of light to relieve the dark picture. 
 Yet I was hasty in my judgment. From her own lips I 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 195 
 
 learned how all her melancholy journey was smoothed 
 and comforted, how generous was the sympathy and 
 kindness of strangers along the road, how calm and clear 
 her own mind, how filled with the consolations of reli- 
 gion, and with such exalted views that she could say, " I 
 spent hours that might be called' happy, such thoughts 
 I had of Johnny's blessed state." For this, above all 
 things, I bless our faithful God, that to her, my dearest 
 one, thus lonely and distressed, He was a present Help 
 in trouble. 
 
 For my own part, I can almost put my finger on the 
 sins that have made this stroke a needful one for me, sins 
 frequently rebuked, yet still unchecked, and growing 
 into habits destructive to my usefulness in the Redeem- 
 er's kingdom. The Lord's hand is as visible to me as 
 though I had actually seen it dealing the fatal stroke 
 upon our baby's head, and it brings me to realize a new 
 relation to our heavenly Father as one faithful and kind 
 even in discipline. 
 
 Our friends here have wept with us in tenderest sym- 
 pathy. Dr. Kendrick preached a sermon from the words, 
 "Is it well with thee ? Is it well with thy husband ? Is 
 it well with the child ? And she answered, It is well." 
 And our hearts responded "Amen." It was hard to look 
 for the last time on that noble little form, that fair and 
 manly brow. The sweetness which was his characteristic 
 expression in life was exchanged for a most striking and 
 interesting one which affected all who saw him " majes- 
 ty," Prof. Conant called it, a lofty seriousness and almost 
 mature dignity ; and it seemed to say, " The jewel gone, 
 the casket is sealed up and sanctified unto the day of the 
 Lord." And so we laid it away to rest at the foot of a 
 young beech-tree, just in the edge of the grove, there to 
 rest until the resurrection morn 
 
I9 6 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 Five years later he was again called to meet the bit- 
 ter struggle : 
 
 HAMILTON, June 4, 1846. 
 
 MY DEAR BROTHER AND SISTER: I feel that I must 
 write you a few lines, although I requested S. to send 
 you information of the calamity that has overtaken us, 
 and you will probably receive it from Brooklyn before 
 this reaches you. I was in such a state of nervous agi- 
 tation yesterday that I could hardly finish the hasty 
 note I sent to her. To-day I feel much more calm. 
 Yes, dear brother, your little namesake is asleep, and 
 for the second time we mourn as those who mourn for 
 an only son. But oh! with me it is the first time. I lost 
 Johnny. God had taken him and he was not, and all 
 my anxiety centered on the suffering mother. But 
 Robby was torn slowly, sternly from my arms, although 
 I held him stoutly back from the destroyer and heard 
 my aching heart-strings snap as the mighty one pre- 
 vailed. Oh, how can I convey to you an idea of what 
 I have felt since the beginning of this dreadful week! 
 I know it is impossible, and God forbid that you 
 should ever learn it in the only way in which it can be 
 taught. 
 
 More than ten days ago the little fellow began to seem 
 unwell, only showing it, however, by somewhat less than 
 his usual buoyancy and glee. Two or three days later 
 there appeared other symptoms, and soon the scarlet 
 fever manifested itself in the most malignant form. 
 
 After a description of the progress of that terrible 
 disease, he continues : 
 
 Poor mother M. has almost sunk under it. Robby 
 was her sunlight, and it has seemed at times that she 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 197 
 
 would die of her distress. Dear C. is thus far greatly 
 sustained, although it came upon her like a thunder- 
 stroke; for notwithstanding her great anxiety, she felt 
 no apprehension that Robby was to die until about 
 noon on Tuesday, when it suddenly broke upon her, 
 from the manner of the physicians, that it was a hope- 
 less case. For a few hours her distress was very great, 
 but the Everlasting Arms are under her. She does not 
 "refuse to be comforted," because she does not believe 
 that her children " are not." She can follow them to 
 the heavenly land, and has a constant assurance of their 
 blessedness there. I cannot but hope she may be spared 
 that dreadful gloom and agony which made the winter 
 following Johnny's death a period of such unrelieved 
 wretchedness. In the school of affliction, among other 
 things, we learn to endure. 
 
 With me it has been different. As long ago as Satur- 
 day night, during most of which I held the little fellow 
 in my arms, and watched his dreadful conflict (oh! with 
 what a sore and sinking heart!), I felt the conviction 
 pressed like iron into my soul that God was calling for 
 my boy. It was not an absolutely unexpected call. For 
 six months past I have felt at times and vaguely that 
 when God came to chasten with severity, the blow 
 would probably fall in just that tender spot. And when 
 on that bitter night the chill shadow of death fell across 
 my threshold, I was ready to exclaim, "The thing that I 
 feared has come upon me!" Then when I raised my 
 bleeding heart in prayer, I met a righteous and a faith- 
 ful God, as well as a merciful, and I could not make it 
 the burden of my prayer, "Oh that my child may live!" 
 but "Oh for grace to endure chastening! Not my will, 
 but Thine be done!" Then I would try to pray " If it 
 be possible, let this cup pass!" while faintness and fear 
 sank into my heart, until I was forced again to cry, 
 
I9 8 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 " Not my will, but Thine, O thou Faithful in severity as 
 in goodness!" 
 
 And now, oh that this lesson may be enough! Daily 
 do I discover more and more of the wisdom and good- 
 ness of God in the affliction. Blessings always intoxi- 
 cate and weaken me; but affliction brings me to my 
 senses. It makes me feel my perfect weakness, nothing- 
 ness without Him, and my glorious fullness, complete- 
 ness, satisfiedness in Him. Then I am strong again. 
 Then it is that the whole scheme of salvation stands 
 out before me a distinct, all-comprehensive certainty a 
 world, a universe of glorious, spiritual, and eternal reali- 
 ties, which clips me round in its divine embrace, and 
 separates and lifts me up above the perishable world of 
 sense over which I long to triumph. 
 
 . HAMILTON, June 29, 1846. 
 
 We are very lonely, but the thought that you would 
 so soon be here has helped us greatly. You would not 
 believe I am sure /should not a month ago how great 
 a change the absence of that one little body would make 
 in our house. Dear little fellow! he occupied but a 
 small space, but he was felt everywhere; his voice, like 
 the music of birds, rang in my ears often when he was 
 hushed in sleep; his presence was sunlight to my path, 
 to my world. I had no idea how perpetually he was on 
 my mind, till now that I miss him. Even when at work 
 in my study, at every pause I thought of him. At every 
 unusual sound in the house I stopped and listened till T 
 heard his voice again, lest something should 'have be- 
 fallen him. In all my visions of the future his image 
 was present and brightest. How often since, when, for 
 instance, meditating the plan of our new house, have I 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 199 
 
 found myself saying: "It shall be so or so for my boys," 
 or when noticing some error in parental management, 
 " It must not be so with my boys," or when weighing 
 the claims of different fields of labor, "This or that will 
 be better for my boys." And oh! how like a blow the 
 bitter thought has come: "My boys! my boys! Alas, I 
 have no boys!" And it seems now as though the Lord 
 intended to deny me this, one of the choicest privileges 
 to which I have ever looked forward in this world that 
 of striving to correct in my sons the errors of my own 
 development, and giving to the generation following 
 what I cannot show to my contemporaries, " the type 
 and substance of a man." But I do not mean to mur- 
 mur. I feel no disposition to murmur. 
 
 I only fear that my treacherous soul will let the bless- 
 ing slip which is wrapped up in this rough husk, the 
 "sweet uses of adversity." This hard, hard lesson is so 
 full of instruction that I feel as though, if fully im- 
 proved, it would of itself make my life holy, and I have 
 tried patiently to receive it. But alas! my forgetful 
 soul! I fear that the work of my sanctification is to be 
 as slow as heretofore, and that I shall be called again 
 and again to taste the bitter pang. 
 
 The same experience of sorrow had come to other 
 households that he loved, and he gives the comfort 
 which he has himself found : 
 
 HAMILTON, Jan. 21, 1849. 
 
 MY DEAR BROTHER AND SISTER : I have just returned 
 from Albany and learned from C. the sad intelligence 
 which she received from Syracuse the day after I left 
 home. Oh that we might have been by your side, to 
 mingle our tears with yours, in the day of your distress 
 
200 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 Well do we know the bitterness of the cup you are called 
 to drink, the tenderness of the spot on which the stroke 
 has fallen. God give you grace to bear and to profit by 
 it. You have gained a new item of knowledge of ex- 
 perience you have tasted a new sorrow, and you will 
 never lose the memory of it. The circle of your sympa- 
 thies with weeping ones you will feel to be by so much 
 enlarged. Those words, so often heard in this dying 
 world, " lost a child," will have to you a depth of mourn- 
 ful significance, a power to open the fountains of tears, 
 which they never had before. Home is no more com- 
 plete for you on earth. The sacred spell is broken, 
 the sweet circle is shattered, the shadow of the Ter- 
 rible One is on your hearth-stone. But you have also 
 begun to learn how these bereavements, which make 
 earth desolate, enrich heaven, while we look not at the 
 things which are seen, but at those which are unseen. 
 I feel quite sure, my dear brother and sister, that you 
 have ere this begun to realize that hard as this affliction 
 is to bear, it comes fraught with blessings which no 
 prosperity could impart. It is the old story "Whom 
 He loveth He chasteneth." We are weaned by privation 
 and amid cryings and tears. And oh, when do we prize 
 the bosom of our Father so as when we flee to it to hide 
 our sobbings there, and to find repose for a bruised and 
 aching spirit ? Oh, faith faith though it were but as a 
 grain of mustard-seed, what wonders it will perform! To 
 the world a mystery and foolishness, but to them that 
 believe, the wisdom and the power of God! Give me 
 this talisman that unlocks the Blessed Heart of God, and 
 makes the soul welcome to the treasures of Love, and 
 what can all the powers of evil what can death or hell 
 do unto me? This precious gift is yours, dear brother 
 and sister, and you have before now been comforted and 
 gladdened by its more than magic power. 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 201 
 
 For myself, I look forward with trembling, for I know 
 these strokes must come, and come again, and I do not 
 expect. to become less sensible from the repetition of 
 them; nay, rather that each will bring intenser anguish. 
 
 His conviction of the discipline yet awaiting him 
 proved to be well founded. The sorrowful cup was 
 indeed pressed to his lips "again and again." Five 
 times the angel of death entered his household, and 
 each time took the fairest of the flock. It seemed a 
 sad and special feature of these bereavements that in 
 almost every case they were made keener by the sepa- 
 ration of the sorrowing parents and by the startling 
 suddenness of the blow. The home at Hamilton was 
 broken up, and while the husband and father was 
 engaged in the excitements of removal and of the 
 preparatory work at Rochester his family were shel- 
 tered under the dear grandfather's roof in Angelica, 
 which ever extended an eager welcome to the only 
 daughter and her children. The loneliness of the 
 father's heart creeps into his letters amid all the hurry 
 and pressure in his changing field of labor, with a pre- 
 monition of coming evil in " this long and weary and 
 sorrow-shaded separation:" 
 
 To his WIFE. 
 
 HAMILTON, May 20, 1849. 
 
 Your last letter, be assured, went to my heart like the 
 cry of the lost lamb, and my first impulse was to go after 
 you. But I am glad that you did not spend all your 
 sympathy on yourself, for I really feel that I need a little 
 of it too. Think of me, coming where home ought to be, 
 and finding no home there no wife, no children, no roof 
 
202 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 or fireside of my own ; and hardly able to enjoy my 
 friends, because of the feeling of desolateness and want 
 in my own bosom. Every one is, of course, very kind, 
 but that does not fill up the void. I really did not know 
 how much you are the better part of me. Thus far I 
 have tried to busy myself with getting things straight in 
 my room, and having looked carefully through all my 
 drawers and desks and pigeon-holes and book-cases, 
 and handled every article, one by one, and put each 
 exactly where I wanted it, and hung my pictures and 
 kindled a fire in my stove, until things smiled around 
 me so comfortable and home-like, I sat down with a 
 sigh, feeling that now my occupation was gone, and that 
 after all here was only the shell. The life and the soul 
 of it was wanting, and still I was a solitary and a home- 
 less man. For home, beloved, is the spot of which you 
 are the centre, and whose circumference embraces the 
 precious fragments of our sweet, shattered circle, and 
 thither my heart turns with ever-deepening yearnings, 
 as I feel how swiftly the time is hastening on when either 
 Death or Absence will make new changes, tending to its 
 final and complete dissolution. 
 
 The shadow fell quickly and silently. Another 
 idolized boy had been given to take the place twice 
 made desolate. A child of spiritual loveliness, it 
 seemed in keeping with his angelic ministry of three 
 bright years that he should so gently obey the voice 
 that called him back. Without a day's warning, with 
 no alarm of sickness, after a few hours of painless 
 languor, he fell asleep, and the wires bore the message 
 that summoned the stricken father. 
 
 The childish heart that was saddened by this its 
 first sorrow was comforted by the first letter received 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 203 
 
 from a father's hand. It was known and kept as the 
 " Happy Land letter," from its paraphrase of the juve- 
 nile hymn which had been a favorite in our family 
 circle since first introduced as a popular Sabbath- 
 school song : 
 
 HAMILTON, November 14, 1849. 
 
 MY DEAR DAUGHTER : It gave me great pleasure to hear 
 from Mother that you are fond of your books and of your 
 school ; at least, fonder than you were at one time. Very 
 soon, I think, you will like them better than ever. And 
 when you learn to write, I hope you will find it easier and 
 pleasanter to answer letters than you do now. Well, I must 
 have patience till then, I suppose. 
 
 The other day I called at Mrs. Kendrick's, and Helen 
 came running to me with a piece of paper in her hand, and 
 what do you think it was ? Why, nothing more or less than 
 a nice letter which you printed to her last spring when you 
 first went to Angelica with Grandma. She has kept it very 
 nicely all this time. In that letter you inquire very particu- 
 larly about our dear little Willy, who was then with his blue 
 eyes and golden hair playing about Mrs. Kendrick's house ; 
 and everybody loved him, he was so good, so sweet and full 
 of pleasantness. How little we thought his lovely little 
 spirit would so soon spread its wings, and fly away to the 
 " better land" ! After I came home I could not help think- 
 ing a great deal about him ; and shall I tell you where I 
 went in my thoughts, and what I saw ? 
 
 As I walked to and fro in my mind, feeling very sad and 
 lonely because all my dear ones were far, far away, I came 
 to a great gate in the side of a mountain. It stood open 
 night and day; and people kept going by me, and passing 
 through. Old and young, even little babies, seemed to 
 glide along, and disappeared in the great gate. Some went 
 joyfully, with their hands and eyes lifted to heaven, as if 
 
204 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 singing; but many seemed full of terror. They wrung 
 their hands and shrieked, and tried to hold back ; but on 
 they went, as though some unseen hand forced them through 
 the gate. 
 
 So I came near to look in ; but it was exceeding dark. 
 Nevertheless, when I strained my eyes, I saw away off in 
 the dark two bright spots. The one on the right hand was 
 white, like the brightness of the sun ; but that on the left 
 was red, like the glowing of a furnace. 
 
 While 1 wondered in my mind what this should mean, 
 and was troubled, suddenly there stood by the gate one 
 with silvery hair and a flowing beard, clad in a long robe 
 as white as snow. He held a scroll in his hand ; and look- 
 ing upon me with a mild and loving eye, he seemed to read 
 what was passing in my thoughts. For, without waiting 
 for the question I was about to ask, he said, "This is the 
 way appointed for all the living. Be ready ; for your time 
 will also come." 
 
 " But, sir," said I, " what are the two bright spots 
 which I see at the far end of the dark way ?" 
 
 He stretched out his hand toward me, and answered: 
 "Come and see." 
 
 So I gave him my hand; and he led me through the 
 gate. I shuddered as we entered; for it was colder than 
 winter, and the darkness was so great that it could be 
 felt. I could no longer see the white robe of my vener- 
 able guide. But his hand was warm and firm; and it 
 held me up, and drew me gently forward. So I ventured 
 on. 
 
 As we advanced, the bright spots grew gradually 
 larger and brighter, until we came to where two ways 
 met. One went downwards towards the red light on 
 the left ; and the other sloped gently up towards the 
 white light on the right. 
 
 Here we paused, while I gazed down the left-hand 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 205 
 
 road. And as we stood and listened, I could hear wail- 
 ings and groans afar off. And I saw those who had 
 come through the gate frightened and unhappy. Oh, 
 how they struggled, and turned back their straining 
 eyes, and stretched back their hands as if imploring for 
 help! But alas! there was no help. Then I heard the 
 voice of my guide whispering in my ear, " The wicked is 
 driven away in his wickedness." But I quaked exceed- 
 ingly from head to foot, and my heart trembled with 
 fear. So my kind guide drew me away from the fearful 
 sight ; and we walked together along the right-hand way. 
 
 Now I saw, as we proceeded, how that at every step 
 the path became smoother and lighter. I began, too, to 
 hear sweet sounds; and these grew more and more dis- 
 tinct. And the air was soft and full of pleasant smells. 
 By and by, we came to the opening at the end. But 
 how shall I describe the scene which ravished my eyes! 
 A broad and beautiful valley, stretching away as far as 
 the eye could reach and drest in living green. On the 
 right, the soft meadows sloped up into hills; and beau- 
 tiful trees and groves were scattered over all. Beyond 
 the hills rose a high mountain, with white cliffs and 
 diamond peaks, towering up against the blue sky, and 
 sparkling in the light. And bright clouds lay along the 
 tops of them. A silver stream flowed down the moun- 
 tain's side and among the hills, and then, meandering 
 gently down the valley, was lost in the distance. On 
 its banks grew many trees, laden with fruit. Birds of 
 paradise flew over the fields or sported in the branches, 
 and made the air all music with their warblings. 
 
 And I saw shining ones everywhere, walking and talking 
 together, or seated in groups under the shadow of trees, 
 with faces full of joy and love. Sometimes they sang 
 together, with their golden harps all ringing so harmoni- 
 ously, no tongue can tell the sweetness of it. 
 
206 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 High up in front, over the valley, I saw what seemed to 
 be a great white throne in the sky. It seemed a great way 
 off, yet it could be plainly seen from every part of the vale 
 and mountain. For its pillars were of light, and from the 
 top of it streams of light were pouring in every direction, 
 brighter than sunlight, yet softer than moonlight. And 
 around the throne the sky was full of angels ten thou- 
 sand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands. 
 Though they were far off, I could see they were all 
 engaged, and full of life and motion. Some were darting 
 away, like streaks of lightning, as those who carried 
 messages. Others flew swiftly back, as those who brought 
 home reports. And always as they came near the throne 
 they bowed and cast down their golden crowns, and those 
 that stood by struck their harps and chanted songs of 
 praise. 
 
 But now I must tell you what pleased me most of all. 
 By the side of the river was a beautiful garden, or orchard, 
 or rather both in one. For there were fruits of every sort 
 and flowers of every color. And great numbers of children 
 were in the garden playing. Oh, how beautiful they looked, 
 and how happily they played ! The kind gardener allowed 
 them to pluck all the flowers and fruit they pleased, and in 
 their play every one seemed trying all he could to make the 
 others happy. 
 
 Then I clapped my hands for joy ana spoke to my good 
 guide, who still stood by my side : u Oh, sir," said I, " I too 
 have five dear children, four precious boys and my darling 
 
 H , whom I love very much. Let them come into this 
 
 beautiful garden and play too." 
 
 Then he smiled and said: "I know you have five, but 
 three are here already." 
 
 And I looked where he pointed with his finger, and there 
 stood three beautiful boys apart from the rest, waving their 
 hands and smiling towards me, and nodding their heads, as 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 207 
 
 if to catch my attention. The smallest of the three was 
 nearest me, and I looked into his face, and indeed, indeed 
 it was Willy ! our own dear little angel Willy ! There was 
 his dear sweet face, his laughing blue eye, and his white 
 pretty hand; but Oh, so much more beautiful! Golden 
 curls all over his little head, his cheeks as red as peaches, 
 his eyes bluer, and his little hands and feet (for his feet 
 stood bare on the velvety greensward) whiter and prettier 
 than ever. The two others, who I soon saw were Johnny 
 and Robby, stood behind him, with their arms clasped 
 round each other's waists. But they were much grown 
 since we saw them here. Johnny was nearly a head taller 
 than you, and Robby about a head shorter. There they 
 stood, two noble angel-boys, with auburn locks clustered 
 round their white foreheads. Golden circlets confined 
 their hair, and their silver tunics were bound about the 
 waist with diamond girdles. But their necks and arms and 
 legs were naked, and shone in the clear heaven-light, round 
 and white as polished alabaster. There they stood smil- 
 ing, while Willy waved his tiny hand and beckoned me to 
 come. 
 
 Then I would have rushed forward to clasp the dear 
 ones in my arms. But a wall stood across the opening. I 
 had not seen it, for it was thin like the air and clearer 
 than crystal. The happy spirits who had come through the 
 gate passed through the wall without difficulty. But it 
 held my coarse body back. And my guide spoke and said : 
 "Wait patiently all your appointed time, till your change 
 cometh. For flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom 
 of God." 
 
 So I stretched out my hands to have them come to me, 
 for I longed to embrace them. But he said : " They cannot 
 come again to you ; but you surely shall go to them. Be 
 patient, therefore, and hope to the end." 
 
 Then I looked, and they were tuning their golden lyres, 
 
208 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 for each carried a little lyre in his hand, Oh how sweetly 
 they did sing together, all the time playing on the three 
 little harps ! And these were the words they sang : 
 
 ' ' This is the happy land, 
 
 Far, far away, 
 Where saints immortal stand 
 
 In endless day. 
 
 Hark, how they sweetly sing ! 
 ' Glory to our Saviour-King ! ' 
 So their joyful anthems ring, 
 
 Ring, ring for aye. 
 
 " In this delightful land, 
 
 Gladly we stay; 
 'Mid the happy cherub-band, 
 
 Mark how we play. 
 Loud we shout, and swiftly run; 
 Naught to mar our peace is done; 
 Love unites our hearts in one, 
 
 One, one for aye. 
 
 41 Here in the happy land, 
 
 "Pis always day; 
 And our Saviour's gentle hand 
 
 Wipes all tears away. 
 Sickness comes not, cares nor pains; 
 But, o'er all the heavenly plains, 
 One eternal summer reigns, 
 
 Reigns, reigns for aye. 
 
 " Come to the happy land ! 
 
 Haste, haste away ! 
 In the holy seraph-band, 
 
 Dear father, stay. 
 Our sweet mother bring with you, 
 Hatty bring, and Ally too; 
 For our joys are ever new, 
 
 New, new for aye." 
 
 And while they thus sang, two shining ones came forth 
 from amidst the trees of the garden, walking towards them 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 209 
 
 hand in hand. These were my own dear father and 
 mother, Grandpa and Grandma Raymond. And when the 
 boys saw them, they ran to them and canght them by the 
 hand and kissed them. Then the boys pointed towards me, 
 and they all looked at me and smiled. 
 
 At sight of this I could forbear no longer. My heart 
 melted within me to water, and I cried aloud for joy, and 
 said : " Oh that my change were come even now !" 
 
 " But," said my kind guide, "where are Hatty and Ally? 
 Will you leave them behind?" 
 
 "True," I replied; "I will return and teach them the 
 way to this * Happy Land.' " And as I turned, in an 
 instant I awoke, and lo ! it was a dream. 
 
 But it was not all a dream, dear daughter. Therefore 
 let us constantly study God's Holy Word, for if we rightly 
 understand it we shall know the happy way. Pray to God 
 that you may love and walk in it. Be good here and you 
 shall be happy here and hereafter. 
 
 Your affectionate FATHER. 
 
 From this time the father's letters were messages 
 of joy and loving counsel, for many years carefully 
 printed in the clear type which youngest eyes could 
 read, and often illustrated with pen-and-ink sketches, 
 or accompanied by rebus or acrostic or amusing tale 
 in prose or verse, to give spice to the unfailing chapter 
 of advice. 
 
 In later years his counsels touched the questions of 
 conscience which we carried to him. For the sake of 
 the grandchildren who may read these pages, selec- 
 tions from these letters are given : 
 
 ROCHESTER, July 7, 1850. 
 
 MY DARLING CHILD : I have thought of you a great 
 many times since I bade you good-by, and left you 
 
210 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 trying to smile through your tears at Grandpa's door. 
 It gives me more joy than I can express to hear such 
 good news of you, that you are perfectly well, and that 
 you are happy all the time. I hope you are beginning 
 to think of living to make others happy too. That is the 
 true secret of being happy yourself. Wherever the 
 beautiful sunlight falls, things shine back again into the 
 sun's face; but when the dark storm-cloud scowls upon 
 the earth, everything grows dark and scowls back. Be, 
 then, not like the cloud, making all look gloomy wher- 
 ever you come; but like the beautiful sunlight, and then 
 all faces will meet you with smiles, and it will be pleasant 
 weather around you all the time. In other words, have 
 a smile for everybody, and everybody will have a smile 
 for you; but have a frown for everybody, and it will be 
 strange if you don't get two frowns for one, all the way 
 through life. When the birds sing sweetly, the echoes 
 sing sweetly in reply. When the hoarse thunder mut- 
 ters and grumbles, the echoes mutter and grumble just 
 as hoarsely. Now, our friends and acquaintances are 
 very much like our echoes, and give back to us the 
 sounds that we first give out to them. So, if we want to 
 be surrounded by pleasant looks and pleasant words, all 
 we have to do is always to look pleasantly, and speak 
 kindly, and act rightly ourselves; and by so doing, first 
 make others happy, and then ourselves. 
 
 I know that you love your father, dear daughter, and 
 if you want to make him happy, very happy, all that you 
 have to do is to be good, very good. Much love to 
 Grandma and Grandpa and to all who care for me, and 
 for yourself the full heart of 
 
 Your ever-loving FATHER. 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 21 1 
 
 ROCHESTER, Sept. 14, 1852. 
 
 Your enjoyment of the fresh wild beauties of nature 
 pleases me very much, and I trust that you will never 
 have less than you now manifest. These are the works 
 of God the lofty mountain, the forest with its green 
 robes waving and fluttering in the free breeze, the merry 
 little brook that brawls over its pebbly bed in the 
 meadow or the grove, the bold majestic stream and 
 foaming cataract, the flowers, the birds, the broad blue 
 sky and silver-tinted clouds how full of beauty and 
 joyous life all things are ! I want you to have an eye for 
 all these beauties, an ear for all the sweet music of 
 nature, and a heart to love the dear Father in Heaven 
 who made and has given them all to us. 
 
 But the time for such enjoyments, at least for this 
 year, is drawing to a close. The blessed summer hours 
 are closing up, and soon the golden autumn will be past, 
 and winter will spread her snowy mantle over the dead 
 year, while her chill gales warn us to go to indoor duties 
 and enjoyments. Are you ready for the change ? It 
 came rather hard for me to come back to the city and 
 take up my work, especially as I had to come alone. 
 But I just set myself at it, determined to be cheerful, and 
 it is astonishing how soon I got interested, and how glad 
 I feel that I have the privilege of working. It is all very 
 comfortable to lounge about and play, when one does 
 not think of any higher style of living. But such is the 
 life of a butterfly or a grasshopper, and it amounts to 
 nothing it leaves nothing behind. Be mine and yours, 
 rather, the life of the little bee, happy in our work, and 
 gathering honey sweet honey to make us rich in 
 future years. 
 
 I found a pretty little German song, the other day, 
 which I thought I would translate for you, because it 
 contains a useful lesson. And here it is. 
 
2 1 2 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 LITTLE MARIANNE S SPINNING SONG. 
 
 Little wheelet ! haste thee, haste thee ! 
 Pretty threadlet ! twist thee, twist thee! 
 
 Turn, and twist, and never stay ! 
 For on earth, in air, or ocean, 
 Every atom is in motion, 
 
 Turning, twisting, night and day. 
 
 Should I leave my little garden 
 All unstirred, to bake and harden, 
 
 It would yield me nothing green; 
 Were no gentle winds from heaven 
 To my little turf-bed given, 
 
 Not a violet would be seen. 
 
 My great uncle the professor 
 Of all wisdom is possessor, 
 
 He knows everything that's done; 
 And he says, we're all in motion, 
 Cities, castles, land, and ocean, 
 
 Swift as thought fly round the sun. 
 
 Oh then let's be ever whirling, 
 Ever twisting, ever twirling, 
 Like the dust-wreath to and fro; 
 
 Like the merry dancers reeling, 
 Right and left the circle wheeling, 
 Ever, ever on the go. 
 
 Now, of sun, and wind, and weather 
 Uncle knows a great deal better 
 
 Than a little girl like me; 
 But this little thing know I, too, 
 Dance you can't, unless you try to, 
 
 That I know as well as he. 
 
 So, my wheelet, haste thee, haste thee 
 And my pretty threadlet, twist thee ! 
 
 Turn thee, twist thee, in and out ! 
 In this busy world of ours, 
 Come no dancers, come no flowers, 
 
 If we will not stir about. 
 
 Good-by, dear child, and ever love 
 
 Your affectionate FATHER. 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 213 
 
 ROCHESTER, July 17, 1854. 
 
 MY DEAR LITTLE BOY: Have you almost forgotten 
 that you have a father? I have not forgotten that I 
 have a darling boy of about your size, though it does 
 seem an age since I saw him, or heard his pleasant voice 
 about the house. I think of you every hour in that 
 sweet country home, and especially in the woods and in 
 that charming grove, with the green leaves dancing 
 above you, and the birds and squirrels hopping and run- 
 ning on every side, and the sunlight and. shadows play- 
 ing hide-and-go-seek all over the ground. How good 
 our heavenly Father is to us to give us such a delight- 
 ful summer home. Think of it two homes we have, 
 both full of plenty and comfort and loving friends and 
 dear ones, while so many of our fellow-creatures have 
 not even one home that is decent and comfortable. 
 Truly we ought to be thankful and good, and contented 
 and happy, from morning till night. And surely we 
 should be more than willing to give up all wrong and 
 sinful pleasures. A sweet word indeed is home, and a 
 precious thing, and I hope we shall so live in our 
 earthly homes that we may at last meet in a heavenly 
 home to part no more forever. 
 
 I have been thinking what I could send you for a let- 
 ter, and I don't know how I can please you better than 
 to write you a story which I read the other day in a 
 German book. It is the 
 
 STORY OF A PENNY. 
 
 In the Mint, the place where all the money is made, a 
 gold dollar and a copper penny had just been stamped. 
 There they lay, side by side on a table, with a large 
 heap of other new pieces which sparkled and glittered 
 in the sunshine. 
 
214 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 Then spoke the gold dollar and said to the penny: 
 " You mean thing! lie further off! You are made of 
 coarse, dirty copper, and are not fit for the sun to shine 
 on. Soon you will become black and filthy, and will lie 
 in the dirt, and no man will take you up. But I am of 
 precious gold. Therefore I shall travel far abroad in 
 the world, and do great things; and who knows but at 
 last I may become part of the Emperor's golden crown!" 
 The poor penny felt ashamed and spoke not a word. In 
 the same room there lay by the stove a wise old cat. 
 When she heard what the gold dollar said, she gravely 
 stroked her whiskers, turned herself over to the other 
 side, and softly purred out these words: 
 
 "Purr-fler-haps it may 
 Turr-turn the other way." 
 
 And so indeed it happened to the two pieces of money 
 just the other way from what the gold dollar had said. 
 
 The gold dollar came into the hands of a rich old 
 miser, who locked it up in his money-chest, where it lay 
 for many years with other gold pieces dark and idle 
 and useless. And when the miser became old and sick, 
 and was going to die, he buried all his money in the 
 earth, where nobody could find it. And there the proud 
 gold dollar lies to this hour in the dirt, black and filthy, 
 and no man will ever take it up. 
 
 But the penny, on the other hand, was to travel far 
 abroad in the world, and to come to great dignity and 
 honor. And thus it happened: 
 
 It was first given to a boy who swept out the mint- 
 house. He took it home ; and because his little sister 
 was pleased with the bright new penny, he gave it to 
 her. She ran off to show it to her playmates; but as 
 she was going, a poor, lame beggar met her, and begged 
 for a piece of bread to eat. The kind-hearted little girl 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN * 215 
 
 had no bread for him; but she pitied him so much that 
 she gave him the penny, saying, " Go, buy some bread 
 with that." The poor beggar thanked her, and hobbled 
 off on his crutches to the baker's shop. As he came near 
 the door he saw an old acquaintance of his, in a pilgrim's 
 dress, sitting by the roadside. He had beautiful pic- 
 tures of good men and women, which he gave to the 
 children, and for which they put pennies into his box. 
 The beggar spoke to his old friend, and asked him 
 where he was going. The pilgrim said, " I am going 
 many hundred miles away to the city of Jerusalem, to 
 pray at the grave where Christ was buried. I also seek 
 to deliver my dear brother, who is a captive among the 
 Turks. Therefore I sell these pictures that I may get 
 money to buy him free." The beggar's heart was 
 touched, and he put his penny into the pilgrim's hand, 
 saying, "Take my mite also; the good Lord will provide 
 for me." Now the baker had heard all, and, calling the 
 beggar to him, he gave him two such loaves as the 
 penny would have bought. 
 
 Then the pilgrim wandered on through many coun- 
 tries, and sailed over the sea, till he came to the great 
 city of Jerusalem. He prayed at the grave where Christ 
 was buried, and then he went to the Turkish Sultan who 
 held his poor brother captive. He offered him a great 
 sum of money to free him, but the Sultan would have 
 more. "Alas!" said the pilgrim, "I have no more ex- 
 cept this one penny, which a poor hungry beggar gave 
 me out of the tenderness of his heart. So be thou ten- 
 der-hearted, and God will reward thee." When the 
 Sultan heard the story of the poor beggar his heart was 
 touched, and he set the pilgrim's brother free. He gave 
 back also all the money, and would take nothing but 
 the beggar's penny, which he put into his breast-pocket. 
 
 Some time after, the Emperor made war against the 
 
216 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 Sultan, and came with an army to fight with him. The 
 Sultan led his soldiers forth and fought bravely for a 
 long time without being wounded. At last he saw an 
 arrow flying swiftly toward him. It struck him on the 
 breast, but instead of piercing him through, as he ex- 
 pected, it glanced aside and fell harmless to the ground. 
 The Sultan wondered; but after the battle, searching 
 his pocket, he found it was the beggar's penny which 
 had turned aside the point of the arrow and saved 
 his life. Then was the penny held in high honor, and 
 fastened by a gold chain to the hilt of the Sultan's 
 saber. 
 
 Some time after the Sultan was taken prisoner by the 
 Emperor, and was obliged to give up his saber. So the 
 penny came with the saber to the Emperor's palace, and 
 was put away in his treasure-house. One day, as they 
 were sitting at the table and talking about the war with 
 the Turkish Sultan, the Empress said she would like to 
 see the saber. So a servant was sent to bring it in; and 
 as he was handing it over to her hands the penny fell off, 
 and dropped into a cup of wine from which the Emperor 
 was just about to drink. When the penny was taken out 
 it was found to be all covered with green. By this they 
 knew that there was poison in the wine. A wicked ser- 
 vant had mixed it in to kill the Emperor. The servant 
 was sentenced to death; but the penny, which had saved 
 the Emperor's life, he had set with precious stones and 
 fixed in his crown. 
 
 And so the words of the cat came true. The proud 
 dollar did nobody any good, and got no honor or love. 
 The poor penny had given joy to a child, got bread for 
 a beggar, shielded a Sultan from being wounded, and . 
 saved an Emperor's life. Therefore it was loved by all,? 
 and now is set in a golden crown. 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 217 
 
 Now, isn't that a good story ? It teaches us how fool- 
 ish it is to feel proud and to despise the poor. For they 
 often come to honor when the proud and the haughty 
 are. despised. 
 
 And now, my dear boy, good-by a few days longer, 
 when I hope to hold you in my arms, and to join you in 
 your play and work. For I suppose you work some. 
 Make yourself as useful as you can. Be obedient to 
 your grandparents and kind to your sisters, and remem- 
 ber Your loving 
 
 FATHER. 
 
 TO A DAUGHTER AGED TWELVE, ON BECOMING A CHRISTIAN. 
 
 ROCHESTER, January 28, 1854. 
 
 I take the first moment which I could command, dear 
 child, to answer your last deeply interesting letter. No 
 words can express the joy which it affords your dear moth- 
 er and myself to know that you feel a personal interest in 
 this greatest of all subjects, and especially that you have 
 a "desire to be a Christian." What greater blessing 
 have we to desire and to pray for for our beloved H. 
 than just this? "To be a Christian," what is it? A 
 Christian is one who believes on the Lord Jesus Christ 
 to the saving of the soul; that is, one who has been 
 taught by the word and spirit of God " the exceeding 
 sinfulness of sin," who feels it to be a burden and grief, 
 and that there is no escape from the condemnation of 
 God, which it deserves, except through the atoning 
 sacrifice and prevailing intercession of the Sinner's 
 Friend, the Incarnate, crucified and risen Son of God. 
 One who has therefore fled for refuge to this Almighty 
 Saviour, and committed to Him the keeping of his soul 
 with joyful confidence that He is well able to keep what 
 is committed to Him until that day; one, therefore, who 
 
218 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 is safe against the terrors of death and of judgment, and 
 ever happy in the hope of glory. 
 
 But this is not all. A Christian is one who loves 
 Christ sincerely, supremely, practically ; loves Him for 
 what he is in Himself ("chiefest among ten thousands, 
 the One altogether lovely") and for what He has done 
 for us; loves Him in all His offices and characters; loves 
 His perfect instructions as " Prophet;" loves His perfect 
 mediation as u Priest;" and loves the pure and blessed 
 though self-denying service He requires as King: one 
 who, loving Him, loves whatever belongs to Him His 
 name, His word, His people, His day, His worship, His 
 ordinances, His cause and shows that love by prefer- 
 ring these above every selfish interest and every worldly 
 joy. 
 
 And yet again, a Christian is one who has the spirit of 
 Christ; who, having received Christ as a Saviour, has re- 
 ceived with Him the gift of the Holy Spirit, and for the 
 old heart of stone a new heart of flesh, a spirit meek and 
 lowly, submissive and obedient, patient and forgiving, 
 generous and kind a heart full of love to God and love 
 to men, the home of everything noble and beautiful and 
 pure a character, in short, that just fits its possessor for 
 heaven, and even on earth makes a heaven within and 
 around him as far as his influence extends. 
 
 Oh, if it is this to be a Christian, what greater blessing 
 can we desire for our dear ones or can they desire for 
 themselves? Think, dear daughter, how much your 
 wish contains. It means not only the condition but the 
 character of the Christian; not only the safety of happi- 
 ness and hope, but also the feelings, the love, and the 
 life of a child of God. These are, in fact, inseparable, 
 and I trust your desire includes all. 
 
 It is a delightful thought to me that there is nothing 
 to prevent your "becoming a Christian" in this sense if 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 219 
 
 you really desire it a delightful thought that the blessed 
 Saviour is even more happy than we are to see such feel- 
 ings in your bosom and to hear them uttered in prayer, 
 and that He ready stands to receive you into His em- 
 brace, to wash away your sins in His precious blood, 
 and to accept all your attempts (however imperfect and 
 weak) to serve and glorify Him. If your heart is heavy 
 on account of its sins, you need not fear to roll the bur- 
 den upon Him; He will carry it for you. If your heart 
 feels drawn out towards Him in any lovely character He 
 wears, you need not fear to offer Him your love; however 
 unworthy of His acceptance, He will not reject it. If 
 you long to be like Him, to have your whole nature 
 changed into a glorious image of His, you need not fear 
 to ask Him to make it so. He is more willing to give 
 the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him than earthly 
 parents are to give good gifts to their children. 
 
 You have doubtless asked yourself the question, with 
 deep interest, "Am I a Christian? Have I ever begun 
 to love and serve Him ? Have I passed from death unto 
 
 life?" It is a great question, dearest H . I rejoice 
 
 heartily in any evidence you may have had in your own 
 feelings, or may have given to your Christian friends, 
 that such has been your happy experience. But I would 
 not have you over-anxious, or too hasty, to answer that 
 question. Many a dear child of God has felt great doubts 
 of his adoption, yet lived a life of earnest, fruitful piety, 
 and died triumphantly at last; and many a one has felt 
 the greatest confidence and made the loudest professions 
 of being a Christian, but afterwards shown that the root 
 of the matter was wanting. It is a question not to be 
 answered in a day or a year. // takes a whole life to prove 
 to a certainty that one is really a Christian. Every day may 
 bring forth evidence for that day, and the longer any one 
 abides faithful, and the more one grows in grace, the 
 
JOHN II . RAYMOND. 
 
 stronger the proof becomes; and in process of time the 
 faithful Christian may attain to the "full assurance" of 
 hope. But this is not to be looked for at the outset. 
 
 What did our Lord say to the "many who believed" 
 on Him? "If ye continue in my Word, then are ye my 
 disciples indeed." He did not say this to discourage 
 them, as I do not to discourage you. But to instruct 
 them, to prevent them from resting in something which 
 they had already experienced or done, and forgetting 
 that true religion was a living principle which (whenever 
 it existed) went on as it had begun, and grew better and 
 stronger even to the end. So, dear daughter, I would 
 not have you rest in past experience, but look daily for 
 new, present, living evidences that you love the Saviour 
 and His service. Look not backward, except for courage 
 to look forward along that glorious path which shineth 
 more and more to the perfect day, and upward for grace 
 to help you run it to the end. " If ye continue in my 
 word, then are ye my disciples indeed, and ye shall know 
 the truth and the truth shall make you free." 
 
 Then, dear H., if (as I earnestly hope) you have be- 
 come a Christian, we shall know, you will know it by 
 your continuing in His word, by your growing in 
 knowledge of divine truth, and becoming more and 
 more free from the slavery of sin, the bondage of cor- 
 ruption, by your making constant conquests over selfish- 
 ness and worldliness, and showing forth more and more 
 of the gentle graces of the Christian character. God 
 grant that in such evidences you may abound ! 
 
 Farewell, dear daughter, and believe that you lie very 
 near the heart of Your loving 
 
 FATHER. 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 221 
 
 BROOKLYN, Sept. 23, 1855. 
 
 MY DEAR DAUGHTER: You would not be surprised at 
 my long silence, if you could see how my time and 
 thoughts are engrossed from morning to night, and 
 from one week's end to the other, by the cares and 
 labors of my office. Four hundred and thirty wide- 
 awake boys are no small family to have thrown upon 
 one's hands all in a day, as it were and when you add 
 to the care and management of these, the direction of 
 their numerous instructors and the superintendence of 
 all their work from hour to hour and from day to day, 
 you can hardly expect that much of your father will be 
 left for his children or himself. But though small and 
 seldom the expressions, the love, dear daughter, is large 
 and ever-flowing, and that you know without my telling 
 you. If you and I didn't love as Dr. B. prayed more 
 than we "showed it," our affection wouldn't be worth 
 much more than his piety was. 
 
 Your delineations of social and sylvan enjoyment, in 
 those Boeotian wilds, were exceedingly racy, and would 
 have been thoroughly delightful had they not stirred 
 some feelings of regret and envy, as though I had some 
 unregarded right therein. But it is a real comfort to 
 me that, while I must be at the wheel, my dear ones 
 may still breathe the pure airs of those sweet Allegany 
 hills, and I laugh under my whole skin, as I lie awake 
 o' nights and feel the mosquitoes pegging away at my im- 
 penetrable hide, to think that the tender flesh of which 
 they are in search is far away beyond the reach of their 
 insatiate fangs! 
 
 And how, dear H., do you get on with the maternal 
 and other cares that you are sharing with " Mother"? 
 Fretted and tired and almost discouraged sometimes? 
 Never mind it is a good school, and if you improve 
 its advantages, you will not regret the hardness of the 
 
JOHN If. J?A YMOND. 
 
 lessons. You may be sure of my blessing in all the help 
 you can give your worn and heart-sore mother. Let 
 her have your warm sympathy and your watchful 
 endeavors to anticipate her wants and to break the force 
 of her daily anxieties. Every sacrifice that you make of 
 your own little gratifications for her sake, will be abun- 
 dantly rewarded by the approval of your conscience, by 
 the returns of her love, and by the assurance you may 
 thence feel that you are indeed Christ's, because the 
 spirit of Christ is in you. This is the highest joy of our 
 life "the comfort of love," as Paul calls it of loving 
 and being loved, not only by our earthly friends, but by 
 our heavenly Father and Saviour. This school of expe- 
 rience is the best to learn religion in, for it calls into 
 requisition patience and fortitude, love and faith, and 
 every Christian grace; and if we answer the call, we 
 learn what these graces are, in the only possible way 
 namely, by exercising them. I would not by any means 
 discourage your searching the Scriptures constantly and 
 thoroughly, in order to get light on the great questions 
 of Christian doctrine about which good men differ, nor 
 would I disapprove of conversation or even discussion 
 on such points. But I want you to remember that the 
 spirit and the life of religion are the principal thing that 
 these doctrinal questions are full of philosopJiical difficul- 
 ties, and not to be fully comprehended by a youthful or 
 indeed any finite mind; that some of the best and wisest_ 
 of men have been found on both sides of them; that it 
 becomes young Christians, therefore, to think modestly, 
 and to express thomselves modestly, on such subjects, 
 and to take time to mature their views before they argue 
 confidently about them. " If ye do the will of God," said 
 the blessed Saviour, " ye shall know of the doctrine," and 
 for my part, I think very little of the religious opinion 
 of any whose religious character and conduct are not 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 223 
 
 imbued with the spirit of this sentiment and of Him 
 who uttered it. I trust, dear daughter, your interest 
 still continues in the best things, and that during the 
 coming winter we may enjoy many a conversation on 
 these important topics, which we have had no good 
 opportunity for doing yet. 
 
 Good-night, dear child, and the Lord be near you to 
 comfort and bless. So ever prays 
 
 Your loving FATHER. 
 
 ON THE DUTY OF CHRISTIAN GIVING. 
 
 BROOKLYN, July 2, 1855. 
 
 It would be easier, dear child, to write a sermon on your 
 questions than a letter, especially amidst the hurry and 
 confusion of my present circumstances. Nevertheless, I 
 will suggest a few thoughts which may help your own 
 reflections. 
 
 By what principle shall you regulate your benevolent con- 
 tributions? what proportion of your means shall you set 
 apart to this purpose ; and how distribute it among various 
 objects? 
 
 i . Do nothing for the mere sake of denying yourself, 
 There is no benevolence in that whatever, and nothing 
 to make you more acceptable to your heavenly Father. 
 Many people think there is some sort of merit in making 
 themselves unhappy, or involuntarily foregoing the inno- 
 cent and healthful means of enjoyment which Providence 
 has afforded them. It is not a Christian idea. It will do 
 for monks and anchorites, for papists and pagans. But it 
 is utterly unworthy of the child of God, to whom His grace 
 has been revealed in its fullness, and who is called to liberty 
 through the spirit of life and of love which has been given 
 to Him. Every creature of God is good, and to be received 
 
224 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 with thanksgiving and sanctified by the word of God and 
 prayer. We are called indeed to self-denial and the daily 
 taking up of the cross, as ready (if needs be) for crucifixion. 
 Not, however, in the miserable sense of afflicting ourselves, 
 of daily penance, of abridging our enjoyments; but for the 
 very reason that by so doing we shall at once exalt their 
 nature and infinitely augment their amount. " He that 
 saveth his life shall lose it; but he that loseth it for my 
 sake and the gospel's shall save it,," " shall receive a 
 hundred-fold in this life, and in the world to come life 
 everlasting." Deny thyself; that is, abnegate self as a 
 supreme object of affection and care, not because there is 
 virtue in unhappiness, but that you may exalt another 
 Sovereign upon the throne, one worthy of your love, able 
 to insure you a nobler and more lasting felicity. You say, 
 " I see that it will not be denying myself, unless I give all" 
 But that of itself is no reason for your giving all. Remem- 
 ber who it is that has said, " I will have mercy, and not 
 sacrifice." That is, the offering acceptable to God is not 
 penance, which he has not required at our hands, but the 
 *' cheerful giving" of a heart that loves to do His will, and 
 to promote the welfare of His creatures. 
 
 It is the spirit which breathes sweetly in another sentence 
 of your letter, a sentence worth to me more than all the 
 rest, however interesting the whole might be : " If I were 
 sure that I should be pleasing my heavenly Father by giv- 
 ing all, I should much rather do so than not." Ah, dear 
 child, could we but maintain that as the controlling spirit of 
 our hearts, it would be of secondary importance to what 
 particular objects we gave, or exactly how much to each. 
 
 2. Give nothing with the feeling that God needs your 
 contributions, more or less, and that, therefore, a great deal 
 depends on their amount. 
 
 I don't wonder that it seemed to you, after a little 
 study of the missionary field, that a fraction of your 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 225 
 
 diminutive store would go but a little way towards sup- 
 plying the destitution. But how much difference would 
 be made, in that respect, by giving the whole! What 
 then? Will you reason as some do, that you may as 
 well keep the whole and spend it on yourself? God can 
 certainly get along without any of it. But if you have 
 the right spirit, you could not be happy without con- 
 tributing something in some way to His cause and the 
 good of others. 
 
 Every real act of benevolence is "twice blessed. It 
 blesses him that gives and him that takes," but neither 
 merely in proportion to its amount. With respect to 
 the giver, its value is reckoned by the measure of love 
 which prompted it. "This poor widow hath given more 
 than all the rest." And to the recipients the value of 
 the gift is just what God in His wisdom may please to 
 make it. He can so link together causes and effects as to 
 make your sixpence bear a measureless harvest of re- 
 sults, while my dollar or thousands of dollars lie barren 
 and unproductive. Do you remember the little German 
 story I used to tell the children, about " The Penny and 
 the Golden Ducat"? Ah, you say, how little good in my 
 giving five or ten dollars to the mission cause, which 
 needs as many thousands or millions! Ah, said the dis- 
 ciples, as they looked from the five loaves and two small 
 fishes to the swarming multitudes around them: "What 
 are these among so many?" But what said Jesus? 
 " Divide and distribute, make the little less and give 
 according to that you have." And as they obeyed, the 
 crumbs grew to bits and the bits to slices, and the slices 
 to loaves, and the loaves to baskets-full, so that the mul- 
 titude were filled, and twelve baskets remained to rebuke 
 unbelief and make the Christian understand how in his 
 weakness the strength of the Master is made perfect. 
 
 3. But if love prompt the gift, how much will love 
 
226 JOHN H. RAYMOND 
 
 give ? Love gives //, and always all. Not merely that 
 little pile of twenty dollars hardly earned and fairly 
 your own but every other possession, every endowment 
 of mind and heart, whatever you can make of yourself, 
 whatever you can do, in all your relations to the near 
 and remote all, without reserve, will you give to the 
 Redeemer who has bought you, and to all men, in His 
 spirit and for His sake. It is radically unchristian to 
 talk of setting apart a portion for the Lord and keeping 
 the rest to ourselves. To love, the thought of such a 
 separation of interests would be simply painful. "To 
 pay tithes of all I possess " may satisfy a legal spirit, 
 acting from a cold sense of obligation, but to give the 
 whole and myself with it nothing short oj this will 
 satisfy the true child of God. Yea, he cries, 
 
 " If I might make some reserve, 
 
 And duty did not call, 
 I love my Lord with zeal so great 
 That I should give Him all." 
 
 I don't wonder at all that when you began to search 
 for the proper place for such a line of partition in your 
 twenty dollars, you came out just where you did that 
 it was all His. One step farther would have brought 
 you out clear. " I, too, am His, body and spirit, for 
 time and eternity. Whatever, therefore, I eat or drink, 
 whether I earn money or spend it or give it away, 
 whether I consult for my own welfare or that of others, 
 those of my own kindred and country or those far away 
 in more destitute regions whatever I do with this 
 money or with myself, let me do all to the glory of 
 God." 
 
 4. But, finally, you will say, " This does not help me 
 where I need help. There must be a practical appropria- 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 227 
 
 tion of this money to some object or objects. What shall 
 it be ?" 
 
 Well, dear daughter, I confess that that is a question 
 which I think of little importance just about in propor- 
 tion to the difficulty of answering it satisfactorily. "Just 
 which you please, my little dear." You have earned your 
 money, and I shall not object (and I think your heavenly 
 Father will not) to your using it as your own heart in- 
 clines you, if it be with a desire to please Him and to 
 make it as productive as possible of true happiness to 
 yourself and others. That is what He made it for, and 
 what He gave it to you for. Try to turn it to some good 
 account. That is the main thing. 
 
 Men are very prone to speculate about the" best way 
 of doing good. Some would powerfully convince you 
 that every cent should be given to foreign missions; 
 others, to the home mission; still others, to the Bible 
 Society. The tract cause, the Sabbath-school, and min- 
 isterial education have each its champions, fierce to 
 prove that it is the true center around which the great 
 cause of God and humanity revolves, and where every 
 cent is worth more than a dollar contributed elsewhere. 
 Another wise man will declaim against all those "man- 
 made societies" as a diversion of Christian influence 
 from the only divinely instituted agency for the benefit 
 and salvation of men namely, the church and claim 
 the whole for the maintenance and multiplication of 
 churches. Still another will tell you that there is too 
 much, preaching of. the Gospel through all these channels, 
 and too little living of it that it is sympathy with the 
 actual, visible wretchedness of the poor, the sick, the 
 degraded which best exemplifies the spirit of Jesus and 
 prepares the world for His reign, and he will plead for 
 hospitals and poor-relief associations, children's aid and 
 industrial schools, and female-employment societies, for 
 
228 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 asylums for the aged, the insane, and the idiot, for tem- 
 perance, anti-slavery, and moral reform. "Pshaw!" 
 cries a fourth (or fortieth, which is it?) "you are all 
 wrong. Benevolence is not collective but individual. 
 All this philanthropic machinery is only killing the heart 
 of philanthropy itself, by making that mechanical and 
 vicarious which must be personal and direct or it is not 
 at all. To every individual is assigned a sphere of his 
 own, limited and definite, within which he is to let his 
 light shine for the glory of God in the happiness of men. 
 By a faithful cultivation of his own mind and heart, and 
 an exemplification of all the sweet amenities of life, by 
 nobleness and purity of character in the family circle, in 
 the neighborhood, in his own church, among the poor 
 and needy around let him occupy till the Lord come, 
 and he will have more to show as the fruit of his labor 
 than by going abroad for objects of sympathy and care." 
 Words words words! It is well enough, perhaps, to 
 hear these comparisons made, and to think of them our- 
 selves. We get broader and richer views of the whole 
 broad field of philanthropic exertion, and in the multi- 
 tude of counselors there is safety. 
 
 But what saith the Scriptures? "Do good unto all, 
 as you have opportunity." Sympathize with all; have 
 a tender heart and a kind word for all; pray for 
 all. You can't give to all, simply because you haven't 
 enough, either of money or of strength. Give, when 
 you have anything to give, to that which for the time 
 being (-the "opportunity") is uppermost in your heart, 
 or divide among several which are specially pleading, 
 some to the church, some to this society, some to that, 
 some as tokens of affection to brother, sister, friend, some 
 to a destitute widow or an orphan babe, some for means 
 of self-improvement or innocent self-gratification to all 
 as you have opportunity, and do all to the glory of God. 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 229 
 
 What, then, is the sum of the whole matter* Don't 
 try to please God by making a great sacrifice Don't 
 expect to accomplish wonders by the largeness of 
 your contributions to His cause. Don't limit your view 
 to any single form of doing good, as though there was 
 special wisdom in doing that and neglecting others; 
 and, on the other hand, don't hesitate to throw the 
 whole into one plate if, after reflection and prayer, your 
 heart cannot satisfy itself in another way. So much for 
 negatives; and affirmatively: 
 
 1. Be sure that you love Jesus with all your heart, and 
 all around you with a pure and earnest affection, and 
 desire to do your utmost to make all happier and better, 
 now and hereafter. 
 
 2. /;/ that spirit lay out your money just as you please, for 
 yourself, for the folks around you, for the poor, for the 
 church, for foreign missions, or a little for all, and God 
 will bless it and you and others in it. 
 
 The Lord grant you a happy birthday, and many 
 happy, useful years in His service here, and hereafter a 
 place very near Him in glory, is the daily prayer of 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 FATHER. 
 
 ON AMUSEMENTS. 
 
 BROOKLYN, January 23, 1859. 
 
 For dancing as an amusement, especially for grown 
 people, I have little respect, and I think it proves very 
 injurious, almost ruinous, to many young women. But, as 
 an education for the body and the manners, I think it may 
 be made valuable to all, and to some it seems almost indis- 
 pensable. The moral danger of dancing is not in the use, 
 but the abuse of it. The right use of it, as a means of phys- 
 ical and esthetic education and as an innocent recreation, 
 true religion not only sanctions, but will sanctify. 
 
230 JOHN II. RA YMOND. 
 
 If I believed that the taking of the extreme "anti-dancing" 
 ground, by Christians, would have a tendency to prevent 
 the abuses to which it is unquestionably liable, I should by 
 all means favor the taking of that ground. But I believe the 
 effect is just the contrary. The devil knows well the injury 
 which a bad argument does to a good cause. He is always 
 on the watch for this chance of mischief, and next to getting 
 good people to sin themselves, he delights in getting them 
 to take extreme and untenable ground against it. For 
 thereby their testimony is distorted, their influence weak- 
 ened, and religion is made to appear one-sided and narrow, 
 while it is in fact as exact in the balance of its impartiality, 
 and as broad in its comprehension of good, as the infinite 
 sphere of space itself. 
 
 So long, indeed, as you have doubts as to the absolute 
 innocence of anything, refrain from it. For "he that 
 doubteth is damned (that is, condemned) if he (so much 
 as) eat." And great deference should be paid, by the 
 young especially, to the general sentiment of older Chris- 
 tians as to the moral quality of any act. On the side of 
 liberty, I would never counsel indifference to the judgment 
 of others. But then every Christian has a right, and a 
 responsibility too, to search the Scriptures and seek for the 
 mind of Christ for himself, and every Christian has a duty 
 to assert the liberty as well as the law of the Gospel. When 
 you have fairly considered the grounds of conflicting 
 opinions, and have honestly matured your own, stand in 
 quiet firmness on the truth, and however you may, under 
 peculiar circumstances, forego your own privilege lest 
 others, misunderstanding you, be ensnared, never take 
 ground which you believe to be false, nor allow yourself to 
 be quoted against the Christian liberty of doing any right 
 thing any more than in favor of the sinful license of doing 
 anything wrong. 
 
 With regard to dancing, it is not difficult to discriminate 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 231 
 
 between the right and wrong practice of it. The whole 
 subject has been amply discussed, and experience has 
 tested the validity of conflicting theories. It is time for 
 the Church to take just the right ground, and by a right 
 example to show the world the beauty and benignity of the 
 truth and to make sin ugly by the contrast. 
 
 The theater and opera question is a more difficult one, 
 and I think you do well to hold your judgment in abeyance, 
 and meanwhile defer any action. Visiting the theater can 
 hardly claim a place among the important means of personal 
 culture, and as a recreation, however innocent under certain 
 limitations, is not at all indispensable. Besides, it has long 
 been my conviction that public entertainments, to be 
 thoroughly healthful, should be used as a mere auxiliary or 
 extension of home pleasures. Going to the theater with 
 your parents, or with your brothers and sisters, is practically 
 a very different thing from going with casual acquaintances 
 or irresponsible young friends, for the mere fun of the thing. 
 
 His advice on questions of this nature illustrates his 
 mode of dealing with his children in all matters of 
 conscientious doubt. For, while he was careful never 
 to violate even their faintest or most fanciful sense 
 of right, he felt it a sacred duty to proclaim to 
 them liberty of thought, having first so educated 
 the conscience that it should be able to make its own 
 free and intelligent decisions. How patiently he sat 
 down with us to examine every side that a question 
 could possibly present, arraying the pro's and con's 
 before us, and then leaving us to make our own choice! 
 In every view that he gave, we seemed to sweep a 
 whole broad horizon of truth, and to take in all its 
 varying lights and shades. The result to himself had 
 been a universal charity that saw the good in everything 
 
232 JOHN H. RA YMOND, 
 
 and forgave the evil. He was just as ready to look 
 at any view that we urged ourselves, however opposed 
 it might be to his own well-known opinions ; and we 
 knew that no question would be decided against us 
 without a thorough investigation of its merits. Our 
 confidence in his justice both to our thoughts and 
 actions was the rock on which we rested. 
 
 His policy at home was the same that distinguished 
 his treatment of all who came under his training as 
 pupils to which he afterwards gave expression : " Our 
 aim is to develop in our students habits of free and 
 independent reflection on philosophical questions. 
 They are made as much as possible to feel that one 
 intelligent conviction which is really their own, gained 
 by honest reflection, and maintained with earnest can- 
 dor, is worth an army of borrowed opinions, however 
 profound, whether as an element of thought or an in- 
 spiration to life." 
 
 To one who shared with him these responsibilities of 
 his last years, he confessed himself very emphatically 
 " a believer in Christian liberty, and in the emancipation 
 of the Truth and Spirit of Christ, in His people, from 
 all the trammels of a narrow theology and a harsh and 
 stern morality." But he never forgot the distinction 
 between liberty and lawlessness, and in preaching 
 freedom never failed to prescribe its bounds, and to 
 guide to some definite and well-grounded belief. 
 
 His own faith in the wisdom of such independent 
 thought was sometimes tested, when it led his children 
 to differ with him in questions of importance. The 
 loving jealousy of the father's heart, while he protests 
 against it, creeps into the following letter in which he 
 gives his idea of the province of parental influence. 
 
FA THER AND CHILDREN. 233 
 
 Happily, his theories of youthful friendships therein 
 expressed did not always admit of special application, 
 and he lived to embrace within the circle of his own 
 fatherly sympathies some of the doubtful characters to 
 whom allusion is made. The same letter refers to one 
 of the chief regrets of his life, the divisions in the 
 Christian church, and the bitterness of some who, unlike 
 himself, could not permit any belief but one. His 
 ideal church in which all creeds should be " perfect in 
 one" was never to be realized, and he ever mourned 
 the partition-walls which separated him from some 
 who were nearest to his heart : 
 
 BROOKLYN, June 14, 1857. 
 
 MY OWN PRECIOUS DAUGHTER: Can it be possible that 
 you needed an assurance that I should welcome a letter 
 from you, and would be more than glad to respond to 
 any desire of yours for a nearer communion and corre- 
 spondence between us? If so, dear child, you have yet 
 much to learn of a father's love. But that will come in 
 time, and I wait without anxiety for the tests of time to 
 teach you what it would be unreasonable to expect you 
 to understand before. Not the least jealousy have I, 
 dear child, of the loves and the friendships which bind 
 you to others now, and fill your thoughts and heart with 
 other images than mine. I rejoice in it, and earnestly 
 hope these ties you are forming may all be as lasting as 
 they are now pleasing that no one of them may ever 
 snap in the hour of trial, and bring disappointment and 
 a pang where you looked for consolation and support. 
 I hope, but do not expect it. " Tempora mutantur, et 
 nos mutamur in illis." The friendships of youth are too 
 often like the buds and flqwers of spring 
 
 "Sweet, but not lasting, 
 The perfume and suppliance of a minute;" 
 
234 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 not valueless, nor unreal, but subserving their end while 
 ministering to the temporary joy and culture of the un- 
 folding spirit, then passing into forgetfulness amid the 
 fiercer heats and tempest-shocks of real life. Enjoy 
 them while they last; cherish them with vigilance and 
 care; some of them will ripen and bear in later years the 
 fruits of a faithful, perhaps a life-long, friendship. But 
 if you ever find that any of them fails you, yea, though 
 all should fade and perish, be sure of this, that a father's 
 heart changes never. To that you may always repair 
 with a perfect certainty that it is before you in loving, 
 ready to meet you more than half-way in any form of 
 sympathy and converse. But, " something too much of 
 this." 
 
 As to letter-writing, I am glad to learn that you mean 
 to "turn over a new leaf," and, though I can't promise 
 letters as confidently or as profusely as I promise love, 
 yet I think I may venture to engage that I will be as 
 faithful to you as you are to your pledge. Your letters 
 are a great delight to me, to whomever they are ad- 
 dressed. Addressed to me, they will have a ten-fold 
 charm if you are but free and happy in the writing of 
 them. But if you are not, I would simply say, don't 
 write merely because you think you must or ought to, 
 for there is no must or ought to in the case. I feel as 
 sure of my place in your heart, my darling, even though 
 silence cover it for a time, as you may feel sure of yours 
 in mine. When you have anything to say to me, any- 
 thing which you must say to me to me, and to no 
 other you will come, ever more and more freely come, 
 and say it. Meanwhile, we shall love "in deed and in 
 truth," whether in " word and tongue" or not. 
 
 You had something to say to me when you took your 
 pen to write this letter, and I will try to answer it as 
 frankly. 
 
FA THER AND CHILDREN. 235 
 
 If I have any desire in relation to you, dear daughter, 
 that infinitely transcends every other, it is that your re- 
 ligious development may be genuine, independent, and 
 strong. You do right in recognizing the delicacy of 
 others in not pressing their views upon you. A father 
 might perhaps have been excusable for a little more 
 active effort to "proselyte" his daughter to his own 
 opinions. But you will bear me witness that I have 
 never invaded the sanctity of your conscience by any 
 attempt to bias or even forestall its independent action. 
 My only anxiety has been that it should be first active 
 and then enlightened. I have sought to bring you with- 
 in the reach and under the influence of the means of 
 grace, and left it to the word and spirit of God to direct 
 you. I rejoice with unspeakable joy at the evidence we 
 have that your heart has been touched with a love of 
 the truth, and if I have interposed any check to your 
 natural and proper desire to profess your Saviour pub- 
 licly at once, and to join the company of His followers, 
 it has been not because I was solicitous to have you 
 adopt my views as mine, but to^have you sure of your 
 own, and sure that they were Christ's. 
 
 If the Church of Christ remained as it was in the be- 
 ginning, one blessed fraternity embracing all who loved the 
 Lord Jesus in sincerity, built together on the foundation of 
 the apostles and prophets, Jesus Himself being the chief 
 corner-stone, and striving with one heart and one way for 
 the faith of the Gospel, the question of a " choice of 
 churches" would be indeed a question of very little impor- 
 tance. But alas! how different! The seamless garment 
 rent in pieces the "one body" torn limb from limb con- 
 tending sects and factions, each claiming to be apostolic in 
 its history and its symbols, and all filling the world with the 
 clamor of their strifes instead of the blessed gospel of peace 
 their miserable rivalries and animosities only here and 
 
236 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 there covered with a thin veil of professed "union" which, 
 profuse in words,has always failed when put to the test of acts. 
 Ah, dear child, sooner or later every follower of Jesus who 
 has a mind as well as a heart must meet the question, and 
 for himself decide, as in the sight of God, upon the " choice 
 of churches." 
 
 I am far from thinking that this question or these questions 
 (for they are many) are all to be considered and settled 
 before the young Christian "joins a church." In the 
 majority of instances, where there is nothing providential to 
 call his attention to such matters, where he has been brought 
 to the knowledge of Christ in the Church of his parents and 
 of his own childhood, it would be needless and unwise to 
 disturb his mind with such topics. He should be informed, 
 however, far more than is usually the case, that such 
 questions do exist, and of their vast importance, and of the 
 solemn. responsibility that will come upon him of deciding 
 them for himself and he should be taken into the Church, 
 not to be bolstered up by partisan reasonings in a " foregone 
 conclusion," but to be furnished with facilities and aids for 
 understanding them fully and determining them impartially. 
 And if this were done fn all the churches, if everywhere 
 (instead of the sectarianism vvbich labors to conceal every 
 side of truth but one) there was a manly spirit of honest 
 free inquiry, earnest for itself and truly catholic towards 
 others, then I should feel much more as though it were " of 
 very little difference which church was first joined" than I 
 do now. ......... 
 
 Another thing I wish to say. The usual style of preach- 
 ing on the duty of joining the church is very appropriate, 
 when the alternative is (as it is usually) a continuance in 
 the world, and a gradual neglect of all religious duties, 
 and loss of all religious feeling. Better any church than 
 none, certainly. But when the alternative is really, This 
 church or that? when providential circumstances have 
 
FA THER AND CHILDREN. 237 
 
 really forced the question on the young Christian, and he 
 pauses, not from any faltering in his purpose to follow Christ, 
 but from sincere anxiety to follow him indeed; when he is 
 meanwhile truly living the Christian life from day to day, 
 and especially in his studies of God's word on this point, 
 the case is a very different one. I know of nothing more 
 likely to please his Master than a willingness to patiently 
 wait for this great privilege. You "hunger and thirst to par- 
 take of the supper of the Lord," and you do well. But if 
 you deny yourself this precious religious enjoyment for a 
 season, that you may prepare yourself more perfectly and 
 wisely to enjoy it hereafter, that very self-denial may be a 
 most powerful means of grace to you. It is the tendency 
 of feelings as of fluids, left to their own indulgence, to 
 spread abroad and lose themselves. It is only when held in 
 between the banks of principle and running in channels dug 
 by thought, that they acquire depth and become a power. 
 It is so with the feelings of the youthful Christian too, and 
 a great deficiency in the churches of our day is seen just 
 here. There is not sufficient encouragement and impulse 
 given to the study of principles by young Christians. Their 
 ardent desire for the associations and privileges of the 
 Church is cordially met; the door is thrown open to its 
 immediate indulgence, and in too many instances, the 
 novelty having worn off and a new set of feelings being 
 awakened, the soul unsustained by the aliment of reflection 
 and knowledge grows faint towards God, and its religious 
 life becomes feeble and fruitless, if not extinct. It was not 
 so in the better days of the Church. 
 
 Against this danger I have wanted to guard you. I have 
 not been afraid of holding you back from religious enjoy- 
 ments a little, if thereby I can increase your religious 
 intelligence, and make those enjoyments in the end more 
 rich and nourishing. I did not do it indeed without anxiety ; 
 for any church, I repeat I had almost said, any religion 
 
23S JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 is better than none. But I do not now regret it. It has 
 not diminished, but (I trust) deepened and strengthened 
 your interest in the great subject of religion, and given you 
 an opportunity of reflection on some points which you ought 
 not to be entirely ignorant of. No doubt you have still a 
 great deal to learn, even when you think that now you' see 
 "clearly." But you have at least begun to think to think 
 under a sense of responsibility, and with Some feeling of 
 the vast importance of truth and if that can be made the 
 habit of your piety, my great object will be gained. I don't 
 expect you to settle these questions absolutely and at once 
 by any means. But I cannot bear to have you join any 
 sect without knowing at least where their doubtful points 
 lie, or without holding your judgment in reserve for a free 
 and thorough scrutiny hereafter 
 
 And now, my one desire for you is that you follow not 
 me, but Christ. He is the way, and if I could say but one 
 thing to you, it would be this : " Strive to know and do the 
 will of Christ, wherever it may take you, whatever it may 
 cost you, from whomsoever it may separate you" And 
 though, in acting on that advice, you should be compelled 
 to go a totally different way from mine, however painful the 
 parting, I should not regret having given it, nor desire its 
 recall. 
 
 That God may guide and give you the fullness of His 
 blessing is the fervent prayer of 
 
 Your ever-loving 
 
 FATHER. 
 
 As the years went by, and our father's duties became 
 more and more pressing, he had little time to give his 
 family. But the hours that were snatched from work 
 were prized all the more highly ; and when we. could 
 not have hours, there were in every day golden mo- 
 ments when his presence brought a gleam of bright- 
 
FA THER AND CHILDREN. 239 
 
 ness into our midst. Such were those spent around the 
 family table, the one joyful meeting-place where cares 
 and clouds were banished; where, whatever the harassing 
 problems, the weary routine-work from which he came in 
 study or office, we were sure of the cheerful table-talk. 
 How it bubbled over with wit, with repartee and merry 
 challenge, with description and story and apt quotation ! 
 how it sparkled with word-scintillations in the torbid- 
 den pun and the conundrums that he was so fond of 
 propounding! Nothing fascinated him more than the 
 play of words, and he had a remarkable power of inge- 
 nious combination. Or, if question or remark from 
 one of us diverted the conversation into more sober 
 channels, a chapter of information was ready in any 
 department of knowledge, and the unfolding of some 
 favorite theory was rich in the wisdom that lay beneath 
 the sparkling surface. As in our younger days, fun- 
 was only the sauce to the more substantial feast of 
 reason. Certain lessons will be forever associated with 
 that hour around the table. One, the little sermon 
 which he found so many opportunities to preach 
 on Christian charity. Our merriment never ran too 
 high to be checked in a moment, if it chanced to turn 
 upon the failings of others. It was dangerous to dis- 
 cuss the shortcomings of our neighbors, if we did not 
 wish to be reminded of our own, playfully as 'it was 
 almost always done. How skillfully he would use the 
 very weapons with which we were in the act of attack- 
 ing them, to delicately touch the vulnerable point in 
 ourselves! We sometimes fairly yearned to serve up 
 the little dish of gossip that we knew would be so sum- 
 marily upset. We never had the least satisfaction in 
 that kind of sport, especially if it involved a discussion 
 
240 JOHN II. RA YMOND. 
 
 of the motives of others, one of the few things that 
 provoked him to a sharp reproof. It seemed to hurt 
 his sense of justice to hear a meaning (of which we 
 could not be certain) assigned to any action. He saw 
 a possibility of good in the most unfavorable appear- 
 ances. We used to think that, if his inmost heart 
 could be laid bare, we should find the thirteenth chap- 
 ter of first Corinthians indelibly engraved upon it. 
 
 Another theme on which he frequently discoursed to 
 us was the vanity of earthly riches, as he replied in 
 triumphant tone to the lamentations of his children 
 over their very moderate share of worldly stores, declar- 
 ing himself to be the richest man on earth. The sacri- 
 fice he made in early life had given shape to all his 
 ideas on this subject ; and it was with perfect sincerity 
 that he laughed to scorn the one who could call him 
 poor, while he counted up his possessions in a kingdom 
 which is not of this world, a kingdom into which, he 
 intimated with gentle satire, it is so hard for certain 
 people to enter. 
 
 One more opportunity which we did not fail to 
 improve for intercourse with our father was the daily 
 walk which became a necessity to him in absence of all 
 other relaxation. While he gathered strength and 
 inspiration for his work, he made us partakers of the 
 new life which he drank in. We could not be with him 
 in those communings with Nature without sharing his 
 intimacy with her; and we gladly followed, as he drew 
 us deeper and deeper into her heart. He trained our 
 eyes to discover a thousand hidden beauties, as he 
 directed them to every varying line and blending tint 
 in the landscape. Or he taught us a new avenue of 
 enjoyment in closing the eyes, as was his habit, to listen 
 
FATHER AND CHILDREN. 241 
 
 for the sounds that, one by one, stirred the most pro- 
 found silence, multiplying to our attentive ears in the 
 gentle undertone which Nature has for all who will hear. 
 His habit of close observation opened a new world to 
 us. It seemed as though he had a special and a finer 
 sense that discerned sights and sounds unknown to 
 others. We felt it especially in the significance which 
 he gave to every object in the heavens, transfiguring 
 to our imagination what would have passed unnoticed. 
 In a long line of feathery, overlapping clouds he would 
 point out the glistening ranks of an archangel band, till 
 we could* fairly see their winged forms. In every vista 
 in evening sky, he could see an entrance to the Celes- 
 tial City ; and through the slightest rift made by part- 
 ing cloud-masses, could catch the glories that were so 
 real to his radiant faith. The sunset was always the 
 event of our day, when we gathered with him at the 
 windows, or hurried at his summons to the hill-top to 
 watch the glowing pageant. How his words seemed 
 to kindle new glory in the picture, as he painted all 
 the scenery of that shining City, while some molten 
 "sea of glass mingled with fire" stretched away before 
 us, or dome and pillars rose in crystal splendor. In 
 his intense love of Nature and understanding of her 
 meanings, he interpreted to us the mystery of a life hid 
 with her in divine fellowship, " throbbing with her 
 throbbing heart," and answering to the spirit in her 
 forms which " beckons to spirit of its kin." His very 
 being seemed interwoven with every form of beauty, 
 until all Nature has come to seem a part of the beloved 
 father's nature that made life such a constant lesson of 
 loveliness to his children. 
 
 Of scarcely less importance as an education to them 
 
242 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 was his discriminating love of art, and the delicacy of 
 his esthetic taste. We were never too young to be his 
 companions in the visits to art-collections that were so 
 rich in profit and delight. Chief among the recollec- 
 tions of that period of our life passed in Brooklyn is 
 the memory of those rare Saturday excursions to New 
 York, when we explored with him the treasures of gal- 
 lery and studio. No formal commentary or code of 
 criticism could have done more to form our judgment 
 than the hints which he threw out so spontaneously. 
 In this, as in everything, he shared with us his own 
 opinions and knowledge so naturally that we were 
 unconscious how much we were imbibing. His percep- 
 tions were so keen that we learned to watch with him 
 for the minutest shades of excellence or error, and to 
 rejoice in all subtle harmonies of color and form. 
 Sometimes he would strike a historic vein, and give us 
 an impromptu lecture on some school of art suggested 
 by the specimen before us. When he began to go 
 backward in history, or downward to the " underlying 
 principle," we never knew how far we were to be car T 
 ried. 
 
 Music was another world in which he reveled ; and 
 here, too, he was our guide. No one knew so well as 
 we, who were most intimately with him, how he drank 
 in all heavenly sounds. It was a language which said 
 more to him than to any one we had ever known. Of 
 all who spoke to him in that language, none spoke to 
 his deepest heart like Beethoven, who was, above all 
 others, master in his soul. A Beethoven symphony 
 was a feast that seemed a very sacrament. " Oh, why 
 could you not have been here," he writes, "to hear 
 Beethoven's ' Seventh' ? It was never performed so 
 
FA THER AND CHILDREN. 243 
 
 well before never! And there was a man in the 
 ' seventh heaven' that night, whether in the body or 
 out of the body I know not he sat in the gallery. But 
 alas ! he was alone, and he longed for, he knew whom, 
 to keep him company, and help him hold what there 
 was not room within him to contain." 
 
 How many times the experience was repeated which 
 he records in another letter, the exaltation to which he 
 rose from weariest mood at the call of that wondrous 
 master! 
 
 I had gone last Saturday evening to the Philharmonic 
 to hear Beethoven's ineffable " Eroica," and I sat in 
 most congenial company, waiting for the music. But I 
 was not in tune at all. Three days of the printers, added 
 to three days of rheumatics, had about used me up, and 
 I was feeling inexpressibly jaded and depressed when 
 the tap of the conductor's baton summoned me to Beetho- 
 ven and Beethoven to me. Account for it as you may, 
 the depression and weariness were gone, and my soul 
 was lifted up to just the right key, and I had a most 
 delicious and refreshing evening. "Spiritual?" Ah me! 
 what shall I say ? That God is in such music, and in the 
 power to enjoy it, I have no more doubt than that He is 
 in the flowers or the dawn, the mountains or the sea if 
 we had only faith to find Him; and if not, shall we con- 
 demn the music or the unbelief that misses its highest 
 significance and loses its most exquisite delight ? 
 
 But to his children there is no association sweeter 
 than that awakened by Beethoven's sixth the " Pas- 
 toral Symphony" because the first that through him 
 became intelligible, when those of deeper meaning could 
 not have been comprehended. It is impossible now to 
 
244 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 hear it without a tumult of those self-same " feelings of 
 delight on arriving in the country" which he first inter- 
 preted to our youthful ears, as he taught us to distin- 
 guish the music of the brook, the song of birds, and 
 patter of the shower in those melodious sounds. In 
 the deeper enjoyment of later years we may smile at 
 brook and bird that have learned no profounder notes 
 since those days of childhood. But still they sing on, 
 and the same little cuckoo cuckoos, and the thunder- 
 storm comes and clears away, and the blue sky breaks 
 forth, while through the parting clouds we see a fairer 
 sky, and heavenly depths undreamed of then, beloved 
 faces looking down, and the father's form that was ever 
 at our side, now shining far above us. From that fair 
 height we still hear the voice that ever called us to 
 things pure and heavenly. The highest enjoyment that 
 earth can give in sight or sound, all that is sweetest and 
 noblest and most transporting, is still a medium for the 
 influence whose uplifting and refining power must be 
 forever felt. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ROCHESTER. 
 
 THE question of removing any chartered institution 
 from one locality to another necessarily involves 
 a clashing of local interests, and it would be neither 
 wise nor, at this late day, interesting to enter into all the 
 tangled maze of cross-purposes and conflicts engendered 
 by the proposal already mentioned, to remove Madison 
 University to Rochester. Suffice it to say that the 
 convictions of both parties were sincere and earnest, 
 and the labors in diplomacy, law, and social influence, 
 most energetic and persistent during three or four toil- 
 some years before the Removal party succeeded in 
 securing their charter for a new institution new, be- 
 cause the Madison University remained at Hamilton, 
 and is still flourishing, while the Rochester enterprise 
 was started at the foundation by the greater number of 
 the Hamilton professors and students. Thus, in the 
 providence of God, the interest aroused by the ardent 
 personal efforts of both parties resulted in raising up 
 friends and ample funds for the support of two strong 
 institutions, instead of one without endowment and ever 
 struggling for existence. 
 
 The University opened at Rochester in the fall of 
 1850. The preceding months were marked by inces- 
 sant labor and extreme anxiety on the part of those 
 most active in the movement. The new charter being 
 conditioned upon the raising of a large endowment 
 
246 JOHN //. RA YMOND. 
 
 fund, the fate of the enterprise was not certain until a 
 short time before the opening. The progress of the 
 effort to secure this fund may be traced in hurried 
 letters : 
 
 To his Father-in-law, Mr. A. MORSE. 
 
 UTICA, December 10, 1849. 
 
 I left Rochester last evening. The Committee there 
 acted with vigor, and laid out a noble piece of work. 
 Their plan is to continue the effort to remove the injunc- 
 tion from Madison University, but meanwhile to apply 
 to the Regents of the State for the pledge of a new 
 charter on the raising of $130,000, and to send out agents 
 at once to collect the funds. They propose also to form 
 a new Educational Society, for the support of a Theo- 
 logical Seminary at Rochester. 
 
 HAMILTON, February 2, 1850. 
 
 DEAR FATHER : You have probably noticed in the 
 papers that our application to the State Regents has 
 been successful. They have granted us their usual 
 sealed instruments, pledging a charter for the " Roches- 
 ter University," if $130,000 of good subscription be 
 obtained for endowing it within two years. Thus far 
 the work of raising the subscriptions has not gone on 
 quite vigorously enough to suit us here, and the Faculty 
 (some of whom have thought I could not be spared) 
 begin to talk strongly of my going to spend a few weeks 
 at the West. 
 
 ROCHESTER, Mar'ch 13, 1850. 
 
 The good work goes bravely on. But our friends 
 must not be impatient for results. There must be a seed- 
 time before a harvest, though just at present the reaper 
 is following pretty closely on the heels of the sower. 
 
ROCHESTER. 247 
 
 Our brethren here have but just got at the work; but 
 they are doing nobly. Five or six are busy all the time, 
 day in and day out, and I have never been so impressed 
 with the amount of labor required to carry through such 
 an undertaking. It must be remembered that the $1000, 
 $500, $300, and $250 subscriptions are generally gathered 
 in, and when you get down to the $ioo's and $50*5, it takes 
 ten or fifteen men to make every thousand. To talk 
 over this whole subject with some two or three hundred 
 persons in a single city, a large proportion of whom 
 need to be visited two or three times, is no small task. 
 It will take time, of course, to roll up the great ball; but 
 I do not see the first sign of giving back. 
 
 We have fixed upon Mr. Bright for Corresponding 
 Secretary of the new Educational Society, and shall open 
 a correspondence with him immediately to induce him 
 to identify himself with the movement. We have en- 
 couragement that he will regard the appointment with 
 favor. If he accepts, I shall think a great point gained. 
 
 To his WIFE. 
 
 ROCHESTER, July 26, 1850. 
 
 As the summer wanes, and with it the time for com- 
 pleting our subscription so as to open this fall grows 
 shorter, our anxiety deepens and our sense of the im- 
 portance of pressing every moment and at every acces- 
 sible point. We have added $io,ooo'within ten days, 
 and are now in sight of $90,000. But I never before 
 realised how " mony a little" it takes to "mak a mickle," 
 or how large a sum $100,000 is. We are straining every 
 nerve to reach that point before Commencement at Ham- 
 ilton, that we may feel warranted in announcing the open- 
 ing of the University this fall, before the students disperse. 
 
248 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 The article signed " L" was mine. It has produced 
 quite a stir, and great curiosity to know the author. At 
 one time it seemed probable the secret would be out. 
 But Mr. Porter, who wrote the other articles, has ac- 
 knowledged them, and attention has been diverted from 
 
 mine. 
 
 To-morrow I expect to go to Avon with William Sage, 
 to make collections. It is hardly possible to tell where 
 I shall be, or whither go, for the next three weeks. I 
 fear I cannot get to Angelica, though I am eager to 
 come. How I long for repose and for home! In all 
 these busy days when my time is all occupied and more 
 than occupied, I am conscious of a constant, vague un- 
 easiness, as though something was wanting, as though a 
 strand was lost out of my thread of life, and what re- 
 mained was imperfect, unsatisfactory, and weak. 
 
 Heigho! but keep a good heart. I trust the day is not 
 so far as it has been. 
 
 Yours patiently no, impatiently J. 
 
 To Mr. JOHN N. WILDER. 
 
 ALBANY, August 30, 1850. 
 
 MY DEAR MR. WILDER: It was fortunate, on the whole, 
 that I came this way, for things are very far from being 
 so well advanced as I hoped to find them. I trust a little 
 flame has been kindled, and a few more chips, the driest 
 we could find, have been laid on; but it will need close 
 attention and nursing to get up a conflagration. At 
 every step I have felt the need of your presence, coun- 
 sel, and influence. 
 
 Deacon Sage will have reported the character and 
 results of the Saratoga Convention. . . , In Albany, last 
 evening, we had even fewer out. No preparation had 
 been made. I made the long speech and Judge Harris 
 
ROCHESTER. 249 
 
 the weighty one. A good impression was made, and the 
 pastors were appointed a committee to make an arrange- 
 ment for a large meeting two weeks from next Wednes- 
 day. We must see to it that that is no failure. You 
 must make your calculations to be on the ground, and 
 we must be in force enough there to put the thing 
 through. 
 
 I have been greatly perplexed as to my own best 
 course now. It was but a feather's weight, as it were, 
 that turned the scale in favor of my coming this way, 
 and whether to remain or return, I wot not. A half- 
 hour's talk with you on the subject would be worth a 
 week's with any other man. But one thing has deeply 
 impressed me yea, two that there is a great deal of 
 preparatory work to be done in this section of the State, 
 and that it is high time for some one to be about it. ... 
 
 Cutting and Lathrop are here from New York, both 
 as clear as a bell on the right side. One important 
 object I have in going on -is to see more of Anderson. 
 I had a good deal of conversation with him at Saratoga, 
 and all his sympathies are with us. He is constantly 
 getting a clearer notion of the state of things among us, 
 and will come " right as a trivet." 
 
 Many thanks for the note you w r ere so good as to for- 
 ward, inclosing a copy of verses by a fair hand. It was 
 refreshing to my fretted spirit, as an unlooked-for foun- 
 tain in the heart of a desert. It reminded me that there 
 were in this brick-dust world such things as flowers and 
 music and poetry and woman. Ever let me sing with 
 Luther: 
 
 " Wer nicht liebt Wein, Weib und Gesang, 
 Der bleibt ein Narr sein Lebenlang !" 
 
 " Who loves not woman, wine and song, 
 A booby he, his whole life long !" 
 
250 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 There spake a genuine Reformer, Scholar and Christian, 
 and I profess me of his faith this day. 
 
 Give my most cordial love to Mrs. Wilder and all your 
 dear home-circle love which by reason of absence and 
 distance diminishes not, but "groweth exceedingly," 
 And believe me ever 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 J. H. R. 
 
 To his WIFE. 
 
 ALBANY, August 30, 1850. 
 
 In the whirl and confusion and anxiety of my busi- 
 ness I hardly know what I have written you, and now 
 I have but a moment to say that I have concluded to go 
 on to New York, and leave in about an hour. Our 
 meetings in Saratoga, Troy, and here, while very far 
 from being failures, show that a great work is to be 
 done in eastern New York, to bring the people up to the 
 giving point, and I am going at it. 
 
 BROOKLYN, September 10. 1850. 
 
 It was indeed well that I came as I did. Everything 
 was at a standstill for want of some one to attend to it. 
 By means of a telegraph from Albany to New York on 
 Friday, I was able to get things in train for the publica- 
 tion of our address in the Recorder, and we hope also In 
 the Register, next week, which will be just time enough, 
 and none to spare. I find an excellent state of feeling 
 here. We are beginning to get our plowshare in, and 
 mean to put it through, with the Lord's help, though it 
 will be a tough and a slow job, and none the less so for 
 the scratching-over which the surface is getting by the 
 Hamiltonians. The Recorder is coming out decidedly 
 
ROCHESTER. 25 1 
 
 for Rochester though not against Hamilton, as you 
 will see from the articles last week and this, mostly from 
 my own pen. I also wrote the leader this week on 
 Dr. Judson's death, at request of Anderson. Yesterday 
 morning we had an informal conference with pastors 
 and other friends at Mr. Hodge's, and arranged for a 
 commencement of the campaign. We have a public 
 meeting next week in Brooklyn, to be followed by others 
 in New York immediately. Now is the time to work. 
 
 On reaching here on Saturday morning, I found all 
 well. Brother Tasker is absorbed in his steamship ne- 
 gotiations. He is buying and building ships for the 
 Pacific, backed by certain San Francisco merchants. 
 They have just heard of Ward's arrival in California, 
 in good health and the best of spirits, his ship having 
 carried a full load of passengers, and proved herself the 
 fastest and finest steamer on the Pacific. 
 
 I find old Dr. Beecher and his wife, with Thomas 
 Beecher, a teacher from Hartford, here on a visit. We 
 have had, of course, a rich time. Tom and I take to 
 each other surprisingly. He is much younger than' 
 Henry, a clear-headed, clever fellow, and as droll as a 
 Beecher. He and the old gentlemen are forever poking 
 fun at each other, to their own great delight and the 
 entertainment of others. 
 
 Yesterday I was besieged to preach at Dr. Cox's, but 
 declined. I heard three sermons, each a model in its way: 
 morning, Dr. Welch's (good), commonplace thought in 
 a splendid diction ; afternoon, Mr. Storrs (better), a 
 specimen of clear, strong, rich, thoroughly wrought 
 intellection able, instructive, convincing, delightful; 
 evening, Beecher (best), a perfect torrent of originality^ 
 imagination, passion, poetry, and eloquence, which was 
 said to be probably his masterpiece, the best he ever 
 preached in Brooklyn. Singularly enough, his text was 
 
252 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 the same with Dr. Welch's, " Rejoice evermore," and 
 gave a fine opportunity of contrasting the styles. 
 
 Sept. 16. 
 
 I had to take an hour this morning to run into the 
 Dtisseldorf Gallery. They have some beautiful new 
 paintings. And now, you must know I have heard Jenny 
 Lind! and "she's all my fancy painted her, she's lovely, 
 she's divine." Such wonders of vocalization, such genuine 
 simplicity and womanliness, such gushing joyousness 
 and sweetness of spirit, manifesting itself in signs so un- 
 mistakable and speaking to your heart, were certainly 
 never before combined in one woman, to my knowledge. 
 So much had been said about her simplicity and un- 
 affectedness that I was feeling prepared for a most 
 delicate and graceful affectation of unaffectedness, and a 
 thousand "sweet simplicities" calculated to ravish the 
 heart of a cockney, like a pastoral of the Laura Matilda 
 style. But no, indeed! nothing of the kind, nor of any 
 other style. It's what she don't do, rather than what 
 ,she does, that takes conviction captive. And yet her 
 manner is full of winning grace and dignity, and her 
 singing oh, her singing ! what shall I say of it ? It 
 does all that the highest vocal art aims at, but in such a 
 way that you never think of any art at all, and can 
 hardly believe, except in the most difficult and astound- 
 ing passages, that it costs her any effort. 
 
 I am hungry for home, but must remain as long as 
 seems desirable for the furtherance of our great cause. 
 
 To Mr. JOHN N. WILDER. 
 
 NEW YORK, September 13, 1850. 
 
 Our first field-action in this department of the cam- 
 paign comes off to-morrow evening, when we are to have 
 
ROCHESTER. 253 
 
 a gathering of Brooklynites at Mr. Hodge's church, and 
 shall charge with all our cavalry. Our puissant ally 
 Anderson first takes the field, with a view of occupying 
 certain strong general positions, under cover of which I 
 am to advance to a direct assault; while the regulars, 
 Hodge, Taylor, and especially the veteran Welch, bring 
 up the rear with a powerful corps de reserve. In this 
 attack, of course, we only hope to break up their ranks, 
 and shall follow it by a close, running fight the whole 
 week following, in which all our troops should be en- 
 gaged. Hurry in your reinforcements, and we shall 
 hope to give a good account of ourselves not only in 
 shouts of victory, but in willing captives and precious 
 spoils. 
 
 You must not fail to be at Albany at the next meeting. 
 It cannot go on without you. I feel anxious to hear how 
 Buffalo roars. 
 
 What are you prepared to do at the Rochester board 
 meeting ? You must take a step forward " whether or 
 no." It is high time to have the date of opening fixed, 
 if not announced, by a definite action of the board. 
 
 Give my warmest regards to all my brothers in arms, 
 especially to my esteemed confreres, Conant, Kendrick, 
 and Richardson. Tell Mrs. Wilder that 
 
 " Where'er I roam, whatever realms I see, 
 My heart untraveled fondly turns to " 
 
 Washington Street, and is getting itself so thoroughly 
 established there that I don't know what she will have 
 to do to unsettle it something more, I apprehend, than 
 it is in her kindly nature to undertake. My kind regards 
 all round the circle. Yours unalterably. 
 
 J. H. R. 
 
254 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 To Dr. T. J. CONANT. 
 
 NEW YORK, September 26, 1850. 
 
 EVER DEAR "MEISTER:" I snatch a moment's interval 
 (between Freeman and Edmunds, my two faithful tor- 
 mentors) to salute you and tell you of our progress. 
 The work has been arduous, but I believe it will go. 
 We have but just opened our subscription here, and have 
 almost $10,000 down already. Last night we had a meet- 
 ing in Oliver Street church. I talked an hour and put 
 it to them strong. The daily papers all speak a good 
 word for us, and I think we cannot fail to reach our 
 mark, which is $50,000 for this city and vicinity. Albany 
 is at last promising nobly. We expected $10,000 from 
 all that section. Letters this morning announce that we 
 shall have from $6000 to $7000 in the Pearl Street 
 church alone. The rest will come easily and more. 
 Next week, Tuesday or Wednesday, we hold another 
 public meeting in Troy. I begin to look with some 
 anxiety to our work in Rochester this fall. I shall not 
 be able to get there before the first of November, but 
 hope you can be on the ground earlier. 
 
 Do let me hear from you soon. I hope your good 
 wife will put you up to do # good thing in the Bible 
 matter. Edmunds is at work incidentally to effect a 
 compromise, if possible, between the old Society and 
 the Union. Mr. Lathrop is confident that it can be done; 
 he promises to take hold of it himself, and is now wide- 
 awake in the matter. It is my firm conviction that by 
 taking definitely and strongly the right ground between 
 the two societies (for I can't acquit the A. F. B. S. of 
 some indiscretion), you can do a fine thing for yourself, 
 the denomination, and the truth. I do most earnestly 
 
ROCHESTER. 255 
 
 hope to see a reconciliation effected, and union in this 
 great work. 
 
 Ward Beecher has come home in prime spirits, and 
 gone to work with new zeal. There is a very interesting 
 state of religious feeling in his congregation, and he seems 
 all absorbed in the work. A noble, true and powerful 
 fellow, what a privilege is his, to lead such a life and wield 
 such an influence for God and for Truth. By the way, that 
 "star" (query, comet) editor of the Independent, on being 
 informed of the negligence of somebody about Mrs. 
 Conant's papers, went forthwith over to the office to have 
 it righted, the evidence whereof I trust you (Mrs. C.) will 
 duly receive. He also said to me that the only reason why 
 you (i.e., Hannah) were not employed as a permanent con- 
 tributor was a financial one that they found it necessary 
 to do something more largely in the way of correspond- 
 ence, and in order to that must retrench a little for the 
 present in the home-department, etc. etc. I asked him why 
 he did not sit down and write you this. He said you had 
 dropped him as a correspondent, which being rather at 
 variance with something you (H. C. C.) had said to me 
 in a note about his having dropped you just before he 
 went to Europe, I intimated as much; but he begged my 
 pardon and your pardon and everybody's pardon, and 
 vowed that he writ you a long letter which you have 
 never answered! How .is this? how is this? 
 
 You see, my dearest Doctor, I have somehow (mentally) 
 got round in the last paragraph to the better side of 
 you, and. have been addressing that half. But really you 
 and your Cara are so thick, it's hard to separate you, 
 and impossible to keep you distinct. You are a living 
 proof that if not a trinity, at least a twinity in unity is a 
 very fo-able and a very beautiful thing. To both I send 
 an undivided heart, and pray you both to love 
 
 Your ever-faithful J. H. R. 
 
256 JOHN //. RA YMOND. 
 
 To his WIFE. 
 
 ROCHESTER, November 5, 1850. 
 
 Well, the thing is done; that is, the beginning is made. 
 The University of Rochester is no longer a thing of hope, 
 a possibility and a promise, but a reality, substantial, 
 visible, and alive. We open under cheering auspices, 
 with a larger number of students than we had reason to 
 expect. Our building is really comfortable and nice, the 
 recitation-rooms all carpeted, (" think of that, Master 
 Brooke!") and very completely and tastefully furnished. 
 There is not a college in the country so fitted up and 
 how much better to lay out the expense on comforts and 
 conveniences inside than on cold piles of carved stone, 
 columns, cornices, turrets, and spires without! My room 
 is on the first floor. It is spacious, high, well propor- 
 tioned, well lighted, and beautifully carpeted and cur- 
 tained, and I shall occupy it also for a study. 
 
 We have been very busy examining and classing our 
 students. This afternoon we had a very interesting 
 opening service in the chapel. A number of leading 
 citizens were in. Two of the clergymen (Presbyterian 
 and Episcopal) took part. The speech was made by 
 President Wilder, and a capital speech it was. 
 
 I really feel as though I were to have a settled home 
 once more, and long to gather my dear ones about me. 
 
 My journey hither was much less uncomfortable than 
 we apprehended. The sleigh-ride to Nunda was really 
 delightful. Towards the close, the sun, breaking out 
 through the snow-mists and clouds, at first in spots and 
 faintly, but by degrees more and more broadly and 
 brightly, lighted up the landscape with strange beauty. 
 The effect of the shifting light and shadow playing on the 
 broad sheets and slopes of snow, on the thick hemlock 
 
ROCHESTER. 257 
 
 woods and swamps robed in white, and on the fan- 
 tastic, endlessly diversified, and sometimes exquisitely 
 beautiful drift-wreaths and stump-crests, surpassed de- 
 scription. And when the sun came out brightly, and its 
 rays were caught and reflected by the little facets of 
 frost-crystal on the surface of the snow, the myriad 
 sparkles flashed far as the eye could distinguish them as 
 we glided by, as though nature had powdered her white 
 mantle with the dust of diamonds. 
 
 When Mr. Wilder saw me here the next morning, he 
 insisted on my coming to my old quarters; and as Mrs. 
 Wilder added her behest, I felt constrained to obey; and 
 so I am established again in this princely domicile. I 
 should despair of ever paying my debt to this cordial 
 and generous friendship, if they did not insist that the 
 obligation was also on the other side. 
 
 ROCHESTER UNIVERSITY, Nov. 21, 1850. 
 
 It cost me an effort, I assure you, to submit peaceably 
 to your decision, and settle down to another fortnight of 
 bachelor life. I am sometimes a little inclined to mur- 
 mur at the long-drawn tediousness of my homeless lot. 
 But I should do wrong to envy you the comfort you are 
 taking, and will try to be patient. What a strange life 
 I have led for the last eight months; how different from 
 all my previous experience ! It has been fortunate for 
 my happiness that during all this time my occupations 
 have been so numerous and urgent. I have been hurried 
 on from hour to hour, and from week to week, by the 
 pressure of engrossing duties and the current of exciting 
 events, and have hardly had time to realize my desolate 
 estate. Never, within the same length of time, have I 
 been so constantly active, or been engaged in so great a 
 
258 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 variety of work. But I am beginning to weary of this 
 irregular and exciting life, and long for more quiet and 
 for more uniform employments. And, sometimes, I 
 hardly know how to keep my temper, when I think of 
 the men who do their best to make our toils unavailing, 
 and to throw obstacles in the way of our undertaking. 
 But the thought that it is all of God sobers and chastens 
 me. It is no doubt the common lot of men, and intended 
 to teach us the more perfectly the great lessons of life. 
 This is not our rest. And it is doubtless wise to acquies.ce 
 with cheerfulness in all that our Father may appoint us 
 here, doing each day the duties of the day, and leaving 
 events with Him. 
 
 We have been enjoying a delightful visit from Mrs. 
 Buel at Mr. Wilder's. She leaves to-morrow for the 
 East to visit friends during the winter, and returns to 
 Greece in the Spring. She is a charming woman. I am 
 constantly making delightful friends here, and long to 
 have you know them. Last evening I met a pleasant 
 circle at William Sage's, and also dined at Mr. S. D. 
 Porter's. But what's the use of giving you the names 
 when you don't know the people ? I am so impatient to 
 have you with me, that we may have common thoughts 
 and feelings about our new home. I think you will find 
 it a pleasant home, and in time a dear one. The rooms 
 at Miss Porter's are very desirable, and the society 
 charming, and you will have a cordial welcome from the 
 whole household. I hardly dare to think of being once 
 more beneath the same roof with you and our precious 
 children. Alas! what admonitions has our former sad 
 experience afforded us against relying on any earthly 
 prospects and promises of joy ! A more bitter cup than 
 we have ever yet been called to drink may be mixing 
 for us. Who knows? Yet let not our hearts be troubled. 
 The same kind hand which chastens and afflicts is ready 
 
ROCHESTER. 259 
 
 also to soothe. We shall not be tried above what we are 
 able to bear. Having the peace of God, we have all 
 things and abound, and whether in joy or sorrow, we are 
 fitting for our Home on high, that "house not made 
 with hands, eternal in the heavens." 
 
 If he had sought a home among comparative 
 strangers, he soon found it growing luminous and warm 
 with friendly light. It seemed his lot, v/herever he 
 found a dwelling-place, to gather about him a circle of 
 kindred spirits, to whom he gave his heart with an 
 ardor of affection. It was a happy fate that led his 
 steps to Miss Porter's hospitable door and opened to 
 him and his family the stores of comfort and com- 
 panionship which make the life in Rochester a memory 
 of delight. 
 
 The city was at that time a literary and commercial 
 center for the western part of the State. That was the 
 day of lecture enthusiasm, when the topics of the time 
 were served up to thronging audiences by the bright and 
 shining lights in the lecture-world. No topics excited 
 more interest than those of the anti-slavery move- 
 ment, and nowhere were these more warmly discussed 
 than in Rochester, whither popular conventions brought 
 its great leaders and where the cause was plead by its 
 warmest advocates. Here Frederick Douglass lived and 
 labored, and hither Miss Griffiths came to contribute 
 her aid to the North Star, which he then edited 
 (afterwards known as " Frederick Douglass' Paper"), 
 and to institute anti-slavery societies and preside at anti- 
 slavery fairs. To these fairs gifts were sent from 
 English hands and hearts in the marvelous boxes which 
 were opened at. Miss Porter's, to the wonder and 
 delight of the youthful dwellers within her borders. 
 
260 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 Her house was known as a gathering-place for all 
 true friends of liberty, and her table was graced by 
 such visitors as George William Curtis and Thomas 
 Wentworth Higginson, then in the glow of early fame, 
 by Ralph Waldo Emerson, Starr King, Henry Ward 
 Beecher, William M. Evarts, and other lecturers of the 
 day. Among those who enjoyed its hospitality were 
 J. R. Giddings, Cassius M. Clay, Samuel J. May, Horace 
 Mann, Henry Wilson, A. B. Alcott, James Freeman 
 Clarke, and a host of worthies. None were too radi- 
 cal for a place at the board which welcomed Wendell 
 Phillips, Charles Sumner, and William Lloyd Garrison. 
 Here Frederick Douglass was a frequent guest, and 
 other residents of the city prominent in public move- 
 ments were at home under the roof where a sympa- 
 thetic company mingled their hopes and fears for the 
 sacred cause. 
 
 Those who were established as regular members of. 
 the household were most congenial fellow-boarders. 
 Among them were a number of the friends and pro- 
 fessors of the new university, Those were days to be 
 remembered by all in that goodly company who 
 gathered around Miss Porter's generous board, mingled 
 the bonbons of wit and wisdom with her culinary con- 
 fections, and freely spilled the Attic salt. If childish 
 recollections may be trusted, there was some very 
 brilliant sparkling in the racy table-talk which relieved 
 the profounder discussions. Then all twinkling fun 
 lurked in the eye of " Tutor Wayland," and rippling 
 merriment wreathed the lips responsible for no editorial 
 utterances, in those jocund days before the mantle of 
 doctorial dignity had hid from view those quips and 
 quirks. Beside him sat and scintillated his inseparable 
 
ROCHESTER. 261 
 
 friend, Dr. Gundry, to whom his soul clave as Damon 
 unto Pythias. One memorable year the Rev. William 
 Henry Channing joined their number, and with gentle 
 mirth and genial scholarship added luster to the feast. 
 And then came Dr. Kendrick, the long-loved " Greek 
 Professor," irrepressible and inveterate, and the carnival 
 waxed high. How our heavens blazed, as merry 
 jests, good-natured railleries, and lightning flashes of 
 retort, conundrums and coruscating puns fell in a 
 meteoric shower! How rashly he challenged his old 
 friend Prof. Raymond to the tournament of wit in which 
 they measured swords, forgetting how often in times past 
 he had met a " foeman worthy of his steel," and some- 
 times shared the fate known even to his valiant Greeks. 
 At one time his friendly antagonist writes: "As to the 
 * quarrel ' between myself and Dr. Kendrick of which you 
 seem to have heard, I can think of nothing to originate 
 the story except the fact (which cannot be denied) that 
 we met the other day on opposite sides of a fine fat 
 turkey, which, I ween, suffered some between us. I 
 cannot say exactly that the' feathers flew; but the 
 meat and stuffing did. ' To Grease we gave our 
 shining blades," and it was ' war to the hilt ' for a little 
 while. But we retired from the field, I believe, both 
 satisfied. At least, I can speak for one, and I am 
 willing to leave it there till I can invite him to renew 
 the contest." 
 
 The coming of Mr. Channing opened to my father 
 a new field of thought and interest, to which he refers 
 early in their acquaintance : 
 
 Mr. Channing has been here since Saturday last, a 
 delightful man, of great simplicity, modesty, and sweet- 
 ness of manner, with an acute and highly cultivated 
 
262 JOHN II. RA YMOND. 
 
 mind, and in his opinions uniting an almost radical bold- 
 ness with remarkable candor and freedom from passion 
 and prejudice. He mediates very happily between 
 Kendrick and myself, though he is really far more ultra 
 in his opinions than I am or ever can be. He remains 
 over another Sabbath, and we are hoping that he may 
 receive a call from the Unitarian Church. Still, he is too 
 metaphysical (and perhaps transcendental) a preacher to 
 suit them all, and they may not agree upon it. 
 
 To the great satisfaction of those who saw Mr. 
 Charming during this visit, it was followed by a call to 
 the church which for two years enjoyed his ministra- 
 tions, and in the following winter my father again 
 alludes to him : 
 
 Miss Porter's circle is now illustrated by the presence 
 of W. H. Channing, whom I greatly admire for qualities 
 both of mind and heart. He has just returned from the 
 East with his wife and a young son, who will be our 
 fellow-boarders also. Mr. Channing is a man of finished 
 New England cultivation, of the transcendental school in 
 philosophy, a pietist in religion, and a reformer and 
 semi-socialist in politics. Very far beyond the mass of 
 us in breadth and depth of view, yet conscious (I fancy) 
 of a shadowy vagueness and uncertainty, in the results of 
 his thought. I am not very well informed in that branch 
 of literature and philosophy which he represents ; yet I 
 hope to get in some measure at " the heart of his 
 mystery," and shall no doubt find great profit in the 
 acquaintance. 
 
 The common ground on which they met grew con- 
 stantly wider, my father's breadth of view permitting 
 his sympathy with a school of thought which opened 
 
ROCHESTER. 263 
 
 to him new vistas of truth. He knew nothing of that 
 narrowness which shrinks from venturing on untried 
 seas, and it was always a delight to him to extend his 
 vision. One of his friends said of him : " I never knew 
 a man so ready, and even eager, to examine new things, 
 to carefully weigh every subject that he met, and study 
 it on every side." To him might be applied the remark 
 which has recently been made by Thomas Hughes 
 about Dr. Arnold of Rugby : " Everything was an 
 open question to him. Not that his principles were 
 not thoroughly fixed and formed, but that he had that 
 open, brave temperament and mind which enabled him 
 without the least fear to face and consider on its 
 own merits, apart from its surroundings, any question 
 which came before him, whether it were constitutional 
 or religious, or a question of school government." 
 
 There were many points at which Mr. Channing and 
 my father touched sympathetically, and in none were 
 their views in greater harmony than in the great 
 central question of the day. Mr. Channing took the 
 most advanced ground in the Anti-Slavery movement, 
 and if my father hesitated at first to follow him in 
 urging extreme measures, he was soon aroused to the 
 most intense feeling on the subject. The years which 
 he spent in Rochester (1850-1855) were among the 
 most eventful in the history of the cause, being the 
 period of the great excitement over the Fugitive Slave 
 Law. His whole soul was fired by the outrage. 
 Brooklyn friends whom he visited in the fall of 1851 
 remember the day when returning from New York, 
 where he had witnessed the arrest of Henry Long by 
 the unrighteous power of that law, he betrayed the 
 most violent emotion. Radical in their own views, 
 
264 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 they had deplored his caution, and great was their 
 rejoicing when he exclaimed, " I have been an Anti- 
 Slavery man ! now I am an Abolitionist !" A friend 
 in Rochester, then a mere boy, was profoundly im- 
 pressed by his agitated manner when he said, " I do 
 not dare to think what Slavery means. I should lose 
 my reason 'twould drive me mad !" 
 
 His brother Robert had thrown his whole heart into 
 the cause, making speeches of impassioned power, and 
 taking an active part in the famous " Jerry rescue" 
 which occurred in the city of Syracuse, where he was 
 then a resident pastor. The elder brother had been 
 less demonstrative ; but when once aroused he gave 
 the most fervid expression to his feeling, and took the 
 firmest stand against injustice and oppression. In the 
 Summer of 1851 Daniel Webster passed through the 
 western part of the State, making political speeches 
 in the principal towns. In the course of these speeches 
 he took occasion to denounce as traitors those who 
 refused to support the Fugitive Slave Law and to be 
 traitors to a " higher law." The University of Roches- 
 ter had invited distinguished men visiting the city to 
 meet and address the students in the college hall ; and 
 it was proposed by some of the faculty to extend the 
 invitation to Mr. Webster. This my father strenuously 
 opposed, refusing to countenance any man, however 
 great, who could promulgate sentiments so abhorrent. 
 He had his way, and the university lost whatever glory 
 it might have gained from the visit of so illustrious a 
 guest. 
 
 After a serious illness in the winter of 1850, result- 
 ing in part from the excitement and fatigue of his 
 labors for the University during the previous sum- 
 
ROCHESTER. 265 
 
 mer, he writes of his returning interest in the affairs 
 of life : 
 
 ROCHESTER, Dec. 10, 1850. 
 
 In truth I have thought of little but my good-for-noth- 
 ing self little, at least, in comparison with the magni- 
 tude of the events which are taking place, and which 
 would seem to command one's attention from the very 
 gates of the grave. And most of all, the swift advancing 
 crisis of the slave question. If on any single account 
 more than all others I have regretted my confinement 
 this fall, it is because it has prevented my bearing that 
 public testimony which I think the times demand from 
 every man with a conscience and a heart, on this subject. 
 This is one of the few fights in which I want to have a 
 share, for the right is so palpably on one side, and the 
 wrong on the other is so heinous, hideous, dastardly, and 
 vile, that it seems to me 
 
 " That every drop of blood 
 That every (Yankee) bears and nobly bears 
 Is guilty of a several bastardy," 
 
 if it do not boil against it. And the thought that my 
 country, once so honored and so worthy of honor, is in 
 danger of stooping to this baseness, and receiving so 
 foul a blister on her fair forehead, is intolerable. And 
 yet how many melancholy signs appear of the existence 
 of this danger. Of the seven professors in our Faculty, 
 four are decided silver gray, and how many good men 
 all around us have in like manner been frightened by 
 the bugbears of " scurvy politicians" and the terrors of 
 a timid, faithless conservatism from the principles of our 
 fathers and the most obvious obligations of humanity, 
 patriotism, and religion! That God will give final victory 
 to the right, I do not doubt. But whether it shall be 
 through or over our country appears increasingly uncer- 
 
266 JOHN H. RA YMOND, 
 
 tain. But the people have yet to speak, and let us hope 
 for the best. 
 
 To Prof. BLISS. 
 
 Nov. 21, 1851. 
 
 I cannot help hoping that your new President will do 
 well for you. He has, if I rightly apprehend him, a 
 good deal of energy in his small frame, and has been 
 successful heretofore. Improvements doubtless might 
 be suggested. But where, alas ! are we to look for a 
 stick of presidential timber free from serious crooks and 
 flaws ? and what are we to do ? Are all the Matres 
 Almae to be mated, and ours alone to sing, " Heigho for 
 a husband " ? Thus far, however, we get on very com- 
 fortably in our state of maiden expectancy, or despond- 
 ency, whichever it may be rightly named. But the pub- 
 lic expect a President, and a President there doubtless 
 must be or Chancellor, to manage finances, superintend 
 discipline, and other et ceteras, giving no instruction or 
 next to none a plan not free from objections, yet per- 
 haps the best we can do. 
 
 We watch with unabated interest the progress of pub- 
 lic events, and trust that the Lord means good for our 
 poor nation, whose prosperity threatens to destroy her. 
 Poor old Scott! I should have pitied him if he had not 
 made such a donkey of himself that poetic justice, to 
 say nothing of political, required just such a " wollop- 
 ing" as he's got. And of Whiggery ditto. Gone to the 
 shades, long may she stay there! 
 
 To Mr. ALPHA MORSE. 
 
 ROCHESTER, Dec. 21, 1851. 
 
 The wave of Kossuth excitement reaches you, of course, 
 now that your new railroad has made you a suburb of 
 
ROCHESTER. 267 
 
 the metropolis. We feel it strongly here, especially we 
 Liberty folks, and shall probably have to hold a meeting 
 here soon to blow off steam. Truly "we are a great 
 people," and "live in an extraordinary age." Seriously, 
 however, these things seem to me to have more than a 
 transient and shallow significance. We are on the eve 
 of great events, and who can foresee the end ? " Time 
 was that when the brains were out the man was dead, 
 and there an end," ar,d when a rebellion was crushed by 
 such powers as Austria and Russia, and its leader ban- 
 ished, the thing was understood to be finished, and the 
 world turned over and went to sleep again, with scarce 
 a sigh for the poor victims of oppression whose last state 
 had become worse than the first. But now the exiled 
 patriot steps on board a national steam-frigate, sails 
 quarter-way round the globe, becomes the guest of 
 nations, and with words of eloquence, heard almost 
 simultaneously throughout the world, shakes both the 
 hemispheres, rekindles the dying hopes of humanity, 
 and teaches tyrants that their work is but half-done, 
 that it must be done over again, nay, that it can never 
 be done so as to stay as they would have it. The sum- 
 mer of 1852 is to be the great "battle summer" of the 
 Old World, and I incline to believe that we cannot keep 
 entirely out of the broil this time. It is a day, indeed, 
 for wise conservatism to apply the brakes; but this train 
 is bound to go through, and I rejoice to believe that the 
 Conductor is Divine. " Man proposes, but God dis- 
 poses," and the triumphs of Truth and Freedom and 
 Human Fraternity shall one day be universal. 
 
 He did all in his power to hasten that day. One to 
 whom this cause was of vital interest testifies to his 
 ever-ready sympathy and aid : 
 
268 JOHN H. It A YMOND. 
 
 From Mr. FREDERICK DOUGLASS. 
 
 WASHINGTON, October 18, 1880. 
 
 I am glad to know that it is your purpose to publish 
 the life and letters of your father, the late John H. Ray- 
 mond. Unhappily for me, I have no letters of his which 
 can be of service to you. I knew him well while he was 
 a Professor in Rochester University. It was at a critical 
 and trying time in the history of the struggle between 
 freedom and slavery in our country. The fugitive-slave 
 bill had just been enacted, making the whole North 
 slave-hunting ground and every American citizen a slave- 
 hunter, and had but lately become a law. 
 
 The effort to make that law respectable was immense. 
 Press, pulpit, and official position all clamored for its 
 enforcement. To speak and write against that law was 
 to brand one's self in public estimation as a law-breaker, 
 and such a law-breaker I confess myself to have been 
 both in theory and practice, for I assisted as many as 
 I could in their escape from slavery, and no man in 
 Rochester more than your father cheerfully gave me 
 countenance and support in my efforts to secure a safe- 
 conduct of the many fugitives from slavery who came 
 through that city on their way to Canada. He freely 
 gave his time, his influence, and his voice on the side of 
 humanity. No so-called law, interest, or logic could 
 blind him to the stupendous wickedness of slavery, and 
 he had the courage to be known and read of all men in 
 that dark hour of our history as an inflexible friend to 
 the cause of emancipation. Many have been the words 
 of kindness and consolation which he addressed to me 
 when the way seemed dark and difficult, and I retain a 
 vivid recollection of his benevolent face and his amiable 
 
ROCHESTER. 269 
 
 manners and bearing, though it is more than a quarter 
 of a century since I saw him. . . . 
 
 Believe me sincerely yours, 
 
 FREDERICK DOUGLASS. 
 
 The fearlessness with which he expressed his abhor- 
 rence of that infamous law, and the contempt which 
 he felt for its technical requirements, is seen in all his 
 writings and public speeches at that time. A few 
 paragraphs are taken from an article entitled " A Plea 
 for Free Speech," contributed to the " Autographs for 
 Freedom," a volume published at Rochester in the 
 interest of the Anti-Slavery cause : 
 
 We used to be told, and are sometimes still, that this is a 
 matter which belongs to our Southern brethren exclusively, and 
 that when we of the free States interfere with it, we meddle 
 with that which is "none of our business." And there was a 
 time when this might be urged with a show of consistency. It 
 was when slavery claimed only to be a creature of State legisla- 
 tion, and asked only of the national government and the free 
 States to be let alone. Even then it had no right of exemption 
 from the rational scrutiny to which all human institutions are 
 amenable, nor from the rebuke and denouncement which all 
 men may, in Heaven's name, utter against all iniquity done in the 
 face of Heaven. But the special right of republican citizens to 
 demand the correction of wrongs done by their own govern- 
 ment attached in the matter of slavery only to the citizens of 
 the slave States. 
 
 But a wonderful change has been passing before our eyes. 
 The attitude of slavery is entirely altered. It now claims to be 
 nationalized. It demands a distinct and active protection from 
 the general government, and indirect but most effectual support 
 from every State in the Union, and from every citizen thereof! 
 The government has acknowledged the validity of the claim; 
 and our great political leaders some on whom we have been 
 wont to rely as stalwart champions of freedom have turned 
 
270 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 short round in their tracks, and require us to believe that we 
 are under constitutional obligations to hel-p maintain the accursed 
 thing; yea, through all future time, to do its most menial 
 work ! Nor is the doctrine to be left in the dubious region of 
 speculation. It is already "a fixed fact," terribly embodied in a 
 penal law. It enters the home of every Northern freeman, and 
 announces in thunder-tones this ancestral obligation, which had 
 so strangely faded from the recollection of men. It tolerates 
 no dullness of apprehension, no hesitancy of belief. It bids us 
 all, on pain of imprisonments and fines, to conquer our preju- 
 dices, to swallow our scruples, to be still with our nonsensical 
 humanities, and, "as good citizens," to start out at the whistle 
 of a United States constable, to chase down miserable negroes 
 fleeing from the hell of bondage ! 
 
 Slavery, then, has become our business at last; and, as such, 
 does it not behoove us to attend to it ? I think, in the language 
 of honest Dogberry, that "that is proved already, and will go 
 near to be thought so shortly." The thing lies in a nutshell. 
 Millard Fillmore is not our master, but our servant. It is not 
 his to prescribe duties, but ours ; and his to perform them. 
 What he does, in his own person and by his subordinate execu- 
 tive officers, he does for us, and on our responsibility. What 
 he does or they do, in other words, WE do ; and we must abide 
 the reckoning. In this responsibility the humblest citizen 
 bears his share, and cannot shirk it if he would. When, then, I 
 see the ministers of my country's law consigning men with flesh 
 and blood like my own, with homes and business, with wives 
 and children, 
 
 " As dear to them as are the ruddy drops 
 That visit their sad hearts," 
 
 men unaccused of crime, and eating the daily bread of honest 
 labor consigning them, I say, and their posterity to hopeless 
 vassalage and degrading chattelhood, by a process, too, which 
 tramples under foot the most ancient and sacred guarantees of 
 my own and my neighbors' rights; when I see this great na- 
 tion lay its terrible grasp upon the throat of a feeble unoffend- 
 ing man, and thrust him back to worse than a. felon's fate for 
 doing that which no casuistry can torture into a crime, I am 
 
ROCHESTER. 271 
 
 compelled to feel that it is myself engaged in this atrocious busi- 
 ness ; and no one but myself can rid me of the responsibility. 
 I can no longer be silent ; I dare no longer be silent ; I will no 
 longer be silent. I will remonstrate and cry, Shame ! I will 
 refuse to obey the law ; I will demand to be released from its 
 odious requirements. I will vote and influence voters and use 
 every prerogative of freedom, to throw at least from off my con- 
 science a burden that it cannot bear. And who that is worthy 
 to be free himself will blame me? To speak is no longer a 
 mere right; it has become a religious duty. 
 
 Let no man tell me that this law is a mere dead letter. The 
 old Fugitive Law had indeed become so; and so would any other 
 be likely to become which, while grasping after the slave, should 
 pay a decent respect to the rights of the free. But slavery can- 
 not subsist on any such condition ; and this law was framed to 
 supply the deficiencies of the old law, and to accomplish the 
 thing. It is based on the assumption that the government of 
 the United States is bound to effect the rendition of fugitives, if 
 possible at all, at 'whatever cost. And, if this law is insufficient, 
 the assumption is equally good for still more stringent measures. 
 But I repeat it, let no man tell me it is now a nullity. Have 
 we not seen it executed in our streets, and at our very doors ? 
 I chanced to be in the city of New York at the time when, I 
 think, its first victim, Henry Long, was torn from his family, 
 and from a reputable and profitable business, and sent back 
 ^imbs and brain and throbbing, loving heart the husband, 
 father, friend, the peaceful and industrious member of society 
 all, to be the property of a fellow-mortal in a hostile land. 
 Could I look upon this crimeless man, thus in the grasp of the 
 officers of my country's laws, my own representatives, and hur- 
 ried unresisting to that dreadful doom, and ever be able to 
 believe the law innocuous and myself guiltless while I acquiesced 
 in silence ? The rabble followed him along the streets, shout- 
 ing in exultation at the negro's fate. Them I must acknowledge 
 as my fellows and brethren, but him on him I must put my heel, 
 with theirs, to crush him out of manhood ! And the morrow's 
 papers, edited by professed Christians, heralded the occurrence, 
 with not even a decent pretence of pity and regret, but as a tri- 
 umph of LAW (Oh sacred name profaned !) in which all good men 
 
272 JOHN //. RAYMOND. 
 
 should rejoice. That day I felt a stifling sensation settling- 
 down upon me, of which my previous experience had afforded 
 no precedent, and with an oppressive weight which no language 
 can describe. 1 Jelt that I no longer breathed the air of liberty; 
 that slavery was spreading her upas branches athwart ;;// sky 
 also. The convenient apology that the sin was not mine, but 
 another's, no longer stood me in stead; and I have wondered 
 ever since to hear any honest Northern man employ it. There 
 are Northern men from whom nothing could surprise me. 
 
 And what have we since witnessed ? The inferior officers of 
 the law prowling throughout the North for victims on whom to 
 enforce it. Their superiors, even to the highest, laboring by 
 speeches and proclamations, and journeyings to and fro in the 
 land (is it too much to say?), to dragoon the people into its 
 support. The national treasury thrown wide open to meet its 
 "extraordinary expenses." Faneuil Hall hung in chains, to en- 
 sure its execution. Presidential candidates vicing with each 
 other in expressions of attachment and fidelity to it. Able men, 
 in Church and State, spotted for proscription for no other sin. 
 than hating that law, and daring to declare that hatred. And 
 to crown the whole, the wisdom of the nation, in Baltimore 
 conventions once and again assembled, pronouncing the new 
 doctrines of constitutional responsibility, with the law that em- 
 bodies it, not only a certainty, but (hear it, O heavens!) a 
 finality ! A new word in the political vocabulary, and verily a 
 new thing in the earth ! " Finality" in the legislation of free- 
 men ! A finality that ever precludes reconsideration, amend- 
 ment, or repeal ! When such things are said, and gravely said, 
 by men professing to be American statesmen, I can imagine 
 the fathers of my country turning painfully in their graves. 
 And can it be possible that in the same breath with which men 
 assume to roll political responsibilities on freemen they dare 
 require perpetual silence and unconsidering submission thereto ? 
 Then, what is it to be free ? 
 
 A letter written to one of his children contains a 
 reference to a convocation of colored men held in 
 Rochester. He evidently designs to impress upon the 
 
ROCHESTER. 273 
 
 youthful mind the lesson which he constantly enforced 
 by precept and example a lesson of respect to whom 
 respect is due. He says : 
 
 " The colored men of our country are holding a con- 
 vention in Corinthian Hall, to consult about what can be 
 done to improve their condition. Every one is delighted 
 with the dignity and decorum with which their business 
 is conducted. I do not see but they act as well as any 
 white men I ever saw, and much better than many I 
 have met. Poor fellows! they are most unjustly treated 
 by mean and selfish men, who, having the power to 
 wrong them, do it. But they seem determined to over- 
 come evil with good, and to gain respect by deserving it. 
 Several of them took tea with us to-night gentlemen in 
 manners and education." 
 
 It was at this convention that Frederick Douglass 
 met the objection raised to the admission of any but 
 colored members. Gracefully ignoring the contempt 
 which had been visited upon the assembly by many 
 of the citizens, he protested with happy irony, " Do 
 not let us steel our hearts against our poor white 
 brethren." 
 
 Among those whom this gathering brought to Roch- 
 ester was one of the most faithful friends of Freedom 
 and Reform. My father's acquaintance with Miss 
 Elizabeth Peabody, which began at that time, con- 
 tinued for many years, during which she was an ever- 
 welcome guest in our home. Her sympathy was espe- 
 cially valued in all matters of educational interest, and 
 her visits were memorable for the light on such ques- 
 tions which always dawned at her coming. The young- 
 est of the family shared in the crumbs which fell from 
 
274 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 the table, when her favorite theme of the Kindergar- 
 ten prolonged the feast at breakfast or dinner. She 
 was a pioneer and enthusiast in the work, and if we 
 did not fully appreciate the argument, we richly en- 
 joyed her animated illustrations of it. Those pleasant 
 hours are vividly recalled in reminiscences from her 
 pen: 
 
 From Miss ELIZABETH PEABODY. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, October 26, 1880. 
 
 I am very glad to hear that you are to write a memoir 
 of your dear and honored father, and am most happy to 
 recall the few most delightful impressions I have had of 
 him. 
 
 In the summer of 1853 I was returning from the West, 
 and stopped on the way at Rochester to visit my friend 
 Wm. H. Channing, who boarded at Miss Porter's, and to 
 attend a convention of colored men which had been 
 called by Frederick Douglass and others to consider 
 their condition and prospects of improvement, under 
 the discouraging course of events. 
 
 I arrived just before tea, and found at the table a 
 remarkable company, including several professors of 
 Rochester University, to whom I was introduced, and 
 Professor Raymond was at the head of the table. The 
 conversation was very interesting, and Professor Ray- 
 mond took a leading part in it, and impressed me at 
 once as an exceptionally large, liberal-minded, earnest 
 Christian gentleman and elegant scholar. We sat round 
 the table after it was cleared nearly all the evening, talk- 
 ing on all the living questions of the day. The next 
 morning, which was Sunday, a similar conversation was 
 begun at the breakfast-table, and after the professors 
 had left the table Mr. Channing said to Miss Porter, 
 
ROCHESTER. 275 
 
 " Now we must arrange for Miss Peabody's hearing 
 Professor Raymond preach today." "Preach!" I ex- 
 claimed; "why, is that man a minister?" "Yes," said 
 Mr. Channing, in a ringing voice, "and that minister is 
 a MAN, which is more." Certainly there was nothing 
 of ecclesiasticism about your father, but the whole 
 breadth of the spirit and mind of Christ. (I make a 
 great distinction between ecclesiasticism and the Church 
 of Christ, and have found in the most highly educated 
 Baptists, and especially in Professor Raymond, more of 
 the spirit of the old Pilgrim Independency than in any 
 other sect, maintained as it was against the Puritan 
 "Lord brethren" by Roger Williams, Sir Harry Vane, 
 and the Early Baptists of Massachusetts and Rhode 
 Island.) 
 
 But, to return to my narrative, I found that your 
 father preached every Sunday afternoon at the House 
 of Refuge in Rochester, and of course went to hear him; 
 and was very much impressed with the judgment as well 
 as the eloquence of his address. There could be no 
 question that his audience must feel themselves sinners, 
 since the sin had culminated in crimes against society. 
 So this was simply taken for granted, but the evil treated 
 as not infinite but within the reach of an earnest will to 
 reform as an expression of repentance. Of course I 
 cannot remember the sermon; but it was a model. He 
 encouraged the boys with the idea that they were not 
 sinners in heart beyond the generality of men, for we 
 all were measurably so; and that the good Providence 
 that had arrested them by detection must be regarded as 
 a blessing to be grateful for, and the divine warning so 
 received that in their future life they would be able to 
 lift themselves and others tempted like them into a 
 nobler life. I think that the text, was, " The way of the 
 transgressor is hard" made hard not by God's vindic- 
 
276 JOHN II . RAYMOND. 
 
 tiveness, but by His mercy, that would not that a sinner 
 should die. 
 
 The next day was, I think, the 4th of July, and at 
 breakfast there was talk of how it was to be celebrated; 
 for there was no city celebration. It was the unanimous 
 voice that Mr. Raymond should read one of Shakes- 
 peare's plays, and I found that he was a great elocution- 
 ist and belles-lettres scholar. The play selected was 
 " King Lear," and it took the large part of the day to 
 read it, for there was not a syllable of the play left out; 
 and so masterly was his power of voice, as well as 
 breadth of conception and sympathetic appreciation of 
 every character, that I can truly say I never had so pro- 
 found an impression and complete grasp of this whole 
 wonderful work of dramatic art as by that reading, 
 unaided by scenery or costume, though I have seen it 
 played by many great tragedians. His imagination 
 seemed to discover and create again the original scenery 
 in the mind of the poet, and by an accent, a pause, a 
 tone, he awakened the co-operation and imagination of 
 his hearers. It was the greatest reading of Shakespeare 
 I had ever heard, and I have heard Fanny Kemble and 
 Charlotte Cushman's readings. I had with me Bern's 
 Chart of Chronology, in which, by a certain mathemati- 
 cal- arrangement of squares representing years, 2500 
 years can be presented to the eye and mind at once 
 after the principle of arrangement is explained (which a 
 child of ten can understand), so that, after ten minutes' 
 drill, he can tell at the pointing of a stick at any little 
 square what year of what century it represents. Mr. 
 Raymond was very much interested to see this chart 
 when I told him that by means of it the little time to be 
 spared for history might lay a foundation of universal 
 history in the very sen-ses, such as could not possibly be 
 obtained by any dry outline in words which could sub- 
 
ROCHESTER. 277 
 
 sequently be filled out by reading after school-days were 
 over the only way in which history could be learned. 
 
 So one evening we had the chart of ancient history 
 spread out on the floor, and I proceeded to explain, and 
 drilled the company till they could say at a glance what 
 was the year I pointed at, dispelling many an illusion 
 even of the most cultivated; and I well remember his 
 considering expression of face, questioning and doubtful, 
 till at last, with a flash of intelligence, he exclaimed, " I 
 see it!" and though it was my experience to convince 
 every intelligent person who would condescend to give 
 his mind to me for an hour that chronology could be 
 made a sensuous impression, I think no one ever took in 
 the whole value of this inestimable invention as he did. 
 We had many hours of talk as we sat before those charts 
 and philosophized on the relation of events palpable to 
 the eye as they lay in the visible field of time. When 
 he went to Brooklyn some years after and became head 
 of the Polytechnic School there, he sent for me to come 
 and make him a visit and introduce the charts to the 
 historical teacher; and he wrote a letter to Mr. Sheldon, 
 the New York publisher, that was printed in the preface 
 of a school history of the United States I published 
 about that time, in which he said, " This method of pre- 
 senting chronology to the eye is superior to any artificial 
 system or any other chart devised." He was a friend of 
 educational progress in every form, and many were the 
 consultations which we had on such themes. 
 
 I enjoyed that fortnight in Brooklyn immensely. He 
 read again "King Lear" for my delight, and some other 
 plays. I -remember, too, that he often attended Henry 
 Ward Beecher's church, from love of the man and enjoy- 
 ment of his preaching; which impressed me as a great 
 proof of his vital Independency, since he was a Baptist 
 preacher himself. As Mr. Beecher lived near Hicks 
 
278 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 Street, he was a near neighbor to Mr. Raymond, and 
 mornings when we were at breakfast he would fre- 
 quently come in, being out for his morning walk, and 
 would pour out his joyous life in talk largely composed of 
 anecdotes of his Western life, which your father enjoyed 
 to the last degree, his own more fastidious temperament 
 manifesting itself in his way of greeting and responding 
 to Mr. Beecher's racy talk and bold expressions. For 
 refinement was a most marked characteristic of your 
 father, the flower of his nature, and marked him as the 
 most fortunate choice of the trustees of Vassar College 
 for its President. 
 
 In regard to his anti-slavery work I can tell you 
 little. I only know how intensely he was interested 
 in that colored convention, which he declared one of the 
 most instructive he had ever attended all the papers 
 read by the colored men (none but colored men spoke at 
 all) showing wonderful wisdom as well as original genius. 
 
 Your father impressed me in so many ways, and has 
 always had so large a portion of my remembrance 
 devoted to him, that I thought I should have much to 
 say. I am surprised to find there is so little in the way 
 of narrative. But I send what has flowed spontaneously 
 from my memory. 
 
 Cordially yours, 
 
 ELIZABETH PEABODY. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 ROCHESTER. (CONTINUED.) 
 
 MY father's attachment to Rochester appears in let- 
 ters written after it had ceased to be his home, 
 when his occasional Commencement visits revived the 
 old associations, and proved the faithfulness of the hearts 
 to whom his own had been so closely drawn. If he ever 
 entertained a fear of being forgotten in those familiar 
 places, his unbelief was rebuked by the greetings which 
 always awaited him. 
 
 ANGELICA, August 19, 1857. 
 
 My visit to Rochester was right pleasant, quite contrary 
 to my expectations. I felt as though I was going to a 
 strange place, and where I would be regarded almost like 
 a stranger. The thought weighed upon me all the way, 
 and grew heavier and more painful as I drew nearer. It 
 was a foolish notion, and my better judgment at times 
 condemned it, but I could not throw it off; and if the cars 
 had passed right on through, it is odds but I should have 
 gone with them. But Rochester was the ^terminus of my 
 road. So I threw my valise, and after it myself, doggedly 
 into a carriage, saying, "Drive me to Miss Porter's." 
 "O yaas," replied the colored Jehu, "I knowed whar 
 Mr. Raymond wants to go," and he grinned from ear to 
 ear. Hello! thinks I, here's one good memory at any 
 rate, and the change that came over the spirit of my 
 dream, as we drove through the streets, was almost ludi- 
 crous. Everything wore so familiar and friendly a look. 
 
280 JOHN //. RA YMOND. 
 
 Within three minutes I could almost fancy that I was 
 returning from a week's absence to my old field of labor. 
 Every turn in the street, every house of peculiar form 
 or color, seemed like a characteristic feature of a next- 
 door neighbor. All the faces were such as you feel you 
 have seen forty times before, and everything seemed glad to 
 see me. The trees bowed courteously or bent embracingly 
 over me, and the very stones in the streets smiled upward 
 with most unequivocal welcome. The first day and 
 evening I divided between the Porters and Conants. 
 You know their warm hearts. Of course I never felt a 
 doubt of them. It was the greeting of brothers and sis- 
 ters. About nine o'clock I started from the Doctor's for 
 home, and passing the old Corinthian Hall, where Prof. 
 Upham was holding forth on " Simplicity" as an " Element 
 of Greatness," I thought I must drop in and say How-d'ye 
 to the College. The Hall was, of course, packed and 
 jammed; but I knew the secret passage, which brought 
 me to the rear of the stage, just behind the dignitaries. 
 They were nodding and snoozing away under the com- 
 bined influences of the thermometer, oratory, and foul 
 air, and under shelter of columns, curtains, and the " wide- 
 awake" front row, until my entrance. Presto! what a 
 change! William Sage was the first who caught sight of 
 me, from about the center of the platform, and sprang to 
 his feet as if he had caught the shock of an electrical 
 battery. " Whjr, John," said he, loud enough to be heard 
 through all the region round about, " beg your pardon 
 Doctor, how do you do?" and he stretched his great hand 
 over the immediate sitters, and griped mine, and pulled 
 as though he would draw me bodily over their heads. 
 The next instant I was in a small sea of upturned faces, 
 and hands bristled towards me from all directions like a 
 sheaf of spears, friendly but most overcoming. Even 
 the dignified front row felt the sensation, and one after 
 
ROCHESTER. 281 
 
 another turned to see what was up, and every face opened 
 beamingly as it met mine. After the orator, Mr. Wilder 
 got off his poem subject, "Rochester" a most clever 
 thing, full of good puns and sparkling hits on persons 
 and things that everybody knew. After the poem and 
 the dismission came my turn. From President Anderson, 
 with his great hot, Scotch hand and heart, down through 
 all the grades of trustees, professors, students, and out- 
 siders, every one took me by the hand as if I was every- 
 body's brother. My shoulders! how they did shake! My 
 arm ached all the next day. If ever I thought them " no 
 great shakes' at Rochester, I did effectual penance for the 
 thought. And seriously, I am bound to think better than 
 ever of the good people there, and never again to doubt 
 the goodness of their memories or the warmth of their 
 hearts. 
 
 We are only just beginning to realize how far gone is 
 the summer. I am startled to think that next week is my 
 last here, and that I must plunge again into the dizzying 
 whirl and sweaty strife from which we are now so far 
 removed as hardly to hear the hum. The thought, how- 
 ever, is not altogether unwelcome. My judgment, at 
 least, assures me that I have rested long enough, that 
 rest is ceasing to be "recreation" and becoming stagna- 
 tion; and my heart suggests some weighty conpensations 
 for the sweet country peace and pleasures which I must 
 prepare to leave. With what despotic power the present 
 rules us; how we cling to the beauties that we look upon 
 as though they were all, and refuse to be called away 
 from the enjoyments we have in possession, as though 
 we went from them to necessary destitution and desola- 
 lation; how slow to learn the exhaustlessness and omni- 
 presence of our Father's love, and to live the blessed life 
 of hope and faith, recognizing every change of place or 
 state as a new variation in the everlasting theme of love, 
 
282 JOHN II. RA YMON.D. 
 
 and without " forgetting the things behind" (excuse me, 
 Brother Paul, but I have done too much of that to think 
 it wise), or wearying of the present, ever ready to bound 
 onward into the future, as fast as we are called, nor ever 
 doubting to find it ready to receive, enrich, and bless us. 
 Whew ! what a sentence ! But the meaning is that it 
 just strikes me that I have been rather foolish in wishing 
 (like the boy in the story) "it were summer always," or 
 always play-time. For will not autumn, too, bring its 
 unspeakable and unsparable delights! and what were 
 life without the joy of work? 
 
 Since I came back from Rochester, we have had a glo- 
 rious vacation. The weather has been almost faultless, 
 the streams have been full, a rare occurrence in midsum- 
 mer; the vegetation has been thriftyand strong, and the air 
 has had that elastic vitality that quickens the flow of blood 
 in your veins, and that amber clearness which makes the 
 sunlight a golden flood and the moonlight like streams 
 of liquid silver. We have all been in excellent health, 
 and nothing has occurred to disturb the tranquil succes- 
 sion of days and nights. Our existence has run on like 
 our little fountain, in a gentle, bright, and joyous stream, 
 ever leaping up into the sunlight with a sort of tranquil 
 gayety, and falling back in musical driplets into the basin 
 of cool repose, wasting itself away by unseen channels, 
 without turbulence and without use that is, without 
 what the world knows as uses; without palpable, pon- 
 derable, and marketable fruits; not without such uses 
 as there are in being and making happy, and so praising 
 God and helping others praise Him. 
 
 You know how brief a list comprises the entire sum of 
 our amusements. Lounging and reading, riding or 
 driving, now and then a chat with a neighbor or a tea- 
 talk with several, a solitary ramble over the wooded hills 
 or a social afternoon at "Puckville," and the catalogue 
 
ROCHESTER. 283 
 
 is ended. "What have we read ?" Mighty little, I assure 
 you. I have read two little English books which I bought 
 for Ally, but found quite instructive and suggestive for 
 myself. One contains a plain, matter-of-fact, but quite 
 clear and comprehensive description of the interior econ- 
 omy of Christ's Church Charity School (Lamb's and Cole- 
 ridge's, you know), and the other, a spirited, dramatic pic- 
 ture of school-life at Rugby* under Dr. Arnold. The latter 
 particularly interested me. It is written by a true Bull, 
 with some faults of style, but with a redeeming element of 
 hearty, plucky, religious devotion to whatever is noble or 
 lovely, and a readiness not only to admire and praise, but 
 to fight for it, with pen or fist, against all sham friends and 
 open foes. The story, tracing the outer rather than the 
 inner life of the boy-hero, and his moral rather than 
 mental development, gives only occasional glimpses of 
 "the Doctor," as he is called throughout, but such 
 glimpses, so characteristic, and, to me at least, so sug- 
 gestive, as to break me all to pieces, in mingled admira- 
 tion and humiliation. May the lesson not be fruitless. 
 
 The "Romany Rye" of that queer nondescript, Geo. 
 Borrow and the "Biography of Spencer H. Cone" com- 
 plete the odd list of my own readings this vacation. To C. 
 and the girls I have accomplished only "Nothing to 
 Wear," and " Charlotte Bronte," and in Shakespeare only 
 "As You Like It," to our folks and Mr. and Mrs. Niles 
 on "Titania Bank," and "Much Ado About Nothing" to 
 a crowd in the parlors. 
 
 This was but one of the golden vacations whose rest- 
 ful hours prepared him for new years of labor after 
 he left Rochester. We look back to the Rochester days 
 as the only time when he was not taxed beyond meas- 
 
 * " Tom Brown at Rugby," by Thomas Hughes. 
 
284 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 ure, and when the tranquil round of professorial duties 
 formed a contrast to the breathless chase in which he 
 was ever afterwards pursued by his accumulating cares. 
 From duties and distractions he found a retreat in the 
 peaceful Angelica home which every summer welcomed 
 his family. No colors can paint the joy and beauty of 
 that home like those in which his own pen was dipped. 
 We learn from his own words how he reveled in the 
 charms of that hill-country, as he explored its forests 
 and " roamed through shaded avenue and sunlit glade, 
 or reclined on mossy couch and under leafy canopy." 
 His early love of Nature received fresh impulse, and, as 
 in former days, his strength was renewed in a baptism of 
 exhaustless beauty. To the freedom and delight which 
 he drank in from hill and wood was added all the 
 heart's-ease which home could yield. To make a haven 
 of rest and gladness for their returning children was the 
 one thought of the devoted grandparents, to whom 
 the happiness of those so dear was the whole of life. 
 No winter in that bleak climate was too long or cold 
 or drear to be warmed and illumined to those loving 
 hearts by the hope of the bright, brief summer. A 
 record of those summer days would be deficient in- 
 deed which did not gratefully remember the love which 
 crowned those days with blessings unnumbered. How 
 it poured itself out from the heart of that dear Grand- 
 father Bountiful, and, vainly seeking expression in all 
 abounding gifts of temporal comfort, overflowed in the 
 mingling smiles and tears which were the only language 
 of that unutterable love. To put into words our grand- 
 mother's love would be even more impossible it seemed 
 a very mother's love dissolving in new tenderness 
 and to put her into words, our lovely, dainty grand- 
 
ROCHESTER. 285 
 
 mother, would be hopeless. No mother in the flesh 
 could be more akin to him in all rare and delicate tastes 
 than she was to the son of her adoption. When he 
 wrote of her, " Our dear mother continues the same, as 
 fair and frail as one of her own lilies," he chose the 
 type which fitly pictured her. If she "put her life" as 
 he describes, into the flowers that she loved and labored 
 for, she certainly drew back from them all subtle sweet- 
 ness and purity of being. If our grandmother Ray- 
 mond, so early lost, was known to us only as a lovely 
 vision, our other grandmother was its living embodi- 
 ment, clothed with the same ethereal grace to our 
 loving eyes. A worshiper of beauty in every form, 
 with a ceaseless hunger for it, she spent the longings 
 which were repressed in other ways upon the one little 
 garden where she worked and watched and waited, till 
 the most unwilling soil blossomed beneath her touch. 
 She eagerly awaited our coming to share the treasures 
 which she had wooed and won, and which her fingers 
 twined into every possible device of loveliness. 
 
 Next to the flowers, in our hearts, came the fountain 
 in whose music our father especially delighted, and 
 whose brightness was to him an ever-varying symbol. 
 It suggested to him the name by which our summer 
 home was known to those who shared the secret of its 
 joys. To the rare joys of " Fountain Home" a few 
 chosen friends were admitted, and their fragrance still 
 lingers in faithful memories. None entered into them 
 with more vivacious zest than the dear friends of "the 
 Manse," who are remembered in these vacation letters, 
 and to one of them we turn for recollections of those 
 happy scenes: 
 
 Some of my most vivid and delightful reminiscences 
 
286 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 of your dear father are in connection with his vacations 
 at Angelica. How anxiously they were expected by the 
 group of friends in that sweet village of the vale, and 
 how much new life, attractiveness, and dignity were 
 added to its society when " the Doctor" and his family 
 came thither to sojourn for a time! 
 
 "Fountain Home"! How many charming gatherings 
 there of which he was the cynosure and delight! How 
 heartily he entered into every enterprise for bringing 
 clematis .and evergreens and ferns and wild flowers to 
 mingle with the choicest tributes from lawn and garden 
 with which to decorate the rooms for an evening's enter- 
 tainment! And when we met in that tasteful parlor, or 
 around the tea-table, with what rare social and literary 
 viands did he furnish us, and with what genial wit and 
 humor were we delighted! . 
 
 "Titania Bank"! Was not he the magician who con- 
 jured into existence all the pleasant associations con- 
 nected with that name? He the chief actor in those rare 
 summer idyls of more than twenty years ago? With his 
 lover-like enthusiasm for Nature, and his keen, artistic 
 eye for her charms, he was the first to discover this quiet 
 retreat consecrated to our Shakespearean picnics. What 
 a beautiful semi-island it was, anchored in the bright 
 waters of Angelica Creek, under the balmy shades of that 
 majestic Allegany pine-forest! Do you remember the 
 dedication ? How we took possession of it in the name 
 of that high and mighty sovereign in the realms of 
 Literature, King Will ? A huge rock carpeted with a 
 rare mosaic of lichens was the stage. Our " dress cir- 
 cle" beneath was luxuriously arranged on sofas of an- 
 cient trees lying in state with their shrouds of velvety 
 moss, while the children lounged on fragrant mounds 
 of wintergreen and partridge-berry. How he did enter 
 into the high revels, and interpret to us the aerial, 
 
ROCHESTER. 287 
 
 fanciful humor of " Midsummer-Night's Dream," till we 
 seemed dwellers in an enchanted realm which he had re- 
 vealed to us. We were all in carnival mood, and, amid 
 speeches, impromptu verses, and plenty of hurrahs and 
 shoutings from the juveniles, with appropriate ceremonies, 
 he made our Bank the namesake of the Fairy Queen. 
 The younger members of the party had another christen- 
 ing, and, in honor of their favorite role in the play, im- 
 mortalized the wood as "Puckville." That was the be- 
 ginning of a royal procession of summer days spent 
 in entertainments as varied as the Protean tastes of the 
 company and their ages, which sometimes ran through 
 three generations. 
 
 These renderings of Shakespeare are yet vivid before 
 me, and I feel that my conceptions of the characters of 
 the Great Dramatist have been determined more by him 
 than by all other interpreters. 
 
 Not that " Sweet Will " alone was honored. There 
 were talks and studies from Ruskin, with copious illus- 
 trations and " object teachings" from cloud-scenery, cas- 
 cade, wind-swept tree-tops, squirrels, birds, insects, and 
 forest flora, to say nothing of Izaak Walton and Mrs. 
 Browning. 
 
 I never saw a father enter with such relish into 
 all his children's sports. He seemed en rapport with 
 them, and as really interested in helping Ally launch his 
 " grand Armada" in the stream, build his dam, or rival 
 the Rhine " bridge of boats" with stepping-stones across 
 the swift current, as in the fortunes of Macbeth, Desde- 
 mona, Rosamond, Richard, or the Henrys. I remember 
 his genuine enjoyment of the barefooted nautical expe- 
 ditions of the children, and the wonderful tales impro- 
 vized for their eager ears. He seemed to me then to 
 combine the father and companion in his relation to his 
 children to a degree of perfection I had never before 
 
288 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 witnessed; while his chivalrous devotion to the fair 
 mother was a marital romance. He was in the prime of 
 his glorious manhood, and life's burdens did not seem to 
 press heavily those holidays. He enjoyed our table 
 spread in the wilderness, and entered into the spirit of 
 our picnic feasts with true masculine gusto, while with 
 leafy baskets for the " bacchate bounties" he so loved, 
 and with the artistic "partridge-berry" ornaments, he 
 added to the dainty culinary dishes set before us an 
 esthetic charm that gratified his fastidious taste. 
 
 The fascinating charm by which he drew in and linked 
 such a circle of enthusiastic friends of all ages and con- 
 ditions could only be understood by those who saw him 
 in the undress of his Angelica vacations. His perennial 
 liveliness, and bubbling humor, and chivalric grace made 
 him always the hero of the hour. 
 
 But, through the rainbow spray and sparkling foam 
 of his humor, one could always see the deep flow of his 
 lofty nature and the grand current of his religious pur- 
 pose. His conversations, even in those recreation hours, 
 were most stimulating and suggestive; blossoming from 
 the deep, broad roots of his scholarship. We can all re- 
 call hints and suggestions then received that have been 
 golden keys, unlocking to us armories of mental and 
 spiritual equipment, and giving us the "open sesame" 
 to treasures of art and literature before unknown. 
 
 To E. C. 
 
 FOUNTAIN HOME, July 20, 1858. 
 
 Here I am, dear Esther, fairly seated for writing with 
 one of Father Morse's broad sheets before me, present- 
 ing a fair field of operations, which I proceed to occupy 
 with what may chance to offer. For, really, I have been 
 
ROCHESTER. 289 
 
 so many days in a state of such delicious stagnancy 
 (" not to put too fine a point on it") that my fingers 
 have almost forgotten to guide a pen, and my brain 
 (heaven save the mark!) is covered all over with one un- 
 broken coat of green verdure or mould, just as you pre- 
 fer to conceive the subject, as a vegetable growth or a 
 "standing pond." I shall decide in favor of the vegeta- 
 ble idea, as the truest if not the modestest representa- 
 tion, for there is life about me, or how could I so luxuri- 
 ate in my surroundings? and in most perfect sympathy 
 I surely am with the sweet restful stir of Nature, that 
 woos and soothes my senses on every side. Her zephyrs 
 fan and move rne, her waters impart conscious quicken- 
 ing and refreshment, I get fatness from the earth be- 
 neath, and feel vital attraction toward the heavens above, 
 with all their glorious panorama of, sun and moon and 
 starlight and affluent variety of clouds, and gay-plum- 
 aged thoughts dart in and out, and circle around and 
 over me, as happy as birds in a bush, and as aimless and 
 uncatchable as they. Argal, I vegetate, not stagnate 4f 
 I could only blossom now and fructify! 
 
 The day but one after my arrival here, before the balmy 
 sense of repose had penetrated beyond the mere sur- 
 face, little H. and I took, our sudden start for Rochester, 
 driving from here to Mt. Morris, where we took a night- 
 packet down the canal. We were sympathetic traveling 
 companions, H. being just at the age to enjoy every- 
 thing, all the more from its being out of the ordinary 
 line, and therefore more likely to discomfort and annoy 
 a body of more settled habits and matured necessities. 
 We met with numerous originals on the road, at the 
 country "tavern," and on the boat, and had a merry 
 time, barring the little accident of my losing my spec- 
 tacles overboard while washing my face the next morn- 
 ing! Down they sank to the crystal depths of the " ra- 
 
290 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 ging canawl," no more to rise till the water is drawn off 
 next November, when some lucky gold-prospecter will 
 pounce upon them (" Quite a spec for somebody," says C. 
 "Yes," I reply, " a pair of specs!") and convey to sordid 
 pouch my last received memento ah! there's the rub! 
 of Father Raymond. 
 
 H. was domiciled at Prof. Richardson's during our 
 stay, where, in addition to the Professor's own eight, 
 were three other visitors of about her own age girl 
 cousins. It was a goodly sight to see the Professor 
 seated every warm evening under his own vine and 
 peach-tree, surrounded by the fair dozen, like Father 
 Jacob and his twelve, glorified. I, of course, have but 
 one home in Rochester, and I crept to my own dear old 
 nest at Miss Porter's, which I found as warm for me as I 
 could possibly hope or desire. Things in Rochester are 
 almost absurdly unchanged, all the places and all the 
 people, in -doors and out -doors, the very " improve- 
 ments" continuing at just about the same stage of in- 
 completeness. Still, I am persuaded that both the city 
 and the college have young blood in them, the blood of 
 an immortal youth, and, if not "fast," are destined to a 
 sure and vigorous growth in the most desirable qualities. 
 Esto perpetual I should certainly be a most ungrateful 
 dog not to speak well of that City of Flour and Flowers, 
 for nowhere do I find so many whose friendship seems to 
 wear and actually to grow fresher and more cordial with 
 time. 
 
 It was in the midst- of scenes so intimately associ- 
 ated with my friend Wilder's image that the startling 
 intelligence of his sudden death fell upon me. My mind 
 was at the very moment full of him. It was the day after 
 Commencement, and a merry party were gathered to 
 celebrate the nuptials of a son of Mr. Sheldon, Mr. Wil- 
 der's old Albany partner, in the house adjoining that 
 
ROCHESTER. 291 
 
 elegant mansion which he occupied in Rochester, where 
 I always met so cordial a reception, and spent, like a 
 brother in the house of a brother, so many happy, happy 
 hours. Prof. Richardson and I had been talking of him 
 and the old times, and after Richardson left me I stood 
 alone in the front yard, looking over the fence, recalling 
 many a phase of that ever-beautiful picture of domestic 
 felicity which then surrounded him, and sadly remem- 
 bering the heavy strokes which had defaced it since, 
 when some one whispered in my ear, " This is dreadful 
 news from Albany!" The oracle needed no interpreter. 
 " Mr. Wilder died suddenly," was the answer, "this after- 
 noon at half-past three." .... 
 
 Since our return, nine days ago, I have been in the 
 chrysalis state, as before intimated, and enjoyed it huge- 
 ly. Our dear cousin Lizzie has been here with her 
 mother, a younger sister of our mother, you know, and 
 they have entered into the peaceful pleasures of our daily 
 life. Our friend Mrs. Niles is very happy in the nice 
 new manse, and over the perfect new wonder in the cra- 
 dle thereof. Her friend Miss Goodell, whom you remem- 
 ber as a daughter of Dr. Goodetl of Constantinople, is on a 
 visit there now, and proves a keenly appreciative addi- 
 tion to our Shakespearean circle, which has had two sit- 
 tings already. 
 
 Mother's garden has of itself been a little world of 
 pleasure to us this summer. Spite of a naturally hard, 
 ungenial soil, it is grateful for the assiduous, persever- 
 ing, loving labor which has been expended upon it. 
 Mother puts her life into it, and really I know of no love- 
 lier or more useful form into which she could desire to 
 translate her earthly being. This season it has shared 
 the unwonted prosperity of all the vegetable world, and, 
 like the first garden, " poured forth profuse" its floral 
 treasures without limit or let, and we have plucked them 
 
292 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 by the handful, at times almost by the basketful, without 
 fear of censure or sense of wastefulness. And our happy 
 Fountain has stood up amidst the lawn, like the prince 
 of the flowery realm, encircled by courtier shrubs, and 
 overhung by arms of guardian trees, dancing and sing- 
 ing all night and all day, and pouring back the exuber- 
 ance of his joys into the three white cups which, like loving 
 wives (he is an Oriental prince in his domestic arrange- 
 ments), embrace his waist, his knees, and his feet, in due 
 succession receiving of his gifts, and all in turn filled to 
 overflowing with his loving bounteousness. And when, 
 of a summer night, we sit at our chamber window, and 
 look out upon this simple garden scene, and such a moon 
 as shines upon our evenings now sends down its silver 
 through such an air as now we breathe, shimmering 
 through leaves, glancing along the tremulous surfaces, 
 and turning the spray and drops from jet and rim into a 
 shower of diamonds, there is just nothing more to be de- 
 sired or said. 
 
 But here I come plump against the end of my sheet, 
 and, like the fourteenthly of the darkey's sermon, " if I 
 hab time, I'd better begin to draw to a conclusion." 
 
 Your descriptions of that paradisiacal Springfield, of 
 the trees, the garden, the voice and the people, including 
 the babies, have so sharpened my sensibilities that I 
 fancy I should enjoy a little visit there some. Haven't 
 they got some sort of a wonderful " High School " or 
 other educational " Notion" there which it is important 
 I should visit and examine? I know that Webster's Dic- 
 tionary is there, but then, through the fatal enterprise 
 and activity of one Merriam, that is everywhere else. If 
 you are there till I return to Brooklyn, and will get up a 
 bit of an occasion, perhaps well, no matter let the un- 
 born future bear its unborn, and then we can tell how 
 we like its looks. 
 
ROCHESTER. 293 
 
 The sorrowful event which shadowed the festivities 
 of which he writes in the preceding letter robbed him 
 of his earliest Rochester friend. As president of the 
 Board of Trustees, Mr. Wilder had been most warmly 
 and actively interested in the University enterprise, 
 and in the days when it was attended with so much 
 anxiety, my father had been first in his confidence and 
 counsels. The mutual interest had begotten a strong 
 personal attachment, which soon embraced the circle 
 of both families, and many bright memories cluster 
 around the hearthstone in Rochester, where they were 
 so often gathered. Ever ready to enter into the mer- 
 riest enjoyment, my father was the first to come with 
 words of comfort in the darker hours of that house- 
 hold. Bereavement had twice taken its very flower 
 when the eldest and the second sons were cut down in 
 a youth bright with promise, and the hearts of the 
 parents were calmed by his helpful consolations. But 
 a deeper sorrow was to come, in whose presence he 
 was silent, and it was many days before his sympathy 
 found utterance in words. 
 
 To Mrs. JOHN N. WILDER. 
 
 BROOKLYN, Sept. 26, 1858. 
 
 MY DEAR MRS. WILDER: Sitting alone this tranquil 
 Sabbath afternoon in my solitary house, I find my 
 thoughts drawn towards you, and for the thousandth 
 time I reproach myself for a silence so long protracted 
 and so liable to be misunderstood. And yet I feel a 
 confidence that you will not misunderstand it. For, oh 
 my dear friend, what could I say, what word of consola- 
 tion could I hope to find, that should suit the magnitude 
 of your calamity? I have felt indeed, ever since I heard 
 
294 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 of "all this evil that has come upon you," as Job's friends 
 did when " they sat down with him upon the ground 
 and spake not a word to him, because they saw that his 
 grief was very great." I see that God's hand is on you, 
 and that it is very heavy; but I cannot tell you what it 
 all means. I cannot conceive why He should thus con- 
 tend with, thus crush you; nor show how His grace is 
 able to turn even this sorrow to a glorious joy. To offer 
 you sympathy, then, were mockery; and to rehearse the 
 commonplaces of Christian consolation to you, an idle 
 impertinence. I can only stand by your side in the 
 shadow of this great grief, reverent and mute, and pray 
 with earnest heart that He who has smitten will heal 
 that He who is " His own interpreter" will make that 
 plain to you which seems to me so utterly dark and 
 insoluble. 
 
 Such has been my feeling, and it has kept me silent. 
 But I begin to be ashamed of it. It is certainly below 
 the point at which the Christian is privileged to stand. 
 For is not the world with all its ills, the last and greatest 
 not excepted, a vanquished enemy? " This is the victory 
 that overcometh the world, even our faith." And those 
 very " commonplaces of Christian consolation" of which* 
 I have felt so distrustful, are not they the very weapons 
 He has furnished us wherewith to achieve the triumph 
 the glorious realities of the divine life, made familiar to 
 His people by the frequency with which they are driven 
 to use them, and which are never so real or so precious 
 as in just those extremities where they are most needed, 
 when earthly treasures are slipping from our grasp and 
 every earthly refuge fails ? Oh for the faith which, ap- 
 prehending their reality, makes sure of their potency in 
 the hour of need ! 
 
 "It is the Lord who hath done it." What thought 
 more common and yet more sweet and strengthening to 
 
ROCHESTER. 295 
 
 one who loves the Lord and leans on Him with a filial 
 trust? 
 
 " Our life is in heaven." Oh, welcome suggestion to 
 one whose life on earth has lost its charm, and nothing 
 remains below but the stern demands of duty, and at last 
 the welcome repose of the grave ! 
 
 " We are saved by hope." A blessed resource indeed 
 when memory has become only a sepulcher of buried 
 loves and joys, and the very sweetness of the past adds 
 poignancy and bitterness to the experience of the present. 
 
 I do not feel able, even now, to use these resources of 
 Christian comfort, but I do see that they are abundant 
 if the Comforter is but with you to teach you how to use 
 them. Enough that you know, in the words of good old 
 Rutherford to a bereaved friend, that " the heaviest end 
 of the cross which is laid on you lieth upon your strong 
 Saviour ; as Isaiah saith, * In all your afflictions He is 
 afflicted ;' and glad may your soul be to walk even in a 
 fiery furnace with One like Him for a fellow. Courage! 
 up your heart ! when ye do tire He will bear both you 
 and your burden." 
 
 For him who is gone, you know I felt no common 
 admiration and love. I owed him much in the way of 
 gratitude for personal benefits which I could never either 
 forget or repay; but the largest debt I owed him was 
 one of affection for the friendship with which he honored 
 me, and on which I relied with a confidence that never 
 betrayed me in the hour of trial, and that I think no 
 change of outward relations would ever have disturbed. 
 He was one of the few men to whom I could give the 
 sacred name of friend. May I not, then, mingle my tears 
 with yours over his untimely grave, and in the midst of 
 tears rejoice with you also, because we know in whom 
 he believed and are assured of a reunion oh, how bliss- 
 ful j after a separation oh, how brief ! 
 
296 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 Mrs. R. has shared in all my feeling. She cannot for- 
 get the sisterly sympathy she has received from you in 
 the hours of her bereavement, and unites with me in 
 most tender sympathy and love. 
 
 Remember us affectionately to Mr. and Mrs. Porter 
 and family and to the dear children whom the world 
 will call " fatherless," but not we. And believe me 
 Yours, with ever-faithful esteem, 
 
 J. H. R. 
 
 Of all the greetings that he received in his returns to 
 Rochester, none was more hearty than that of his old 
 friend and colleague Dr. Kendrick. In one of these 
 visits he writes : " I called yesterday at the Greek pro- 
 fessor's, and he insisted upon my making his house 
 home and headquarters this time. He would not take 
 Nay for an answer. So here I am established, and 
 everything is done that heart or thought can suggest 
 to make my stay enjoyable." His acquaintance with 
 Dr. Kendrick has an earlier date than that of any other 
 of his fellow-workers, beginning when he was a school- 
 boy ten years of age. This memorial would not be com- 
 plete without the tribute of so tried and true a friend : 
 
 ROCHESTER, Oct. 30, 1880. 
 
 MY DEAR MRS. LLOYD : Although pressed both as to 
 time and health, I cannot persuade myself to allow a 
 memorial of one whom I knew so long, esteemed so 
 highly, and loved so well, to go to the public without 
 some brief testimonial of my regard and affection. My 
 acquaintance with your lamented father dates back to 
 our early boyhood, when he, with some of his young 
 companions, came as a mere lad from New York to 
 Hamilton (the seat of the then newly founded Theological 
 Institution) to commence in the academy of that village 
 
ROCHESTER. 297 
 
 his course of education. Of his bearing and character 
 there it is perhaps enough to say that the child was the 
 father of the man. The same delicate vivacity of tem- 
 per, the same winning, manly grace that marked the 
 man, characterized the boy. When he subsequently, 
 after leaving college and becoming the subject of a spir- 
 itual renewal that changed the purpose and bent of his 
 life, returned there to pursue in the seminary his theo- 
 logical studies, our acquaintance and friendship were re- 
 newed and deepened. I had become a member of the 
 faculty of instruction, and soon after his graduation he 
 also became a member I think the youngest member 
 of the same body, taking successively the chairs of He- 
 brew, of Moral Philosophy, and of Logic and Rhetoric. 
 
 He soon after married and brought his lovely young 
 wife, your mother, into our circle a circle rarely sur- 
 passed, I think, in its elements of congeniality, and in the 
 rich sources of enjoyment which it opened to its mem- 
 bers. The easy and unrestrained intercourse of kindred 
 minds and hearts, nearly all in ripening youth or very 
 early manhood, marked by almost daily meetings, more 
 or less informal, for social recreation, and enlivened by 
 various talent and culture, by the play of humor, the 
 sparkle of wit, and the resources of taste and scholarship, 
 has left in the minds of all whose privilege it was to share 
 it memories equally ineffaceable and delightful. Of that 
 circle your father was one of the most brilliant mem- 
 bers if not its center, certainly one of its chief orna- 
 ments and attractions. His graceful person, his delight- 
 ful social qualities, his rare and varied accomplishments, 
 making him at home in almost every department of taste 
 and art at once critic and creator rendered him the 
 life and ornament of such an assemblage. His flow of 
 spirits was almost unfailing, and his affluent and elegant 
 conversation illumined and adorned every subject that 
 
298 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 it touched. His mind in its undress played easily and 
 lightly over the surface of a subject, while in his easy 
 girding himself for severer efforts he constantly opened 
 sudden and unlooked-for depths of intellectual power. 
 There was in him a rare combination of qualities not 
 often found, at least in equal measure, united in a 
 single person a fine literary sense, artistic grace and 
 skill, a strong and subtle intellectual grasp, and behind 
 all reposed, as we subsequently found, rare organizing 
 skill, and great administrative tact and energy. He 
 was an admirable judge of music and a connoisseur in the 
 fine arts. His ready pencil ministered to the suggestions 
 of a most delicate taste and a most exquisite humor, and 
 though no poet by profession, he wooed the Muse in 
 occasional strains both light and grave, which, as I well 
 remember, were often of the purest essence of poetry. 
 
 I cannot forbear here to speak of the interest which he 
 added to our circle by his occasional dramatic and es- 
 pecially Shakespearean readings. His rich and flexible 
 voice, and the unerring delicacy of his taste, made him 
 everywhere a very effective reader. But we deemed it 
 an especial treat when, either at Hamilton or, later, at 
 Rochester, we could secure an hour from him in our 
 social gatherings for selections from some of the finest 
 creations of Shakespeare. There was not a particle of 
 the staginess, none of the conventional mouthing, of many 
 of our professional public readers. Hamlet, Macbeth, 
 Othello, Julius Caesar, came before us in their living per- 
 sonality. The Ghost fairly froze our blood and made 
 our hair stand on end, and the " Words, words, words" 
 of the young Dane were transformed into things that 
 seemed to open to us the very inmost heart of the great 
 Magician's creations. I am sure I speak but the expe- 
 rience of many when I say that to his renderings, be- 
 yond those of any other interpreter within the range of 
 
ROCHESTER. 299 
 
 my acquaintance, I owe my highest conceptions of the 
 meaning and depth of Shakespeare's wonderful creations. 
 But Dr. Raymond was no dilettante either of art or 
 literature. Life with him, all wreathed over as it was 
 with elegance, was very real and very earnest. I wish 
 I had time to give my conception of some of his high 
 masculine qualities, but I must leave this for other and 
 abler pens. Of his success as a student and an instructor 
 there could be to those who knew him no ground for 
 doubt. Success in anything to which he thoroughly 
 gave his energies was assured in advance. Such were 
 the quickness and keenness of his intellect, such the 
 strength of his mental grasp, that he could scarcely fail 
 to rise to any eminence to which he seriously aspired. 
 It perhaps followed from the very variety of his tastes 
 and powers, from the equipoise and balance of his facul- 
 ties, that he should not devote himself with special con- 
 centration to any distinctive branch of scholarship. Yet 
 he gave himself with loving and conscientious industry 
 to every branch of study in which he was called to give 
 instruction ; and the fertility of his mind and the rich- 
 ness of his illustrations made him an equally able and 
 interesting teacher. I am not sure, however, but that it 
 was as an organizer and administrator that he was pre- 
 eminently at home, and in these positions at Brooklyn 
 and at Vassar he perhaps found his true field. I only 
 know that he had a depth of reserved power which, in 
 its occasional revealings under special exigencies, equally 
 astonished and delighted those . who thought they had 
 already taken the measure of his faculties. 
 
 Everywhere, alike at Hamilton and Rochester, he was 
 the charm of society. His life at Rochester was much 
 less long than that at Hamilton. The old Hamilton cir- 
 cle could not be so closely re-drawn under its changed 
 conditions. Some of its members had been left behind; 
 
300 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 some dropped away from the shining circle; but the 
 links of friendship with those he loved remained un- 
 broken and bright, and he continued, in the other spheres 
 of life and labor to which he was called, faithful to his 
 old friendships, as the hearts of his friends ever beat in 
 unfailing warmth toward him. It was always and every- 
 where a joy to greet the cordial pressure of his hand, and 
 the beaming recognition of his eye. You felt always that 
 you were dealing with 'a man who was thoroughly and 
 to the bottom in principle and in feeling, true. His heart 
 was always fresh and young and warm; his aspirations 
 pure and lofty as this memoir, I am sure, will abun- 
 dantly show; his life devoted to high ends in the service 
 of humanity, and of that Saviour to whom he had vowed 
 an allegiance that never faltered, and that was only 
 strengthened by advancing years. He seemed to me so 
 naturally, so invincibly youthful that I could never as- 
 sociate him with either age or death; yet I am sure that 
 death, when it came, found him ripened in character, rich 
 in a garnered harvest of noble, Christian living, and 
 ready, almost as by a translation, to pass from " work 
 here" to "work" and rest "there." 
 
 A. C. KENDRICK. 
 
 We must go back in our narrative to the year which 
 gave to the Rochester University the President for 
 whom it had waited three years. 
 
 To Prof. GEORGE R. BLISS. 
 
 ANGELICA, July 22, 1853. 
 
 Here I am at last, and oh, what long breaths of sweet 
 air I am taking! This is certainly what the country was 
 made for, to fly to now and then from the stir and strife 
 of duty's field, for refreshment and temporary repose; 
 and the more delicious my sense of its sweets and beau- 
 
ROCHESTER, 301 
 
 ties, the more thankful I am that I no longer live here, 
 to weary of them and lose my relish of their exquisite- 
 ness. You can't think how I enjoy looking back through 
 the loop-holes of this green retreat, upon the toils of the 
 year that is gone, and how cheerfully I already anticipate 
 a return to them (not, however, before vacation is over). 
 God is dealing very kindly with us in every respect this 
 summer, and things flow on from day to day in our 
 tranquil home, and beneath this pure midsummer sky, 
 so serenely and delightfully that one might almost for- 
 get that it is a world of sin and sorrow, were it not for 
 conscience and memory, and alas! for the news of calam- 
 ities that are crushing the hearts of others. 
 
 Our Commencement went off crackingly, the more so 
 from there having been a general impression among our 
 friends that the institution had been suffering from the 
 absence of Dr. Kendrick, the death of Dr. Maginnis, and 
 our failure to get a president until the year was gone. 
 In point of fact, we have never made so good an appear- 
 ance as now. A very large gathering of our friends, 
 including some from whom we expect liberal donations, 
 encouraged us and gave a cheerful tone to the occasion. 
 Next year we shall be much stronger in the Faculty. 
 Dr. Robinson, who succeeds Dr. Maginnis, is a man of 
 clear and vigorous intellect and most finished style, and 
 with our new President, Dr. Anderson, our corps will be 
 at last complete. We are heartily pleased with this last 
 appointment. The Doctor is a strong and able man, 
 and certainly conservative enough, even for a college 
 president, which is saying a good deal, you know. 
 
 Give a heart-full of love to my dear sister, to whom 
 my soul is knitted ever more firmly. Why do I not 
 write and say it to her myself? Ah me, my leanness, 
 my leanness! my laziness, my laziness! A hug and a 
 kiss to every blessed chick and child from JOHN. 
 
302 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 To JOHN T. HOWARD. 
 
 August 19, 1853. 
 
 Some time last spring, H. W. B. requested me to mark 
 for him the best hymns in our Baptist Collection. I 
 felt at the time that he had applied to the wrong man. 
 But, besides my desire to oblige him, I imagined it 
 might prove a pleasant and profitable exercise for my- 
 self, for I was dreadfully ignorant of hymnology, in 
 general and in particular, and I had Henry's assurance 
 that I would find it a delightful region, "tropical," he 
 called it, with fragrant flowers, ambrosial fruits, waving 
 leaves, and melodies ringing full of heaven. And I have 
 tried it again and again. " Tropical" I find it, but only 
 in the sense of arid, and, after half a dozen renewals of 
 the effort, I haven't got half through the book yet. The 
 general result of my examination thus far is about this. 
 About one third (less, rather than more) are genuine 
 metal, have the clear ring, and nine tenths of those are 
 Watts' and so familiar as to need nobody's help in select- 
 ing them. The other tenth are generally Cowper's. 
 Another third part are divisible into flat, flatter, flattest, 
 and if these have got to be " sung in heaven," I pity 
 the little cherubs in the Infant Department. The inter- 
 mediate third belong to that class which, in poetry, 
 neither gods nor men tolerate, the tolerable, the mediocre, 
 the so-so-ish. And, on second thought, it seems to me 
 that this last third part is a good deal larger than both 
 the others put together. I hope that Henry has his 
 " thousand " already made up without any help from me. 
 Nevertheless, I shall probably go through with the book 
 in time, and he can have my marks, if he cares for them. 
 
 The remaining two years in Rochester were unevent- 
 ful. The exertions of removal and of the building up 
 of the new interest being over, there was nothing to 
 
ROCHESTER. 303 
 
 call into action his best powers. Having seen the 
 enterprise safely launched and sailing on smooth seas, 
 he missed the excitement of the storms which he had 
 breasted. In the absence of a president he had been 
 one of those to guide the policy of the University and 
 share in its administration, and it would now seem as 
 if his creative and administrative faculties, having had 
 release and a beginning of opportunity, were working 
 in him an unrecognized desire for " fresh fields and pas- 
 tures new." He writes in the spring of 1855 : " Things 
 are jogging along here much as usual. In the University, 
 orations and rehearsals are the weary order of the day." 
 About this time letters from Brooklyn called his 
 attention to the new Collegiate and Polytechnic Insti- 
 tute, which had been built to supply a want greatly felt 
 in that city, and to furnish within its own borders a 
 collegiate education to its sons. His own name had 
 
 o 
 
 been considered by the committee appointed to nomi- 
 nate a president, and an interview in which he was 
 invited to meet that committee resulted in his call to 
 the office. His personal friends in Brooklyn naturally 
 felt an eager interest in the appointment. It was even 
 enough to win a letter from his faithful friend but in- 
 corrigible correspondent, Mr. Beecher : 
 
 BROOKLYN, May, 1855. 
 
 MY DEAR JOHN: I wish you would come down this 
 week to the anniversaries. The Polytechnic men wish 
 to see you. They are quite eager to have you, and you 
 stand a long way ahead of all persons in their favor. I 
 think an interview would settle it, and open to you no 
 mean field of labor. 
 
 As to the Rochester folks, I don't know what they will 
 do about it. But we that is, your family and personal 
 
34 JOHN II, RA YMOND. 
 
 friends have taken council and have voted unanimously, 
 and immensely, that you must come. This opportunity 
 is too good to be lost, and as for your classes, only get 
 Fred Douglass or Miss Griffiths to take them till your 
 return. You need not be gone but two days. Now, 
 John, I have but one proof to give of my interest; behold 
 it a letter, written by my own hand ! ! 
 
 Yours ever, H. W. BEECHER. 
 
 Prof. Raymond writes to his wife from New York: 
 
 NEW YORK, May 9, 1855. 
 
 Here I am, very cordially received by my friends, who 
 are all agog for the success of the movement. Beecher, 
 Robert, and I went round this morning to look at the 
 building, a fine edifice nearly completed. We have just 
 learned that the Board have appointed a meeting for me 
 to-morrow evening. 
 
 Friday was a beautiful day, and a most glorious ride 
 I had down the river by railroad. The sky was never 
 more purely blue. The mountains never stood up 
 against it in clearer outline or more majestic repose, and 
 never did the waters of that noble stream roll with 
 grander swell or glance more gayly in the sunshine. 
 
 I have been touching up my extremities to the extent 
 of a new hat and a pair of boots. The intermediate 
 parts, I flatter myself, will do. At any rate, if what I 
 put into the hat wont serve my turn hereabouts, I 
 can at least betake myself to the things I put into the 
 shoes and travel back the way I came. Seriously, the 
 thought of such a change from the old jog-trot is very 
 refreshing. But the Lord must decide ; we are in His 
 hand; let Him do what seemeth good unto Him, and let 
 us, dear wife, cheerfully confide and patiently wait. 
 
ROCHESTER. 305 
 
 To Mr. ALPHA MORSE. 
 
 ROCHESTER, June 8, 1855. 
 
 DEAR FATHER : . . . By the way, did you read my 
 speech and resolutions at the Kansas meeting here ? My 
 disclaimer of sectionalism will hardly go down with my 
 Silver-gray friends here; but it is honest, and the resolu- 
 tions are neither more nor less than my sense of solemn 
 duty requires. One thing is certain, they wakened up 
 great enthusiasm here, in which many of our best citi- 
 zens share; and I see they are responded to from other 
 parts of the State. I trust they will do good. 
 
 And what say you to my proposed removal to Brook- 
 lyn ? It is not to my taste, as you know, to change situa- 
 tions often. But I have felt for some time that my work 
 was about finished here. Not that my position has not 
 been congenial and satisfactory in every respect, and my 
 relations with my colleagues most delightful and har- 
 monious. The only trouble is that I have not responsi- 
 bility and care enough, and no object before me suffi- 
 cient to rouse my ambition and stimulate me to exertion. 
 I must be captain of my own vessel if it be but a fishing- 
 smack. Nor do I think this a childish ambition for the 
 name and the office. My whole past experience goes to 
 fit me for this kind of responsibility, if it fits me for any- 
 thing; and I feel that the best result of my former train- 
 ing, and my best powers of doing good, lie idle and 
 rusting in a position where I have nothing to do in the 
 management and discipline of the Institution, and only 
 an indirect personal interest in its success or unsuccess. 
 
 In Brooklyn, I have satisfied myself, there is a glorious 
 opportunity of doing a great and a good thing, if the 
 right man takes hold of it. It would put me to a severer 
 test than I have ever felt before, I am well aware of that; 
 but many indications of Providence seem to concur in 
 
306 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 pointing it out as my destiny to make the venture, and 
 I easily resign myself to my fate. It breaks up here in 
 Rochester some of my pleasing visions of future repose 
 and domestic enjoyment. But those visions, I think, may 
 be realized much more perfectly in Brooklyn than here, 
 and none the less for my having more to do. 
 
 As ever, affectionately, J. H. R. 
 
 In July, 1855, the degree of LL.D. was conferred 
 upon Prof. Raymond by the University of Rochester. 
 His official connection with the institution ceased at 
 that time, and one of the happiest and most peaceful 
 periods of his life was closed, the only one since his 
 boyhood unmarked by deep sorrow or by excessive 
 care. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BROOKLYN THE POLYTECHNIC. 
 
 THE work to be accomplished by the new "Col- 
 legiate and Polytechnic Institute" in Brooklyn is 
 touched upon in the following letter accepting its 
 presidency: 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ROCHESTER, May 29, 1855. 
 
 H. R. WORTHINGTON, Esq. 
 
 DEAR SIR : The subject of our recent conversation at 
 Syracuse has received the maturest consideration I could 
 give it. I have also consulted those whose opinion it has 
 seemed proper for me to seek, and, as the result of all, I 
 have decided (not without great hesitancy) to return an 
 affirmative answer to your Board. Will you have the kind- 
 ness, through the Committee of which you are a member, to 
 signify to the Board of Trustees of the Brooklyn Collegiate 
 and Polytechnic Institute my acceptance of the appoint- 
 ment they have tendered me to the Presidency of the 
 Institution ? 
 
 To many of my friends I seem, in this change of 'my 
 relations, to be leaving a certainty for an uncertainty; but 
 the uncertainty involves a possibility of such magnitude and 
 interest as in my own judgment fully warrants the venture. 
 The attempt to adjust a complete system of education to 
 the actual present necessities of the public, rather than to 
 abstract philosophical ideals or the antiquated models of 
 former times, is an experiment worth trying under the most 
 
38 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 favorable circumstances possible. So far as this is a part 
 of your object, I shall contribute my cordial and earnest 
 co-operation. 
 
 But whatever may be the result of the experimental part 
 of your enterprise, of so much I feel not the slightest doubt, 
 that you may and will accomplish a noble thing for educa- 
 tion in Brooklyn. To provide the youth of such a city with 
 thorough instruction and a generous culture, on any plan 
 that experience would sanction, and on any scale which is 
 at all likely to meet the public demand, is no mean under- 
 taking; and of so much, I think, we may, with the blessing 
 of Providence, feel reasonably sure. The policy of the 
 Board, it strikes me, will be, not to commit themselves by 
 any pledges to a course of instruction of any particular 
 extent or character, but laying their foundation broad and 
 firm, and then following the indications of experience, and 
 building securely as far as they go, to carry the edifice up as 
 high as they can. 
 
 Increased endowments will probably be needed, in time, 
 to make the Institute all that it ought to be. But I cannot 
 entertain a doubt that these will be forthcoming as fast as 
 needed, provided the Institute is made by its internal 
 arrangement such an instrument of education as Brooklyn 
 wants. 
 
 Much must depend on the selection of a proper Faculty. 
 It should be composed of men not only abundantly com- 
 petent in their respective departments of instruction, but 
 able to work together (as far as possible) in perfect harmony. 
 I earnestly hope no premature step may be taken in this 
 direction. You could in no more effectual way tie the 
 hands of your President than by giving him associates who 
 (however excellent in other respects) could not understand 
 him, or whom he could not understand. I have no candi- 
 dates to propose for any chair; but I should feel a very 
 strong desire to participate in the deliberations of the Board 
 
BROOKLYN THE POLYTECHNIC. 309 
 
 respecting every appointment, and (so far as may be) to 
 form a previous personal acquaintance with every appointee. 
 It would give me great pleasure to comply with your sug- 
 gestion to come at once to Brooklyn and enter upon the 
 duties of my office. But my engagements with this University 
 make it impossible. My services are due here until the 
 I3th of July, after which I am the servant of the Board. 
 Yours with sincere regard, 
 
 J. H. RAYMOND. 
 
 The caution of his purpose to build slowly and 
 surely was characteristic of all his aims and modes of 
 working. But although he would not be committed 
 to a plan of greater scope than could certainly be 
 compassed, his conception of the end to be attained 
 was high. It was some time before he could abandon 
 the hope of making the institution a college. The 
 foundations, as he had determined, were laid " broad 
 and firm;" the course of study was thoroughly pursued 
 so far as it could be carried, and if it stopped short of 
 a collegiate completeness, it was only because the de- 
 mand for a home college instruction in the community 
 was yet to be created. A large proportion of those 
 who entered the Institute desired an education which 
 should fit them for mercantile rather than professional 
 life, and were satisfied with a course of study extend- 
 ing no farther than that commonly reached in the 
 Junior year in colleges ; while those who wished a full 
 collegiate course preferred to seek it, or in many cases 
 only to complete it, in the older institutions, where 
 their examinations for the higher classes testified to 
 the thoroughness of the Polytechnic preparation. 
 
 But while Dr. Raymond was unable to carry on his 
 plan to the perfect end which his own sense of com- 
 
JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 pleteness demanded, and which was reserved for a 
 later work, he found enough to fully engross his ener- 
 gies at first in outlining and developing the scheme. 
 
 He writes of the hopes awakened by the prospect of 
 a home in Brooklyn to his brother Robert, then visiting 
 that city: 
 
 ROCHESTER, June 9, 1855. 
 
 MY DEAR BROTHER : Your letter has just reached me 
 with its congratulations on the prospect, surely not less 
 cheering to us than to any of our friends, of a home for 
 us in the "old places" and among the dear, dear " old 
 faces." My prevalent feeling in relation to it is that I 
 cannot wait patiently for the time to come. Spite of all 
 my efforts to restrain the enthusiasm of my anticipations, 
 sadly sensible as I am of the danger of all hopes that fix 
 on earthly scenes and objects, I find myself more and 
 more eager, more and more confident as the day ap- 
 proaches. 
 
 But I cannot bear to hear you speak of separation, as 
 though when we went you were to be left behind. Not 
 so, surely, if anything I can do will prevent it. Deeply 
 grieved and disappointed shall I be if, instead of separa- 
 tion, it does not result in bringing us nearer to each 
 other, and removing all bar to our intercourse. But of 
 this more hereafter. 
 
 I am writing very hastily now to say that I am expect- 
 ing to leave for Brooklyn next Tuesday, returning at the 
 close of the week, and to ask if you will not be through 
 with your visit there by that time, and ready to come 
 westward with me. Love to all the dear ones there, 
 whom my heart greets with new hope and eagerness. 
 
 The expressions in this letter recall one written in 
 former days from Hamilton, when the brother to 
 
BROOKLYN THE POLYTECHNIC. 311 
 
 whom it is addressed was considering a plan for re- 
 moving to New York not then carried into effect 
 and when the heart of his brother John was stirred 
 with longings to follow him to the old spot. The 
 thought of their return to the old home, there to live 
 and labor together among dear and familiar scenes, 
 was an oft-recurring dream, impracticable as it seemed. 
 It was never entirely banished, although it did not 
 become a definite hope until he was himself called to 
 Brooklyn. His old desire to be associated with his 
 brother in a common field of labor returned with new 
 force when the field demanded just the aid which he 
 felt that none so well as this beloved brother could 
 give. On none could he so constantly rely for counsel in 
 the general management of the school, and to no other 
 could he entrust the department which had hitherto 
 been of prime consideration to himself. If Rhetoric and 
 Belles Lettres could no longer claim the chief place in 
 his thought, he rejoiced to commit it to one with 
 whom its interests were more than safe. 
 
 No one was more familiar with the steps by which 
 the Polytechnic advanced to a complete organization 
 than the brother who bore such an efficient part in the 
 work. The history of those labors could hardly be 
 given without the light thrown upon them by his per- 
 sonal recollections : 
 
 MY DEAR NIECE : You ask me for some reminiscences 
 of your father's work in the Brooklyn Polytechnic. As 
 a co-worker with him there, enjoying peculiarly favor- 
 able opportunities of observing his methods and study- 
 ing them from the inner side, I naturally view the subject 
 in the light of my personal relations to him and of his 
 
312 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 influence on myself, and that carries me back to my 
 earliest recollections of our boyhood. 
 
 Without doubt, my brother John in those days had 
 plenty of qualities which are common to the majority of 
 boys. Indeed, not a few passages in his career give evi- 
 dence that he was full of fun and frolic, and liable to 
 mischief, "even as others." I suspect that some who 
 knew him only in the somewhat formidable dignity of 
 later years would be drawn to him with a sense of relief 
 if they knew how merry a rogue among youthful rogues 
 he was. But my own feelings towards him even then 
 were rather those of affectionate reverence; though his 
 place in the family was only next above me in age, and we 
 had a brother and a sister older. And that feeling came 
 by degrees, I think, to affect the more advanced members 
 of our circle, so that after a while he seemed to assume 
 among us, as if by common consent, the position of a 
 judge or arbiter. Somebody has used the term "round- 
 headed " speaking of Washington. It will apply very 
 well to John. That is, he was remarkable for the har- 
 monious development of all his faculties rather than for 
 the undue prominence of any one of them. This gave a 
 judicial cast to his mind. It was his habit from very 
 childhood to look on all sides of a subject or a word 
 before he gave tongue to his thought. In this process 
 he lost something, of course, in rapidity of decision 
 either in speech or action; but both, when they definitely 
 left his lips or hand, were sure to be the best of their 
 kind. 
 
 I well remember when some dispute would break out 
 among us children, and the tongues of a somewhat voluble 
 race would be set loose in clamorous advocacy of either 
 side of the controversy, how promptly and as it were intui- 
 tively he would "bench" himself; the pregnant reticence 
 with which he would await the exhaustion of the last com- 
 
BROOKLYN THE POLYTECHNIC. 313 
 
 batant, and the wise and methodical way in which he would 
 begin the " summing up," which was to continue until the 
 case was settled beyond appeal. It would not be strange if 
 the thoroughness of this process should be sometimes open 
 to the charge of prolixity; and defeated parties among us 
 have been known to avenge themselves by declaring that 
 the secret of our self-constituted umpire's power consisted 
 in worrying out the contestants with the length of his deci- 
 sion. Certain it is we all fell into the habit of quiet acqui- 
 escence in the decrees of this boy-court, and not seldom 
 would even the parental dignity bow, if not to its decrees, 
 to the clear and cogent statement of reasons on which they 
 were based. 
 
 It would be a great mistake to infer from this that he was 
 in any sense a prig, or that his manner was as a rule prosy. 
 He had an immense fund of enthusiasm, which will be re- 
 membered by those who were called to feel the persuasive 
 fervor of his early preaching, and which others have seen on 
 rare occasions in his riper manhood fusing his logical pro- 
 cesses until he flamed like a blazing mountain with earnest 
 eloquence; but which in his later years was subdued into a 
 latent fire, inspiring with energy the whole tenor of his con- 
 secrated life. 
 
 Another bit of personal experience I will mention, for its 
 bearing on the methods of his after-working. It has refer- 
 ence to his influence upon me as a boy, some four years 
 -younger than himself. When my over-sensitive and way- 
 ward nature, chafing under restraints and reproaches, salu- 
 tary, perhaps, but none the less intolerable, flung itself away 
 from the family influence, his was the only presence which, 
 penetrating my sullen solitude, could quiet my fevered 
 pulses, smooth my ruffled self-esteem, and, by that better 
 something in me which stood longing to be approached, lead 
 me back, a willing captive to his manly persuasion, into the 
 paths of duty. He had a way of throwing himself into the 
 
314 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 current he sought to control of turning aside the course 
 of the torrent, instead of trying to breast its tide. 
 
 I recur to these juvenile experiences, because it is these 
 very ways of judging things and managing men that seem 
 to have entered into all the labors and underlain all the 
 successes of his after-life. They account for his conspicu- 
 ous efficiency as a college professor at the Madison and 
 Rochester universities; they are largely the methods which 
 brought the infant enterprises of the Brooklyn Polytechnic 
 and Vassar College to a vigorous and hopeful adolescence. 
 It is of the former of these institutions that I am most 
 qualified, from actual observation, to speak. 
 
 It was not without misgivings that your father accepted 
 the task of bringing order and strength out of the materials 
 which had been gathered for this noble structure, and which 
 lay in chaotic confusion awaiting the touch of an organizing 
 hand. His experience as an educator had been acquired 
 in college halls and among maturer minds; and it was some 
 greater familiarity with boy-schools and school-boys which I 
 was supposed to possess which led him to desire my co-op- 
 eration, and to procure my appointment to the chair which 
 I occupied as long as he remained in the Presidency. 
 
 On arriving upon the ground, he found gathered in a 
 tumultuous mass about five hundred lads, of ages rang- 
 ing from ten to eighteen, representing the results of all sorts 
 of training, and boiling over with the excitement attendant 
 upon the unusual circumstance of an immense school 
 springing into life full-grown, in which scholars, teachers, 
 and trustees were all brand-new and mostly unacquainted 
 with one another. To aid him in reducing this seething 
 mass to subordination and system, a faculty of various 
 antecedents college tutors, West Point officers, masters of 
 public schools, and retired clergymen with differing, often 
 opposing, notions of matters tuitional or disciplinary, and 
 occasionally tinged with that jealousy for the relative im- 
 
BROOKLYN THE POLYTECHNIC. 315 
 
 portance of their respective departments from which even 
 such "celestial minds" are not always entirely free. Behind 
 and above all these, a Governing Board of successful busi- 
 ness men, admirably adapted in point of intelligence, liber- 
 ality, and executive ability to the work they had undertaken 
 in every requisite, indeed, but one (which the succeeding 
 quarter-century has so splendidly supplied) : experience in 
 the administration of academic affairs. 
 
 It was obvious enough that the foremost need was order. 
 There were cogs and shafts and springs galore, but the 
 machine was yet to be constructed." Or rather, as the plan 
 embraced a collegiate, a scientific, and a commercial school 
 not separate, but interblended; each complete in itself, 
 yet constituting a harmonious whole the problem involved 
 three machines working distinctly, and at the same time 
 operating as one. Then was developed the Doctor's un- 
 surpassed talent for organization. In this, some of his vir- 
 tues verged upon faults, and some faults grew out of his 
 virtues ; but both united to give perfection and durability 
 to the work he had in hand. A certain conscientiousness 
 in little things seemed to obscure his sense of perspective in 
 the use of his powers. Everything stood in the foreground. 
 Not that all things were alike important in his view; but 
 everything he undertook to do was all-important while he 
 was about it. He concentrated all his faculties upon it, 
 and never left it until it was exactly right, no matter how 
 many greater things might await his attention. I remember 
 that once, when a boy, he laboriously copied in india-ink 
 an engraving, a single figure. It cost him days of patient 
 toil, and when finished it could hardly be distinguished from 
 the original. He had no other purpose in doing it, that I 
 could ever see, than to test his powers in a new direction ; 
 and I think he never repeated the experiment. In the days 
 of his early fatherhood his little son once brought him a 
 dilapidated toy-wagon, with the rather bewildering request 
 
316 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 that it should be repaired. The young professor at once 
 accepted the commission; became profoundly interested, 
 according to his wont; and produced, after several days of 
 consuming devotion, a wagon renovated almost to absolute 
 newness wheels, shafts, and running-gear complete, whittled 
 out with his skillful and assiduous pen-knife. It was a tri- 
 umph of amateur dexterity, and a "joy for ever" to the 
 young gentleman who profited by it; but, as a perfectly new 
 toy of the same sort might have been purchased at a neigh- 
 boring shop, it may be questioned whether, upon the whole, 
 the transaction was a paying one. 
 
 I do not mean to imply that this was a type of the 
 Doctor's habitual distribution of his time and energies. 
 Far from it. But this same interest in the perfection of 
 minutia always characterized him. He never learned to 
 his latest day the art (not always useless) of slighting any, 
 even the most insignificant, part of his work. That work 
 might be, say, an article on the sublimest of themes; the 
 same accurate knowledge and exacting taste must be 
 brought to bear on everything about it; .the syntax must 
 be as correct, the orthography as faultless, the punctu- 
 ation as precise, as the rhetoric was elegant and the rea- 
 soning sound. 
 
 Of all this nice discrimination, this elaboration of par- 
 ticulars, the complicated mechanism of the Polytechnic 
 reaped the full advantage. Whatever may be thought 
 of such an application of the presidential energy in point 
 of economy of the expediency of leaving something of 
 detail to inferior hands there certainly resulted a sys- 
 tem so nearly perfect that to-day, after twenty-five years 
 of trial, it continues in full operation, almost unchanged 
 in every essential feature. 
 
 This was not the way to work for personal reputation. 
 Very few of those who saw the disorderly elements slow- 
 ly crystallizing into form, and perhaps none of those who 
 
BROOKLYN THE POLYTECHNIC. 317 
 
 have since "entered into the labors" by which the trans- 
 formation was effected, know anything of the days and 
 nights of anxious study it represented. One of the most 
 intelligent of the Directors, speaking to me of the Doc- 
 tor a few days after his death, and according a very gen- 
 erous praise to his character and work, demurred, nev- 
 ertheless, to this claim, which I had made incidentally, 
 quite as a matter of course. He said: "Dr. Raymond 
 had very little to do with the organization of the Poly- 
 technic; that work had been pretty well done for him in 
 
 advance, having been outlined by Mr. ." The idea 
 
 of a plan involving such a tangle of conflicting particu- 
 lars being outlined beforehand; or of such a man as the 
 new President spending the waking hours of half a year to 
 perfect a scheme already prescribed by the pen-dash of a 
 lawyer with little or no experience in educational affairs! 
 In the department of instruction, it was pretty evident 
 that the pupils were not the only parties who would need 
 educating. This may be inferred from the view already 
 taken of the Faculty and Trustees. Of the latter it does 
 not become me to speak. I can know nothing of their 
 relations to the President except that he cherished for 
 them the profoundest esteem, and always spoke of their 
 generous and enlightened co-operation as worthy of the 
 guardians of a great educational trust. But as to the 
 Faculty, whiJe I can freely aver (speaking for my col- 
 leagues) that a more faithful, intelligent, and every way 
 worthy body of men were never thus fortuitously thrown 
 together, we certainly did need to learn to modify our 
 individual notions and harmonize our methods in short, 
 to pull together in harness. One would naturally expect the 
 members of an academic board to be reasonably jealous 
 of the royal prerogative. But this is seldom the fact. 
 The average college professor will gladly compound with 
 presidential interference. His traditional disgust is the 
 
318 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 faculty meeting. He hates the discussion, and would 
 shirk the responsibility of the general management. He 
 would prefer an autocratic president, who should admin- 
 ister the discipline and regulate all the external affairs of 
 the college, assuming the credit or the odium, and leav- 
 ing him to cultivate undisturbed his own department, 
 more important in his eyes than all beside. But there 
 was nothing in the least Napoleonic in the Doctor's 
 methods; on the contrary, they were Democratic in spirit 
 and in form. It was no part of his tactics to have all the 
 power seem to emanate from him in order that he might 
 appropriate all the glory of successful results. He would 
 have his professors trained to be an administrative as 
 well as a teaching faculty. They were expected to have 
 opinions on all questions of the general interest; to ex- 
 press them if they would to vote them, at all events. 
 Result, a very fine specimen of automatic educational 
 mechanism; second result, a very general distribution of 
 the credit a vague impression everywhere outside that 
 nothing special had been done by anybody in particular. 
 
 This may be illustrated in the history of one of the 
 most important, far-reaching, and creditable acts in the 
 annals of the institution. I refer to the rejection of cor- 
 poral ptmisliment from its discipline. This is, in my judg- 
 ment, the crowning glory of its career. While the same 
 old controversy still goes on that racked our school- 
 boards half a century ago; while even in meridional Bos- 
 ton, only the other day, the assertion was confidently 
 made that no large school could possibly be carried on 
 without the rod, there stands the Brooklyn Polytechnic, 
 with more than seven hundred pupils under an exclu- 
 sively moral control, to confute the falsehood, and to 
 declare that for twenty-five years the sound of ignomin- 
 ious blows has never been heard within her walls. 
 
 And how was this accomplished? As you may well 
 
BROOKLYN THE POLYTECHNIC. 319 
 
 suppose, the subject encountered us upon the very thresh- 
 old of our undertaking. The Trustees very properly 
 declined to take action, and referred the whole question 
 to the teaching officers, to whom it seemed primarily to 
 belong. Among the latter a diversity of opinion with 
 regard to it, not very wide but very decided, was found 
 to exist. There were none, of course, who favored mak- 
 ing such a feature prominent in the discipline of the 
 school; but some thought it should not be absolutely ex- 
 cluded: it should be retained as a potential instrumen- 
 tality, hedged round and guarded in every way, appealed 
 to on the rarest occasions, never administered by less 
 than presidential hands, and only after solemn judicial 
 process but still to be regarded as a possible resort, 
 and so reported to the Polytechnic populace. - Others 
 repudiated it in toto. They objected to hanging up even 
 an ideal ferule, which could only prove an ineffectual 
 terror to the bad, While casting an implied discredit on 
 the motives of the good. There were still other some 
 who stood between the extremes drawn by many consid- 
 erations toward the more liberal policy, but doubtful of 
 the experiment tried under circumstances apparently so 
 inauspicious. Day after day, and night after night, the 
 discussion continued. The debate ran high, though never 
 transcending the limits of good feeling. Adjournment 
 followed adjournment, and no end was reached. Mean- 
 while the Doctor held the helm with a steady hand, and 
 opened not his lips. I have myself no question of his 
 opinion, and, had occasion demanded, no doubt he would 
 have " summed up" in the old judicial way, and when 
 he had finished the subject would have gone to its final 
 rest. But he saw a better way. He adopted a policy of 
 masterly delay. The discussion was revived, but ever at 
 remoter periods; and at each recurrence the tempera- 
 ture was found to be lower, and the divergence notably 
 
320 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 less. For, as both parties had a common purpose in 
 seeking for the truth, each began to feel the force of the 
 other's reasons. Meanwhile, the school itself was taking 
 shape, and slowly swinging into its orbit. The cases of 
 discipline already arising were necessarily treated with- 
 out resort to penal blows, and the moral expedients 
 which were to serve in place of these were gradually 
 being reduced to system. And now the original dispu- 
 tation was held in abeyance by tacit understanding. 
 Presently the opponents of the new order of things, who 
 at first disbelieved, came to doubt only then hoped 
 and at last were thoroughly converted. The work was 
 done; precisely how perhaps no one knows, but the great 
 fact remains. Neither enactment, nor resolution, nor 
 recorded point of departure can be found to indicate the 
 adoption of the policy, and yet, by a common law more 
 imperative and irrevocable than that of statute, the rod 
 is repudiated in the Brooklyn Polytechnic finally and 
 forever! It is the brightest jewel in the diadem of that 
 noble institution. It is an illuminated page in the his- 
 tory of education, marking a higher stage in human 
 progress. It ought to be, and by and by, when better 
 known, will be a theme of gratulation all over the 
 world. 
 
 May I not reasonably add that the whole affair reflects 
 great credit on the administration of the first President 
 of the Institute; and that it illustrates the eminent sagaci- 
 ty, as well as modesty, of his management? As he sought 
 no credit for the achievement, so he never got any; for 
 it was but the other day that the President of the Trus- 
 tees, duly glorifying this event before an assembly cele- 
 brating the first quarter-century in the life of the school, 
 referred it exclusively to the action (or non-action) of 
 that board, a body of gentlemen whose precise degree of 
 credit in the premises consisted in the negative virtue of 
 
BROOKLYN THE POLYTECHNIC. 321 
 
 having left the whole subject, from first to last, entirely 
 alone ! 
 
 In my brother's relations to his pupils I see little else 
 than an enlarged reflection of the youthful experiences I 
 have already detailed: the same impressive dignity, the 
 same firm and gentle handling, with the same results of 
 willing submission and affectionate reliance on the part 
 of the subjects of his fatherly treatment. The first im- 
 pression he made on every one was of his absolute rec- 
 titude of purpose, and the presumptive justice of his 
 judgments. I do not believe a scholar of the Doctor's 
 ever lived to charge him with partiality, that ready as- 
 sumption of every culprit under pressure of the law. Be- 
 fore his calm, patient, searching inquisition, sooner or 
 later prevarication cowered, passion subsided, petulance 
 shrank ashamed; while insubordination never for a mo- 
 ment withstood the flash of his angry eye. The respect 
 thus commenced ripened, in all the right-minded, into a 
 d-eep and lasting affection. Whether or not others may 
 have had for a time a more magnetic influence over the 
 boys, it is certain that the ties which bound them to the 
 Doctor were of a kind to increase in strength as grow- 
 ing maturity enabled them the better to appreciate the 
 greatness of his goodness. In all this nothing has been 
 said of him as a teacher. On that subject, of course, I 
 could have little personal knowledge. We all know how 
 popular and successful in this respect was his university 
 career; but I apprehend that he never sufficiently re- 
 placed the ex-cathedra habits of a college professor to be- 
 come the most effective drill-master for boys. He gave 
 his classes too much credit for a capacity for self-sus- 
 tained effort, and sought to make them the recipients of 
 his own profound and accurate learning rather than to 
 develope their nascent powers and train them in the ac- 
 quisition of knowledge. But this was of less conse- 
 
322 JOHN //. RAYMOND. 
 
 quence at the Polytechnic, where by far the more impor- 
 tant part of his work was one of general direction, and 
 still less in his subsequent career, where he was called to 
 deal with maturer minds. 
 
 Of that after-history I know little more than general 
 report; but I have no doubt that the same characteristics 
 attended his course at Vassar as I have traced here from 
 his earliest years. An influential member of the Execu- 
 tive Board of that institution, himself a distinguished 
 educator, once expressed to me the greatest admiration 
 for the sagacity, the forbearance, the consummate skill, 
 which marked the policy of Dr. Raymond in that body. 
 He envied him his masterly management of men. It 
 was the old ideal realized the suaviter in modo ct fortiter 
 in re. Surprise and overthrow awaited all who mistook 
 his gentle and deliberate manner for vacillation or any 
 other form of weakness, and presumed upon the error. 
 The rash approach of hostile purpose ever revealed un- 
 der the velvet glove a hand of steel. 
 
 But this discussion is not for me. I only know, as you 
 and all who loved him know, how more and more in- 
 tensely and exclusively, in those latter years, he became 
 absorbed in his work; until it seemed that all the sweet 
 relations of family and friendship would be sacrificed to 
 these wider duties. At last the very priest himself sank 
 down before the flame of the altar. If ever man poured 
 himself out in the service to which he had been conse- 
 crated, it was he. So identified had become the man 
 with the great purpose of his being, so interblended his 
 labor and his life, that it was only natural to hear him 
 murmur, as the latter receded, of the sweetness of pass- 
 ing from the work of this world to the not rest, but 
 work of the next. 
 
 When great and good men are removed, we are apt to 
 speak despondingly about filling their vacant places. 
 
BROOKLYN THE POLYTECHNIC. 323 
 
 But I think my brother's work was done. He had "fin- 
 ished the task that was given him to do." Though it 
 is hard for us to see it, doubtless the time had arrived 
 for others to step in and build upon the foundation he 
 had laid so well. And we have every reason to hope 
 that it ma)?' prove of Vassar as it has so gloriously proved 
 of the Polytechnic: that a still grander success will crown 
 the enterprise, the first impulse and direction of whose 
 organic life were derived from him. God's workers are 
 not striving for the "credit of the thing." The spirit in 
 which they toil is gathered rather from the words of the 
 Master: " One soweth and another reapeth. Other men 
 have labored, and ye have entered into their labors. So 
 that both he that soweth and he that reapeth may re- 
 joice together." R. R. R. 
 
 It was not strange that those who knew the value 
 of this life should tremble to see its vigor so rapidly 
 expended in those days of " sowing." With the duties 
 of his office, which he might well describe in those first 
 years as " bewildering," and with the " extra-profes- 
 sional labors" whose necessity he subsequently explains, 
 he truly seemed "as a cart pressed under sheaves." In 
 writing of the early days of the Polytechnic he says, 
 " Never have I so felt the want of a power of ubiquity 
 or self-multiplication." The busy days were succeeded 
 by the nights of weary wakefulness which so drained 
 his vital powers and which became familiar to him as 
 " nights in which it seems impossible, first, to get to 
 sleep, and then to stay asleep when by accident you 
 do drop off into a momentary unconsciousness, and 
 when, meantime, your brain is spinning through infi- 
 nite space like an everlasting humming-top." 
 
 It is pleasant to add to the testimony of a brother 
 
324 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 words of indorsement and remembrance from Dr. Ray- 
 mond's other associates in the Polytechnic Faculty. 
 How much he owed to the sympathy and support of 
 his fellow-laborers there, was understood by all who 
 heard the enthusiasm and affectionate praise with which 
 he ever spoke their names. A letter is given from Prof. 
 Robert Foster, who was Principal of the Collegiate 
 Department at the opening of the institution, and has 
 ever since occupied that office, during a period of 
 twenty-five years : 
 
 COLLEGIATE AND POLYTECHNIC INSTITUTE, 
 BROOKLYN, Nov. 12, 1880. 
 
 Availing myself of the privilege you very kindly accorded, 
 I have read once and again, in advance of publication, Pro- 
 fessor Raymond's letter of Polytechnic reminiscences. My 
 first thought, notwithstanding the promise already made 
 you, was to decline the attempt to write anything, either by 
 way of complement or supplement to a memoir which my 
 mind and heart so thoroughly indorse. For the letter is 
 not only a glowing tribute of affection to a brother's memory, 
 and a just estimate of the character of an eminent man 
 among men, one whom the writer had known intimately 
 and observed closely in their common professional walk in 
 life, but it is withal nearly complete as a portrait of the first 
 President of the Polytechnic Institute. On a second perusal 
 of the letter, however, it has occurred to me that, possibly, 
 the real man may, in some respects, be more fully and truth- 
 fully represented by bringing into greater prominence one 
 or two features which, from my stand-point, seemed to be 
 strongly marked. 
 
 That Dr. Raymond brought to the class-room wealth of 
 information, accuracy of knowledge, maturity and finish of 
 scholarship, tact in teaching, and a suavity of manner 
 
BROOKLYN THE POLYTECHNIC. 325 
 
 combined with severity of requirement which made him, to 
 the older pupils, an instructor grandly patterned after the 
 Arnold model, was his wide-spread and unchallenged repu- 
 tation during the decade of his busy Polytechnic life. But 
 since, in his office as class-teacher, I did not know him by 
 personal observation, I pass on to consider briefly his work 
 in other and yet more important relations. 
 
 As the Head of the Faculty, he not only presided at its 
 meetings, but he was its organ of communication with the 
 parents of the students, with the pupils as a body, and with 
 every member of that body who reached the Faculty in the 
 course of dicipline. In these relations, the constant oppor- 
 tunity was mine to study Dr. Raymond thoroughly, and in 
 them, therefore, I may claim, according to my ability, to 
 have known him well. To preside at the meetings of a 
 Faculty composed of professors, each a stranger to the rest, 
 and therefore without homogeneity of conviction and coun- 
 sel a Faculty met to organize and legislate for an institu- 
 tion the material for which was unwieldy in size as well as 
 chaotic in condition was the extraordinary task to which 
 Dr. Raymond was called in the Fall of 1855. That he did 
 direct safely and wisely the important deliberations of this 
 Faculty was sufficiently manifest as the methods of instruc- 
 tion and policy of government assumed definite shape, and 
 wrought out their happy and approved results. And all 
 this was so accomplished that each and every member of 
 the Faculty cherished for the President a generous measure 
 of respect and affection, which no experience of adverse 
 decision on his part ever dislodged or, even for a moment, 
 disturbed, kow could it be otherwise? When views were 
 discordant and interests clashed, and in the freedom and 
 ardor of debate anything in the nature of personal dispar- 
 agement was reached, the President never hesitated to assert 
 his prerogative so far as to check the irregularity. This, 
 
326 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 however, was always done with a kindly tact and a con- 
 summate skill that left no ground for the charge of injus- 
 tice, no room for the rankling of jealousy. 
 
 In dealing with parents and pupils, he never failed to 
 impress the conviction that he was their true and sympa- 
 thetic friend, and even the dismissal of a refractory student 
 was effected with such tender regret that the departing 
 member could not but carry with him a healing sense of 
 cordial benediction. Although it is true that he was earnest 
 and vigorous in condemnation of the wrong, and sometimes, 
 in the presence of meanness, would flash out with a flaming 
 indignation which, indeed, bore a blessing with it, but only 
 as a consuming fire, nevertheless, he was a lover of peace; 
 nay, more, he was regarded by all who knew him as a born 
 peace-maker. His nature was gentle, and the ruling prin- 
 ciples of his life were, " First pure, then peaceable." To 
 maintain or restore good-will between those who differed 
 he spared not himself, freely giving of his time and strength 
 to the work of reconciliation. 
 
 Dr. Raymond was justly noted for his correct and cogent 
 use of the English language. Whether before the Faculty 
 only or the entire Institute, or again on the platform of a 
 public meeting, even when the subject treated had not been 
 anticipated, his talks and addresses were characterized not 
 only by intelligence and method, but by the choicest dic- 
 tion ; insomuch that those who listened often inferred that 
 when he uttered the first word, framed the first sentence, 
 shaped the first link in the chain of reasoning, he had in 
 mind the entire discourse ; in brief, that the whole address 
 had been written and memorized. I am told it was his aim 
 and effort from early youth to "do everything well," which 
 he thought "worth doing at all;" and all his literary work 
 having been done with the same spirit and purpose, it 
 had become the invariable custom of this carefully con- 
 structed scholar to think, speak, and write in elegant and 
 
BROOKLYNTHE POLYTECHNIC. 327 
 
 forcible English. The style of conversation and speech 
 which he thus kept in full view of all with whom he had to 
 do was an ever-present, ever-active means and source of 
 higher education to the teacher as well as the student of the 
 Polytechnic. From him all learned to admire and strive 
 for rigid fidelity to rhetorical rule, rather than for fluency 
 of speech ; for felicity of language, rather than facility of 
 utterance. 
 
 No biography of this good man would be complete which 
 did not record the fact that his conversation, even in con- 
 fidential relations and under most secluded circumstances, 
 was always refined and wholesome. He was uniformly 
 cheerful, sometimes jocose even to jollity; but he seemed 
 instinctively to avoid even the verge of coarseness. I may 
 appropriately add here that during the ten years of inti- 
 mate and almost daily intercourse with Dr. Raymond, I 
 never received from him one impatient word; nor do I now 
 recall that he ever uttered such to any member of the Fac- 
 ulty, or of the Academic corps of instructors. One peculiarity 
 in the management of the Institute well illustrates the char- 
 acter of the man. Previous to the opening of the Polytech- 
 nic, no large school in Brooklyn had depended, for the con- 
 trol and moral training of its pupils, on appeals made to 
 their love of right and their sense of honor. On these 
 almost exclusively did Dr. Raymond rely from first to last ; 
 never employing or allowing any resort to physical intimi- 
 dation. It is true that he consulted frequently and freely 
 with his associates in the Faculty, and paid liberal deference 
 to their judgment, but the plans for organization, the policy 
 of government, and the whole system of management as at 
 first adopted and afterwards amended during his adminis- 
 tration, were substantially his own suggestion. Therefore, 
 in estimating the value of his work and influence as Presi- 
 dent of the Polytechnic, we need only refer to the good 
 name the Institute had won before his retirement ; for that 
 
328 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 fully attests the wisdom, ability, and popularity of his man- 
 agement. 
 
 In closing this imperfect tribute, we would emphasize our 
 exalted estimate of Dr. Raymond's worth as a true man ; a 
 man swayed always and everywhere by the purest motives 
 and the noblest ambitions. Verily, between the lines of his 
 manuscript, behind the words he uttered, back of every deed 
 he performed, there was one unceasing, earnest, humane, 
 devout Christian purpose. 
 
 With great regard, 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 ROBERT FOSTER. 
 
 Accompanying the above, was the following note 
 from Mr. Collord, the Professor of Ancient Languages, 
 and Mr. Seymour, the Principal of the Academic De- 
 partment, these gentlemen, like Mr. Foster, having re- 
 tained their present positions in the Institute from its 
 earliest days: 
 
 POLYTECHNIC INSTITUTE, Nov. 13, 1880. 
 
 Having been associated with Prof. Foster in the Poly- 
 technic Faculty during the years designed to be covered 
 by the above letter, we desire to unite without a qualify- 
 ing sentiment or word in his affectionate tribute to the 
 memory of our dear and honored friend Dr. Raymond. 
 
 GEORGE W. COLLORD, 
 EDWARD C. SEYMOUR. 
 
 From his own words we learn little of his work ex- 
 cept that it left him no time for friendly correspon- 
 dence. Amid its many distractions came severe family 
 trials. A new bereavement had been sent to take one 
 more from his little flock just as he was ready to gather 
 them into the longed-for Brooklyn home ; and the seri- 
 ous lameness of another the only son then left to him 
 
BROOKLYN THE POLYTECHNIC. 329 
 
 gave him forebodings which were, alas ! sadly realized. 
 His letters give only hurried glimpses of the cares which 
 occupied him at school and at home. 
 
 To Dr. GEORGE R. BLISS. 
 
 ANGELICA, Aug. n, 1855. 
 
 You have heard of my proposed change of place and 
 labor. A thousand times have I wished you near enough 
 to talk over one point and another that have come up for 
 settlement in the progress of this affair. But wishing 
 brought you no nearer, and as each point demanded 
 immediate decision, I have been compelled to proceed, 
 step by step, almost entirely on my own judgment, until 
 I find myself fairly at sea, the old cords sundered, and 
 my little bark fairly set sail on a voyage more daring and 
 hazardous than any I have ventured on before. Still, I 
 cannot but hope that Providence has been my guide, and 
 that my inspiration has come not wholly from earthly 
 and unworthy sources. I certainly feel that my sole 
 dependence for success is on that same divine blessing 
 which has been bestowed heretofore on my undertakings 
 in a measure of fullness so out of proportion to the mea- 
 gerness of their deserving. 
 
 I have but just got away from Brooklyn, where I have 
 been since closing up at Rochester ; and I have to be 
 back there by the first of September. Meanwhile I have 
 the pleasant little job on my hands of arranging the 
 whole course of instruction for the preparatory, collegi- 
 ate, scientific, and commercial departments, with the 
 single encouraging consideration that, as there is abso- 
 lutely nothing determined, I have the amplest scope to 
 exhibit all my wisdom and expose all my folly in this 
 fancy business. I want very much to talk over some 
 points with you ; and my principal object in writing was 
 
330 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 this selfish one, to urge you and M , with as many 
 
 of the "chilluns" as you please to bring, to come and 
 make us a visit just now. We should have thought seri- 
 ously of going ourselves to see you, but the state of 
 things in our family forbids it entirely. It becomes in- 
 creasingly clear that our dear little A. is a victim to that 
 terrible disease, the hip complaint. We have had him 
 during the summer at the Clifton Water Cure, with 
 favorable effects upon his general health, but without 
 appearing to arrest the progress of the disease, and we 
 are anxious, as soon as it will be safe, to take him to the 
 city and try another course. We feel that a portentous 
 cloud hangs over his future. My hope used to rise up 
 against such a pressure with a resilient elasticity which 
 refused to be overborne. But it is not so now. I have 
 learned in too many sad experiences that trouble is a 
 reality that our heavenly Father is in earnest in the 
 discipline which He administers to be able by a mere 
 effort of the will to shut my eyes to the long train of suf- 
 ferings and sorrows which in all probability await this 
 dear child. And after resigning one after another of my 
 darling boys, until this only one remains, be assured, 
 dear brother, it is not easy to anticipate such a blight as 
 about to fall on him. Yet, after much struggling and 
 anguish of spirit, I feel that there is a victory over this 
 too. " The will of the Lord" it is enough; therein is 
 triumph, is joy. May the Lord prepare both him and us 
 to endure His will with patience, that afterward we may 
 together inherit the promise! 
 
 To Miss ALMIRA PORTER: Rochester. 
 
 ANGELICA, Nov. 5, 1855. 
 
 MY DEAR ALMIRA: I have been long waiting for some 
 leisure to write you, but little expected to find it under 
 
BROOKLYN THE POLYTECHNIC. 331 
 
 circumstances like these. The blow that has fallen upon 
 us has been so sudden, so unlocked for, so stunning, that 
 I hardly realize, hardly comprehend it yet. I only feel 
 that a great calamity has occurred, a precious part of me 
 has been torn away and left me numb and aching. Dear 
 little Lilian! I have hardly thought of her, consciously, 
 for ten successive minutes in as many weeks. Yet she 
 has been a constant, smiling presence to me, and in all 
 our plans and fond anticipations of the " new home," she, 
 dancing little sunbeam, has been the light of it. And now 
 that that light has been so suddenly put out, oh what a 
 shadow falls upon the whole prospect, and how the heart 
 is taken away from all my hopes! 
 
 It was our expectation to get settled in our new house 
 and have all the children with us., two or three weeks 
 ago. We had already brought Ally on to New York to 
 be treated for his lameness, while the others remained in 
 the country. But vexatious delays prevented our getting 
 possession of the house until a week ago. Mrs. Ray- 
 mond's arrangements, however, were so perfectly made 
 that by the close of last week we should have been in 
 complete order. To-day was set for her coming on after 
 the children, to return immediately, and the close of this 
 week was to see us once more a united family with as 
 cheering prospects of happiness as this poor world usu- 
 ally affords. Alas! the shaft of fate was already on its 
 way to shatter this fond scheme and smite the brightest 
 jewel from our circle. Wednesday brought by telegraph 
 the news of Lily's illness. It was so unexpected. Every 
 letter before had told of her perfect health, her growth 
 in stature and intelligence her improvement in every 
 respect. We had but one feeling about her, that of impa- 
 tient longing once more to look upon her loveliness, and 
 to show to those who would share our joy in her this 
 darling of our hearts. 
 
332 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 On Thursday last I received a dispatch that C. had 
 arrived at Angelica, and that Lily was better. But I 
 could not be hopeful. A leaden weight was on my heart. 
 Friday noon brought the sad, sad tidings, and I left New 
 York on the evening train. We go back to-night to 
 Brooklyn with all that remains of our little lost one. 
 
 Poor C. is greatly cast down. She has parted with 
 many dear ones, but with none so bitterly as this. The 
 sore trial of separation from Lily which cost her so much 
 during the summer, and especially during the last two 
 months, was just approaching its end, and the mother's 
 heart was already straining on the cords which should 
 hold it but a few more days from its darling. To have 
 that meeting so rudely precipitated, and instead of the 
 sweet, joyous birdling she had so longed for, to find the 
 poor little struggling sufferer, who was too far gone to 
 speak her name, or even give one certain look of recogni- 
 tion O Father, God, might not some element of bit- 
 terness have been spared from the cup ? Still must we 
 say, Not our will, but Thine, be done! 
 
 Our poor, dear Ally is still closely confined by his 
 lameness. You would be surprised to see how contented 
 he is, and how cheerfully he passes his days with his book 
 and playthings, as though he had never known what 
 out-of-door amusement was, although he now and then 
 heaves a sigh as if he partly realized how much of the 
 ordinary enjoyments of his age he is compelled, poor boy! 
 to forego. I often think I see the indications of a soften- 
 ing and an elevation of character in him which are in 
 advance of his years. But I cannot help feeling inex- 
 pressibly sad when I compare him with his little cousins 
 and mates, perfect in limb and free to go and come and 
 mingle in all activities and societies suited to their age, 
 that he should be singled out for such an affliction. But 
 when I remember who has done it, and that He chasten- 
 
BROOKLYN THE POLYTECHNIC. 333 
 
 eth whom He loveth, not only are my murmurings hushed, 
 but I am led to hope that this seeming affliction may 
 prove in the end an occasion for joy rather, because a 
 means of preparing him for higher service in the king- 
 dom of God on earth or in heaven. 
 
 I know you will write to us. Never did we need the 
 sympathy of friends more than now. A few lines from 
 our old home, where Lily was so well known and loved, 
 would be especially welcome. 
 
 Give our best love to all our dear friends. 
 
 J. H. R. 
 
 ANGELICA, July 31, 1856. 
 
 MY DEAR BLISS : I have often felt like writing to you 
 about my operations in Brooklyn, but have looked for- 
 ward to a good long talk. And now matters have ac- 
 cumulated to such a mass that it would be absurd to 
 essay them with pen and paper. The result of the year's 
 labor you have seen in the catalogue I sent you; but you 
 would hardly guess by what circuitous processes and 
 multitudinous steps I have reached conclusions, most of 
 which will strike you as very simple and obvious. 
 
 The first difficulty I met was in the acquiescence of all 
 my associates in the Board and Faculty to my wishes, 
 and their disposition to devolve on me the entire respon- 
 sibility of giving shape and direction to the enterprise. 
 This I knew would never do. For the result would be 
 that no one would be satisfied, and I should bear the 
 whole blame. After they got to work, the trouble, of 
 course, was just the opposite. We had come together 
 from all quarters, with habits adapted to half a dozen 
 different modes of procedure on every single point of 
 discussion. I expected to have my own way in the end, 
 and (if possible) the best way. So I must hear every- 
 body, get everybody's best idea, assimilate these in a 
 
334 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 homogeneous and workable scheme, and finally reconcile 
 everybody else in the Faculty and Board to the result. 
 It has been an exciting as well as laborious work, and I 
 must say I have enjoyed it and feel some satisfaction in 
 the measure of success (I trust) achieved. There is time 
 enough left, however, for another class of feelings. 
 
 BROOKLYN, February 26, 1858. 
 
 MY DEAR BLISS: Your generous sheet, so full of sug- 
 gestive matter for head and heart, deserved an earlier 
 acknowledgment, and should have received it but that I 
 hoped I might find time soon to execute the little com- 
 missions with which you charged me. But more than a 
 month has passed and I seem as far from the realization 
 of that hope as ever. 
 
 The truth is, your request that I would drop loung- 
 inglyinto Westermann & Co.'s, run my eye leisurely over 
 the contents of new foreign publications, judge of their 
 adaptedness to the wants of our own country, etc. etc., 
 struck my mind with a freshness absolutely delightful. 
 It recalled a vision of the literary privileges and possi- 
 bilities of city life, quite familiar to my unsophisticated 
 country imagination a beautiful dream of the past, long 
 since lost amidst the cold and hard realities of the actual 
 experience. Why, bless your heart, my dear fellow, has 
 it not got through your hair yet that I am nothing more 
 nor less than an exaggerated school-master now, with 
 more than four hundred boys and (alas !) their twenty 
 teachers on my hands, to manage and,manceuver, and by 
 all sorts of motives and expedients to make diligent, 
 faithful, and successful in their several works, and that 
 this little job uses me all up from sunrise to sunset for 
 five days of every week, so that I deem myself happy when 
 
BROOKLYN THE POLYTECHNIC. 335 
 
 I can sit down to dine at half-past four or five o'clock, 
 and more than happy if, after dinner, I can sit and snooze 
 away my weariness enough to attend the " Board meet- 
 ing" or "Committee meeting" or "Church meeting" or 
 other meetings, public or private, of which the evening is 
 sure to bring one if not two or more? And then when 
 Saturday comes, who can tell how quick it has gone with 
 hardly an impression made on the host of necessities 
 accumulated through the week and previous weeks, and 
 all clamorously calling for the promised appropriation 
 of the leisure (!) day? The luxury of an hour in a book- 
 store I assure you I have not enjoyed the whole winter 
 through, and I am a positive stranger in my own study, 
 as a study. The Philharmonic concerts, three or four 
 visits to picture-galleries, three literary lectures (one my 
 own !), and an occasional sup of Beecher, comprises my 
 entire bill of intellectual fare, the sum total of my means 
 of intellectual growth and gratification for the past six 
 months. 
 
 But enough of this! I have become intensely inter- 
 ested in the one great experiment I am trying here, that 
 of the school ; and although my expectations are now 
 much more moderate and limited as to its ultimate grade 
 or rank, as well as the range of its operations, I shall 
 feel abundantly repaid for much and hard work if I can 
 bring it, in the character of its influence, at all up to my 
 conception of the possibilities and duties of such an in- 
 stitution. Besides, I still hope for a diminution, in time, 
 of the tax on my personal attention and care, though, 
 thus far, every success attained has only revealed new 
 and greater heights to be attempted, and peremptorily 
 forbidden any relaxation of effort on pain of a defeat 
 more mortifying in proportion to the more confident 
 expectations of our friends. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 BROOKLYN DOMESTIC LIFE AND VACATION HOURS. 
 
 IT was needful, perhaps, that care and trial should 
 chasten the heart of one who might have found 
 too perfect a happiness in the fulfillment of his brightest 
 earthly dream. In the return to the home of his boy* 
 hood he realized all that he had hoped of glad reunion. 
 During the ten years which he spent in Brooklyn, 
 four of the five brothers and sisters had neighboring 
 homes there, and in the daily mingling of their families 
 renewed the sweet intimacies of their own childhood 
 and youth. Many festal gatherings also brought them 
 together. But no meetings were happier than those in 
 which they joined every week in Sabbath-evening wor- 
 ship around a common altar. The hour had been set 
 apart by our Grandfather Raymond; the elder sister, 
 to whom he had committed the sacred trust of holding 
 the family band together, had kept the fires burning 
 upon the same hearthstone where he had kindled them 
 in her home, after his own was broken up. It had 
 been the weekly meeting-place since his death, rendered 
 sweet and sacred by the songs which he best loved, 
 and which are still sung there by his children's children 
 unto the fourth generation in answer, it would almost 
 seem, to his constant and most fervent prayer for those 
 who should come after him, " that they might be one." 
 Besides the society of the brother and sister whose 
 reminiscences of those years in Brooklyn have been 
 
BROOKL YN DOMESTIC LIFE VA CA TION. 337 
 
 given, my father enjoyed that of his elder brother, on 
 Avhom he had always leaned most lovingly, and to whom 
 he owed an almost filial debt. Their intercourse was 
 particularly intimate in the days of early summer and 
 fall, when the absence of my father's family from the 
 city made him most willing to accept the hearty hospi- 
 tality of his brother's home, and of one who with all- 
 unwearied and affectionate devotion filled a sister's 
 place. It is deeply regretted that in the destruction by 
 fire of his letters to this brother and sister, are lost 
 many recognitions of their kindness and sweet compan- 
 ionship. He writes to his family just before their 
 return from the country: " So I must draw on my 
 patience for another fortnight? The stock runs very 
 low, notwithstanding the undiminishing charms of my 
 dear adopted home. It seems as if the kindness of all 
 generous whole-souled folk grows greater every day. 
 Did I tell you how they have refurnished my room 
 throughout? More outward comforts I could not pos- 
 sibly have, and not a few heart-ones are added." It 
 needed all that the most thoughtful affection could 
 supply to fill the void yearly made in his own home, 
 and we find his heart straying away to the home at 
 Angelica, where his loved ones were gathered: 
 
 To his WIFE. 
 
 BROOKLYN, Sunday Eve, Sept. 27, 1857. 
 
 The folks have all gone to meeting, except myself and 
 Ward's boys, who occupy the parlor G. reading, C. play- 
 ing with his kitten on the floor, and J. stretched at full 
 length and in a profound snooze upon the sofa. It has 
 seemed to me that I should gain more true repose and 
 refreshment of spirit by a little quiet converse with myself 
 
338 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 and you at home than by again mingling in the crowds at 
 church, dazzled by the glare of gas and the splendor of such 
 eloquence as excited me this morning, even beyond the 
 ordinary pitch of Plymouth Church excitement. What a 
 sermon it was! and how utterly impossible to convey an 
 idea of its beauty and power to those who did not hear it ! 
 I think Mr. Beecher never preached better than he is 
 preaching this fall with greater simplicity and directness 
 of evangelical doctrine, with more striking originality, vari- 
 ety, and vividness of illustration, or more intense and vital 
 sympathy with the actual moral wants of the people. His 
 sermon this morning (to be continued this evening) was a 
 discourse for the times, the duty of Christian men at this 
 crisis of commercial disaster " Take no thought for the 
 morrow; sufficient for the day is the evil thereof." I can- 
 not begin to give you an idea of the moral grandeur and 
 elevation of the position which he pointed out as that which 
 belonged to Christ's servant in such times, and to which he 
 appeared to lead and lift up his people by the power of his 
 inspiring eloquence. He contrasted the (so-called) calami- 
 ties of the time with the real extremities, the terrific sorrows, 
 through which God had often led His people in past ages, 
 and in the very midst of which some of the sublimest tri- 
 umph-songs of Christian faith have been composed and 
 sung; and forbade them, in Christ's name, to whimper and 
 whine under such troubles as they had. He showed how 
 passing rich the child of God remains when the worst has 
 befallen him, when stripped and peeled of earthly fortune 
 and comfort. And he summoned them up to a high con- 
 ception and heroic discharge of their duty as witnesses for 
 Christ and the Gospel under circumstances which put all 
 men and all principles to the test, sifted the chaff from the 
 wheat, and enabled the dullest to perceive the difference 
 between the precious and the vile. The duty of cheerful- 
 ness and hope, of resignation to the divine will, of rigid 
 
BROOK L YN -DOMESTIC LIFE VA CA T10N. 339 
 
 integrity under strong temptations to swerve, and of gener- 
 ous sympathy and helpfulness at a time when general panic 
 was intensifying selfishness into cruelty, were all set forth 
 with a vividness and glory which I think surpassed all the 
 triumphs of pulpit eloquence that I have ever heard. His 
 imagery was largely suggested by the incidents connected 
 with the loss of the Central America, now so fresh in all 
 minds, and which furnished so many striking lessons of 
 human impotence and divine sovereignty, of faithfulness to 
 duty and the heroism of generosity and self-sacrifice. 
 
 But I staid at home to get over the excitement, and I 
 find I am writing myself into it again. I dined at Tasker's, 
 and instead of resting in the afternoon, as I should, had a 
 long discussion with J. and others on the influence of col- 
 lege secret societies, which did not tend to quiet my nerves. 
 Now, fibers, cease to quiver! 
 
 You know how hard it is for me to escape from the thral- 
 dom of the present; but as I have been sitting here this 
 evening, with all so still around me, memory and imagina- 
 tion have borne me back to the dear home by the fountain, 
 and all things have stood out so vividly about me that I 
 wake to a sense of their real distance with the pain with 
 which we follow the vanishing figures of a delightful dream. 
 I see you reclining on bed or lounge, with all appliances of 
 comfort which thoughtful affection could suggest and busy 
 hands arrange. I see moving gently about you faithful and 
 loving forms, watching for opportunities to minister to your 
 needs or add to your pleasures. I hear soft voices reading 
 for your amusement, or detailing for your edification with 
 every variety of emotion and emphasis " the news," both 
 great and small, from the outside world. Near you lies an 
 object of diminutive dimensions which I cannot well make 
 out, dim and shapeless to my utmost power of vision, yet 
 manifestly the chief center of interest in the scene. On it 
 your eyes rest often and fondly, full of placid joy and of 
 
340 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 gratitude to the Giver of every good thing. Every move- 
 ment it makes attracts every face and arrests whatever else 
 is going on. M. comes into the room, and makes her way 
 directly to that point, her shyness all gone, and her tongue 
 and hands so busy that she must be checked and hushed 
 and drawn aside. Ally follows, and stands looking at the 
 tiny object with a face of loving thoughtfulness, as though 
 he recognized there a new claim on his heart a something 
 for whose happiness he must study and strive. Grandpa 
 and grandma enter and worship at the same shrine, each in 
 their own way showing (or attempting to veil) their gratifi- 
 cation and pride; while Nurse Marden moves about as 
 queen and mistress of the realm, and none will venture to 
 dispute her authority or disobey her word. My spirit 
 hovers happily over the scene, drinking in its tranquil joy, 
 and looking in vain for some medium of communication. 
 No ! stay not in vain ! it has found a voice. Listen and 
 you will hear me singing and talking to you through the 
 music of the Fountain, and softly saying, " I, too, am happy; 
 my cup overflows with the fullness of its blessing, my heart 
 leaps up with yours into the light of our dear Father's love, 
 like this silvery stream in this pure moonlit balmy air, and 
 falls back into His waiting bosom in sweet abandonment of 
 faith and love." 
 
 Monday morning. The folks came in from church and 
 banished my dream. But I appoint little Fountain my 
 representative and interpreter. He will talk to you for me, 
 and say more and better things for me than I could possibly 
 say for myself. 
 
 I will try and be patient till you come. No mortal ever 
 had better second-homes than I. Here at Ward's, Fanny 
 entertains me like a princess, as she is, and treats me like a 
 dear sister, as she is-er. I am made to feel by the whole 
 household (perhaps I am too easily persuaded) that I am 
 more than welcome that I give pleasure as well as receive 
 
BROOKL YN DOMESTIC LIFE VA CA TION. 34 1 
 
 it by staying. And if it be an illusion, "Stay, illusion!" 
 say I. 
 
 Rivers of love to the dear children, to grandpa and 
 grandma, and all, and most of all to your ain dear sd\ 
 
 From J. 
 
 BROOKLYN, June 27, 1858. 
 
 I have no sort of idea how long it is since I last wrote 
 you. It seems a little age, and as though I had passed it 
 in a fiery furnace "seven times heated." Dim recollections 
 flit across my mind of sundry letters from yourself and H. 
 coming to hand in the midst of hurry and confusion, read 
 by sweet snatches in swift intervals, and thrust hastily aside 
 for more deliberate perusal and enjoyment. 
 
 I think I have never suffered more exquisitely from heat 
 than during the past week. The weather itself has unques- 
 tionably been intensely hot ; and the driving urgency and 
 concentrated responsibility of " Commencement" times has 
 kept up a blaze of corresponding fury within. 
 
 Last Thursday was the first day of examination, and for- 
 tunately things were pretty well prepared to go of them- 
 selves as to essentials. I dragged through the day's work, 
 receiving visitors, showing them about the premises, mechani- 
 cally conversing, bowing, smiling, and answering questions; 
 then spent two hours in Faculty meeting, all as in a dream ; 
 went home to tea; after tea threw myself on the front parlor 
 sofa, and sinking from semi to total unconsciousness, knew 
 nothing more till I was called the next morning to breakfast. 
 That sleep was doubtless just what I wanted, but it was a 
 good deal longer than I anticipated. For I had promised 
 to speak that evening at a " strawberry festival" at Pierre- 
 pont Street, and was vaguely meditating my speech when I 
 fell into the profounds of slumber. Probably it was the 
 
34 2 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 " reflex effect" of the speech itself, and I may congratulate 
 my disappointed auditors on what they escaped. 
 
 Yesterday I attended service at Mr. Thrall's, and en- 
 joyed it very much. I think I never before so fully 
 entered into the spirit of the Episcopalian ritual, or felt 
 so sensibly the comprehensiveness and excellence of the 
 entire Liturgy. It was not difficult for me to understand 
 how those who have never known any other way of wor- 
 ship, and all whose deepest religious experience has been 
 in those channels, should cherish such enthusiastic at- 
 tachment for it as many do, and feel that nothing else 
 could possibly take its place. But many, I apprehend, 
 possess such feelings who know but little of its pro- 
 founder significance. 
 
 Your descriptions of the social gatherings and goings- 
 on in Angelica are very tempting. May I soon be there 
 to join ! Tell the good cousins there that I love them 
 more than ever, and shall soon make declaration per- 
 sonally. 
 
 And to our own precious circle at " Fountain Home," 
 what can I say that will begin to tell the fullness of my 
 heart to them? the best part of my life more than all 
 treasures the choicest gift of all that Heaven has 
 showered upon me ! God bless you all forever ! 
 
 BROOKLYN, October 2, 1860. 
 
 I hope you are disappointment-proof with regard to let- 
 ters. If you knew how I was driven by my own and other 
 peoples' business, you wouldn't wonder that I don't write. 
 It seems to me that for every one thing accomplished there 
 are always three or four waiting to be attended to, and all 
 crying Now, now, now! Your letters come daily and do me 
 good at the heart. The flowers are always fresh and fra- 
 grant they seem a part of the Angelica life ; but more 
 
BROOK L YN DOMESTIC LIFE- VA CA TION. 343 
 
 fresh and fragrant is that which they express your own 
 blessed love. And when I look the next day and find them 
 withered, I smile and say, " Not so that of which you, sweet 
 blossoms, are poor types at best, for love never faileth." 
 
 Last evening I staid at home to examine Dr. Conant's 
 "Matthew" and write a promised notice of it; but unfor- 
 tunately my hand lit first on Dr. Kendrick's new book 
 ("Fanny Forester"), and I really could not lay it down till I 
 got her fairly married and ready to depart for the mission- 
 ary field! I don't know whether it was the intrinsic inter- 
 est of the subject, the beauty of the narrative, or the force 
 of memories awakened by the perusal, but it certainly had 
 a fascination for me, and held me, till after 9 o'clock, 
 enchained. The consequence was that I sat up till after 
 twelve to redeem lost time. Kendrick has done his work 
 admirably. 
 
 Friday was the first Philharmonic Rehearsal a symphony 
 of Haydn (exquisite) and one of Schumann's (scientific and 
 unenjoyable the first time). A thin attendance. 
 
 Sunday morning I repeated in Pierrepont St., by special 
 request, my sermon on " The Times" and the folks have 
 requested it for publication. What shall I say ? I used to 
 have a solemn sense of the grand responsibility of printing 
 of making, a book which would have prompted a peremptory 
 Tefusal to such a request. But in these days to change 
 Horace a little not " Scribimus," but Printimus, "docti 
 indoctique;" and one poor pamphlet more or less in the 
 crowd will make but little difference. 
 
 On Saturday afternoon Ward, Fanny, and I took a drive to 
 Greenwood and spent an hour in our own lot, which never 
 looked so sweet and attractive. I cannot tell you how beau- 
 tiful it is. there ow, the autumnal tinge on the leaves and the 
 golden shadows of the evening harmonizing so sweetly with 
 the character of the place and the pensive feelings it sug- 
 gests. We lingered there till twilight began to fade and the 
 
344 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 darker curtains of the night to be drawn around us, and 
 returned pretty thoroughly fatigued in body but as much 
 refreshed in spirit. The arbor-vitae hedge is doing finely, 
 and the dogwood-trees are all aglow with their burden of 
 red berries. Our little graves are looking very neat, and oh 
 how sweet and peaceful the slumbers which they enchamber ! 
 There is surely nothing forbidding in such repose. As the 
 company of dear sleepers there gradually increases, all 
 thought of loneliness disappears, and easily may we antici- 
 pate the day when, to the scattered and aged survivors of 
 our circle, that will seem the spot where our society is gath- 
 ered, that will be more like home than any other spot on 
 earth. 
 
 My dear children, when shall I embrace them? I rejoice 
 to think that the days of our separation are numbered. Oh 
 how I long " to have and to hold " you all, and once more 
 to see you all under the family roof-tree, and mingling in 
 the daily circle and festival of love ! Our Brooklyn, or a 
 goodly part of it, has got home. Nos. " 15 " and " 150 " 
 are populous and bright. But I am hungry for my 
 own. There is nobody's wife and children like my wife 
 (that's a fact !) and children, and (tell Maggie) nobody's 
 Maggie like our Maggie. If I could see her black eyes 
 snapping around the house, and her rosy cheeks making 
 everything warm around her, it seems to me it would put 
 more life into me than if I should swallow a steam-engine. 
 Tell her if Sundays are lonesome there, every day of the 
 week is lonesome here. I go into the old kitchen often, and 
 it looks so bright with its new paint and yet so neglected and 
 sad, and seems to say " Where is Maggie, my mistress ? Why 
 don't she come and see my new face ?" " Sure enough," say 
 I, " why don't she come ? I'm as homesick t> see her as you 
 are," say I. And then we look sad at each other, the 
 kitchen and I and part for another weary and lonesome 
 day. But every day makes one less, and brings us nearer 
 
BROOKL YN DOMESTIC LIFE VA CA TION. 345 
 
 to the time when she will be here to make it all shine 
 again, her own pleasant face the brightest thing in the lot. 
 
 Give my love to the dear friends around you. What 
 would I give for a week or a day of the sweet rest I left 
 behind with you all! But no more of that! Make my 
 kindest regards to Mr. and Mrs. N. Tell him my con- 
 science still visits me with sore compunctions at recollec- 
 tion of that Friday night. But " the woman tempted me 
 and I did " read. Tell her, I trust she may not find that the 
 autumnal gales of our Allegany hills " visit her fair face 
 too roughly," and assure her that I am ever hers "for 
 Shakespeare." 
 
 Ask our dear cousin H. when she is coming home. Why 
 should she linger among the Allegany pines, when Brook- 
 lyn pines so longingly for her return ? 
 
 Ah ! there comes Mr. Seymour, and I am called to the 
 Committee of Discipline ! If the boys dreaded it half as 
 much as I hate it, there would be but little occasion for its 
 meeting. 
 
 In contrast to his busy life in Brooklyn, we find pic- 
 tures of coolness and rest in the summer home where 
 he rejoiced in the " blessed emancipation from foul 
 airs and fiery pavements into the broad, free, fresh 
 glories of God's real world." Descriptions of sunset 
 and moonlight, fountain and flowers abound in his let- 
 ters to one who was in peculiar sympathy with his love 
 of Nature: 
 
 To E. C. 
 
 ANGELICA, July 13, 1856. 
 
 .... Yesterday, for the first time this summer, we had a 
 glorious sunset, a glorious one, filling all the heavens with 
 its celestial splendors, " its majestic sweetness." We saw it 
 
34 6 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 on our way home from Mrs. Paxton's, where we had a 
 delightful call and wished for you. Our attention was 
 caught by it the moment we came out of the house ; but it 
 went on growing and deepening in grandeur and richness 
 every moment until we reached the top of the hill on our 
 way home, when we turned and took in the whole celestial 
 panorama in one magnificent sweep. The sky was full of 
 vast piles and drifts of clouds west and east and south of 
 every imaginable shape of wild fantastic beauty, with wide 
 interspaces of the purest blue which, as your eye swept west- 
 ward, melted away into a mingled flood of molten gold, 
 and pearl and amber. The vault seemed magnified to 
 twice its usual vastness, and filled not with mountains 
 and mountain ranges only, but with whole continents and 
 far-reaching seas. Along the western hills rose columns of 
 smoke from more than twenty fires, and the sun, being 
 behind them, poured its floods of purpled light through 
 them, and between them and the still remoter hills, produc- 
 ing a great variety of weird effects of color, form, and mystic 
 motion which are, of course, utterly indescribable. 
 
 .... We wish every day that you could be here -this sum- 
 mer. The abundant rains of the spring and early summer 
 have kept the face of nature spotlessly clean and sweet, and 
 given a clear, positive, and hearty tone to the verdure which 
 is the chief charm of this hill-country. The air has a 
 strong, vital feel in it, and through its soft transparency the 
 forms of tree and flower, of stream and cloud, stand forth 
 with a cordial distinctness which seems to say : " We are 
 glad you are come, for we are prepared to receive you, and 
 feel like enjoying the visit and making you enjoy it. . . ." 
 
 ANGELICA, Aug. 16, 1856. 
 
 It is late Sunday evening, and time to go to bed, but 
 it is one of the evenings which do not seem meant for 
 
BROOKL YN DOMESTIC LIFE VA CA TION. 347 
 
 sleep; and as I have to write you early in the morning, 
 in order to make sure of the mail, I will e'en "begin the 
 ensuing day before I close this night," and give you the 
 cream of this delicious Sabbath. Delicious is just the 
 word for it. Nature never wore a more celestial garb 
 than she donned at the breaking of this morning, and 
 still wears now at the noon of night. Recent showers, 
 so full and rich, so soft and tranquil, have left the air 
 free from every trace of impurity and quenched every 
 feverish ray, and, all day long, the calm, majestic sun and, 
 since his setting, the sweet silver moon have looked down 
 upon us as the loving' eye of God. And such repose, 
 such perfect rest, as sleeps on these green hills; it seems 
 as though we had come up higher, and were nearer hea- 
 ven by all the distance that separates us from the clamo- 
 rous, crowded, sweaty, reeking city. The tinkling of the 
 waters as they fall back from their fountain-leap under 
 the trees of the garden, and drip from the full cups into 
 the little pool below, only makes the more sweetly sensi- 
 ble the wide hush in whose depths the tiny music is lost; 
 and the cluster of white lilies that stands up there in the 
 pure moonlight, right against the open window, seems 
 like a group of. angels standing on one side to listen to 
 the music of some heavenly choir and silently adore the 
 Universal Love which inspires, yet infinitely transcends, 
 the song. It ought to be easy worshiping amid such 
 surroundings, and even my sluggish, earth-bound nature 
 is not without a touch of their influence. 
 
 FOUNTAIN HOME, July 8, 1860. 
 
 I cannot tell you how beautiful the country is; nor need 
 I, as you have been there to see for yourself. But it 
 seems to me that this wild region never was so glorified 
 as now, just the antipodes of the season when you were 
 
34 8 JOHN //. RA YMOND. 
 
 here. It would seem as if Nature had put on all her 
 force this spring to show that the two or three past sea- 
 sons of disaster and desolation have not disheartened 
 her at all, nor materially diminished her resources of 
 beauty and fertility. As for flowers, I never saw any- 
 thing like it. The profusion fills me with constant won- 
 der. I think that somebody must "have seen," or with 
 unpurged vision might have seen, " sweet Flora pass this 
 way." The flowers seem fairly poured forth over the 
 hill-sides and fields, and along the borders of the roads, 
 down to the very carriage-tracks wild flowers, I mean 
 weeds I guess the farmers call them. While in the gar- 
 dens stand their cultivated sisters, crowded thick as girls 
 at a college Commencement,, their many-colored fans 
 flaunting with undisguised trepidation. Abroad in the 
 fields and along the hill slopes, it is the white daisies and 
 golden buttercups that predominate, and these are poured 
 over a gound of verdure so deep and rich, so fresh and 
 pure, that it is a perpetual feast to the eye to rest upon it. 
 One almosts forgets for the moment that it is a world of 
 sorrow and sin which is adorned with such stainless 
 beauty, and one asks almost with incredulity, " Can such 
 a drapery of living loveliness hide graves?" And why 
 not? What is the grave but the chamber in which the 
 "Lamb's bride" sleeps, awaiting the voice of the Bride- 
 groom? Why should it not be decorated with flowers? 
 Why should He not lavish on it the tokens of His gener- 
 ous love? Oh, let us learn to think better of the grave 
 to think lovingly of it, since He has lain there and 
 blessed it for our use! 
 
 To a SISTER. 
 
 FOUNTAIN HOME, Aug. 29, 1857. 
 
 .... Your good pastor, in one of his late letters to 
 the Independent, has truly said that a man, to enjoy leis- 
 
BROOKL YN DOMESTIC LIFE VA CA TION. 349 
 
 ure, must know how to be leisurely; to enjoy idleness, 
 must know how to be idle. Of the positive side of the 
 maxim, he may take me for an illustration. My cup 
 has been just perfectly full (I will not say to overflowing, 
 for that implies motion, outwardness) alike of lazy satis- 
 faction and of satisfied laziness. You will at once per- 
 ceive how incompatible with that condition of complete, 
 spherical, self-contained do-nothingness the active en- 
 joyment (ahem!) of writing letters must necessarily be. 
 And therefore I have not written letters, though the re- 
 ceiving thereof would have been in delightful harmony 
 with the unmerited completeness of my felicity, and have 
 made my brimming cup at last to overflow. Why could 
 you not have thought of that, and caused your grace to 
 abound where sin hath so much abounded? But, dear 
 S., I have thought of you more often and more tenderly 
 than ever before, and often could have wished, for my 
 sake, that you were with me to share the sweetness of 
 our placid life. I say for my sake; not that I for a mo- 
 ment doubt that you would enjoy it too, though it would 
 Separate you too widely from the scenes of your deepest 
 interest, and from those to whom your heart is (rightly) 
 most closely bound. Still, for a while you would be 
 happy here, and I feel that you and I might have a free- 
 dom and completeness of communion here a renewal 
 of the dear old oneness so inexpressibly sweet in recollec- 
 tion to us both which we may hardly look for (though 
 I hardly know why not) where we elsewhere meet. Of 
 the continued existence of that oneness, its adamantine 
 durability, its perennial perfection and potency, I have 
 indeed a fixed and happy assurance. Love never faileth; 
 it only " bides its time," and, in the long diversity of our 
 immortal experience, its time is sure to come. But I 
 sometimes long for, and would willingly hasten, its com- 
 ing. 
 
350 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 We have had seven or eight weeks of tranquil, unva- 
 ried, unalloyed enjoyment. Its elements are few indeed 
 and simple, and would make little figure in description, 
 at least in my description. We have risen neither early 
 nor late, but with a feeling of perfect restedness after the 
 slumbers of a cool, pure, restful night. We have eaten 
 our sweet bread and butter with an appetite, our ripe 
 berries and cream with a relish. We have sung our 
 morning hymn and offered our family sacrifice, I trust 
 with loving, and I know with joyful heart. We have got 
 our daily French with mysterious facility, and recited it 
 to one another with unprecedented regularity. We have 
 busied ourselves through the forenoon in various forms 
 of idleness, according to our several tastes. . . . But af- 
 ter dinner and. siesta we have been always together. A 
 ride or a ramble, and now and then an afternoon at 
 " Puckville" or "Titania's Bank," consumes the time to 
 supper; and our evenings have been divided between 
 reading and a little cousinly visiting. And so our days 
 and nights have passed, light-footed and all too fast, 
 away. And now the end cometh. But it would be un- 
 grateful for me to repine at its coming. Even were it 
 left for me to choose, I think I should prefer a speedy 
 return to my labors, for methinks I begin to be conscious 
 of a gathering " cream and mantle" on the surface, as on 
 a too-long-standing pool. If I had more of \htfountain 
 in my nature, and less of the pond if activity were nor- 
 mal and spontaneous with me I might bear retirement 
 better and longer than I do. But whether I have reser- 
 voir or not, I seem to lack head, and the only way to in- 
 sure motion .with me is to keep in the running stream, 
 to move on with the great world-currents or share the 
 agitations of the universal sea. I shall find low water in 
 our little domestic bay, certainly; but the tide will soon 
 begin to flow, and my heart fills in anticipation of the 
 
BROOKL YN DOMESTIC LIFE VA CA TION. 55 1 
 
 reunion and renewal of our Brooklyn life, so blessed of 
 Heaven hitherto, and beyond a doubt to be still blessed 
 hereafter. 
 
 The most exciting week that I have passed was the 
 one I spent, not on the banks so much as in the bed of 
 the Sinnamahoning, with my esteemed and reverend 
 " Piscator," Mr. Thibou, so utterly cut off from all the 
 sights and sounds of man, at least of civilized man, so 
 face-to-face and life-to-life and heart-to-heart with Na- 
 ture in our leafy pavilion, carpeted with the running 
 stream of water, soft as oil and clear as liquid crystal, 
 and drawn out in endless succession of winding alleys 
 and curtained chambers, so musical with birds and the 
 mystic song of waters and leaves, so full of woody per- 
 fumes, so entrancing to every sense, and so rich in les- 
 sons to the soul of its real worth and dignity, of its true 
 relations to the All-Father and the universal brother- 
 hood, of the meanness and ludicrous absurdity of our 
 actual artificial life, and of the glorious consummations 
 to be realized, when, through the long circle of his dis- 
 ciplinary development, man shall come back to aborigi- 
 nal simplicity, educated to appreciate and capacitated to 
 receive its perennial fullness. What I thought and felt 
 during those happy hours it is not for me to tell. Of the 
 joys of fishing (trout-fishing, of course; there is no other), 
 so long familiar to my ear but only so late known to my 
 experience, I can only say I am no longer an unbeliever, 
 no longer a half-believer. It was a true report which I 
 heard, howbeit I believed not their words until I came 
 and mine eyes had seen it; and behold the half was 
 not told me! By the way, I think it a capital omission 
 in the argument of the Bloomerites that they never urged 
 this consideration, that to the ordinary feminine costume 
 trout-fishing is a simple impossibility; that as long petti- 
 coats were probably an invention of her selfish tyrant- 
 
352 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 lord in order to secure this peerless luxury to his own 
 exclusive enjoyment, so never can woman be entirely 
 emancipate from her bondage, nor her path be opened 
 to the perfection of humanity, until, disencumbered of 
 every foul and trailing abomination, her feet are free to 
 walk these crystal ways of serenest meditation and un- 
 defiled delight. Think of it, my dear sister, and 
 
 " If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not." 
 
 My Piscator was not a garrulous old Izaak, but simple, 
 silent, grave, devoted, and so happy in his devotion it 
 oozed out of every pore and stood all over him like a 
 shining sweat; yea, surrounded him like a balmy exha- 
 lation, an atmosphere of calm and thoughtful joy. He 
 was just like nature around you; always ready to answer 
 every question, and to answer intelligently; to respond 
 sympathetically to every uttered emotion of your own, 
 but never obtrusive. He was always in sight or within 
 feeling of you, but never (or rarely) near. A perfect mas- 
 ter of the angle, the quiet grace of his ever-moving arm 
 and rod, and the light leap and feathery fall of his fly on 
 the water, accorded perfectly with the gentle wave of 
 branches above and the sweeping curves of eddy and rip- 
 ple and swirl beneath him, waking no suspicion in shyest 
 or wariest trout, and at once refreshing and instructing 
 the eye of his admiring disciple. If the perfection of 
 solitude is to be alone in a crowd, the perfection of so- 
 ciety is in the presence of a companion who talks to you 
 without speaking, and fills and feeds your mind and 
 heart without the coarser ministry of words. But I must 
 stop thinking of it, or I shall be homesick for the Sinna- 
 mahoning, and be looking back when Fate and Duty say, 
 Look forward. 
 
 We have not attempted much in the way of reading 
 this summer. Besides half a dozen books of no special 
 
BROOKL YN DOMESTIC LIFE VA CA TION. 353 
 
 account, we have read " Charlotte Bronte." I like her. 
 Her very faults show how thoroughly genuine she was; 
 her pride was unselfish; her " coarseness" (oh, the affecta- 
 tion of this corrupt world !) conscientious, and her devo- 
 tion to duty heroic. Was her sorrowful experience nec- 
 essary to the development of her power? I think of her 
 as an electro-magnet of delicate structure but concen- 
 trated power, which God coiled up in that little brain 
 and kept spinning away in that dark box of a " Haworth 
 parsonage," thrilling the world meanwhile with thrills of 
 strange and (perhaps) healthy excitement. How sad to 
 think what that pleasure cost her; in what sharp acids 
 she must be kept immersed, and how soon the intense 
 action must fret through and destroy the exquisite ma- 
 chinery ! , I take it for granted you have read the book. 
 If not, do so forthwith. It is one of the books. 
 Farewell, dear, and cease not to love 
 
 Your "slow" but sure 
 
 BROTHER JOHN. 
 
 To Mrs. R. R. RAYMOND. 
 
 FOUNTAIN HOME, July 30, 1861. 
 
 MY DEAR SISTER : It is the evening twilight of a per- 
 fect summer's day, and I have been sitting at the side 
 window of our pleasant parlor chamber to enjoy it. The 
 air is absolutely delicious, filled with balm from the gar- 
 dens and the woods, and pervaded through the low and 
 the high, the near and the far-off spaces, by that pro- 
 found serenity, that "sweet and awful" calm, that speak- 
 ing silence, which, more than anything else in Nature, 
 whispers to the soul the presence of a God a God 
 ''whose nature and whose name is Love." Looking out 
 into Father M.'s pleasant side-yard, my eye reposes on 
 
354 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 a soft bed of verdure, enriched by the golden tinge of 
 the hour; and the thousand gentle sounds of a country 
 evening blend with the exquisite tinkle of our dear Foun- 
 tain, and fill the air with music worthy of the scene. 
 While I sit, Nurse Marden comes with her snowy cap and 
 clean new pail, to dip some water from the basin. She 
 has a perfect passion for cold water, and luxuriates in 
 our copious sulphur spring, and stops to enjoy the sweet 
 calm air. Ann joins her, and they unite in admiration of 
 a jet from a new head which Father Morse bought last 
 week in New York and has just screwed on the orifice 
 of the fountain, and a very beautiful one it is. Next come 
 the two children in high glee, pursued by "the boy," on 
 whom they have been playing some trick, and who, fail- 
 ing to catch them around the basin, gets his revenge by 
 spattering them across it. Their merry voices and ring- 
 ing laughter are a delightful variation, but in perfect 
 harmony with the rest. 
 
 Amid such dreamings, it is hard indeed to realize the 
 dreadful scenes of strife and carnage through which 
 others are passing, or the bitter cup of anguish of which 
 so many are now drinking, and my heart is filled to over- 
 flowing, for I feel that "my cup runneth over." 
 
 And you, my dear sister, besides the hard trial which 
 visits your home in the renewal of last year's afflictions, 
 must now soon look in the face the question of giving up 
 your first-born, to go with his life in his hand, to aid in 
 the defence of his country and the maintenance of the 
 right. You say you "keep thinking of the present good 
 and turning away from the future." I entreat you, do 
 so no longer. Look at once and fairly at the entire 
 question, and save yourself a world of anxiety and dis- 
 tress by deciding right in advance. It is God's cause, 
 sacred and supreme. If He, who gave your SOH, calls 
 him to this service, you need not fear to trust him in His 
 
BROOKLYN DOMESTIC LIFE VACATION. 355 
 
 hands; you must not refuse .to yield him at His bidding. 
 And do you ask, How shall I know that God does call 
 him ? I know of no better answer than our Christian 
 fathers used to give: "The concurrence of the inward 
 impulse with the outward opportunity." If, looking at 
 the condition of things in the country, R. feels no 
 longer that profound conviction of duty, that earnest 
 desire, that feeling, Woe is me if I go not! it will be easy 
 to dispose of the matter. If, feeling it, and obedient to 
 the voice divine, he seeks an opportunity, a place where 
 he may be useful and fails to find it, we may fairly infer 
 that God has accepted the will and remits the sacrifice. 
 But, O my sister, if R. and J., honored by God with such 
 a call and blessed with a disposition to obey it, should be 
 held back by the counter-claim of any earthly interest or 
 affection, I shall tremble for the result. "There is that 
 withholdeth, and it tendeth to poverty." I shall feel 
 almost impelled to ask, Is it not my duty then to buckle 
 on the armor? I have no son to represent me or mine 
 in this great dark struggle for the right. I could do but 
 little, but it is required of a man according to that he 
 hath. I have fewer days to be cut short by an unhappy 
 result, and as to those I should leave behind me, should 
 I leave them comfortless or without a Protector? I do 
 not so speak, dear sister, because I think you lacking in 
 the spirit of self-sacrifice, but because I know the natural 
 shrinking of a mother's heart, and would by a full and 
 strong expression of my own decided conviction inspire 
 you to a clear and decided view of the case. It is God's 
 cause. It summons us to higher ground than we usually 
 occupy; now, if ever, we must walk by faith, not by 
 sight. God help you and bless you in the decision ! . . . 
 Love from all around the circle, and centrally warm 
 f rom Your ever-affectionate brother 
 
 JOHN. 
 
35 6 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 To E. C. 
 
 FOUNTAIN HOME, ANGELICA, Aug. 19, 1861. 
 
 MY LONG-SUFFERING AND FAITHFUL FRIEND: I open yOUI 
 
 last to me, and the date throws upon me such a look of ten- 
 der reproach, and my conscience gives me at the same mo- 
 ment such a terrible twinge, that I am ready to sink with 
 shame and confusion of face. But you took me, I think, " for 
 better for worse," and though you find me a great deal worse 
 than you took me for, you won't utterly cast me off, will 
 you ? Enough that I have been most assiduously busy all 
 the time doing nothing, or rather nothings, for it is a legion 
 of infinitesimals that have occupied my time and my hands; 
 indeed, I must acknowledge my mind also, nothings to me, 
 for they were no part of my business, cost me no care or 
 anxiety, and brought me no profit. But they have afforded 
 me real rest and satisfaction in the doing, and I think will 
 contribute more or less to the comfort of others in the re- 
 sult. In a wcrd, I have had a severe fit, or rather have 
 gone through with a thorough course, of tinkering^ for which 
 you know I have a. great well, call it as you please, a ge- 
 nius or a weakness. Anyway, almost every room in the 
 house attests the fervor of my divine frenzy, and proves I 
 would fain believe that there has been " method in my mad- 
 ness," by improved door-cases, hinges, or latches, repaired 
 window-springs, sashes, or blinds, new papering, carpeting, 
 or furnishing, to say nothing of mended furniture, picture- 
 frames, toys, trinkets, and tools. C. is outspoken and em- 
 phatic in the expression of her gratitude, and even Mother, 
 acute domestic critic as she is, and pestered to death by the 
 incompetency of those who profess to help but only hinder 
 and vex her even Mother smiles approval. But for no such 
 extraneous reward have I labored, for no low utilitarian 
 end, but from a purer, more disinterested, artistic, super- 
 
BROOKL YN DOMESTIC LIFE VA CA TJON. 35 7 
 
 sensual, siipramundane, ethereal inspiration; i.e., for the 
 mere fun of it, as birds and bards do sing, Raphaels paint 
 divine pictures, heroes do and dare and suffer, darkies pick 
 cotton, and patriots sweat and " blow" in the service of the 
 dear people. 
 
 And, pray, why is not tinkering as rational and dignified a 
 recreation as any other, measured by whatever standard 
 you please; as gardening, for instance, most worshipful 
 votaress of Flora ; or as fishing or gunning or boating ; as 
 painting pictures, working worsted, or playing on the piano? 
 As for the intrinsic pleasure, there's no use in disputing 
 about tastes, but, out of sight before them all, give me 
 tinkering for my money. 
 
 .... I have not said a word about the dear circle at 
 Springfield, but you may be sure we think of you all very 
 often, though we have hardly known how to think of you. 
 It's a pleasant group you make to the mind's eye when all 
 gathered within that ample Mansion of Happiness, little and 
 big, girls and boys, sick and well, and so many loved and 
 loving ones coming and going. And I find my fancy glid- 
 ing also often, and right pleasantly, to the beautiful " Cove," 
 listening to the soft plash of the waters along its curved 
 beach, gathering shells amid its rocks or sands, or floating 
 over the waves with cheerful chat and gay or pensive song. 
 And H.'s Beatrician face ever shines, the central luster, with 
 an eloquence of expression which needs no words. And 
 distinct amidst all the singing I hear a dulcet Voice, to 
 whose spell my spirit ever bowed submission, and whose 
 tones have a greater depth and fullness and power now than 
 ever before. Then I start and say, " And I haven't written 
 yet; I must I will." And then I don't. It is legitimate, 
 no doubt, for A. to be " thankful that her boys are not old 
 enough" to go to the war. (Would God I had one, or 
 more than one, old enough and worthy to serve in such a 
 cause !) But it is not legitimate to say (at least to feel), "I 
 
35 8 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 do not love my country well enough to give up my son in 
 her behalf." The blood of better men than most of us has 
 watered the soil out of which our tree of liberty and of life 
 is springing. And what are we, that we should hold back 
 if God calls us or ours to like sufferings and sacrifices for 
 those who are to come after? Nor is it legitimate, dear E., 
 to say, " Must we spare our noblest and best, our R. and our 
 J., whose lives might be worth so much to the world?" If 
 God spared not His Only and Best Beloved, but gave Him 
 to death for the life of the world, is it not honor enough for 
 "our noblest " to fill up the measure of His sufferings, to be 
 baptized with the baptism wherewith He was baptized ? 
 Our country's cause is God's cause, if it is worth anything. 
 If worth anything, therf it is worth m^thing. We have no 
 jewel too precious to be laid upon this altar. But I begin 
 to despair no, I will not despair of my country. We are 
 weighed in the balance. God forbid that we should be 
 found wanting ! God forbid that, professing to believe that 
 the conflict is for truth and humanity, we should deem the 
 hardships too severe, and fail in the day of trial ! 
 
 Well, well, I didn't mean to close in a minor key, but 
 close I must, and will right here, and with a word which 
 happily harmonizes with every key, and that is " love, still 
 love," to all from all, and more abundantly than ever, 
 
 from JOHN. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 
 
 IN pursuing a life-record by topics rather than chron- 
 ologically it is not possible to maintain a contin- 
 uous narrative. The last chapter treated of easeful 
 and joyous hours, and yet it covers a period that 
 contained a series of profoundly sorrowful experiences 
 which group themselves together and demand a sepa- 
 rate consideration. 
 
 In the autumn of 1859, the cloud which had so long 
 hung dark and heavy above our home had fallen in 
 deepest gloom upon it. A year of untold suffering for 
 our invalid brother, and of suspense for those who 
 watched him, had ended in the sad event which took 
 him forever from our sight. In all the pain and long 
 confinement no one had such power to soothe and cheer 
 as the father to whom he clung with an appealing love. 
 His was the hand that brought relief in endless minis- 
 trations, and his voice taught the lessons of heavenly 
 trust which were so patiently learned in that grievous 
 school. Every moment that could be taken from ever- 
 urgent duties was given to the little invalid who 
 watched so longingly for his coming. The daily return 
 to his home brought back the burden of loving care 
 which daily met him at the opening door as his step 
 upon the threshold was greeted by the delighted cry 
 of "father" from the eager little voice; and he was the 
 companion of the long night-watches which passed in 
 silent suffering so wearily away. 
 
360 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 The sad story is written to one who had known and 
 loved the little sufferer in his bright infancy and child- 
 hood: 
 
 To Miss ALMIRA PORTER. 
 
 BROOKLYN, October 30, 1859. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND ALMIRA : I have long meditated 
 writing some of you at our dear old Rochester home; but 
 the care of our little invalid has been so absorbing, alike of 
 time and thought and strength, that I have not accomplished 
 my purpose. But it has now pleased our heavenly Father to 
 remove that care, and at the same time to furnish an occasion 
 and theme for communication in which I know you will 
 feel a deep sympathetic interest. Last Thursday, after his 
 long and weary confinement, and after a week of intense 
 excitement and anxiety to us all, our dear Ally fell asleep. 
 We have no doubt he has entered into the heavenly rest. 
 When Mr. and Mrs. Porter saw him last August he was com- 
 paratively comfortable, but soon after he began to suffer 
 more and to decline in his general health, until, a month ago, 
 we began to feel sad forebodings of his approaching change. 
 About the same time our attention was called to the recent 
 successful applications of surgery to the cure of hip-disease, 
 by the removal of the affected portion of the bone. We had 
 the advice of the most eminent surgeons in the city, and 
 those of the largest special experience in this class of opera- 
 tions, and after a most careful examination of Ally's case 
 we were advised, first, that there was no other possible 
 chance for him ; second, that though there was some rea- 
 son to fear from the general reduction of his strength that 
 he might not rally from the immediate effects of the opera- 
 tion, that was the only thing to be apprehended, and that in 
 respect to that he had the advantage of an apparently sound 
 condition of all his vital organs; and, third, that the opera- 
 tion would certainly relieve him of much suffering, even if 
 
. BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 361 
 
 it were too late to save his life. Under this view of the 
 case we could not hesitate. Ally was himself desirous of 
 having the operation performed, and we consented. It re- 
 vealed, alas ! a far greater extent of disease than had been 
 anticipated, and although for two or three days we tried to 
 hope that he might rally, the fatal symptoms soon appeared. 
 He lingered a few days, and died at last on Thursday, 
 just one week after the performance of the operation, falling 
 asleep as tranquilly as an infant sinking to slumber in his 
 mother's arms. 
 
 Death did not take the little fellow by surprise. Ever 
 since last spring he has been accustomed to contemplate it 
 as the probable result, and was entirely resigned to the will 
 of his heavenly Father whether to live or die. He only 
 asked that if he had to die it might be soon, for life in such 
 a condition as his seemed to him very worthless and without 
 fruit. It has not appeared so to any of the rest of us. We 
 feel that his ministry among us has been beautiful and im- 
 pressive beyond descripton. Such patience, such cheer- 
 fulness, such unchanging sweetness of temper, such unselfish 
 thoughtfulness of others, have been a constant theme of 
 conversation in our circle, and furnished to all the young 
 folks about him a noble though all-unconscious example of 
 Christian heroism which cannot fail of a powerful effect. 
 
 "No tongue can tell," said Dr. Sayre, on discovering the 
 whole extent of the disease, " what suffering that child has 
 endured." And no tongue can tell, thought I (though I did 
 not say it), with what martyr-like fortitude he has endured 
 it, /knew; for I had gone, side by side and step by step, 
 with the dear, brave boy through all his weary path of pain, 
 and though often unable to repress my own tears in view of 
 the suffering I was so unable to alleviate, I never heard the 
 first murmur escape his lips, nor ever, when the pain was 
 over, any attempt to awaken sympathy by a reference to his 
 pains. His countenance always wore the same pleasant 
 
362 JOHN H. RA YMON.D. 
 
 smile; and ask him when you might, how he did, the same 
 cheerful tone replied, " Pretty well." His sick-chamber was 
 the brightest room in the house, and the favorite gathering- 
 place for the family and all the dear circle of friends around 
 us. Up to the very day preceding that terrible operation, 
 he was engaged in the preparation of Christmas presents for 
 his mother and sisters and this, not from mere ignorant 
 thoughtlessness of what was before him, for when the very last 
 hours were come he laid aside his work and proceeded to 
 give the most particular directions for the putting away of 
 all his materials, and all his books, and various expedients 
 for beguiling his time, as knowing that for a season, at least, 
 he would have no use for these perhaps never more. He 
 said nothing of the kind ; but his manner was so deliberate, 
 so significant, it could not be mistaken, and deeply impressed 
 us all. That solemn night before the operation shall I ever 
 forget it ? he lay awake till after the clock struck four. I lay 
 in the same room with him, though in another bed, and knew 
 that he was awake only by his occasional sighing, or the 
 restless tossing of his arms. But not one word of complaint. 
 Two or three times he called me, as was his wont, to change 
 his position when it became too painful, and once or twice 
 he said : " How I wish I could sleep ; I am afraid I shall be 
 poorly prepared for the operation, unless I can." His sleep- 
 lessness proved how intensely alive he was to the crisis be- 
 fore him; but no one but himself and his heavenly Father 
 knew with what emotions his brave little heart struggled 
 through those weary hours of silence. You may imagine 
 how earnestly I prayed that his perturbed spirit might find 
 the rest it craved and so much needed, and with what inex- 
 pressible relief I heard at last the long-drawn respiration 
 which announced that it had come. He slept until the sur- 
 geons waked him to meet his trial. He met it, oh how nobly ! 
 how sweetly ! When, on the third day after, hope began to 
 wane, and one of the attendant surgeons had actually given 
 
BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 363 
 
 him over, I felt it due to him, so loyal to truth, so full of 
 courage and faith, to let him know our fears. He manifested 
 no surprise or alarm. He only wished for certainty; sus- 
 pense only was painful to him. I asked him if he could 
 recognize a Father's hand in his sufferings, and say, " Thy 
 will be done." "Well," said he, "I do the best I can, but 
 it is very hard." " Which would you prefer," I asked, " to 
 lie here long in pain and doubt or have the Savior come 
 and take you to Himself?" " I should choose," said he, " to 
 go as quickly as possible; but I suppose that is not for us to 
 determine." Could faith express herself more clearly and 
 intelligent]) ? 
 
 He grew gradually feebler in mind and body ; suffering 
 little pain except during the dressings of his wound, which 
 were terribly painful, and in his exhausted state almost un- 
 endurable. After the surgeons had left him, two days before 
 his death, he said, " Father, I cannot go through this again. 
 You must not let them come again." I had to tell him that 
 it would be necessary every other day as long as he lived. 
 " Oh !" he exclaimed in agony, " how can I bear it ? Who 
 will help me ? Cannot you help me, Father ?" He closed 
 his eyes and was silent for several moments. Then looking 
 up to me, he cried, " Jesus will help me ! Jesus! Jesus!" 
 and from that moment he seemed to have no fear. Jesus 
 heard his prayer for help, and before the surgeons could 
 come again had taken him to His bosom forever. He sank 
 quietly away, sleeping most of the time, until, the oil ex- 
 hausted, the lamp went gently out. We feel that a beauti- 
 ful light has been quenched in our dwelling. The maturity 
 of his understanding was wonderful, and the singular grace 
 of his character has been a perpetual delight. The memory 
 of these things remains to comfort us, and we think of him 
 with joy, as shining now with no sickly radiance in the 
 heavenly state, for which, no doubt, his trials have done 
 much to fit him. For his sake we are content to have it so; 
 
364 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 his prospects for this world were at best not bright. Our 
 hearts resisted long, but God made us feel that He was ter- 
 ribly in earnest to know how far we would trust Him how 
 really we lov^ed Him. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Howard have sailed for Europe with their 
 son and daughter, and Miss Marvin, a favorite cousin and 
 friend of Annie's. It was a sad coincidence for them and for 
 us that brought the day fixed for their departure on that 
 on which we definitely abandoned our last hope for Ally 
 the day preceding his death. They will be away a year. 
 
 We should be glad to receive aline of remembrance from 
 you any of you at any time. 
 
 Yours, with unchanged affection, 
 
 J. H. RAYMOND. 
 
 The narration in the above letter may explain the tone 
 of the one which follows, in which his long-pent feeling 
 finds expression. With that bitter experience began 
 the breaking of his health, and it seemed from this time 
 as though some vital chord were touched. No one 
 who knew the strain upon heart and nerve during that 
 dreadful year could wonder that all power of hope and 
 buoyancy was lost. The spirit partook of the body's 
 exhaustion, and through the shades that had gathered 
 about it in the dark valley where he walked so long, all 
 things looked somber with an unnatural gloom. How 
 far his thoughts were colored by this influence is seen 
 in the expressions in this letter to the friends traveling 
 abroad, which so unfairly represent his habitual feel- 
 ing. There is an unwonted bitterness in his condemna- 
 tion of the variances which his peace-loving nature 
 deplored. It was a mood that vanished with the 
 restoration of his health, and with a returning interest 
 
BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 365 
 
 in his work and in the great questions at issue in the 
 world about him : 
 
 BROOKLYN, Dec. 4, 1859. 
 
 MY DEAREST SISTER : You have been continually in my 
 thoughts and in my heart, and " with desire have I desired " to 
 send my missive too, among those you have received from 
 the loving ones around me. But various causes have pre- 
 vented, partly outward, for my business was sadly in arrears, 
 and I have been pressed night and day to bring it up, but 
 still more internal. I can hardly tell you what has been 
 the condition of my mind since the close of the sad scenes 
 in the midst: of which we parted, except that it has been 
 inexpressibly sad, heavy, shut up, averse to all outgoing, and 
 unable to lift itself into the clear atmosphere of faith and 
 hope. No doubt I am experiencing the natural physical 
 effects of so long confinement and watching, and of the con- 
 centration of my thoughts upon one object of absorbing 
 solicitude and care, an object which is now suddenly and 
 completely removed, and leaves me lost and vacant, doubt- 
 ful in what direction to turn my mind, and with little inter- 
 est or relish for anything that offers. With regard to the 
 death of our sweet child, I have had but very little emo- 
 tion. The thought has been a familiar one to me for many 
 months. I drank that cup down to the dregs as long ago 
 as last winter, with what anguish of spirit no words can 
 ever tell, and I have been tasting its bitterness, daily and 
 nightly, ever since. " Not my will, but thine, be done"- 
 was the hard lesson which the Lord had undertaken to 
 teach me ; and you know He is a thorough teacher. Even 
 to the prolongation of his pains, the hardest thing of all to 
 contemplate in anticipation, my spirit, like that of the dear 
 sufferer, had by suffering become so schooled that I had 
 almost ceased to have a strong wish, or to urge a prayer 
 about it. " It is not for us to determine." " It is the Lord, 
 
366 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 let Him do what seemeth Him good," expressed my habit- 
 ual feeling. With regard to his preparation for the great 
 change, whenever it should come, all doubt had been 
 removed from my mind, and I felt that One had taken him 
 in hand who had an infinitely better right to handle him 
 than I had, who better understood his case, and who would 
 do all things well, and that my part was to stand and wait, 
 ministering as I might to the dear one, but leaving the issue 
 to the Master. And therefore, though it was with a feeling 
 of relief that I saw him sink at last to the sweet and long 
 repose, the emotion was one of acquiescence rather than of 
 positive satisfaction. Indeed, my power of feeling seemed 
 quite exhausted, and has not been renewed since. To speak 
 of regret or sorrow on dear Ally's account would be untrue. 
 I have no shadow of such a feeling ; and if I could feel at 
 all, I am sure my heart would leap in exultation and grati- 
 tude at the thought of all that he has been delivered from, 
 and of the ineffable joys and glories to which he is intro- 
 duced. 
 
 But, for myself and my poor shattered house: can I say 
 "it is well with us," as "with the child"? Not yet not 
 yet ! I can hope, I do try to believe, that, in time, this 
 chastening will yield us the peaceable fruits of righteous- 
 ness; but, as yet, my experience has been anything but 
 comforting and encouraging. I cannot say, I do not feel 
 that " it has been good for me to be afflicted." I rather cry 
 out, "Why should I be stricken any more ? My whole head 
 is sick and my whole heart is faint. From the sole of the 
 foot even to the head there is no soundness, nothing but 
 wounds and bruises." And to what effect ? I am para- 
 lyzed, bewildered, distressed, but I am not benefited ! I 
 know you will say that this is anything but a Christian state 
 of mind, and I can see that quite as well as you, but I am 
 telling you not what should be, but what is. When I see 
 how, one after another, my fair young branches have been 
 
BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 367 
 
 smitten off, in the bright spring-time of their promise, and 
 the last one at least covered thick with sweetest blossoms, 
 I seem to stand a blighted, naked trunk, stripped and peeled 
 almost from top to bottom, with no comeliness and little 
 promise of fruitfulness, whose life here has lost its signifi- 
 cance and use, and whose longer presence is but a cum- 
 brance to the ground. " Oh, but this is all wrong, dear 
 brother." Yes, dear sister, I am well aware of that; but 
 since it is true, do you think there is any consolation in that 
 thought ? And when I try to get out of myself for better 
 company and more profitable employment, 1 meet with no 
 better success. Things are all out of joint with me, or I 
 with them, which is more probably the case; but it amounts 
 practically to the same thing. I belong nowhere. I know 
 not where to find my own company. Even with those 
 nearest and dearest to me I do not find myself in full sym- 
 pathy in all matters .of opinion; and we are still more 
 widely separated in life by the accursed, thrice accursed par- 
 tition fences of exclusive and hostile organizations, dividing 
 God's house against itself, separating dear friends, rending 
 the seamless garment of the Lord, which even His mur- 
 derers respected, and flaunting each its miserable fragment 
 in the face of insulted Heaven as the glorious banner of the 
 Truth and the proud symbol of its sole fealty to the King 
 of Truth and Love ! O sister,, sister, my soul is sick of 
 this, even unto death. This is the one great sin, against 
 which I want to cry aloud. But how? Through what 
 organ? from what pulpit? to what listeners could I speak? 
 I find no man like-minded, and for a single-handed crusade 
 I am neither hero nor madman enough. I have neither the 
 temerity nor the talent. And so I shrink back into my 
 shell, isolated and inactive, bewailing my bondage, but hav- 
 ing neither the strength to break nor the skill to escape it. 
 Do not imagine, from all this, that I consider myself 
 wiser and better than my friends and brethren, who are not 
 
368 JOHN //. RA YMOND. 
 
 distressed by this state of things. Far less wise, as well as 
 less happy, that I cannot rise above it ; but you know how- 
 much it is the weakness of my nature to be morbidly sensi- 
 tive to points of difference with those around me how I 
 shrink from collisions, and so create and widen breaches 
 and make myself a solitary, self-imprisoned wretch. Oh, 
 how I wish yvu could be to me what you once were! But 
 it was not so to be. We were caught by different currents 
 and swept asunder : yours, a happier lot, to be borne on the 
 bosom of a generous, powerful stream, right onward, in no 
 dubious course, between bold and flowery banks, with col- 
 ors flying, plenty of good company, and joyous strains of 
 music filling all the air; mine, to be whirled apart by a 
 sideward, back-setting eddy, tangled amidst shallows (oh, 
 what shallows !), and stranded at last, I fear, upon a sandy 
 and desolate shore ! 
 
 Well, my dear sister, you begin to see how much more 
 discreet my silence was than this opening of my mouth, 
 with nothing better to" flow from it. It seems almost wicked 
 to send you a sheet so full of nothing but what will add 
 sadness and gloom to your thoughts of home, and I have 
 been thinking whether it would not be better to burn it up 
 and draw once more on your long-suffering and patient love, 
 in hope that by another steamer I might write in a more 
 cheerful vein. But I feel that I must say just these things 
 to somebody, and I prefer to say them to you, and I think 
 you would rather hear from me sad than not at all. Mean- 
 while, though " cast down," do not think me quite 
 "destroyed." I am certainly sick (spiritually) and in 
 prison, but I am not without hope that I shall be better and 
 get out one day. We follow your journeyings and sight- 
 seeings with great interest and pleasure. It seems the next 
 thing to standing in one's own person on those consecrated 
 spots and looking with one's own eyes on the sacred 
 memorials of the buried ages, to have them visited by 
 
UWViRSiTY 
 
 BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 369 
 
 those so near and dear to us, " bone of our bone and flesh 
 of our flesh." Oh, how I wish I were with you ! It would 
 revive me beyond anything I can imagine in this world. 
 It would take rne out of this charnel-house of the present ; 
 and, seeing that I cannot conquer and appropriate the future 
 by a victorious faith, I should so love to plunge into the 
 past with you, and peradventure rekindle my spent torch 
 at those undying altar fires of historic heroism and good- 
 ness. 
 
 We remember and pray for you daily, that every day 
 may be one of special blessing, and that you may lay up a 
 rich store of memories and knowledges for the future. C. 
 charges me to tell you how full of balm and healing your 
 dear letter was to her. She is much worn by the long 
 strain and sorrow. Give warmest love to brother Tasker, 
 and thank my dear namesake for remembering his old uncle 
 with such generous fullness of detail, but far more for the 
 brief sentences of sympathy and love in which his heart 
 speaks, and to which my heart responds with grateful 
 warmth. We have had abundant evidence of the sincerity 
 and faithfulness of his affection, and we prize it exceed- 
 ingly. Dear Annie, too ! her letters are greatly admired 
 and enjoyed by all the circle. For myself, I take special 
 pride in the confirmation which they furnish to my convic- 
 tion, so long ago formed and expressed, that foreign oppor- 
 tunities were just the thing she needed to call out her 
 womanly qualities. Whatever the result may be to the rest 
 of you, we have all made up our minds that Annie is bound 
 to return every way improved, expanded, strengthened, glori- 
 fied ! and that the old luminaries must then look out for 
 their laurels. 
 
 Good-by, and God be with you. See and enjoy all you 
 can, and remember that many are behind, looking through 
 your eyes, and catching the inspiration of your enjoyment. 
 The months that look so long in prospect will be gone 
 
37 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 before we know it, and then for a happy meeting and pleas- 
 ant reminiscences. 
 
 The following letter had been received by him after 
 his own had gone : 
 
 LONDON, November, 1859. 
 
 MY OWN DEAR BROTHER : My heart has been crying out 
 to you, as you well know, ever since I impressed the last 
 kiss upon your pale lips, and turned from you in the hour 
 when of all hours I longed to be with you. The parting 
 from you and C. was the bitterest drop of the sad parting 
 cup. We can well afford to be absent from our loved ones 
 when happiness and gayety rule the hour; but to be denied 
 the privilege of trying to comfort them in sorrow, or at 
 least of suffering with them, adds keenness to the dumb 
 aching of the heart. I could only pray for you, beloved, 
 I could only remember dear Ally's words and "ask Jesus 
 to help you," and that I did unceasingly. Jesus was very 
 near to me upon all my watery way, and so real was His 
 presence that I enjoyed nearness of access. All that day 
 the day of dear Ally's departure I was in a sweet and tran- 
 quil mood, and as I sat alone upon the upper deck, in my 
 comfortable lounging chair, while Tasker and the young 
 people were gone down to dinner, I was filled with a sense of 
 God's great goodness to me and all my father's house. It 
 seemed strange indeed that I should have been over twenty- 
 four hours out upon that dreaded ocean, and should be 
 feeling so comfortable in body and mind, and I looked up 
 into the quiet heavens, and suddenly exclaimed, " Lord 
 Jesus, is it thou ?" Involuntarily I reached out my hand, 
 and then melted into tears. In that tender moment, my 
 dear ones, I thought of you all dear Ally, John, Cornelia, 
 all all I committed to that faithful Friend. I knew " my 
 Lord and my God," and I knew that He would do all 
 
BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 371 
 
 things well. The memory of that hour has never faded 
 from my thoughts; like the evening star it has hung with 
 soothing power over some of my deeper experiences, and 
 it is peculiarly pleasant to me now to know that the hour 
 of your anguish and of your heavenly comforting was to 
 me also an hour of sacred emotion. How blessed are we 
 that no ocean depths can separate us, who can meet in 
 Jesus ! 
 
 Our first letters have just been received and read, and 
 although our hearts had followed you by our imagination 
 through all the sad scenes of which they spoke, yet the 
 certainty of your loss came upon us like an unexpected 
 blow. Are we ever prepared for the death of our loved 
 ones ? And could anything make us willing to see them 
 depart, save their bitter pain and suffering ? The idea that 
 some one suggested to me many years ago, that the heart- 
 clinging of surrounding friends made it painfully difficult 
 for the departing spirit to leave the dissolving body, has 
 ever had great power over me, and at such times I watch 
 jealously my own heart, striving earnestly to have no 
 will of my own, lest my very love should do a violence 
 to my beloved. But the dear boy has escaped, has passed 
 the dark river, has entered into joys unspeakable and full 
 of glory. For him I rejoice ; yea, and will rejoice. For 
 you, for his poor mother, for his loving grand-parents, I 
 weep, and fain would comfort. In vain my wish ; only that 
 Jesus who "helped" dear Ally can soothe the sorrowing 
 hearts of the bereaved. Blessed Saviour ! He will pour in 
 the oil of consolation and bind up their wounds. To Him 
 would I take them in the arms of a living faith. " Blessed 
 are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted." 
 
 It is, and will be, very difficult for us to think of Ally as 
 gone from your chambers. That little couch is ever before 
 me, and his sweet pale face. And how long it will be 
 before it will seem natural for you and C. and H. to sit 
 
37 2 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 down in your parlor, without a heart-call up stairs. I 
 imagine you opening the hail-door with your night-key, and 
 almost hearing the cry of " Father" from above. Yes, dear 
 brother, the call is from above. And surely, surely, when 
 your summons comes, and God says, "Son, come home," an- 
 other voice, a dear familiar tone, will greet you " Father." 
 
 But oh, my brother, what is to become of me? I have 
 no sorrows, no troubles. Neither sickness nor death has 
 come into my borders for many years, and my life runs 
 over golden sands. I am too happy too blessed. I often 
 tremble when I recall the words, " through much tribula- 
 tion." Oh, what were joy in this short life, if by it I should 
 come short of life eternal? Will you not give me occasion- 
 ally a few lines while I am so far away from you ? I do not 
 dare as yet to think much of home, or the dear children I 
 have left behind. A certain something warns me that that 
 way sorrow lies, and forbids the fountain of tears which 
 must not be unsealed if I would be of any use or comfort 
 to my companions. I shut down my heart resolutely under 
 the hatches, and rush from scene to scene of interest, with 
 enjoyment always, sometimes with enthusiasm. 
 
 It is needless to say, give warmest love to sister C. ; you 
 are one in my thought, one in your joys and in your sor- 
 rows. Remember me with much affection to the dear 
 grand-parents. It was hard indeed for poor "Grandpa" 
 to give up his little namesake. I know how they both 
 loved the darling boy, and how their loving hearts must 
 suffer. I am glad they are with you it is easier to suffer 
 together. 
 
 Don't forget me all of you will you ? O John, how 
 shall I stand it through all these long, long months ? 
 Farewell, dear brother. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 S. 
 
BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 373 
 
 The brother and sister were yet to be one in 
 fullest fellowship of grief. Deeper than the ocean 
 which divided them rolled the dark waters which had 
 overwhelmed the one, and which now awaited the 
 other in the same bitter baptism. The life that had 
 so long " run over golden sands" was to meet unlooked- 
 for storms on that foreign shore. 
 
 It was a year of crowning sorrow which took two 
 brightest spirits from the family of Brooklyn cousins. 
 A peculiar friendship had existed between the in- 
 valid boy and his beautiful cousin Annie during the 
 year before they parted. Though only eleven, he had 
 been matured by suffering, and his grave little com- 
 ments and opinions, charmed the girl of nineteen who 
 was studying life with eager interest and coming to 
 her own conclusions in many matters, and who often 
 found her philosophy aided by his gentle reasonings. 
 His affection and patience endeared him to her, while 
 he felt the fascination of her rare beauty and vivacious 
 noble spirit. Many were the offerings of fruit and 
 flowers intended for the maiden's delectation which 
 found their way to the sick-room, and many hours of 
 cheery converse enlivened its weariness for the little 
 sufferer. 
 
 During the winter and spring which followed his 
 death and her departure with her parents for Europe, 
 pleasant tidings had come from the party of travelers, 
 until, returning in June from southern Italy, the limit 
 of their journey/they were gladly hastening homeward. 
 Sudden and terrible was the message which came 
 across the waters to the friends waiting to welcome 
 them. Our own family had scattered for the summer, 
 and we learned from our father the appalling news : 
 
374 JOHN H. RAYMOND, 
 
 BROOKLYN, June 22, 1860. 
 
 O MY DARLING DAUGHTER : I am sick and sad ; the 
 sickness is not much ; but the sadness, oh how heavy ! and 
 I must make you a partaker of it. But how shall I tell 
 you? Our dear Annie Howard beautiful, joyous, gay 
 Annie we shall see her no more; she has fallen asleep 
 under the lovely, treacherous skies of Italy, and if she 
 is ever brought back to the native land she loved so well, 
 it will be but to add one more to the dear slumberers 
 who in Greenwood wait for the resurrection wakening. We 
 know but few particulars, only that she died in Milan of 
 malarial fever, probably on the 6th of June. Writing from 
 Naples some weeks ago to Cousin Fanny, you may remem- 
 ber that she herself speaks of an attack of illness she has 
 had, which she attributed to imprudence in sitting out in 
 the balcony and eating the sweet ripe oranges in the even- 
 ings. I have noticed that in all the subsequent letters she 
 has been alluded to as not perfectly well. They seem 
 to have hoped that as they went north to cooler and more 
 bracing airs, she would gain strength. They returned to 
 Rome and Florence, and thence proceeded to Bologna 
 and Venice. In Venice, I apprehend, they entered a pesti- 
 lential air. The letters all complain of vile smells with 
 which the atmosphere, particularly in the narrow streets, 
 was charged. Your aunt, who has a nervous dread and 
 antipathy to water and a special sensitiveness to odors, 
 could not enjoy the "water-logged city," as she calls it, 
 and Annie became worse. Her system, I apprehend, was 
 in a condition predisposed to the malarial fever, if not 
 already under its fatal power. When they reached Milan, 
 to which they hastened in pursuit of a comfortable hotel, 
 a pure air, and physicians and nurse in whom they could 
 feel some confidence, Annie was already greatly prostrated. 
 That was the 2d of June. On the 4th, Aunt S. wrote a 
 
BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 375 
 
 letter to Aunt M., which was received on Friday morning, 
 and which brought the first news of Annie's serious illness. 
 But at that time things wore a very encouraging aspect. 
 The darling child was much better ; as her mother wrote, 
 she was enjoying a quiet sleep, and J. and T., who were 
 worn with nursing, were out driving. The physician, who 
 seemed to understand her case, had told them from the 
 beginning that there was no danger in this form of the dis- 
 ease, and that she would be up in two or three days. They 
 had delightful rooms, a kind and efficient English nurse, 
 an accommodating landlord, and we were so thankful that 
 the worst seemed over. Alas ! the same ship had brought 
 the news that all was over, in a very different, though I 
 trust in even a better, sense for darling Annie. 
 
 Mr. Beecher came down from Peekskill this afternoon, 
 and found in the office a letter from his daughter H., dated 
 " Paris, June 8," announcing the sad end. Mrs. Stowe's 
 party had left our friends, and were then in Paris. There 
 they had just learned the terrible news from Uncle Tasker, 
 who had found them at their hotel on his desolate way from 
 London, where the telegram had reached him, probably the 
 evening before (the 6th), and this is the only clue we have 
 to the time when the dear child departed. He had then 
 before him a dreary ride of four days and four nights be- 
 fore he could be with his stricken dear ones and look upon 
 the mortal remains of his beautiful idol. For she was his 
 idol, if he had one on earth, and oh what a shadowed life, 
 what a desolate home, is before him now, and before them 
 all! 
 
 What a termination to this joyous European tour! So 
 long anticipated, so wildly welcomed, so enriched by every 
 accompaniment that could give it additional brilliancy and 
 zest! That it should come to this! And those fond an- 
 ticipations we all have been indulging, of living over with 
 the dear returned ones those scenes and incidents of unal- 
 
37 6 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 loyed delight in our happy home-gatherings next winter, 
 how is all changed to bitterness and agony for so many 
 hearts ! how is every memory poisoned, and a pall thrown 
 over the whole of this seemingly ill-fated journey ! It 
 set out from the very door of death ; the circle com- 
 pleted, it ends in death again, and such a death ! which 
 seems to extinguish the very central light of that ever-radi- 
 ant home. This was the great sorrow whose shadow would 
 perpetually fall across the brightest scene, whose vague 
 dread mingled with all the exquisite delights through which 
 their journeyings led them. The poor mother ! poor heart 
 that would not be calm, that would not be intoxicated to 
 forgetfulness, and yet how taken by surprise at last for all 
 its forebodings! It was some one of the dear ones left 
 behind on whom the stroke was to fall ; some of the little 
 ones, who were withdrawn from the mother's watchings, 
 and who would need a mother's care when she was too 
 far away to render it in season. But Annie ! gay Annie ! 
 strong-hearted, fearless, so full of life and hope and prom- 
 ise ! Annie, for whose sole sake the tossing seas had been 
 braved, and all the perils and fatigues of foreign travel 
 endured ! Oh, who could have thought it would be she ! 
 
 Blessed be God that we mourn not without hope ; that 
 amid all her exuberant gayety and spirited independence 
 the dear departed one has left behind her so much evi- 
 dence of a genuine, truthful, Christian faith. I think that 
 she had a sincere loathing and dread of cant, of all pre- 
 tense or show of goodness which had not a real foundation 
 in the character. She carried it to an extreme, for it needed 
 experience and responsibility to educate it aright, yet it 
 was the strength and beauty of her character, and it gives 
 great significance and value to all her professions. She 
 would not even practice a virtue or do an act of piety from 
 a mere sense of duty, far less for the credit of it. If love 
 did not inspire it, she seemed to disdain it as an hypocrisy; 
 
BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 377 
 
 and this was genuine, not affected. When she avowed her 
 faith in Christ, she meant it ; when she professed to give up 
 her heart to Htm and to consecrate her life to His service, 
 it was, I doubt not, with a fixed purpose to redeem the vow 
 and to follow Him faithfully to the end. Nor do I doubt 
 that He accepted that which she committed to his keeping, 
 and has taken her to Himself. And so the heavenly circle 
 is increasing year by year, the fairest and the loveliest first, 
 but all in turn will be called. 
 
 We shall wait with great suspense to hear from the dear 
 group of broken-hearted ones abroad. What will be the 
 effect of this terrible shock on your aunt's physical health 
 I cannot guess. Had she not so ready, so tried an access 
 to the fountains of heavenly consolation, I should fear the 
 worst. Let us hope for the best, and earnestly commend 
 her to the Word and God of grace. 
 
 Uncle Tasker told the Stowe party that he should en- 
 deavor to get over in the Adriatic, which arrives here on 
 the 3oth, next Saturday (Annie's birthday !). I think it 
 rather doubtful whether he can accomplish it. But I shall 
 feel that I must stay in Brooklyn till they come. 
 
 To his WIFE. 
 
 BROOKLYN, June 26, 1860. 
 
 .... The sad intelligence of dear Annie's death will, I 
 fear, have made you almost ill. I wish you could have heard 
 Mr. Beecher's sermon Sunday evening, on the " anchor sure 
 and steadfast," a hope in God the soul's refuge, then most 
 precious when most severely tried, in the hour of terrible 
 storms, in the exigencies when all other things fail. It was 
 glorious and most consolatory, and I felt for the first time 
 how possible it was for our dear afflicted ones not merely 
 
378 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 to be sustained, but to triumph over this grief through the 
 all-sufficient grace of our Divine Lord. 
 
 Letters came from them to-day, inclosed to my address. 
 It seems that Annie's death occurred on the 6th. . . . 
 Annie felt from the beginning that she was not going to get 
 well, but the rest did not share her apprehension. She 
 suffered a good deal during the first of her illness, but she 
 cast herself upon the Lord and found peace in believing. 
 She frequently quoted dear Ally's words, " Jesus must help 
 me" Dear Annie ; she, too, has entered into rest, and is 
 safe from the evil to come. She longed to look upon beau- 
 tiful lands and all fair and lovely things. She was greatly 
 disappointed (you remember) in the music of Italy it fell 
 below her anticipations. She is looking now on a lovelier 
 than Italian scenery, and listening to strains which will 
 leave nothing to be desired. She asked in her sickness for 
 home home home. And she is at home forever. 
 
 As I write, your letter lies open before me, and the 
 delightful fragrance of the violets carries me away to dear 
 Fountain Home, and fills my heart with mingled memories 
 and longings, joyful and sad. Oh, how full is the volume 
 of our life, if we had but a little leisure to ponder the 
 pages of its past and forecast the unfoldings of its future ! 
 
 To Mrs. GEO. R. BLISS. 
 
 ANGELICA, July n, 1860. 
 
 MY DEAR SISTER: Your letter came to hand just as I 
 was closing up my business in Brooklyn, and in the thick 
 of preparation to leave for this place. You doubtless re- 
 ceived from some of the sisters such further particulars 
 respecting our dear Annie's death as have been received 
 since the first stunning announcement of the fact the 
 awful fact, I should have called it a fortnight since, but 
 
BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 379 
 
 why should we so miscall and so misapprehend the deal- 
 ings of our heavenly Father with us ? Why should we be so 
 slow to understand the profound wisdom and loving-kind- 
 ness that mark them all? Let us learn to think more justly, 
 more lovingly, of the shady path through which our Saviour 
 leads His flock to the heavenly fold ! Nor let us so rashly 
 prescribe to the Infinite Wisdom the order of proceeding. 
 If He calls the lambs first, it is because He has need of 
 them, and who shall gainsay His claim? If their departure 
 breaks up our little schemes of life or contradicts our theory 
 of the fitting, what does that prove but the falsity of our 
 theory and the folly of our schemes? Enough that our 
 dear ones have learned that heaven is their home, and have 
 found the door in Christ. Then, when the Master comes 
 and calls for them, let us not merely relinquish them, but 
 rejoice with them, and sing the triumphant song of faith. 
 " Thanks be unto God, who giveth us the victory through 
 the Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 I inclose the letters which brought the intelligence, first, 
 of Annie's sickness and, next, of her sudden death. 
 
 The last steamer brought me a letter from our poor sor- 
 rowing sister, which I received here, and have seat to 
 Brooklyn, to be forwarded thence to you. It was dated 
 " Lake Como," where she and T. were staying at a quiet 
 rural inn, while Tasker and J. had gone with the dear 
 empty casket to Genoa, whence it is to come by sailing 
 vessel home. She was greatly prostrated, lying most of the 
 time on the sofa, where, with her Bible and Hymn Book in 
 hand, she was " feeling her way back" to the light which is 
 her native element, and which she was sure to find, for He 
 is faithful who has promised. I think it was a kind provi- 
 dence which left her for a few days in that serene retire- 
 ment with the tranquil beauties of nature around her, and 
 the gentle ministries of dear T. to anticipate and supply 
 her wants, There let us hope her bruised and terrified 
 
380 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 spirit recovered in a measure its composure, found rest and 
 soothing in the Saviour's bosom, and that perfect peace 
 which is promised to those who stay themselves on God. 
 I am sure it will come to her ; and though it seems hard 
 that she should be thrown so far from that sympathy and 
 aid which she would so highly prize in this crisis of anguish, 
 yet God knows best, and the end will vindicate the wisdom 
 and kindness of His plan. 
 
 To Mr. and Mrs. HOWARD. 
 
 BROOKLYN, July i, 1860. 
 
 Oh, my beloved ones, my heart bleeds for you and with 
 you, in this your and our great sorrow ! If I could but have 
 been with you in the trying hour, were it only to help bear 
 the crushing weight, the overwhelming shock! But ho\v 
 foolish the thought ! An Almighty Helper, a Brother be- 
 yond all earthly brothers, was by your side; and what could 
 I have done that He knew not to supply? Precious sweet 
 assurance ! // was all ordered in unerring wisdom and ten- 
 derest love, no outward comfort wanting that was not bet- 
 ter away, no pang or throb of anguish that was not needed 
 to make the mercy perfect ! Long ere this, I doubt not, 
 you have been able to take this view of it, and to triumph 
 over affliction through the grace of our Divine Lord yes, 
 even over such affliction! Since the first hour the stunning 
 announcement broke upon us, like a fatal bolt falling from 
 a cloudless sky, I have longed to sit down and pour my 
 he-art across the sea to you, my dear stricken ones. But to- 
 night I feel thankful that inexorable duties prevented when 
 most I longed to write. It would have been one loud, un- 
 christian wail, discordant with the frame of feeling in which 
 I cannot now but hope that this will find you. " Terrible !" 
 was the only word I could think of. How can they endure 
 it? so young, so beautiful, so sweetly ripening into glorious 
 womanhood, and she to be swallowed by the insatiate grave ! 
 
BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 381 
 
 such a light to be quenched in such a gloom ! our pride, 
 our darling, to be torn ruthlessly away from so many, many 
 loving hearts ! And this was the immeasurable horror which 
 hung in vague forebodings over the mother's ever-anxious 
 heart, and threw its chill shadow on every beautiful scene, 
 on every circle of pleasure through which, dear sister, your 
 journey passed ! Oh, dreadful, dreadful awakening from 
 that long-cherished dream of joy ! How can they bear to 
 speak, to think, of anything they have seen or done through 
 all that round of almost rapturous enjoyment? Such was 
 the sad lament that swept round our mourning circle dur- 
 ing those first dark days, and oh, I am glad that I for one 
 did not try to speak. For, dear brother and sister, dear J. 
 and T., let me talk to you all at once, as you are one in the 
 communion of this great grief in that strange land. Is it 
 not all wrong for Christians to feel and think so ? Surely, 
 .surely it is ! Death ! and who or what is Death, that he 
 should strike terror to a Christian's heart? Have we not 
 heard of him before ? Are we not familiar with his grim 
 look, and have we not proved his utmost power to make 
 good his threats, and proved that power weakness? Oh, 
 dear ones, do we not also know Him who is " Death of 
 Death," in the radiance of whose loving smile we have seen 
 the fiery dart quenched and the monster's visage changed 
 (by a heavenly magic) to the aspect of an angel-friend? 
 
 Yes, we were surprised ; oh, how surprised, both you and 
 we! But ought we to have been? No strange thing has 
 happened to us, beloved. It is the old story, though it 
 always amazes us; and when the next one falls in our midst 
 (who will it be?), we shall be just as much startled, just as 
 inexpressibly shocked. Oh, why ? Why so dull in learn- 
 ing the kind lesson our Father takes so much pains to teach 
 us? our dear, dear Father, who never meant to leave us 
 in this dim school-house long, and ever strives to draw our 
 thoughts beyond ? 
 
382 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 Yes; but why should it have been Annie? "Why not 
 I? " each one cries out. But let me ask, Why not Annie? 
 Is it because she was the brightest, the pride and darling 
 of all the house and of all the houses, the one who will be 
 most missed, most mourned throughout all the circle, and 
 throughout the whole community here at home? And pray, 
 when the Saviour is the chooser, shall we wonder that the 
 most eligible is taken? He surely knows which one He 
 needs; and if it be the loveliest, who will grudge Him even 
 that? " Death loves a shining mark" which is only a hea- 
 thenish way of saying that because our dear Lord would 
 most powerfully attract our thoughts and loves to Him, He 
 takes " the dearest jewels of our souls" and sets them in 
 His crown ; because He will teach us to prize our heavenly 
 home above our earthly, and make it easy for us to snap 
 the cord that binds us here, and soar exultant to the skies, 
 it is His way to gather there the darlings of our hearts, the 
 very pride and ornament of our present life. So let it be; 
 even so, Father; for so it seemeth good in Thy sight. It is 
 like Thee, it is fitting, it is kind. 
 
 You give us hints of the strange softness and sweetness 
 that came over the dear child's spirit as heaven drew near, 
 as though it heard the whispered call, and gathered round 
 it its heavenly vestments and poised itself for flight. And 
 we can partly understand what bitterness this would add 
 to the separation, what keenness to the sense of loss. But 
 you would not have had her die without them. Oh, how 
 cherished, how precious will be those recollections in the 
 future! She brightened as she took her flight; how could 
 she otherwise, if her flight were heavenward? 
 
 I know, dear sister, that you must have looked on these 
 as the beginnings of a spiritual growth whose progress and 
 maturity you longed to look upon even here below; and per- 
 haps it seems to you that dear Annie's life was incomplete, 
 its highest end unattained, and this I know to be the hard- 
 
BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 383 
 
 est thing for the parent's heart to be reconciled to in such 
 bereavements. But are we not too ready to put our con- 
 ception of the end and plan of life in the place of God's, 
 and to demand a certain roundness and finish to its devel- 
 opments here on earth, which is evidently no part of the 
 divine design, in most cases at least? Enough that our be- 
 loved ones have learned the greatest want of their being to 
 be a home in the bosom of God, and estrangement from 
 Him the only evil that they need to dread; enough that 
 they have found in Jesus the expression of the Love Divine 
 that pardons, purifies, and saves, and have put themselves 
 in His care. Let Him choose the method and the means 
 of their salvation. We know through what experience of 
 sorrow and sin the process must advance in this unhappy 
 world. In a better world it may be more rapid and more 
 easy. Doubt not then, dear sister and brother, that your 
 beloved one had all the education she needed for the new 
 sphere to which she has gone. Else she would not have 
 been called there. I love to follow her, in my thought, to 
 "the happy land," "the shining shore," of which she will 
 no more sing with us in dim rapiures, but amid whose gold- 
 en glory she gazes in ecstatic vision and roams in untiring 
 delight. How intense was her longing to look on lovely 
 lands ! to see the works of beauty and listen to the strains 
 of music, of which she had heard inspiring reports from 
 across the wide seas! How her brave young spirit spurned 
 at the thought of danger separating her from those delights ! 
 What a zest she found in adventure, and even in peril, when 
 that way lay the end she aimed at ! Wayward, childish, 
 unschooled, she might be, but always truthful, even to her 
 faults! And what a genuine contempt for shams! what 
 fearlessness of them in others, what jealousy of their influ- 
 ence upon herself! in a word, what thorough love of liberty 
 and truth ! Dear bird ! thou art uncaged. Fly on strong 
 pinion whithersoever thou wilt. No limitation of range or 
 
384 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 of power shall henceforth oppress thee. Thou lookest upon 
 a fairer land than Italy, and no pestilence lurks treacherous 
 and deadly in the balmy air thou now art breathing, nor in 
 the fruits on which thou art feasting freely. The music 
 that thou listenedst for in vain, even in the land of song, 
 thou hearest now in full perfection, and sharest with no 
 painful sense of incompleteness in thy tones. And all is 
 genuine, all transparent, all pervaded by the pure spirit of 
 Him who is the light and glory of that land. Sing then, 
 dear Annie sing, our angel-daughter and angel-sister soar 
 and sing till our hearts catch the strain and mount and sing 
 with thee, and our mourning is turned into joy and praise, 
 and death is swallowed up in Victory ! 
 
 I am so glad that you have decided to spend a little time 
 among the mountains before attempting the trying voyage 
 homeward. It is the true Christian duty to care for the 
 health of the surviving, and for others' sake to make the 
 most of life. I have hardly dared to think of you all, es- 
 pecially of dear S., immediately after such a drain upon the 
 vital forces, passing through an ordeal which taxes so se- 
 verely even the healthy and robust. It is better, much bet- 
 ter, as it is. God give virtue to those mountain-airs to re- 
 cruit your exhausted frames, and quench the fiery germs of 
 pestilence, if any are lodged in your veins! 
 
 As to the dear dust, I presume it was with some shrink- 
 ing that you sent it forth on its lonely watery way to its 
 destined resting-place, just as we shuddered when we heard 
 of it. How invariably our first thought is a wrong thought, 
 foolish and weak and unworthy of the Christian. Well 
 might the Saviour exclaim, " O ye of little faith!" But I 
 thank Him who helps our infirmities, that He gives us some- 
 times a wiser " second thought." I think of that sweet clay 
 with pleasure now, guarded by sweet spices from corrup- 
 tion, and sleeping serenely beyond all possibility of disturb- 
 ance, " rocked in the cradle of the deep" by the same kind 
 
BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 385 
 
 hand which soothed it to its slumber, and secured by a 
 pledge divine against loss or harm until the great Waking 
 Day. Be sure it will be received here by loving hands, and 
 gently laid amidst the loved group of sleeping ones in the 
 dear family chamber to which we all hope in our turn to be 
 gathered. 
 
 We shall wait for your return now with more yearning 
 desire than ever, and together we " shall yet praise Him 
 who is the health of our countenance and our God !" 
 
 May He comfort you. 
 
 JOHN. 
 
 The brother's words reached the bereaved company 
 just as they were about to embark for home. The 
 correspondence called forth by an event which touched 
 him so closely seems necessary to a history of that 
 sorrow-laden year. The circle that it most deeply 
 affected is the same to which his memory is dear; and 
 beyond that inner circle is one much wider, which has 
 felt no small interest in the scenes to which it relates. 
 I make no apology, therefore, for introducing into this 
 record of my father's life letters and incidents which 
 at the time profoundly moved him, not only through 
 his sympathies, but also in his own personal affections 
 and spiritual life. He had entered with full sympathy 
 into the pleasures of the European journey, turning 
 from the desolation in his own home and heart to fol- 
 low its bright course. Many circumstances had com- 
 bined to invest it with a peculiar charm, especially in 
 those last days spent in sunny Italy. In the dedica- 
 tion of Mrs. Stowe's romance of " Agnes of Sorrento," 
 some of the incidents are related which associate that 
 most poetic of her stories with our beautiful lost cousin. 
 In the number of the Atlantic Monthly which contained 
 
386 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 its initial chapters was given an extract from a letter 
 to the publishers explaining the origin of the story. 
 Mrs. Stowe writes: 
 
 The author was spending some weeks with a party of 
 choice and very dear friends, on an excursion to Southern 
 Italy. Nothing could have been more fabulously and 
 dreamily bright and beautiful than the whole time thus 
 employed. Naples, Sorrento, Salerno, Paestum, Pompeii, 
 are names of enchantment, which will never fade from the 
 remembrance of any of that party. At Salerno, within a 
 day's ride of Paestum, we were detained by a storm for a 
 day and a night. The talents of the whole company were 
 called into requisition to make the gloomy evening pass 
 pleasantly with song and jest and story. The first chapters 
 of this story were there written and read to the accompany- 
 ing dash of the Mediterranean. The plan of the whole 
 future history was then sketched out. Whether it ever find 
 much favor in the eyes of the world or not, sure it is, the 
 story was a child of love in its infancy, and its flowery Italian 
 cradle rocked it with an indulgent welcome. 
 
 The story is dedicated to the dear friends, wherever scat- 
 tered, who first listened to it at Salerno. Alas ! in writing 
 this, a sorrow falls upon us the brightest in youth and 
 beauty, and in promise of happy life, who listened to that 
 beginning, has passed to the land of silence. 
 
 When our merry company left Salerno, all the younger 
 members adorned themselves with profuse knots of roses 
 which grew there so abundantly that it would seem no 
 plucking could exhaust them. A beautiful girl sat opposite 
 the writer in the carriage and said, " Now I will count my 
 roses; I have just seven knots, and in each seven roses.'* 
 And in reply another remarked, " Seven is the perfect 
 number, and seven times seven is perfection. It is an 
 emblem," she said gayly, "of the perfect time of enjoy- 
 
BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 387 
 
 ment we have had." One month later and this rose had 
 faded and passed away. 
 
 There be many who will understand and tenderly feel 
 the meaning when we say that this little history is dedi- 
 cated to the memory of ANNIE. 
 
 The young girl reveled in the quaint legends and the 
 highly wrought pictures of fairy-like, luxuriant beauty 
 which so abound in the story, and her lively interest 
 won for her a special proprietorship in it. In their 
 rambles about the flowery old city of Sorrento, with 
 its orange-groves and mysterious gorge, they often 
 came upon scenes and characters which at her merry 
 suggestion were woven into the romance. Indeed, 
 she was the unconscious model from which some of 
 the pictures of the lovely heroine were painted. 
 
 During the previous winter which the party spent in 
 Rome many delightful acquaintances were formed, and 
 among them one of special interest with Mr. and Mrs. 
 Robert Browning. The lovely spirit of the woman 
 shines out so tenderly from two letters written to the 
 stricken mother, and the balm of their consolation was 
 so helpful to the sore hearts of the closely knit family 
 circle at home, that I have begged permission to place 
 them beside the other records of that sorrowful time : 
 
 SIENNA, August 14, 1860. 
 
 MY DEAR MRS. HOWARD : I receive your letter, read it, 
 hold it in my hand, with a sympathy deeply moved. No, 
 we had not heard of your loss; yes, we well remember that 
 lovely and radiant creature, " called up higher" so early in 
 the day. Yes, yes, yes, I understand dimly what it must be 
 for you to stand below and see her go, and feel the place 
 where you stand forever after sadder. 
 
388 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 Hearing such things makes us silent before God. What 
 must it be to experience them ? I have suffered myself 
 very heavy afflictions, but this affliction of the mother I have 
 not known, and I shut my eyes to the image of it. Only, 
 where Christ brings His cross, He brings His presence, 'and 
 where He is none are desolate, and there is no room for 
 despair. At the darkest you have felt a Hand through the 
 dark, closer perhaps and tenderer than any touch dreamt of 
 at noon. As He knows His own, so He knows how to com- 
 fort them, using sometimes the very grief itself, and strain- 
 ing it to a sweetness of peace unattainable to those ignorant 
 of sorrow. 
 
 Also, it seems to me that a nearer insight into the spiritual 
 world has been granted to this generation, so that by what- 
 ever process we have reached our convictions, we no longer 
 deal with vague abstractions, half closed, half shadowy, in 
 thinking of departed souls. 
 
 There is now something warm and still familiar in those 
 Beloveds of ours to whom we yearn out beyond the grave, 
 not cold and ghastly as they seemed once, but human, sym- 
 pathetic, with well-known faces. They are not lost utterly 
 to us even upon earth a little farther off, and; that is all. 
 Farther off, too, in a very low sense. 
 
 Quite apart from all foolish "spiritual" (so called) litera- 
 ture, we find these impressions very generally diffused among 
 theological thinkers of the most calmly reasoning order. 
 The unconscious influence of Swedenborg is certainly to be 
 taken into account. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Howard, how I thank you and how my hus- 
 band thanks you for your valuable gifts, " Crumbs from the 
 Table," thoughts from the teachings of Mr. Beecher. We 
 will read them faithfully, and keep them in remembrance of 
 you and yours as we saw you in Rome. 
 
 In opening the volumes I already fall upon fine and 
 thrilling things. They will help me to live; perhaps they 
 
BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 389 
 
 will help me, too, to suffer. I am very sad even now, in 
 great anxiety about the illness of a beloved sister in Eng- 
 land, and feeling it hard to be patient, and trust God from 
 post to post. So foolish am /, you see, of whom you say 
 (how it moves me that you should say it !) that my poems 
 have been worth a little to you at your need. 
 
 For Mr. Beecher, I have often thought gladly of what 
 you told me surely it was yourself that told me that he 
 had expressed some sympathy with me. If you ever hear 
 him express it again, ask him to pray for me. 
 
 Of dear Mrs. Stowe I have not heard since we parted at 
 Rome, and I was over-shy to say " Write." 
 
 Dear Mrs. Howard, believe how we both deeply thank 
 you for remembering us, and remembering us so, and how 
 we unite in most affectionate sympathy with you and with 
 your husband, while I sign this letter as 
 Your true friend, 
 
 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 
 
 ROME, Villa Felice, March 12, 1861. 
 
 MY DEAR MRS. HOWARD : Your letter came to me when 
 I was in bitter need of comfort myself. What are we to 
 say to others, when our own heart faints ? I had been in 
 great anxiety for months, and then at last came news from 
 England and there was no more to fear. Dear Mrs. 
 Stowe's letter, which reached me with yours, was the first 
 touch of comfort I could call by such a name. 
 
 Before then, the pain you had expressed, and a sermon 
 of Mr. Beecher's, had reminded me of an old forgotten 
 manuscript of mine, " De Profundis " " written in my 
 earlier manner " (say the critics) and referring to a great 
 grief, and I sent it to the Independent for printing. 
 
 That was for you; yet by the time it was printed and came 
 out here, some of it suited me also through a new trial. 
 
390 JOHN //. RAYMOND. 
 
 How the threads cross! and I, in my life, have suffered 
 many losses. I look with trembling sometimes at my hus- 
 band and my child, in spite of the probabilities in my own 
 favor. I have taken a great deal of scourging to learn my 
 lesson, and after all it is learned but poorly. Dear Mrs. 
 Howard, when the young go away with their hands full of 
 unblown roses, who should lament that they did not stay to 
 sit under leafless trees? Why yearn for our daughters to 
 live to lose daughters? Let us consider of all our holy dead, 
 that the lessons they learn now are not learnt with pangs, 
 but easily while they sit under the eyes of Him who loves 
 them more than we ever could. 
 
 May God bless you. My husband unites with me in 
 kind regards to you both. How good of you to think of the 
 photograph, which I shall value so much ! Think a little, 
 too, of the truth of 
 
 Yours in affectionate sympathy, 
 
 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 
 
 The travelers returned, and a tearful company gath- 
 ered around the Sabbath evening family altar. The 
 brother had remained in Brooklyn to greet them. He 
 wrote of that evening hour : " We have had a very 
 quiet but deeply affecting time at our Sabbath-even- 
 ing worship, as you may well suppose. Words were 
 few and of small account. But every heart was swol- 
 len to bursting with memories and emotions ' past the 
 infinite of thought.'" 
 
 Two weeks later, he wrote from his country home 
 to the bereaved parents : 
 
 FOUNTAIN HOME, August 30, 1860. 
 
 We yesterday received Sister Fanny's letter, informing us 
 of the arrival of the precious clay, and its safe repose in our 
 
BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 391 
 
 peaceful Greenwood. It lifts a burden from our hearts, as 
 it did from yours, dear brother and sister, and we join with 
 you in devout thanksgiving to the Father of mercies that 
 He has granted you this last sad privilege. We feel that 
 we can now say with more completeness of satisfaction : 
 " All is well. So He giveth His beloved sleep." 
 
 And here ends another stage of our earthly pilgrimage. 
 Looking back on the events of the past year, how long a 
 stride we seem to have made forward ! what a world of ex- 
 perience seems compressed within these few months ! And 
 have we not been brought to a higher plane? When we can 
 for a moment rid ourselves of these scalding, blinding tears, 
 do we not already perceive that we have gained a wider 
 range of vision, and look through a clearer medium and 
 from a more commanding point? And so we go heaven- 
 ward ; so we begin to sense, rather than discern, " the things 
 which God hath prepared for them that love Him." How 
 shallow the idea of happiness with which we set out in life, 
 as though the garish sunshine were its only element, and it 
 perished in the shade. And so long as the sun of earthly 
 prosperity filled our sky, so near, so palpable, so engross- 
 ing, we did not, could not, suspect our mistake. But our 
 sun went down, and heart and hope sank with it, till the 
 stars came out; and oh, the new wonders, and the unthought- 
 of, solemn joy, as the far-off, infinite spaces revealed them- 
 selves, and our spirits, escaped from the heat and the ex- 
 citement, refreshed with the Heaven-dropped dew-baptism, 
 soared off beyond the limits of the little system we had 
 called our universe, and began to track the ethereal paths 
 that lead to our true home, the abode of God ! The sun 
 will rise and shine again, beloved ones ; but it will be less 
 and less a gloomy thought that the night will also come, 
 and at last will come to stay, bringing to our day-weary 
 souls a perfect rest and an everlasting dwelling among the 
 stars. 
 
39 2 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 Although still departing from the line of my original 
 intention in this memoir, I cannot forbear, in closing 
 the history of this sad year, to quote the following 
 lines, which so perfectly embody our thought of the 
 joyous spirit which had taken its flight from our midst. 
 They were from the pen of the late Mrs. Conant, the 
 friend to whom the joys and griefs of our family were 
 by closest sympathy her own : 
 
 ANNIE. 
 Bird of the radiant plumage 
 
 Glancing in the sun, 
 What new field of joyance 
 
 Hast thou won ? 
 Thou art not dead, bright creature, 
 
 Death had no part in thee ; 
 Where life is flowing finest 
 Thou must be. 
 
 Thy nature's fiery essence 
 
 Kindred sphere hath found, 
 Now floats thy restless pinion 
 
 In calm profound ; 
 Thy flight of shifting impulse 
 
 The Central Love obeys, 
 Circling the throne, thou warblest 
 Sweetest lays. 
 
 Sorely must we miss thee, 
 
 So fair thou wert to sight, 
 The air played all about thee 
 
 Rainbow light ! 
 With tear-beclouded vision 
 
 We seek thy sunward track, 
 Yet would not from the heavenly fields 
 Call thee back. 
 
 But when in dreams of midnight 
 
 Wakes the spirit's ear, 
 Might low mysterious music 
 
 Tell thee near ; 
 
BROOKLYN A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 393 
 
 Might'st thou in grace celestial 
 
 Stand smiling by our side 
 Orbed in a glory saintly, 
 Heaven's bride ! 
 
 Come so, yet not to linger, 
 
 'Twere better than thy stay 
 That thus thy beckoning finger 
 
 Point the way 
 To the fair opening portals 
 
 Where grief cannot come ; 
 Oh for the gates of Paradise, 
 For our home ! 
 
 This chapter of sorrow cannot be finished without 
 one more sad record. Two years after the bereave- 
 ments which we have recounted, another favorite cousin 
 was suddenly snatched away, and another household 
 was made desolate. A reference to the tidings which 
 had reached our summer home is found in a letter 
 written at the time : " We were inexpressibly pained 
 and shocked yesterday by the intelligence of the death 
 of brother Robert's youngest son Jack, aged eighteen. 
 He was out in the Adirondacks hunting, and shot 
 himself accidentally. The charge of buckshot passed 
 through his thigh, and he lived but two hours. Poor 
 father and poor mother! how can they part so wi'th 
 their beautiful boy? The very embodiment of spark- 
 ling health, with a boundless flow of wit and merri- 
 ment, he was the pride and joy of the house and the 
 life of all the circle of younger cousins." 
 
 A hurried account of the accident was sent to us at 
 the time : 
 
 Saturday night, Jack went out in the boat after deer with 
 the guide, leaving Edward in camp. This was about fifty 
 
394 JOHN H. KA YMOND. 
 
 miles from Keesville, in the heart of the Adirondacks, at 
 the head of Tappan Lake. They found two deer together. 
 Jack fired both barrels, killing one of them and missing the 
 other. He loaded again quickly for another shot, but could 
 not get one. It was by this time half-past nine, and, laying 
 his gun behind him in the bow, he told the guide to put 
 out the lantern and return to camp. An instant after he 
 drew his gun towards him to settle himself comfortably for 
 the homeward ride, when the barrel went off, and a charge 
 of buckshot passed through his thigh, shattering it. It was 
 dark. He said to the guide that he was hurt, and bleeding 
 so much that he thought it must be a bad wound, and that 
 he must be taken as 'soon as possible to camp. From this 
 time on he was constantly calm and brave, bearing pain 
 without sign, and giving directions to those about him. At 
 his request the guide cut a piece of rope from the boat-line 
 and bound his leg tightly, Jack showing him how to do it. 
 Then, after a little silence, he said, " I think it is possible 
 that I may bleed to death before we get to camp. If I do, 
 tell my father and mother and brothers and sisters that I 
 was thinking of them." The guide heard him pray a while 
 by himself, and finish with the Lord's Prayer, as is our cus- 
 tom after " prayers." He was thinking of our Sunday even- 
 ings then, I know. After that he was quiet until they got 
 to camp. 
 
 There were several parties there who knew and loved 
 him dearly, and a number of gentlemen from Philadelphia 
 and New York came to his camp immediately. Among 
 them was the District Attorney of the county, and one 
 other who had practiced medicine. They sent a man also 
 for a regular surgeon, eighty miles distant. The surgeon 
 only got thirty miles on his way before he met them, with 
 the dead. 
 
 They were obliged to take the long journey of fifty miles 
 to Keesville by row-boat. They rowed all day Sunday, and 
 
BROOKLYN' A CHAPTER OF SORROW. 395 
 
 E. told us how the rough guides stopped on the way to cover 
 their favorite with pond-lilies. 
 
 Again the brother's words brought comfort, as he 
 opened afresh to the smitten hearts the fountains of 
 healing to which he knew the way so well : 
 
 ANGELICA, July 24, 1862. 
 
 MY DEAR BROTHER AND SISTER : The dreadful news has 
 just reached us, and what shall I say ? what can I say ? Oh 
 mystery of mysteries ! that it should have been he ! the 
 bright, beautiful, buoyant Jack, in the bursting fullness of 
 his joyous boyhood, just dropping the gay petals of the 
 blossom and beginning to set towards the rich promise of 
 the fruit ! That it should have been thus ! not amidst the 
 thick-falling death-strokes of the battle-field, not in the per- 
 formance of stern and perilous duties, not in fierce grapple 
 with difficulties and beset with visible dangers, but in the 
 pursuit of pleasure and health, in the flush and heyday of 
 enjoyment, that just there, across the path of that exciting 
 and successful chase, the grave should have opened to swal- 
 low up his bloom and vigor and his budding hopes ! 
 
 There is but one thought which seems as yet to furnish 
 any ground of comfort. It is this, that the hand of God is 
 so very, very manifest. It is as though the " drapery of in- 
 visibility" had for the moment fallen away and revealed the 
 Almighty, Everlasting Arm, taking away the precious jewel 
 which Itself had bestowed. "The arm of the Lord laid 
 bare !" If you can but catch a glimpse of that sublime re- 
 vealing, I know that- it will not merely hush every murmur 
 and bow your spirits in awful adoration of the Infinite Ma- 
 jesty, but will bring unspeakable consolation, and nerve you 
 with the strength you need to say, " Amen, Father, Thy will 
 be done!" Ineffable Sovereignty of Love 1 who cannot 
 trust thee ? who can either dare or desire to quarrel with 
 
396 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 thy behest? Thither, whence his fair existence sprang, the 
 ever-flowing Fountain of being and of blessing, thither he is 
 recalled, to "the bosom of his Father and his God," and 
 there let us leave him, in absolute trust, in resolute hope, as 
 incapable of solving the glorious mystery of his life as the 
 solemn mystery of his death. 
 
 Meanwhile, thank God for so much of mercy mingled in 
 the cup ; for his manly bearing in so sudden and terrible a 
 crisis, his dignified composure and courage when brought 
 so unexpectedly under the shadows of that summer night, 
 in the depth of that forest-wild, face to face with the Grim 
 King; for his last characteristic words of affectionate re- 
 membrance ; that he was spared protracted suffering, and, 
 since he must be taken, was taken in merciful swiftness 
 away ; for the sad, sweet privilege of looking once more 
 upon his beautiful face, unmarred, ere it faded from the 
 earth forever ; and oh, above all, for the evidence that in 
 his extremity he fled to the only refuge for weak and guilty 
 man. Ah ! that whispered prayer as he lay dying in the 
 bottom of his boat, looking up into the still and solemn 
 eyes of the stars, and half conscious that they waited for his 
 immediate departure ! How often will you think of it ! 
 what balm will it bring to your sore and aching hearts ! 
 " Forgive us our trespasses; lead us not into temptation, but 
 deliver us from evil." He that taught us thus to pray, the 
 Maker of the stars and forests, the loving Elder Brother of 
 poor stricken humanity, was He not present, think you, in 
 His ancient temple, with bending ear to catch the whispered 
 anguish of your dying boy? And is this His answer? Was 
 he thus to be " delivered" from temptation and from evil ? 
 The secret is with Thee, O Conqueror of the grave ! and in 
 the resurrection Thou wilt bring it with Thee for Thy glory 
 and our joy ! 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 TRIP TO EUROPE. 
 
 THE decline of Dr. Raymond's health became more 
 and more marked. It was hoped at first that time 
 would renew the strength which ' had been so deeply 
 drained in the sorrows and struggles through which he 
 had passed. But his elasticity was so far spent that it 
 became increasingly evident that nothing but a change 
 of scene and absolute freedom from care could save 
 him from complete prostration. It was above all diffi- 
 cult for him to rally his hope, which had never failed 
 before, and he afterwards confessed how confident he 
 had felt that he should never be well again. In the 
 spring of 1863 his friend Mr. Beecher decided to ac- 
 cept the proffer of his church to send him abroad for 
 a summer of rest. He playfully proposed to Dr. Ray- 
 mond to accompany him, thus suggesting to common 
 friends the plan which was by their loving intervention 
 carried into effect. They saw in this opportunity a 
 vista of enjoyment and returning health opening be- 
 fore one so dear to them, arid the generous kindness of 
 his brothers made the bright vision a reality. If any 
 reward could come to their hearts, it was fully made in 
 the new and abounding life which he brought back 
 from those inspiring shores. 
 
 In the letters written during those golden months 
 familiar reference is made to the companionship which 
 enhanced their delights. The following letter replies 
 
398 JOHN II . RA YMOND. 
 
 to the request for Mr. Beecher's sanction of the fre- 
 quent use of his name : 
 
 BROOKLYN, June 16, 1880. 
 
 MY DEAR H.: By all means use your father's letters with- 
 out regard to my name. As we were inseparable compan- 
 ions of voyage and travel, it could not be otherwise than 
 that his letters to his family should carry a thousand per- 
 sonal details. But those are the very things that give life 
 to a biography ; to cut them out would be like taking away 
 the pearls, and leaving only the string on which they were 
 placed. 
 
 I shall never have such another four months. If I had 
 the months, I should lack the man. There will never be 
 but one John H. Raymond ; and he was built expressly for 
 companionship in travel. Of an easy temper, looking main- 
 ly on the bright side of things ; full of wit and gayety, spark- 
 ling all over with enthusiasm ; full of knowledge of histori- 
 cal places, men, and events; with hunger for all that was 
 beautiful in art or in nature; simple as a child among 
 friends, reserved among strangers, and dignified in all places 
 well, if I should go on, you might say I was painting a 
 hero. But he was better than that a lovable man ! 
 
 We were in the same state-room on shipboard, and con- 
 genially sick nearly all the voyage ; and landed in as wet 
 and dirty a day as ever gave reputation to England. Hard- 
 ly had we stored our trunks in the hospitable house of 
 " Charley Duncan," before we were off to Chester, the old, 
 old city, where we walked, for hours in a haze of enthusias- 
 tic wonder. A volume would not contain the contents of a 
 single day if a true relation were made of all we saw, said, 
 thought, and felt. Dr. John was full of antiquarian lore, 
 and could have spent a month in research. It was his na- 
 ture to be thorough. He would poise himself before an 
 angle in the old wall, or a niche in the Cathedral, or some 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 399 
 
 projecting old house in a narrow street, and begin to trace 
 things back to their origin or uses, and I had to seize him 
 by his arm and rush him along. " Don't stop here forever, 
 Doctor ! The sun will go down before you finish one street. 
 You are not in your study, with days and days for investi- 
 gation. We are going over all Europe in two months' time, 
 and you must learn to glance, and skim, and do the study- 
 ing when you get home." Next we went rapidly through 
 portions of North Wales. The air was balmy, the sky of a 
 moist and tender blue, soft banks of clouds sailed noiselessly 
 over our heads, and all nature evidently had come out to 
 give two Yankees the choicest things she had. Everything 
 was beautiful, everything just right, everything joyful. We 
 had such boundless buoyancy that even accidents seemed 
 mirthful, and we mourned only that there were but twenty- 
 four hours in the day and seven days in the week. 
 
 It would be vain for me to trace the joyous days in som- 
 ber York, at radiant Chatsworth, at Stratford-on-Avon oh 
 what a day! the memorable afternoon spent by stealth 
 within the ruined walls of Kenilworth Castle, shut up to 
 visitors on that day, but assaulted, climbed into, and cap- 
 tured from the back side. 
 
 London was to the Doctor worse than was the Library to 
 Dominie Sampson. For years he had stored his mind with 
 all that belonged to its literary history, its haunts, its streets, 
 buildings, hostelries, churches, galleries, mansions, and pal- 
 aces. Now he had them before him. It did one good to 
 see him recognize some resort of Johnson, Pope, Dryden, 
 and the whole singing crew; of Milton and Shakespeare, or 
 the streets and courts famous in history. At once' he be- 
 gan to explain and point out, or search for some remem- 
 bered thing concerning the place, and would have been 
 there to this day pouring out like a fountain had I not 
 turned the faucet and jerked him away. " Come, come, my 
 dear fellow, this is no way ; at this rate you won't get out 
 
400 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 of London all summer!" He was never annoyed by this 
 social despotism, but waked out of his absorption with a. 
 laugh, and joined in cracking jokes upon himself. And so 
 we went through the picture-galleries and libraries, and oh! 
 the British Museum that was simply a Maelstrom that 
 sucked him in, and threatened to take him forever from our 
 sight ! To Oxford we went ; to its venerable colleges, to its 
 Bodleian Library, its Taylor and Randolph galleries, its 
 "studies of the Great Masters," from which I could hardly 
 tear him away. There was not a thing high or low that did 
 not bring him exquisite joy. He was like a stately instru- 
 ment of music upon which were laid the hands of successive 
 masters, all evoking the music of wondrous happiness. 
 Tears, and laughter, and learning, and love, and solemnity, 
 and capering gayety, the wisdom of a sage, and the prankish- 
 ness of a child, all in succession ran through the unclouded 
 days ! If I had had no other joy, it would have been happi- 
 ness enough to watch the Doctor's endless enjoyment, vary- 
 ing every hour, and running through the whole scale of 
 faculties. 
 
 Our visit, you will recollect, was made in the summer of 
 1863, just before the capture of Vicksburg and the ex- 
 pulsion of Lee from Pennsylvania after the battle of Gettys- 
 burg. The prejudice against the North, among all the 
 upper classes in England, was undisguised. The " common 
 people," the laboring classes, were friendly. Your father 
 and I were met on every side with abundant proffers of 
 social kindness from men who openly avowed a wish that 
 the Union might be dissolved. A breakfast was given us 
 in London by the Congregational clergymen and laymen 
 of London and vicinity. More than one hundred sat down 
 at the tables. When it was my turn to speak, I laid the 
 case of my country before the gentlemen with some plain- 
 ness of speech and fervor of manner. Thinking that the 
 effect would be better if my views were corroborated by a 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 401 
 
 self-contained and scholarly man, not given to undue feel- 
 ing in speech, I had Dr. Raymond called out. His first 
 sentence was like an explosion, and his speech a tremen- 
 dous outburst of indignation atthelukewarmness of English 
 friends, and of fervid patriotism such as I had never heard 
 from him before. It electrified his audience and me too ! 
 I never set him up again to make a cool and conservative 
 speech upon the war for the extinction of slavery and the 
 preservation of the Union ! If my speech had been fervid, 
 his was red hot ; if mine was a summer thunder-storm, his, 
 was a tropical tornado ! 
 
 But he had a magnificent power of indignation ! Gentle, 
 genial, and little apt to be aroused by anger, yet when he 
 did confront meanness and dishonorable conduct, he had a 
 fury of wrath that consumed it to the uttermost. 
 
 It would be vain to attempt a journal of our visit to Paris, 
 to Strasburg, to Basle, to Lucerne, to Geneva, to Mt. Blanc, 
 to Zermatt and Gorner Grat and the Matterhorn, over the 
 Simplon, to the Italian lakes, to Milan, to Verona and 
 Venice, across the Tyrol to Innspmck, Munich, Nuremburg, 
 Dresden, Berlin, Frankfort-on-the-Main, Brussels, Antwerp, 
 Ostend, and London again. We nearly drove our courier 
 crazy. Such early rising, such incessant activity, such late 
 retiring, a whirlwind of enterprise such as could be ex- 
 pected of no mortal creatures except Yankees who had 
 determined to do a year's seeing in six weeks. Everywhere 
 our first visits were to venerable buildings, cathedrals, 
 churches, historic mansions; but next, and longest, to gal- 
 leries of art. It was a rare day at Dresden, when we were 
 shut up all day alone in the hall of engravings, and had a 
 taste of the rarest and choicest bits from every school and 
 period. It was on a day closed to the world. But the 
 curator opened to us, and rewarded our enthusiasm with a 
 whole day's kindest attention and service. (May his crown 
 be bright !) It would have done you good to see your 
 
402 JOHN //. RA YMOND. 
 
 father's quiet eagerness and exquisite ecstasy in the gal- 
 leries of great artists. It was a new world to him. It opened 
 to him a realm of sensibilities and refined tastes, and subtle 
 analyses, concerning which he had treasured up stores of fine 
 knowledge from books for many years. I made up my mind 
 that, much as I enjoyed the treasures of art, Dr. John was 
 himself about the most interesting specimen of fine art that 
 I anywhere met. 
 
 In all the crowded days, the glowing weeks, the over-full 
 months, there was never a jolt or jar, a grief or groan, a 
 rash word or uneasy moment. He was merry, wise, patient, 
 eager, devout, reverential, yet joyous and gay as a child. 
 He saw everything, admired, loved, revered, judged, con- 
 demned, rejoiced, in an endless activity that, as it were, 
 beat the hours into foam, every drop or bubble of which 
 threw off iridescent beauty to his hungry eyes. But one 
 single fault, one single action to be condemned in our 
 months' long trip : and that was when he went home and 
 left me alone in London ! The scenes and figures woven 
 into the tapestry of those few immortal months have lost 
 none of their color and beauty, and never will, until I see 
 him again, and am shown by him all the scenes of the New 
 Jerusalem! H. W. B. 
 
 The letters written during these travels contain the 
 fullest descriptions of all that he enjoyed so keenly. 
 It is not possible to give them with the perfection of 
 detail which added such an interest at the time, and 
 which is so characteristic of all that he wrote. But 
 selections from them enable us to follow the story of 
 his journeyings : 
 
 ' CITY OF BALTIMORE," NEW YORK BAY, ) 
 Quarter-past I P. M. May 30, 1863. f 
 
 And now, my dearest wife, I can at last say " I am sure," 
 at least of a start. The change that we experienced in 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 403 
 
 passing out of that steaming dock into the free river-breeze 
 was indescribably refreshing, and as my eye turned away 
 from the spot where the dear group faded from "vision, and 
 swept the glorious horizon, and the broad bay widened out 
 towards the wider ocean, and already the coming gust was 
 throwing up the cheery white-caps in the distance, it is 
 astonishing how my spirit leaped up to meet them, how a 
 throng of azure devils and phantom anxieties took wing and 
 fled away, and all my troubles were lost in the only real one, 
 separation from my darlings, heart-hunger for those I love. 
 Oh ! if you all were with me at this moment, the world 
 would hold no happier dog than I. Travel is my delight. 
 Perhaps I may sing another tune to-morrow, but I do not 
 expect to, and just now I can conceive of no higher idea of 
 heaven than a free passage round the universe for me and 
 all my friends. But I shall not amidst my enjoyments for- 
 get your lonely hours, nor the generous self-devotion that 
 has spoken none but encouraging words to all this project. 
 God will bless you and the dear flock, and reward you with 
 the thought of the joy and profit you are giving one who 
 loves you so. . . 
 
 " CITY OF BALTIMORE," ATLANTIC OCEAN, ) 
 1350 Miles East of New York, 
 
 Thursday, June 4, 1863. ) 
 
 This is the first day I have felt quite up to writing, or 
 even beginning to; how it will end, I will tell you in due 
 time. " What ! you sick ? " I hear you exclaim. Well, 
 wait, I will begin at the beginning and let you know all 
 about it. ... 
 
 But now, all things ready, we turn our prow to the deep, 
 and bid farewell to " native land." As we left Sandy Hook, 
 we passed into a thick fog, which would seem to cover the 
 entire ocean, for we have not escaped it since. And as the 
 ship plunged into the fog, the passengers began, in pretty 
 
404 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 rapid succession, to plunge into the bowels of the ship, and 
 but a moderate fraction of the whole company that left the 
 dinner-tabte at 5 P.M. reappeared at the tea-table at 7. 
 
 The show was still more meager the next morning at 
 breakfast, and not until yesterday and to-day have our 
 thinned ranks begun to look full and comfortable again. I 
 have been at my post at every meal but one, but of the 
 amount of service performed for the first three days I am 
 not disposed to boast. . . . When I went into our state- 
 room that first evening, and saw poor Mr. Beecher rolled 
 into his berth with everything on but his boots, and listened 
 to his pallid attempts to be facetious, I did not attempt to 
 imitate him in the latter respect, while I made haste to do 
 so in the former, though he had the advantage of me in the 
 process, by as much as tumbling down is easier than climbing 
 up. That night I slept, with everything on, to my specta- 
 cles, which I forgot to take off, and my soft hat on my head, 
 to protect the poor pate from the searching air. 
 
 My sickness has not been constant or severe, but has come 
 on at intervals, mainly manifesting itself in a feeling of in- 
 tense discomfort, forlornness, desolation, utterly inexpressi- 
 ble, covering past, present, and future with the pallor of a 
 corpse, and giving to the ocean the aspect of " one vast dose 
 of ipecac," all mixed and ready to be " taken." Ugh ! 
 Sunday, after breakfast a few forsaken-looking mortals as- 
 sembled in the saloon for divine service, performed by the 
 ship's surgeon, and really I enjoyed it much. Prayer-books 
 are furnished by the ship, and the doctor read the prayers 
 in a full rich tone, and with " accent and emphasis" which 
 would have satisfied Mr. Dwyer. . . . 
 
 Mr. Holme * has not been sick a moment since we started ; 
 
 * The Rev. John S. Holme, now of New York, at that time pas- 
 tor of the Pierrepont St. Baptist Church, of which Dr. Raymond was 
 a member, who was a fellow-passenger on the steamer, and who 
 afterwards joined them during a part of their trip. 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 405 
 
 he is as gay as a bird, running all over the ship, making all 
 sorts of discoveries, getting acquainted with everybody, 
 and getting everybody acquainted with each other. 
 
 We have found a pleasant congenial circle on board in a 
 party of young missionaries, two couples and two single 
 ladies, on their way to Turkey. Mr. Holme found them 
 out and got us together, and now we have established a 
 regular missionary circle on the upper deck, under the lee 
 of the smoke-stack, where we pass our time right merrily in 
 varied chat and singing, enlivened with an occasional game, 
 and last Friday night we had a Shakespeare reading in the 
 saloon. The Mishes (as J. would call them) are eager for 
 another to-day. . . . 
 
 Tuesday, June 9 : So far on Saturday; since then I have 
 had a variable experience the heights and the depths. . . . 
 
 To-day, we have the most perfect day we have had since 
 starting, and we are all on deck, closing up cur letters 
 and hailing the sight of land. To-night we hope to reach 
 Queenstown, where we shall leave the ship and take the 
 cars to Dublin. Thence to Holyhead and Bangor in Wales, 
 and by way of Chester to Liverpool, where we hope to spend 
 next Sunday. 
 
 9 o clock P.M. : I have got my trunk packed and luggage 
 all ready for landing, and have come on deck again, and find 
 it still light enough to scribble a few lines byway of closing. 
 We have been a happy ship's company this afternoon, sailing 
 by the green highlands on the southern coast of Ireland ; 
 watching the little craft along the shore and the sea-gulls that 
 track our good ship's wake in flocks ; admiring the pictur- 
 esque light-house on the Fastnet rock, which towers up out 
 of the sea, some three miles from Cape Clear ; and chatter- 
 ing and cackling among ourselves like a nest of magpies. 
 We have changed our plan about going ashore at Queens- 
 town, and go on to Liverpool with the ship. I think of 
 
40 6 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 you all in sweet quiet Angelica. May the blessing of the 
 Lord be on you ! 
 
 LIVERPOOL, June n, 1863. 
 
 MY VERY PRECIOUS SISTER, never so precious as to-day, 
 when this dismal, howling distance which separates us 
 gives me a painfully vivid impression of what a final parting 
 would be: We have just stepped on shore, after what they 
 call an unusually prosperous and comfortable voyage. If 
 it be so, the good Lord spare me one usually so ! Sea- 
 sick I have not been, in any serious measure (though enough 
 to take the heart out of every form of enjoyment within my 
 reach, or even conceivable), but damp, chilled, dirty, dis- 
 gusted with myself first, and with every body and thing in 
 turn. 
 
 That boundless waste of waters over which we have been 
 pitching and rocking these ten mortal days is a wonderful 
 thing, surely. But I expected that. What took me by sur- 
 prise was that all over its dreary surface should rest this 
 hateful fog. As we left the mouth of our beautiful bay, 
 enlivened by so many busy craft and by that magnificent 
 display of the myriad-handkerchiefed and countless-throated 
 " Merrimac," we plunged into fog went to bed in it, waked 
 in it, dragged all v the wretched day through it and this 
 day after day, until it seemed as though it soaked into our 
 brains and penetrated into the marrow of every bone with 
 its deathly chill. Wednesday and Thursday it lifted a little 
 and revealed a black horizon of some five miles' radius, and 
 at times mocked us with a ghostly promise of sun and sky. 
 But the infinite sponge came down upon the promise and 
 the hope at once. Sunday was fine and I was up well, I 
 guess, above zero though the wind was fresher and the 
 swell was higher ; wherefore Henry was down, and we were 
 all disappointed of the talk which, in an infatuated interval 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 407 
 
 of fancied escape, he had promised the captain to give us. 
 But we had the service very enjoyably read by a Rev. Dr. 
 on board, and it was about as much of religion as we could 
 sense. We had a splendid dinner (alas ! the worse for me), 
 and in the evening we did have such a delightful little 
 meeting, down under the smoke-stack, scattered about on the 
 deck, on and under our blankets and shawls !- the mission- 
 aries, Holme, and I, with half a dozen other congenial souls 
 (poor Henry was groaning in his berth the while). We 
 began with singing familiar hymns, and with easy, pleasant, 
 Christian chat. And when we had finished "The day is 
 past and gone," I had to tell them of our Sunday-evening 
 gatherings and what that dear hymn had been to all of us 
 for a quarter of a century ; and that brought the waters, 
 and suddenly they bethought them that it was monthly 
 concert at" home, and that "my father" and "my mother" 
 and " our church" were just beginning to pray for " me too." 
 And then the skies parted and 
 
 " Heaven came down our souls to greet, 
 And glory crowned the mercy-seat." 
 
 After this we were too full to talk, and I proposed 
 "Quaker meeting," and the next half-hour I don't believe 
 any of us will forget " And about the first watch of the 
 night, He came to us, walking upon the sea, and he came 
 up unto us into the ship. . . . And we were sore amazed 
 in ourselves, beyond measure," yet not "troubled," but 
 exceedingly comforted. One of the missionary girls, a bright 
 bit of an enthusiast, said, as we separated for the night, 
 " Can we be happier in Heaven than we have been this 
 evening?" and it did not seem a strange question. But 
 that was the beginning and end of my sea-comfort. The 
 next day, and the next, and the next which was the last 
 how shall I describe the unspeakable wretchedness of those 
 
408 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 hours! Do you guess the cause? Sick head-achesick 
 head-ache at sea! " Such a horror of great darkness " on 
 the past, the present, and the future ! The thought of 
 reaching England, of coming ashore, of seeing people and 
 undertaking to see sights, was torture, and my principal 
 study was how I could find a decent pretext for turning 
 round and returning by the ship which met us at Queens- 
 town. And such, dear S., was the first; installment of those 
 " pleasurable heart-aches" which you promised in your 
 dear parting note. I can hardly realize that it was only last 
 night, less than twenty hours ago, that I rolled in that bed 
 of misery, beneath the burden of that pressure which 
 crushed in head and heart alike. And so at last I sank to 
 sleep, and knew nothing more till four this morning. 
 
 I rubbed my eyes: no head-ache ! I pricked my ears : no 
 rattle of engine or screw! Could I trust my senses? No 
 rocking or pitching of the ship! ! All was calm, noiseless, 
 tranquil, just what I had so longed for and felt so hopeless 
 of obtaining. Had I passed from purgatory ? and was this 
 the first stage of celestial beatitude ? I spoke to my 
 reverend compagnon : no Beecher ! While I mused within 
 myself what all this might signify, the steward's bell came 
 jingling down the companion-way; and the cheery cry, 
 " Get ready to go ashore," rang through the gloomy 
 passages of our prison-house. Imagine a cork pressed 
 down by outward forces to the bottom of ocean's ''dark 
 unfathomed caves" and suddenly released, and you may 
 get some conception of the way my spirit bounded and 
 went mounting upward from that moment, and for the next 
 twenty-four hours. I leaped from my berth like a bird from 
 its perch. The blue-devils flew through the open port-hole 
 with a whizz, and" buried themselves in the bowels of the 
 blue deep, where they belong. My toilet was finished 
 before it was begun, and I was in the crowd on deck. 
 
 Liverpool received us with a right English salutation. 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 409 
 
 The clouds hung low and pitchy black, and poured out rain 
 by the bucketful. What cared I ? My head did not ache, 
 my lungs did crow like chanticleer and shouted to old Eng- 
 land and her angry elements, " Blow, wind, and crack your 
 cheeks." Dimly peering through the mist-laden air, we 
 could discern faint outlines of terra firma and human habi- 
 tations a city that hath foundations. We were a funny- 
 looking set of birds, bundled and cloaked in our dirty sea- 
 attire, like so many rag-man's bags which had been affec- 
 tionately handled by chimney-sweepers, but lovely to one 
 another's eyes, as we interchanged the smile of mutual con- 
 gratulation. 
 
 The little tug that waited for us at the ship's side was 
 black as Erebus (as all the river-boats are here), and looked 
 grim and ghostly as you might imagine Charon's boat, wait- 
 ing to ferry us over the Styx. But happily the Elysium of 
 solid land was beyond, and we would have hugged the in- 
 fernal ferryman himself, had he come to bear us to it. And 
 so we came all safe to land. 
 
 We were most cordially welcomed by Captain Duncan 
 and his good wife. Two of their boys were formerly with 
 me at the Polytechnic, you know, and they mourn inces- 
 santly that they have in Liverpool no such school, and no 
 such church as Plymouth. Indeed, you could not persuade 
 them that their equals could be found in England or the 
 world. It was very pleasant to find a home so immediately 
 on landing on this far-off shore. We were taken at once 
 into its heart, and here we have staid ever since. Nothing 
 is too good or, indeed, good enough for us, and all the 
 time we are made to feel that we are conferring, not receiv- 
 ing, a favor. 
 
 I am ready, God willing, to realize your loving predictions 
 of a happy time with our friend and brother. There were 
 crowds here waiting to meet him deputations on deputa- 
 tions, bowings and explainings and puttings off, and this 
 
410 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 afternoon, to escape them, a tramp and a drive about town. 
 To-morrow morning, early, we two are off for Chester, to 
 return in the evening, and the next day (Saturday) into 
 Wales to spend a quiet Sunday. 
 
 LIVERPOOL, June 12, 1863. 
 
 MY DEAR BROTHER R. : I gave sister S. an account, yes- 
 terday, of our first day in Liverpool. That evening we went 
 to an organ concert at St. George's Hall a magnificent hall 
 and oh ! what an instrument ! It seemed as if I had never 
 heard an organ before. We had Mendelssohn and Weber 
 and Bach, and a fantasia of wild, weird Welsh melodies. 
 And as I sat and fairly wept for pleasure, I could hardly 
 believe it was the same being who lay in that dismal berth 
 the night before, and groaned in agony, and looked in vain, 
 behind and before, for a ray of comfort or hope; or that I, 
 if I it were, could be in the same sphere. It seemed as 
 though I had come up from the very " belly of hell" and 
 sat down at the gate of paradise. 
 
 And then that divine bed in which I lay that night ! fay, 
 did I say ? In which I stretched and rolled and reveled 
 and hugged myself for joy, so heavenly clean and sweet, so 
 majestic in its amplitude, so luxurious in its tender embrace. 
 Ah, you must go to sea if you would know by contrast the 
 ineffable felicity of going to bed. I nestled in it like a 
 baby in its mother's bosom, and could hardly allow myself 
 to go to sleep lest I should lose the consciousness of my 
 bliss. . . . We got back from Chester about five o'clock, 
 and my weary legs served as a good excuse for refusing to 
 go with Mr. Beecher to dine with the American consul. 
 
 We had not landed, yesterday, before Mr. Beecher Vas 
 boarded by deputations from Liverpool and from Manches- 
 ter, and it was manifestly their purpose to use him as a new- 
 come notoriety, in pulpit and on platform, for legitimate 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. . 411 
 
 and for selfish objects, lo the utmost possible extent. The 
 Secession papers here announced that the Rev. Henry Ward 
 Beecher had come over on a visit to England, " ostensibly 
 for the benefit of his health, but really (as was ascertained 
 from the most trustworthy sources) as a secret agent for the 
 Federal Government," and a series of public demonstrations 
 and a free fight generally appears to have been expected, 
 as a matter of course, by friends and foes. But that little 
 game has been quietly blocked. Mr. Beecher informed 
 the Liverpool deputation that he had come really for his 
 health (which meant rest and not work) ; that as America 
 understood her own interests best, and expected to take 
 care of them without any foreign aid, so Englishmen 
 were the proper parties to enlighten Englishmen, and to 
 save their country from the unhappy results to which selfish- 
 ness, prejudice, ignorance, and bad counsel were likely to 
 lead her ; that while he sympathized with the true Chris- 
 tians and enlightened friends of liberty among them, and 
 wculd be glad to lend them any incidental aid in his power, 
 his first duty was to husband and recruit his energies for 
 his own country when and where he could labor for some 
 object of real importance to her. The loyal Americans here 
 are tickled out of their boots at this decision, for they shared 
 the common expectation ; and though they all would be glad 
 to hear Mr. Beecher speak, yet they believe that no elo- 
 quence, however splendid or persuasive, could have half the 
 effect of this dignified silence, this practical proof that we 
 really don't regard the destinies of America as dependent on 
 the bray of great John Bull. 
 
 To-morrow (Saturday) we start on an excursion into North 
 Wales. . . . Returning on Monday afternoon, we dine 
 by invitation with Mr. Guion, a New Yorker, resident here, 
 when we meet the few loyal Americans in Liverpool, and 
 promise ourselves a good time. Then, on Tuesday, hey for 
 the interior and London ! 
 
412 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 Let me see a scratch of your pen, and ask Mary to wipe 
 off old scores and begin again. Meanwhile, never doubt 
 the not-to-be-utt&red love of 
 
 BROTHER JOHN. 
 
 To E. C. 
 
 MANCHESTER, June 18, 1863. 
 
 Friday morning the Dominie and I took the rails for 
 Chester, the curious old town built on the site of an ancient 
 Roman camp (Castra,) whose walls still stand, and parts of 
 the old-world streets, very interesting to examine. It was 
 my first actual contact with antiquity ; face to face I stood, 
 saw with my own eyes, could reach forth my hand and 
 handle the very bricks and stones and timbers of which I 
 had read and dreamed so much, hardly hoping for a nearer 
 acquaintance. Ah! that grand old cathedral, those dim 
 and solemn aisles, those quaint carvings, those peaceful 
 chapels, those hushed apartments of the dead, and curious 
 inscriptions above the sleeping forms which once trod these 
 pavements and walked the corridors, and looked upon the 
 edifice in the perfection of its beauty, and filled the various 
 apartments with human life and passion. My imagination 
 found it easy to rebuild the waste places, and to bring back 
 the lost splendor and comfort, and to re-people the empty 
 and silent apartments with the forms of other days that 
 now moulder beneath the pavements or in the dust of the 
 adjoining cemetery. Especially in the deep and sweet 
 seclusion of the cloister, the place for quiet meditation, 
 with the softened light of heaven smiling in through the 
 painted windows, and revealing such a charming glimpse of 
 nature in that daisy-carpeted, oak-shadowed inner court, 
 I felt the spirit of mediaeval scholarship strong within me. Its 
 deep stillness was relieved by an occasional note of a song- 
 sparrow. " Lord," said I, " it is good to be here." But He 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE 413 
 
 answered only, " Ichabod !" and we were fain to pick a few 
 daisies for remembrance, and to come back with a sigh to 
 the rushing presen t. 
 
 On Saturday morning we started on an excursion to 
 North Wales, and a glorious time we have had of it. 
 For the first three or four hours we glided along the rails 
 in all the luxurious ease of an English first-class carriage, 
 occupying by ourselves one spacious compartment, lolling 
 on velvet-covered cushions of down, and feasting our eyes 
 with a perpetual, ever-varying banquet of beauty, as we 
 passed through the highly cultivated rural districts of Cheshire, 
 through magnificent farms interspersed with gentlemen's 
 seats and parks, to Chester again ; thence down the valley of 
 the Dee, with its curious, ever-widening white sands; then 
 along the coast of the Irish Sea and the picturesque straits 
 of Menai, past the perilous promontory of Penmaenmawr 
 (which Dr. Johnson was so afraid to cross after sundown, 
 on his journey with the Thrales), past the Holy Well of 
 St. Winifred, past Castle Conway and the famous Tubu- 
 lar Bridge to Caernarvon. There we left the rails and 
 plunged into the beautiful mountain-valleys, posting south- 
 west to Beddgelart, our farthest point. It was our first 
 taste of rural travel in England. I tell you, I have made up 
 my mind to pardon a good deal to the conceit of these 
 fortunate and certainly not idle or ineffective islanders. 
 Nature gave them a good foundation ; but they have built 
 upon it industriously, perseveringly, sagaciously, and they 
 have built up a wonderful system of beauty and comfort, 
 and they keep it in admirable repair and in steady, pro- 
 gressive improvement. The hand of willing and well- 
 directed labor has touched every spot, nothing has been 
 neglected, no trace of carelessness or slovenliness is any- 
 where visible. In the most secluded vales and mountain- 
 passes and by the side of busy roads and railways, in the 
 spacious grounds of the wealthy and about the humble cot- 
 
414 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 tages of the poorest peasants, in the smallest hamlets and 
 the most crowded and bustling cities, everything is well 
 built and well kept ; and all is administered on a plan that 
 secures the utmost possible of genuine and substantial 
 comfort. 
 
 Of the pleasure, the delight, the rapture of this jaunt, 
 I can convey no conception. The mingled grandeur and 
 beauty of the scenery, mountain and valley, lake and river, 
 the endless variety and profusion of the wild flowers, the 
 quaint villages, the picturesque cottages, the magnificent 
 gentlemen's seats, the curious simplicity and primitive man- 
 ners of the inhabitants, the indescribable comfort of the inns, 
 the roads of macadamized slate, as smooth and clean (not 
 now and then, but every foot of the way) as a slate floor, 
 over which you roll in your roomy carriage, mile after 
 mile, between solid stone walls covered with vines and 
 creepers, or still more beautiful hedge-rows, crowded 
 with wild-roses, fox gloves, woodbine, honey-suckles, and a 
 thousand nameless beauties. Traveling by post in Eng- 
 land, at least in North Wales, is the perfect blossom of 
 pleasurable locomotion not an essential, not a conceiv- 
 able accessory wanting. It is luxury of which we have no 
 counterpart in America. 
 
 Beddgelart, where we spent the Sabbath, is a quaint 
 little Welsh hamlet in a secluded mountain-vale near the 
 foot of Snowden, which towers against the sky before you. 
 A picturesque stream rushes through it, entering by one 
 narrow pass and departing by another, less than a mile 
 apart. On either side, the broken hills run up sharp and 
 high, covered with a rich growth of trees, save where the 
 naked rocks shoot up above them in every variety of sub- 
 lime or grotesque magnificence. The village is composed 
 of the queerest little houses, side by side, of massive stones, 
 and looking as solid as the granite hills themselves, but as 
 diminutive as so many doll-houses 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 415 
 
 We visited two interesting castles on our way, at Con- 
 way and Caernarvon. Description would be useless, and 
 vain the attempt to describe the emotions excited either by 
 the images of the olden time called up by these palpable 
 relics of its strength and grandeur, or by the exquisite 
 beauty of the surrounding scenery, as fresh and green and 
 unwasted now as when gazed on by the eyes of Roman 
 warriors or Cambrian noblemen and ladies, or by those of 
 their Saxon conquerors in comparatively modern times. 
 Both of the castles were built by Edward I. in the thirteenth 
 century, to secure his newly conquered possessions in 
 Wales, and both figured also in the wars of Cromwell, since 
 which they have been dismantled and given over to decay. 
 But oh ! how beautiful in their ivy-decked desolation, and 
 how rich in their suggestions of human magnificence and its 
 fugacity as well ! 
 
 On Monday we again took post homeward, north-east 
 and north, by Capel Curig and Llanrwst to Conway, where 
 we again struck the iron track and retraced our course to 
 Liverpool. 
 
 To his WIFE. 
 
 WARWICK ARMS INN, ) 
 
 WARWICK, ENGLAND, June 21, 1863. j 
 
 We have accomplished an extraordinary amount of Eng- 
 land since we left Liverpool last week, and I look back on 
 it with wonder. 
 
 Wednesday morning we set off for Manchester. This, 
 .the great center of the cotton trade, is of course a boiling 
 caldron of excitement on the " American question," which, 
 by the way, is almost as much talked of here as at home. 
 There had been much expectation of hearing Mr. Beecher; 
 but he soon put that to rest, and the wise leaders of the 
 " Northern" party fully indorsed the wisdom of his decision 
 
41 6 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 not to speak at present. We had a pleasant interview with 
 a number of the leading men at one of the morning 
 luncheons, which seem to be an institution in the great 
 business establishments of that city r and there the subject 
 was fully discussed and disposed of. ... 
 
 The next day came York, unique in its way as an eccle- 
 siastical town, with its grand old Minster and its twenty- 
 five or thirty churches, a mere fraction of the crowd which 
 once clustered within its massive walls. Here we saw the 
 most admired specimen of the early English style of archi- 
 tecture, and felt its sweet majesty, its calm uplift heaven- 
 ward in the central tower, though struggling out of much 
 that is comparatively mean and inharmonious in the debased 
 additions and reconstructions which surround it. There, 
 too, I heard for the first time the full cathedral service of 
 the Anglican Church, the prayers intoned, the anthems 
 chanted by antiphonal choirs of boys, and only the lessons 
 read, and I felt in full force the incongruity of the attempt to 
 combine two modes of worship so essentially unlike in the 
 radical idea, the artistic (semi-sensuous) and the rational. 
 O that celestial music ! how it entranced and carried me out 
 of myself ! how all the angel-forms that covered column and 
 ceiling around and above seemed to take on life, to bend 
 smiling with ineffable love towards us, to mingle in and aid 
 our mortal songs, to beckon us away from earth, and to assure 
 our faith and hope ! and the soft light that streamed through 
 that window, anything approaching which I have never 
 seen, did it not come straight down from the city of Light, 
 the gem-built walls and gates and palaces of the blessed ? 
 And what a coarse impertinence seemed the intrusion into 
 the very midst of that exalted worship (for it was worship) 
 of the reading, first, of a dull chapter from the Chronicles, 
 and, again, from the genealogical table (!) in the third of 
 Luke, every word of which was droned out with a con- 
 scientious stupidity surpassing belief! No ; when I go back. 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 417 
 
 to the esthetic religion (and I never felt its attractions till 
 now), I shall go clear over and rest in the bosom, and 
 slumber to the exquisite lullaby, of Holy Mother Church. 
 
 I was greatly interested in the curious old walls of York, 
 the numerous antique churches sprinkled all over the town, 
 and, above all, the picturesque remains of an old abbey, 
 St. Mary's, on one side of the town near the banks of the 
 Ouse, of which I had never so much as heard, and on which 
 we happened almost accidentally, but where we lingered 
 till a late hour that beautiful evening, fascinated by the 
 exquisite grace of the fragments of the edifice, its charming 
 situation, and the affecting fancies stirred by its presence 
 of those grand old times to which it belonged. Much as we 
 saw in that interesting old ecclesiastical town, there was 
 more which we were obliged to leave unseen, for our time 
 must be husbanded, and every hour costs. So, Friday 
 morning saw us whirling away south towards Sheffield and 
 Mid-England. 
 
 How can I convey to you any impression of the loveliness 
 of the scenery through which we have passed ? At Sheffield 
 we took post for Chatsworth, the celebrated seat of the Duke 
 of Devonshire in the county of Derby. In the same luxu- 
 rious style which so delighted me in Wales, we rolled over 
 similar roads, through a country of wholly different features, 
 but of equally surpassing beauty; no mountain heights and 
 valleys, no rushing streams or solid walls of stone bounding 
 the solid carriage-way, but endless green, and endlessly 
 diversified in softly flowing lines of grace ; green slopes and 
 swells stretching far as the eye could reach in every direc- 
 tion; majestic trees and clumps and groves and forests 
 crowning every hill-top, and scattered through the fields in 
 groups of every size and shape ; green hedge-rows border- 
 ing the road, and checking all the landscape, not with un- 
 sightliness, but with such added charm as the blue vein- 
 lines give to a fair hand; silver streams gliding through 
 
41 8 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 rich meadows and under rustic bridges ; and happy herds 
 of cattle and flocks of sheep browsing the rich pasture-lands. 
 
 The villages in this part of England are an exception to 
 the general character of the landscape; mere huddles of 
 unattractive and usually unadorned dwellings of brick or 
 unpainted wood, they painfully remind you that all this 
 wealth of beauty is the property of the few, wrung from the 
 miserably requited labor of the many. But peerless in 
 the midst of the peerless stands Chatsworth, a little farm of, 
 say, one hundred and fifty thousand acres, embracing a 
 circuit of ten or twelve miles, about fifty thousand acres 
 being under cultivation, in the very highest style of modern 
 science and art, and the remainder kept in a state of nature 
 for hunting and shooting! 
 
 I had heard much of the floral wealth of Chatsworth, and 
 I expected to see a wonderful flower-garden. A garden I 
 saw indeed, but a landscape-garden of the most magnificent 
 dimensions and in exquisite perfection. ... I wish I 
 could give you some idea of the grandeur of the trees, before 
 some single specimens of which we would stand breathless 
 for minutes with delight and wonder, and these scattered in 
 such magnificent profusion over meadow, hill, and dale; 
 graveled roads and paths winding in all directions, though 
 rarely visible, and all the fences out of sight ; flocks of rare 
 breeds of sheep, herds of full-blooded and beautiful cattle, 
 now and then an antlered deer peeping out from the forest, 
 and fawns by dozens and fifties lying in the shade or brow- 
 sing on the herbage. 
 
 Words can convey nothing of the extent and beauty of 
 the scene. The interior of the palace is rich with treasures 
 of art, among which we were specially charmed with a collec- 
 tion of drawings and sketches in crayon, by the old masters, 
 and with wood-carvings (by the celebrated Gibbons) of 
 flowers, vines, birds, etc., which decorate the various halls 
 and are of almost fabulous perfection. . . . 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 419 
 
 Of more affecting interest, though in a totally different 
 way, was our visit to Haddon Hall, a deserted baronial 
 mansion about five miles from Chatsworth, in the smaller 
 but most enchanting vale of the Wye, where we saw the very 
 rooms used by a noble family in the age of chivalry, in the 
 state in which they were left one hundred and thirty years 
 ago, when the hall ceased to be occupied. Most of the 
 furniture has been removed, and what is left is falling to 
 decay, but I -have seen nothing that carried me back so 
 directly to the domestic life of those vanished genera- 
 tions. 
 
 Monday Morning, June 22, n^ o'clock. We have just 
 returned from another intoxicating banquet of delight, 
 a visit to Warwick Castle, which differs from the other 
 castles we have visited, not only by surpassing them all 
 in magnitude and majesty, but in being, not like them a 
 mass of crumbled, ivy-grown ruins, but in complete pre- 
 servation, and still the residence of one of the chief princes 
 of the realm (Earl of Warwick). Amidst a profusion of 
 costly works of art within, we were most attracted by the 
 collection of ancient arms and armor hung on the walls, and 
 more especially by a large number of magnificent portraits, 
 originals, by Vandyck, Rubens, Holbein, Janssens, etc. As 
 to the exterior, the beautiful inner court, the noble towers, 
 the massive walls which had actually borne the brunt of 
 many a fight, and the surrounding grounds on the banks of 
 the " soft flowing Avon," the only comment I could make 
 at the time must now be my description to you, and that is 
 Oh.! Oh! Oh! Oh! an exclamation endlessly repeated, 
 until I feel that it is too much, that I am more than full, 
 and then I shut my eyes and run over in tears of joy and 
 gratitude that I am permitted to look upon such scenes, 
 and to taste even on earth such exquisite pleasure. But 
 the waiter comes to announce our carriage. A short ride to 
 the rails, and then, in another hour, we shall be where, 
 
420 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 think you? In Stratford-upon-Avon, the. home of Shake- 
 speare! " Till then, sit still, my soul !" 
 
 Tuesday, June 23. I have come, have seen, have been 
 conquered, as all others must be who stand on the spots 
 where he stood, look on the scenes and move through the 
 streets with which he was familiar, and above all shut them- 
 selves in that still and peaceful sanctuary, surrounded by 
 the emblems of religion and mortality, with the few visible 
 things which remain to mark his resting-place and give 
 assurance of his actual humanity. It is astonishing how 
 little is left connected with the material life of Shakespeare. 
 It would seem that Providence designed that we should find 
 his monument in his works, and all is obliterated save Jiis 
 birth-place (the mere shell of that), a few scraps of paper, 
 unimportant legal documents, with his signature upon them, 
 and his tomb. But I think this circumstance invests those 
 precious relics with a more measureless power over the 
 mind. We simply gaze and think. And surely no more 
 fitting mausoleum could be erected for him than that beau- 
 tiful old village church, so sweetly standing on the grassy 
 bank of the gentle Avon, and pointing with its modest spire 
 to the Heaven which gave us that glorious genius, -and which 
 we cannot but hope has received him to its blessed rest and 
 its worthier spheres of activity. That speaking bust ! The 
 white paint daubed on it by the impious hand of the mis- 
 erable Malone has lately been removed with great care, 
 leaving the original life-colors which the custom of his 
 times had given it, and giving us more of information as to 
 his actual appearance than a library of commentaries, and, 
 though without the least pretension to artistic merit, stirring 
 our imaginations and feelings more deeply than all the 
 chiseled wonders of ancient or modern times. But time 
 fails me, and I have not begun to write what I want to. 
 
 Meantime Henry calls for my company to Shottery, Anne 
 Hathaway's cottage, you know, and I must not delay. I 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 421 
 
 have a world in my heart to say to every one of you in our 
 sweet Angelica home, never so dear to my thought as now. 
 But I may not, and with love more deep than words to one 
 and all, can only write myself, 
 
 Unalterably yours, 
 
 J. H. R. 
 
 LONDON, June 26, 1863. 
 
 Well, here we are at last, in the great metropolis an 
 epithet surely well bestowed, and here we meet our first 
 letters from home. They are eagerly devoured, as you may 
 well suppose; and thankful is my heart, to-night, to hear of 
 the health and comfort of my dear ones, never so precious 
 as now when they seem separated from me by so impassable 
 a barrier. 
 
 Thus far all things have gone smoothly with us, and 
 rarely have I had so much enjoyment within the same space 
 of time, never of such a kind. 
 
 I look back upon our rapid flight through North Wales, 
 across the island and northward to York, then south through 
 the garden-like center of the island, and by a gradual de- 
 tour eastward again to this great center of life for Britain, 
 and almost for the world, in the course of which we have 
 visited churches, cathedrals, and colleges, castles, baronial 
 residences, art collections, and palaces, curious old towns 
 and houses, and localities associated with some of the great- 
 est names and events in history and the grandest produc- 
 tions in English literature I say I look back upon it with 
 a strange feeling as though it was all a wild exciting dream. 
 I appear to have lived months rather than days. It has 
 been a succession of the intensest and most delightful ex- 
 citements, filling me more than full all the time, and making 
 it necessary every two or three days to hold up and shut 
 my eyes and ears to prevent me from being sick. My com- 
 panion is, as you may imagine, a great comfort and help to 
 
422 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 me every way. His previous acquaintance with England 
 and its modes of travel, his habits of journeying at home, 
 his physical vigor, his readiness in making acquaintances 
 even among strangers, and the wonderful extent to which 
 he is known in this country above all, his unvarying kind- 
 ness and geniality, make him invaluable to me. If I had 
 been alone, I am sure I should not have got over one half 
 the ground. As it is, I perpetually groan because he hur- 
 ries me away from everything before I get half as much of 
 it as I want. But " Time! Time!" is his perpetual admo- 
 nition, and in the retrospect I see the soundness of his 
 judgment. It is idle to think of exhausting any one thing, 
 because each is the center of an ever-widening circle of 
 interest, in which months and years might be spent with 
 profit and delight; and we have a vast country, and then 
 the vaster and still richer Continent before us, of which we 
 must be content with a mere bird's-eye view. 
 
 When last I wrote, we had just reached Stratford- on-Avon. 
 Though a pretty enough town, in a lovely situation, there is 
 absolutely nothing of any special interest in Stratford, out- 
 side of the birthplace and the tomb of Shakespeare ; and 
 it is really wonderful how few and what insignificant 
 relics of any kind whatever have been obtained of the 
 greatest genius this island, or perhaps the world, has known, 
 and this in a country which is full of the memorials of 
 men of his age, and of centuries before him, about whom 
 no one cares a straw whether they ever lived or not. But 
 what does remain is just what we could desire his birth- 
 place and his tomb with Anne Hathaway's cottage as a 
 little by-hint, a pleasing episode, to complete our assurance 
 that he was a man, like the rest of us. I was much affected 
 as I stood in the sweet chancel of that beautiful parish 
 church alone with all that is left of him and recalled 
 what he was, and saw what he is. We were very kindly 
 entertained there by a Mr. Flower, son of the mayor of the 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 423 
 
 borough to whom Mr. Beecher brought letters, but who was 
 himself away from home. He took us in his carriage, and 
 drove us twenty miles through all the region round a 
 charming jaunt. That was on Tuesday evening, 23d, and 
 there we remained until Thursday evening. 
 
 At Oxford, again, I found a world of wonders, which it 
 would be as absurd to attempt to describe as it would have 
 been to try to exhaust. It is vacation, and we saw but few 
 of the gownsmen ; but of the twenty-five or thirty colleges, 
 the least of which would give celebrity to a town of America, 
 we took a rapid outside view of several of the most note- 
 worthy ; spent the best part of a day in the study of a most 
 interesting collection of pencil-sketches by Raffaelle and 
 Michael Angelo, studies for their great works, and full 
 of interest as showing how their thoughts grew under their 
 pencil; found another generous Englishman who would 
 have us to his house and almost overwhelmed us with his 
 generous hospitality. 
 
 And now we are here. Mr. Holme was already in 
 lodgings when we arrived. He had taken a more northerly 
 circuit by the North English and Scotch lakes, through 
 Glasgow and Edinburgh, and reached London one day 
 before us. We frequently meet, and have spent some days 
 together. He has been hard at work and feels that he has 
 pretty much " done" London, and is impatient to be off. 
 For me, London seems an ocean, out of which I have 
 dipped a bucketful here and there, and from each bucket- 
 ful have by hard straining swallowed about a pint. Of the 
 mere material city itself, the streets and lanes and curious 
 old courts, the buildings public and private, the river with 
 its bridges and craft, the monuments, the parks and squares, 
 the very names of the localities all so rich in historical 
 associations, and peopled with the affecting memories of 
 so many generations of men the interest appears inexhaus- 
 tible. I could spend months in wandering over it, search- 
 
424 JOHN II. RA YMOND. 
 
 ing into its corners, spelling out its inscriptions, and, in 
 fancy, reconstructing its old forms of society and life, and 
 re-enacting on the very spots which witnessed them a 
 thousand thrilling scenes with which history has made us 
 familiar, and in which we find the roots of so much that is 
 precious in our present civilization and social advancement. 
 This field of interest I have largely to myself; for Mr. 
 Beecher has but little of the antiquarian in him, and he is 
 fully engaged with art, and with the men of living England. 
 The sweet and solemn feeling which rested on rny spirit as 
 I stood alone in the hush of evening in that beautiful chan- 
 cel at Stratford-on-Avon, and communed with the spirit of 
 my great master, Shakespeare, in the presence of his visible 
 effigy, has been continually repeated here, though in less 
 degree, as I have mused by the tombs of scores of the 
 mighty dead, and read the inscriptions which affection or 
 vanity or party feeling or sheer stupidity have written above 
 them; and still more when I have visited the haunts of their 
 actual life, looking on the very houses they occupied, 
 pacing the courts in which they lived, stepping on the very 
 stones over which they daily trod, and in some instances 
 sitting in the seats which knew their forms familiarly. A 
 good part of one day I devoted to hunting up as many as I 
 could find of the localities with whose names " Bozzy" has 
 made us so familiar', in connection with the circle of wits 
 and scholars by whom Johnson was surrounded including 
 Goldsmith and Burke and Reynolds and Garrick wind- 
 ing up with a pilgrimage to " No. 88 Gough Square," in whose 
 garret the finishing stroke was given to the great dictionary, 
 and to "No. n Bolt Court," where the great lexicographer 
 expired ; thence to the very door of the secluded chamber 
 in which " poor Goldy" breathed his last, at " No. 2 Brick 
 Court, Middle Temple, up two pair of stairs, and on the right 
 hand at the top of the staircase." That evening, at about 6, 
 I went with Mr. Holme, and dined at the " Mitre Tavern, 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 425 
 
 Fleet Street," the favorite resort of Johnson and his friends, 
 and where he and Boswell sat one evening and planned the 
 famous tour to the Hebrides. The furniture is preserved 
 with religious care in the same condition in which it then 
 was, and you may sit in the Doctor's favorite corner, on the 
 very bench on which he sat, beside the grate whose coals he 
 loved to stir as he talked, and gaze upon the same picture 
 of " Darby and Joan" above the mantel that amused his eye, 
 while off the same boards you regale yourself with his favorite 
 dish of "hashed veal and onions" or "plum-pudding with 
 lobster sauce." 
 
 Entirely distinct from this kind of interest is that which 
 is afforded by the actual aspects of London, and by the 
 wonderful collections of art and antiquities which the im- 
 mense wealth of her noblemen and capitalists enable them 
 to augment to a magnitude of which we can hardly form a 
 conception. Of the architecture of London no one can 
 have other than a very poor opinion. Except portions of 
 the Tower and of glorious old Westminster, there is hardly 
 anything older than the fifteenth century, and the great 
 majority of the public edifices are by Christopher Wren and 
 Inigo Jones, and their still feebler imitators, in that most 
 puerile and vapid of all styles, the (so called) " classical." 
 St. Paul's is the principal one, and, on the whole, grand 
 from its very magnitude, and well balanced in its .propor- 
 tions, but, with the exception of its majestic dome, unim- 
 pressive and uninteresting, despite the profusion of its costly 
 decorations. The House of Parliament, a modern Gothic 
 finely situated on the banks of the Thames, having some 
 noble towers, and really imposing when you stand under its 
 walls and look up, is in its general appearance stretched out 
 in such long horizontal lines, and so cut up into little parts, 
 as to lose almost all of its effect. Of the other churches by 
 Wren and his school, of which the city is full, " pretty" is 
 the strongest term of praise which they could ever have 
 
426 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 deserved, and they are sadly spoiled for that by the black 
 coat of soot and dust which smirches all their white faces, 
 and hides the carved cherubs and garlands and lyres and 
 scrolls in which their original beauty so largely con- 
 sisted. This same wretched style is carried through all the 
 ornamental portions of the city, and the eye wearies of the 
 long unmeaning reaches of Grecian columns, pilasters, 
 friezes, and pediments, adorned with Etruscan vases and 
 poor statuary, which make their finest and most praised 
 streets. The older part of the city is built of dingy brick, 
 but much of it is well built, and is interesting from its variety, 
 respectable because unaffected, and often noble from its 
 magnitude and adaptedness to use. 
 
 The bridges are all fine. The palaces, i.e. the royal 
 residences, are all mean, considered as such, but are happily 
 free (in the main) from the abominations of that bastard 
 classic style. I have no time to speak of the grand old 
 Abbey, which is worthy of its position and its fame. We 
 attended service there on Sunday evening. It was the third 
 time I had heard the full cathedral service of the Anglican 
 Church first at York, and next, Sunday before last, at the 
 old church in the Temple Inn. I ought to have mentioned 
 that old " Temple Church " as an exception to the general 
 barrenness of architectural interest in London. It is on 
 many accounts more curious than even Westminster, having 
 been built and occupied by the old Knights Templar, the 
 "Red Cross Knights," and being now in possession of the 
 lawyers. The service there was surpassingly fine oh such 
 music! and such weird effects of colored light, playing in 
 such exquisite harmonies among clustered pillars and lofty 
 groined arches and sculptured angel-forms and the still 
 effigies of dead kings and queens, princes and priests and 
 warriors that sleep ^on every side ! I tell you, it must be 
 a stonier nature than mine that is not dissolved, and 
 carried out of itself, and borne upward by such influences. 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE 427 
 
 Set me down, therefore, henceforth, as an honest admirer of 
 the old medieval service, which I want now to hear in its 
 completeness, and without admixture, as we shall hear it in 
 the Romish cathedrals of the Continent. You need not 
 think I shall turn Catholic, however, right away. This 
 worship, so far as it is worship at all, is not through the rea- 
 son and the affections, the noblest part of cur nature, but 
 through the senses and the imagination. It is a worship for 
 a people in the infancy of its rational intelligence, and could 
 never satisfy the developed and enlightened understanding, 
 which demands authenticated truth for its food and logical 
 grounds for its faith, and which worships by love and 
 voluntary praise a God made manifest by His words and 
 acts. And yet as He is the Author, too, of the senses, and 
 of the sense of beauty, and of the imagination, and as these 
 in their highest perfection belong to the most perfectly 
 developed man, I see not why we may not also offer 
 acceptable worship through these; and I have my doubts 
 of the wisdom which so peremptorily excludes them from the 
 province of religion. But, however that may be, I have 
 no doubt of the essentially bad taste and false judgment 
 which attempts to combine these two forms of worship, so 
 essentially unlike in their means and their ends, in one 
 connected service. And this is the blunder of the Church 
 of England, of a people who always blunder in the domain of 
 taste. The reading of the Scripture Lessons and the 
 English of the intoned prayers, which constituted the 
 rationalized parts of the service, I felt to be an intrusion, 
 a sheer impertinence, at once breaking the charm, dissolv- 
 ing the spell which was leading my spirit captive out of it- 
 self and towards the Infinite Object of AdoratioiV and 
 Love, and at the same time giving no compensating stimu- 
 lus to the intelligence in the forms of spiritual instruction 
 or persuasives to holiness. That was my experience last 
 Sunday evening in Westminster, after which, however, we 
 
428 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 listened to a moderately able, soundly evangelical, and 
 admirably enunciated sermon from the Bishop of Lincoln. 
 Two of the most animated and exhilarating days were 
 spent, the first at Hampton Court, and the other at Syden- 
 ham. 
 
 After an elaborate description of the Crystal Pal- 
 ace at Sydenham and its diversified grounds, he writes : 
 
 I think I never saw so many happy people together in one 
 place, and happy without an exception to the end. The 
 only drawback was (and that was all the time) when I 
 thought of you all and grieved that you were not there ; and 
 once, when I saw a little Nell and Harry and Minnie rolling 
 together down a green bank, with shouts of laughter, while 
 Pa and Ma and Nurse looked on and smiled, I had to dive 
 into a corner and wipe my foolish eyes because they were 
 not mine. 
 
 My time is gone, and as usual I must close without finish- 
 ing. You see how impossible it is to tell you all, or half. 
 I meant to say a word or two of my social experiences. I 
 have made no efforts to get introduced, and yet in one way 
 and another I have been drawn in. Yesterday morning I 
 attended a public breakfast with Mr. Beecher, of which I 
 will write you more fully. Last evening we dined with our 
 Minister, Mr. Adams, and met Mr. Cobden, the great Par- 
 liamentarian ; Mr. Browning, the poet; Mr. Howard, brother 
 of the Duchess of Sutherland ; and Mr. Latham, our Cali- 
 fornian Senator, and his wife and had a good time gene- 
 rally. 
 
 You will infer that my health is improving. I hope to 
 bring you home a husband worth considerably more thati 
 the one you sent away. 
 
 We await with great anxiety the next news about Lee's 
 ugly movement. This morning the rumors have a disagree- 
 able look. We keep the stiffest kind of upper lip, however. 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 429 
 
 PARIS, July 13, 1863. 
 
 MY DEAR S. : . . . Nothing is more distinct in it all than the 
 conviction of the utter absurdity of attempting to put into 
 words a millionth part of the experience of elevation, ex- 
 citement, and delight through which I am continually pass- 
 ing. Not the least wonderful circumstance about it is its 
 perpetual variety : new surprises every day, and every one 
 seeming to surpass every other. Old London held out well 
 with me ; and England generally, not excepting the island- 
 ers themselves. My cosmopolitan nature found points 
 enough of sympathy for the basis of a good deal of real re- 
 spect and (almost) affection, and our last days on English 
 ground were among the best ; in some respects, the best. 
 
 Winchester Cathedral sits GREEN, at present, among all 
 the princely structures by whose majestic beauty we have 
 been moved ; and everything connected with it and with 
 our visit to it concurred to make it one of the events of our 
 journey. The archaeological interest of the city is very 
 great : it was a royal residence from the days of King 
 Arthur. The spot on which the cathedral stands has been 
 consecrated ground for 2500 years, as the site first of a 
 Druidical, then of a Roman, and at last of a Christian tem- 
 ple ; and in the structure itself are distinctly traceable the 
 marks of every style of architecture from the earliest Saxon 
 to the latest English (not including that accursecl abortion, 
 the Renaissance, which has thrust itself upon me at every 
 turn in London, until my soul positively loathes it), and of 
 each a faultless specimen, and all blending in a unity most 
 harmonious and pure. Then, the perfect preservation in 
 which all was found, so unlike all the other ancient edifices 
 we had seen ; the intelligence of the enthusiastic young 
 librarian .who showed us around ; the intelligent earnest- 
 ness with which the service was performed, well, well 
 good-by, Winchester ! We part outwardly, but in my heart 
 you live, a joy forever. 
 
430 JOHN //. RA YMOND. 
 
 I will say nothing of Salisbury, which touched us mainly 
 with its beautiful spire ; nothing of Southampton, with its 
 fine old abbey ruin (Nettley); nothing (less than nothing, 
 were it possible) of the transit across the Channel ; nothing 
 of Rouen, with its fine cathedral, and its finer " St. Ouen," 
 and its superfine " de Bon Secours," which last was a charm- 
 ing novelty, and struck the key-note to our new life in 
 France. Oh such sweet, simple, infantine, sensuous concep- 
 tions alike of beauty and of piety ! The interior of the 
 church is a radiant nosegay of colors, blue, green, red, 
 gold, exquisitely harmonized and distributed in the most 
 tasteful patterns ; and the statuary was so white and so grace- 
 ful; and over the altar of the Lady's Chapel such a charm- 
 ing life-size wax-doll of the Queen of Heaven, standing 
 with her sweet little royal baby in her arms, their robes (of 
 silk and satin and lace) of immaculate blue and white, and 
 their golden crowns sparkling with rubies, pearls, and dia- 
 monds. And then the votive tablets all around the church, 
 little marble oblongs inscribed with gilt letters : " Thanks 
 and remembrance to ma bonne mZre. August 6, 1807." "I 
 was sick : I prayed earnestly to my good mother : I recov- 
 ered. June 17, 1823." "Praise God, who has heard me 
 through the intercession of Mary." "O comfortress of the 
 bruised heart! how I love thee ! May 24, 1854," etc. etc. 
 each accompanied with the initials of the votary's name. I 
 seemed to be in a spiritual nursery, and to hear on every 
 side of me the prattle and the lisps of infants ; and to see such 
 beautiful provision made for the feeble in intellect and the 
 helpless of heart : not to instruct and to develop and 
 strengthen oh bless you ! no but to suckle and amuse them. 
 And so we came to Paris. There we arrived on Saturday 
 night, just in time to avoid traveling on the Sabba-day. 
 
 Your exhortations Rome-ward, though varied and em- 
 phasized by Mrs. Stowe, I fear will fail of their intended 
 effect for want of time. We do not lay out much ground in 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 43 1 
 
 advance, and when I found that Mr. Beecher was not dis- 
 posed to start at once for Italy, I relinquished the expecta- 
 tion of seeing the land of classical antiquity and song at all 
 this time. Amidst such surroundings temporizing is fatal. 
 
 Henry and I get on charmingly, he assuming the leader- 
 ship and glorying in being foremost on all occasions, and I 
 modestly yielding the priority which carries with it the labor 
 and responsibility. We keep each other stirred up perpetu- 
 ally to avoid stagnation, and now that Holme has come in, 
 we two, of course, take sides together against the old Lion. 
 
 Farewell, and God be with you. With hunger of love 
 for the dear land and the dear ones all therein, 
 
 Your brother 
 JOHN. 
 
 To his WIFE. 
 
 PARIS, July 17, 1863. 
 
 .... We left London on Thursday P.M. of last week, 
 coming to Paris via Southampton and Havre. . . . We 
 had a quiet sea in crossing the Channel, and came on shore 
 at Havre with the queer sensation, for the first time, of 
 being in a land and among a people of " strange speech." 
 The ride to Rouen and thence to Paris, by rail, gave us an 
 opportunity of seeing a very favorable specimen of French 
 scenery, and the outward aspect of country life. The 
 contrast with the appearance of things in England was, from 
 the beginning, very marked and curious. Of landscape 
 gardening, and of forest scenes, there are none. Every- 
 thing is smooth as a Frenchman's newly shaven chin. The 
 comparatively few trees that remain are trimmed up the 
 trunks as far as a common ladder will reach, and nothing 
 of the top is left but what would make the pattern of a good- 
 sized wig. The favorite arrangement of trees is in straight 
 lines. The fields are divided into parallelograms, about as 
 
432 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 big as garden-patches, and these very rarely separated by 
 fences or hedges. For miles together, you will ride by 
 what seems one vast kitchen-garden ; then you will come to 
 the chateau, where the proprieter probably resides, and not 
 far off a cluster of cottages so close together that the yards 
 adjoin, and you apparently have to pass from one yard into 
 another, through four or five perhaps, in order to reach the 
 more central ones. 
 
 A strange country, you will think. But it is hard to spoil 
 nature, and the perfect neatness of the farming and the 
 buildings, the variety of shades of green, brown, and yellow 
 that diversify the carpet-like champaign, and the picturesque 
 forms of the chateaux and cottages, are in beautiful har- 
 mony with each other, and make up a landscape as interest- 
 ing as it is characteristic and un-English. The people of 
 Normandy are proud of their scenery, and think the world 
 has not its equal elsewhere. 
 
 We had a funny time in getting to our quarters in Paris, 
 no one of us speaking French and no " interpreter" being 
 at hand, as he should have been, at the station. I had the 
 easy part assigned me of taking charge of the shawls and 
 carpet-bags, while Mr. Holme started off very boldly to 
 obtain a carriage, and Mr. Beecher undertook to engineer 
 our trunks through the Octroi ; />., the city customs. After 
 waiting at my post until I became uneasy, I started first in 
 pursuit of Mr. Beecher. He had got the trunks passed, 
 and was trying to understand how much was to be paid, 
 and some eight or ten Frenchmen were, with infinite good- 
 humor, helping to clear his bewildered faculties by chatter- 
 ing and gesticulating all at once, and dancing around him, 
 like so many crazy monkeys. He stood and looked his 
 blankest, until a divine idea struck him ; and thrusting his 
 hand into his pocket, he drew it forth heaping full of gold, 
 silver, and copper, and held it out open before them with 
 one of his comical and speaking looks, as much as to say : 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 433 
 
 "There, Messieurs, satisfy yourselves." This stroke of 
 nature was received with a shout of merriment, the full 
 significance of which became more apparent to us when 
 one of the men picked out of the glittering heap three sous, 
 and motioned to Mr. Beecher to put up the rest. From 
 that time, the American gentilhomme was the popular 
 favorite, and nothing could be too much or too good for him. 
 We have spent the time since in exploring the city and 
 studying its habits and its curiosities. I know so much 
 less of French history and antiquities than of English that 
 I am chiefly interested in the present aspects of the city and 
 its inhabitants. And you can hardly conceive of the differ- 
 ence between it and London. In everything that lies on 
 the surface the advantage is infinitely on the side of Paris 
 and the French : they are so amiable and kind, so simple- 
 hearted and unconscious, they live together like so many 
 good-tempered children ; you never feel the least fear of 
 being criticised, and are perfectly sure that to render you 
 an assistance or to promote your comfort will make them 
 happier than it does you. The out-of-door life here is so 
 delightful ! but I am obliged to close an unfinished letter, 
 having accomplished so much through manifold hindrances. 
 I close in hot haste. 
 
 To Mrs. R. R. RAYMOND. 
 
 PARIS, July 14, 1863. 
 
 MY VERY DEAR SISTER: I have not forgotten you 
 through these weeks of silence, nor the kind interest you 
 took in this delightful expedition, which is to me like 
 life from the dead. Many a loving talk to you have I 
 dreamed out in my fruitless way; but, really, the amount 
 of actual labor I have had to perform, both of body and 
 mind, has kept me so continually used up that I only 
 wonder that I have done as much writing as I have. 
 
434 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 Traveling with our indomitable " Dom" means work, I 
 assure you. 
 
 But despite perpetual weariness, perhaps because of it r 
 and in the midst of a sort of constant bewilderment of 
 enjoyment, I am conscious of a steady improvement of 
 health, a return to my old self a personage almost lost 
 for the last six months, and for whom, I must confess,, 
 with all his faults, I have a sneaking fondness. O Mary, 
 what an indescribably charming time I have had! I feel 
 like advising every friend I've got in the world to take a 
 thousand dollars from his generous brothers and to come 
 over with just such a glorious old customer as H. W. B. 
 for a European tour. How it will seem in the end, 
 when these Elysian wanderings are over, to " drop into 
 myself and be" a schoolmaster, I don't know, and yet I 
 have no misgivings on that score. For that anticipation 
 is linked with others which already begin to draw my 
 heart toward the Occident, and no doubt I shall soon 
 enough be ready to turn my face thither too. " Home- 
 ward bound!" would even now be more than tolerable, 
 if that last word did not suggest some inward connec- 
 tion with "bounding billows" and matters thereunto 
 appertaining. 
 
 You probably have seen enough of my home epistles 
 to know how we have shaped our course hitherto. And 
 now we are in France, " la belle France," and the better 
 prepared to appreciate the fitness of the epithet from 
 having come to it out of solid old England. 
 
 Such a day as we had yesterday! We had got our- 
 selves domiciliated in our magnificent quarters, rooms in 
 the "Grand Hotel de Paris," which in the splendor of 
 crimson and gold, velvet, silk and lace, porcelain and 
 bronzes, mirrors, vases, statuary, and what not, outshine 
 the finest of all the royal apartments we admired in Eng- 
 land; and after a luxurious toilet, and a dejeuner the first 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 435 
 
 mouthful of which filled our eyes with tears of delight 
 and every succeeding morsel extorted a new interjection 
 of wonder and praise, we sallied forth, and took our first 
 view of elegant Paris there is no other word. I must 
 tell you, though, that while we were at breakfast, Sim- 
 mons turned up, the veritable Simmons, " the original 
 Jacobs," and was established forthwith, and with accla- 
 mation, Valet-de-place and Courier-General for the Con- 
 tinent. Under his intelligent guidance we had accom- 
 plished an incredible amount of sight-seeing, of exteriors 
 principally, before we returned to our hotel to dinner. 
 After dinner we stepped into our vottttre, and away 
 with the stream of carriages that was already pouring 
 through the Champs Elysees and the Avenue de Neuilly 
 to the Bois de Boulogne. 
 
 The improvements in this famous piece of woods are 
 among the glories of the present emperor's administra- 
 tion, and I have no doubt, to those who knew them when 
 there was nothing of interest there, it may appear very 
 wonderful and very fine that by vast labor and expense 
 so respectable a forest of pigmy timber should have 
 been produced, and such a winding maze of faultless 
 carriage-way completed. But we had come too recently 
 from the inimitable garden landscapes of England to 
 appreciate it; and I grew weary of the monotonous 
 variety which so much elaborate ingenuity had been 
 wasted to create, until, just as the last gleams of twilight 
 were fading out, at about 9 P.M., we got back to the Arc 
 de Triomphe, and Paris in her gala dress burst upon our 
 enraptured vision. Such a scene I had never dreamed 
 of before. Indeed, the most striking impressions I re- 
 ceive are those which overwhelm me continually at 
 points with the names of which I am most familiar, and 
 by whose appearance, one might naturally suppose, fre- 
 quent description would have made it impossible for one 
 
43 6 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 to be taken by surprise. And such was my experience at 
 that point. I had always known that the Arc de Tri- 
 omphe de 1'Etoile stood on an elevation, and looked down 
 through a broad avenue successively upon the Champs 
 Elysees, the Place de la Concorde, and the garden of the 
 Tuileries, a distance of a mile and a half, constituting 
 the most fashionable place of resort for this pleasure- 
 seeking community, and that evening was the best time 
 to enjoy it. We had passed through this grand prome- 
 nade on our way out, and I supposed we had "done" it; 
 and, jaded with a day of sensational excitement and our 
 long and comparatively tame evening drive, I had but 
 one additional pleasure to anticipate that night my pil- 
 low and a comfortable sleep. In this state of mind we 
 drew near to the city on our way home. Gradually the 
 number of carriages and of promenaders increased, and 
 as the shadows of evening deepened, the gaslights began 
 to flash out in every direction, at first individual and 
 isolated, soon by twos and threes, and presently in a 
 perpetual succession. The effect was at first pretty, then 
 beautiful, by and by a surprise, and at last amazement; 
 nor did I distinctly understand the meaning of this 
 extraordinary multitude of street lights until our own 
 driver quietly stopped his horses, took out a match and 
 kindled two more, one on either side of his box, and on 
 we went, contributing our share to the general illumina- 
 tion. The law requires this of every vehicle, though 
 there never was a place where it could be less necessary. 
 When we reached and turned the Arch, we stopped our 
 carriage for half an hour, just to gaze upon the extra- 
 ordinary, refulgent spectacle which blazed before us. 
 Can you conceive an avenue two or three times as 
 wide as Broadway, sloping down before you into a broad 
 square, and stretching apparently two or three miles into 
 the very heart of a vast, palatial city; thousands, tens of 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE, 437 
 
 thousands, practically millions of gay and festive 'people, 
 men, women, and children, moving and mingling on the 
 scene, in groups of everysize and of every description . 
 walking, standing, sitting, reclining ; talking in whispers* 
 talking in quiet conversational tones, talking with shouts; 
 laughing, musing, making love, singing, smoking, drink- 
 ing, eating ices, at the tables in front of the elegant little 
 saloons which abound everywhere: watching the gambols 
 of their children alike only in this: a sense of perfect 
 freedom to be happy in just the way of their own choice > 
 and a willingness that everybody else should do the 
 same ? 
 
 If you can get a picture of this, and then fancy in some 
 measure the inspiriting contagion of such a vision upon 
 yourself, a part of it, you still lack the most peculiar 
 feature of the whole, and that is or was for me the 
 lights. The borders of the avenue, and all the great 
 bounding lines of the squares and gardens are marked 
 out by the city lamps, which are twice as high, twice as 
 bright, and twice as thick as in any other city I ever 
 visited; then at intervals, in every direction, where some 
 pavilion, pleasure-garden, theater, or other place of 
 amusement would make itself conspicuous amidst the 
 general brilliancy, you see blazing constellations in every 
 variety of tasteful arrangement; and last, and most 
 peculiar and beautiful of all, the moving lights on the 
 carriage-way, not to be numbered by tens, hundreds, or 
 thousands, but myriads, near by winding and weaving 
 in a graceful mazy dance, farther on growing closer and 
 more compressed, like the movements of a busy crowd, 
 then swarming like a vast host of fire-flies, until, away 
 down on the Champs Elys^ees, the intervening distances 
 lost in the perspective, they blend in a sparkling lake 
 of light, whose surface glimmers and flashes every- 
 where with constant suggestions of the joyous life 
 
43 8 JOHN H. RA YMOND, 
 
 beneath, of which all this brilliancy is only the orna- 
 ment, and of which the cheerful hum that fills the 
 universal atmosphere, broken only by song and laugh 
 and occasional burst of instrumental music, is the 
 audible expression. You will believe me, that before 
 we reached our hotel all sense of fatigue was gone, and 
 the idea of retiring to our rooms was simply preposte- 
 rous. 
 
 Out again we went, and rojand and round the streets 
 we walked; for the larger streets and boulevards seemed 
 just as populous and just as resplendent as the gardens, 
 squares, and grand avenues; and wound up the day with 
 ices and cakes on the broad pave before our hotel, 
 amidst a crowd of laughing, smoking, chatting, and 
 every way elegant and agreeable loungers, pretty well on 
 the way between midnight and morning. 
 
 And now, I have used up all my time with this stupid 
 stuff, and may not stop to tell you how happy your good 
 faithful letter, which came to hand since I began writing, 
 has made me. It brought Brooklyn before me more 
 vividly than it has been for weeks, and the old Polytech- 
 nic, with the whirl and sweat of commencement. How 
 strange that I am here, so free from responsibility and 
 care, spending day after day and night after night in a 
 round of pleasurable excitement, while all the rest are 
 pegging away as usual, doing my work with their own, 
 yet no one" complaining, but all apparently happy that I 
 am happy! Well, I ought to believe in disinterested affec- 
 tion, though all the world beside had reason to be faith- 
 less. I am right glad to learn that everything went off 
 so nicely, and shall, for a while now, feel comforted in 
 the thought that my fellow-laborers, too, are resting. I 
 hope that Robert will find time to drop me a line, for I 
 long to know how things have gone in the Institute 
 since I left, and what the Board have done with respect 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 439 
 
 to next year. Have any heads fallen? and whose? As 
 the time draws near for the opening of the new term 
 I feel a little anxious about the vacancies. But as I 
 can render no assistance, I think it not wise to borrow 
 trouble. 
 
 We feel at times stirred by the war news which reaches 
 us ; but we have found that the first intelligence is all 
 prepared for the European market, and that it is a mere 
 waste of feeling to be moved by it. And by the time 
 we can get reliable accounts the novelty is all over. So 
 we manage, between the two, in patience to possess our 
 souls; and having satisfied ourselves that our personal 
 duty is, for the present, pleasure, we believe that other 
 duties will not clash therewith, and keep on the even 
 tenor of our way. When we have turned our faces 
 homeward, I doubt whether we shall remain so philo- 
 sophical. 
 
 And now, dear sister, good-by. The Lord bless you 
 and yours, and, whether in retirement and repose or in 
 the stern field of toil and strife, may He keep and use 
 you for His glory! We are doing up Paris with all our 
 might, and hope to get away by Saturday or Monday 
 next. When you hear from us again, we shall be skim- 
 ming the lakes or climbing the mountain-heights of 
 Switzerland. We shall dip into North Italy, but shall 
 not go to Rome. Love to all. BROTHER JOHN. 
 
 To E. C. 
 
 FRIBOURG, July 28, 1863. 
 
 I am in no fit condition to write to you to-night ; for 
 it is bed-time, and we have to start from here at five to- 
 morrow morning ; and what is worse, I am drunk drunk 
 as a fool, or as a lord, or as both. For the last hour I 
 have been beside myself, whether in the body or out of 
 
440 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 the body I cannot tell God knoweth. I have wept and 
 laughed by turns ; I have sung and shouted, and leaped 
 and danced, and soared on eagle's wings, and clapped 
 my hands, and cried " Glory to God ! glory to God ! 
 Hallelujah !" till there is no strength left in me. But 
 drunk as I am drunk on nectar I cannot go to bed, 
 without just telling you that I have been walking with 
 the angels, and talking with them, too, and hearing them 
 sing and oh how I wished th.at you had been there too ! 
 Why must I be so full, and overfull my poor little pint- 
 measure dipped and drowned in such floods of delight 
 and all my loved and loving ones, those who have pro- 
 cured it for me and deserve it so much more, three 
 thousand miles away ! But it will not be so long ; we 
 shall stand together and look on nobler sights, and listen 
 to nobler strains, and bathe together in rivers of a purer 
 bliss. I feel sure of that to-night the angels have sung 
 it to me, and I believe them. I believe that He who is 
 higher than the angels has whispered tome to-night that 
 this is so. "/," said He, "have made what you have 
 looked upon to-day, and what you have listened to this 
 night. Can you not trust me?" Yes, Lord ! blessed be 
 Thy name for such glimpses into the depth of the riches 
 of Thy power and Thy love ! Lovable beyond expres- 
 sion as Thou art in Thy works, who shall measure the 
 lovingness of Thy nature ? 
 
 But let me try, my " ancient and beloved" friend, to 
 tell in sober English what I have seen and heard. Well, 
 Esther, within one blessed and memorable twenty-four 
 hours I have looked upon the Jungfrau and listened to the Fri- 
 bourg organ; and having written that bold sentence, I 
 feel that I have told you all that words can convey. You 
 have heard of both a thousand times but alas ! alas ! 
 you know neither, and never will, until you come to Eu- 
 rope or go to Heaven, one or other of which I hope you 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 441 
 
 will try to do. There is a dismal, foggy ocean between 
 you and the former, and a river, I don't know how 
 broad or deep or dark (accounts differ), to be crossed 
 before you reach the other ; but take my advice, and 
 let neither the ocean nor the river deter or disturb you 
 when the opportunity offers. Leap toward it seize it 
 with both' hands and a grateful heart, confident that the 
 recompense will be great. 
 
 Well, Esther, I have at length had what your affection- 
 ate heart has so often desired for me mountain experi- 
 ence. The past week alone would have repaid all that 
 it has cost to come to Europe. You have seen the White 
 Mountains; and so had Mr. B. and Holme, and for the 
 first day or two the White Mountains were now and 
 then mentioned, by way of comparison, with some meas- 
 ure of patriotic exultation, but not since then, except in 
 honest confessions that those were but the beginnings. 
 Our first introduction. to this glorious congregation was 
 at Lucerne (quaint but comely), on the northern borders 
 of that beautiful emerald lake over which, looking south- 
 ward between noble Rigi on the left and bare and deso- 
 late Pilatus on the right, you caught the tops of many a 
 rocky crest peering one above the other, and uniting to 
 form a grand and lofty wall, battlemented, turreted, pin- 
 nacled, and serrated against the southern sky. The sun 
 poured floods of radiance over the entire scene, enrich- 
 ing the green slopes, chalet-studded, and the green lake- 
 mirror, and gilding all the mountain-tops; and all was 
 gloriously lovely. I did enjoy it. I felt my soul lifted- 
 but ah! how little did I know those mountains then! (or 
 now!) Next, after a charming ride on the lake, we took 
 horse and climbed to the top of Rigi, and began to get 
 some idea of mountain heights, and felt the exhilaration 
 of the free exultant airs that sport in those upper depths, 
 and ran like squirrels up and down the steep paths, and 
 
442 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 gathered "Alpine roses" (oh how brilliant!) by the hand- 
 ful over dizzy edges (poor Simmons grew very nervous, 
 as he trotted after us and tried to "guide" our wayward 
 steps, and even Holme, who proves an excellent traveler, 
 at last refused to follow our lead), and feasted our eyes 
 on as charming a landscape as was ever composed of 
 hills and vales, forests and lakes, cities, villages, and 
 hamlets. 
 
 The view embraced no less than twelve or thirteen 
 different lakes, and over one hundred and thirty distinct 
 mountain-peaks, and I don't know how many towns. 
 But the envious mists came up, and veiled the glories 
 of the setting sun the night was rainy and the morn- 
 ing little better and w r e should have come away with 
 a feeling of dissatisfaction, had we not felt that we 
 were about as full as we could hold for once, and looked 
 forward to other opportunities, when we hope for better 
 luck. Next (after the majestic sweetness of Lake Uri, 
 with Rutli, Fluelen, Altdorf, and all the places made 
 sacred by the memories of Tell), came the wild pass of 
 the St. Gothard, so grandly attacked and conquered by the 
 great Napoleon. More recent engineering has completed 
 its subjugation by the fine carriage-way which now 
 winds its course like some gigantic serpent for more 
 than twenty miles to its very summit, crossing and re- 
 crossing the swift and turbid Reuss (whose valley it 
 ascends) by eight successive bridges. 
 
 And now we pass slowly away from the realm of the 
 beautiful and picturesque, and the scene begins to take 
 on a severer aspect. The pretty villages one by one dis- 
 appear; the isolated chalets, perched on wild hill-sides, 
 or perilous cliffs, or in the nooks and clefts of the rocks, 
 grow rarer, and at last are seen no more. We leave the 
 forests behind the valley narrows, and the rocks multiply 
 and thrust themselves forward in stronger, wilder forms, 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 443 
 
 and the frenzied stream fights its headlong way against 
 fiercer opposition. The air grows chill, and soon masses 
 of snow begin to show themselves, first hid away in the 
 bottom of deep ravines and gorges, but soon more 
 openly, and at last in broad fields sweeping down the 
 long mountain-slopes, as conscious of being the rightful 
 denizens of that stern abode, and defiant of the puny 
 intruder man yet not always puny, even there. 
 
 All along that wild and weird ascent may be traced the 
 old military road built by Napoleon, and the mind does 
 involuntary homage to the boldness which could have con- 
 ceived such a project, and the united energy of will and 
 grandeur of scientific skill which achieved it. The present 
 carriage-road, though infinitely its superior as a piece of 
 finished engineering, and indeed passing praise, does not 
 begin to stir the imagination like the remains of that 
 wonderful road. For, to time and the immense expendi- 
 tures of national resources we give largely the credit of 
 that, and the means seem proportional to the end; and, 
 doubtless, the perfection of the result in great measure 
 conceals the magnificence of the difficulties overcome. 
 But there we seem to see the struggle, in its progress and 
 its result the struggle of mighty nature with one human 
 will; and step by step, in that gigantic conflict, we saw 
 her go down and the mightier HIM stride over her. Such 
 sharp ascents up slippery steeps, "such slender arches 
 spanning the dark gorges or the rushing flood, such 
 strange ways hewn along the face of dizzy precipices 
 and then the thought of the vast army with its ponder- 
 ous trains of artillery and supplies, which waited for the 
 construction of this unheard-of way, and were dragged 
 up those terrible grades, and over those thread-like 
 bridges, and through those perilous "galleries." At 
 one place (now tunneled) the old road passed around 
 a fearful cliff by means of platforms suspended from 
 
444 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 its top by chains ! And then, to crown the whole 
 and give a fitting finish to the gloomy grandeur 
 of this ascent, we reach at last the well-named DeviVs 
 Bridge (Teufelsbrucke). Here, amidst a scene of inde- 
 scribable savagery, the Reuss plunges headlong over a 
 mass of rocks heaped desolate and wild, down into a 
 black abyss from which the imagination shrinks back 
 with inexpressible shuddering, but right across which 
 the bridge is thrown, so near the face of the cataract 
 that the passer is wrapped in its mists and spray, and 
 swept by the swift eddies of the Hutschelm (" the hat- 
 rogue"), the elfish wind that ever gambols wildly up and 
 down the gorge. The gloom of the scene was deepened 
 to us by the heavy clouds which had for hours been 
 gathering round "the mountain's brow, and which now 
 came circling close around and throwing their contents 
 in sharp dashes over us. It tries one's nerves a little to 
 cross the modern bridge, ample and obvious as are its 
 provisions for security; but to look over its side and see 
 the old one, now disused and green with moss, twenty feet 
 below, barely wide enough for a single vehicle, making 
 its light leap across the awful chasm in the very center of 
 the whirling mist-wreaths and to think not merely of 
 human beings crossing there, but of whole armies meet- 
 ing at this point and contending with bloody throes for 
 the possession of that slender transit! don't you think 
 it would "a'most take your breath away"? 
 
 Emerging now into the green vale of Urseren, and 
 pausing for repose at Hospenthal, 4500 feet high, we 
 thought we were pretty well up in the world but we had 
 only reached the borders of the promised land. We soon 
 were in it with a vengeance. At Hospenthal, turning 
 off from the St. Gothard and mounting towards the 
 Furca pass, we -bade farewell to carriage-roads and car- 
 riages, and took to Alpenstocks and Alpine nags. Ah, 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 445 
 
 Esther, how shall I describe the glorious excitement of 
 that day, as we toiled over hill after hill, and wound 
 among those wild ravines, every turn opening some new 
 and unexpected change of view, and our spirits rising 
 higher with every ascending step ? We sang, and leaped, 
 and shouted, and ran, till our poor English courier (who, 
 like " panting Time, toiled after us in vain") protested in 
 behalf of the guides and the horses, and declared that 
 " My gracious! I have traveled with gentlemen who (I 
 thought) walked too fast; but, upon my word (now, ex- 
 cuse me, Mr. Beecher, it is so, or I wouldn't say it), you 
 American gentlemen really do not walk at all you run 
 like hares, gentlemen. You do, indeed." Or, getting 
 too far in advance of our conductors (?), we would linger 
 awhile to climb the sides of the ravine, and gather the 
 beautiful flowers which in such perfection and profusion 
 still bloomed amidst the desolation and showed the 
 loving Father-heart smiling all around us even there. Or, 
 for a change, we would mount our slow-paced, cautious- 
 footed ponies and, perfectly secure in the keeping of their 
 trained sagacity, give ourselves up to the meditations, 
 grand and sweet, inspired by such unaccustomed sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 And so we came to the summit of the Furca ridge 
 (7400 feet), and still our faces were turned upward; for 
 before we slept that night we must overtop the bloom- 
 ing Maienwang, 1500 feet more, and descend on the 
 other side into the rocky basin of the Grimsel. Fortify- 
 ing ourselves by a hearty and savory meal, at the lonely 
 inn of the Furca, against fatigues greater than we then 
 anticipated, we set forward on our way, light-footed and 
 light-hearted. Within an hour, turning a single angle 
 in our zigzag path, we came upon the Glacier of the 
 Rhone ! We had had distant glimpses of glaciers, pointed 
 out by our guides through chance openings and on far- 
 
44 6 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 off mountains, before ; but here it was at our very feet 
 or we rather at its foot a gigantic cataract from 
 a half to a quarter of a mile wide, sweeping down 
 from a height of more than 1000 feet, and rushing 
 straight forward to the foot of the hill-side along which 
 we walked, but arrested, not there and by that alone but 
 through all its tremendous course, by the Frost-King's 
 potent hand, and held, a monument of eternal wonder, 
 
 " In icy fetters fixed and motionless." 
 
 Beyond the summit of the ridge from which it de- 
 scended, we knew that the ice-lake which supplied it 
 extended eighteen miles back; but what we saw was quite 
 as much as we could take in. We watched the play of the 
 cloud-shadows chasing each other over the broad white 
 surface, admired the beautiful blue and green of the 
 crevasses, were dazed with the splendor of its sheen as 
 now and then the sun broke full upon it through open- 
 ings in the mists above us, and gazing into the dark 
 arched ice-cavern at its base, out of which the infant Rhone 
 came running and smiling into the light of day, we felt 
 the poetry of the statement, quoted by Baedecker from 
 some ancient geographer, that the river Rhodanus issued 
 "from the gates of eternal night at the foot of the pillar 
 of the sun." Skirting the base of this glacier for more 
 than half a mile, we turned at length its lower point, 
 crossed the river by a bridge, and in less than fifteen min- 
 utes were at the foot of the Maienwang (i.e., "blooming 
 turf-slope "). Rightly was it named; but how can I give 
 you the least idea of its appearance ? It was an immense 
 hill-side, on 'the same side of the valley as the glacier we 
 had just passed. Its perpendicular height was about 1500 
 feet ; it extended, I hardly dare to say how far, one or 
 two or more miles on down the valley, the opposite side of 
 which just at this point trended suddenly away, while the 
 Maienwang followed the turn more slowly and in a most 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 447 
 
 majestic and gentle curve, opening up a new and mag- 
 nificent prospect miles in extent. This concave slope, 
 in which the beautiful and the sublime vied for the ascen- 
 dency, was inclined to the horizon at an average angle of 
 from 60 to 75 degrees, and was covered, far as the 
 eye could reach, with rhododendrons ( " Alpine roses") now 
 in full bloom an unbroken sea of deepest green and the 
 most brilliant crimson ! The sun came out occasionally 
 as we ascended, and as the golden floods rolled down 
 that wonderful slope, and we, looking along the far sur- 
 face, saw the myriad flowers united in the perspective, 
 I leave you to guess on what a feast, what a surfeit of 
 beauty, our snow-wearied eyes made banquet. This was 
 the beauty but that mighty hill was to be climbed ; and 
 as we mounted by short zigzags higher and higher, and 
 looked down from loftier and loftier levels on that dizzy 
 plane on whose steep sides a single slip of our horses' 
 feet would be death, beauty was merged into sublimity, 
 and by the time we had traveled up an hour, the sublime 
 was deepened into the terrific. 
 
 Meanwhile a change had come over the whole face of 
 nature : we had passed beyond the region of flowers and 
 verdure ; the cloud, which had broken away for a little 
 season, now shut in more black than ever; the mists 
 which all the afternoon had hung lowering on the moun- 
 tain's brow pressed heavily down and burst in sudden 
 showers; the wind rose and grew wintry cold; and be- 
 fore we reached the summit, a wild storm of wind and 
 sleety rain was beating upon us. For a little while um- 
 brellas and shawls were in requisition; but they were 
 soon abandoned as useless, and because we had as much 
 as we could do to keep ourselves upon our horses 
 and the breath of life in our bodies. Our spirits rose 
 with the tumult of the element. I would not have had it 
 otherwise for the world. That fierce storm was in glori- 
 
44 8 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 ous harmony with the savage scene through which we 
 were passing. Rocks, all rocks stern, barren, bleak 
 these unsubdued by man, unaffected by the tempests of 
 so many thousand winters; hills of rock, valleys of rock, 
 plains of rock a whole landscape all composed of rocks, 
 and in the midst two lakes, or tarns, that would have 
 been beautiful if they had not been so black. Shall I 
 ever forget the sensations with which I rode along the 
 second and larger one, that gloomy night ? (I call it 
 night, though it was far from sundown yet.) They call 
 it Todtensee (the " Lake of the Dead Men") in memory of 
 the French and Austrians killed, in a dreadful battle in 
 1779 on its borders, and thrown into its waters. I thought 
 of Erebus, the lake of the infernals; and almost fancied 
 I could discern the shades of those unburied ones flit- 
 ting over its gloomy surface and renewing the fierce con- 
 flict with hate which even those cold depths had failed 
 to quench. 
 
 Soon we came to the sheer descent of slippery rocks 
 on the other side, made more slippery by the deluge of 
 rain which was now pouring down them. At the sug- 
 gestion of our guides, and much to our own satisfaction, 
 we dismounted here and, taking our mountain-staffs in 
 hand, plunged down the perilous steep, leaving ponies 
 and guides and courier to follow at their leisure. We 
 were drenched to the skin and stiff with cold, and it was 
 a grateful change to the enforced and vigorous activity 
 which at once gave occupation to the mind and quickened 
 the circulation of the blood. As usual, Mr. B. took the 
 lead ; and soon his stalwart form was seen far down the 
 hill, leaping from rock to rock, disdaining the beaten 
 track, cutting off angles here and curves there, and, seem- 
 ingly at the risk of limb and neck, making straight for 
 the " Hospice," or inn, which we could now discern far 
 down in the center of the rocky amphitheater, and where 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 449 
 
 we knew that food and fire awaited us. I followed on 
 as best I could ; and Holme brought up the rear, partly 
 through that graceful modesty which always leads him 
 to fall back as the youngest of the party, and partly from 
 the excessive care required by the new stovepipe hat he 
 bought in Paris and is carrying over the mountains. (I 
 am sorry to say that the umbrella, which he persisted in 
 keeping spread above it to the end, was not equally faith- 
 ful to its trust ; and that the hat was found, on reaching 1 
 the Hospice, like every thread on all our bodies, as 
 thoroughly wet as so faithful a Baptist as himself could 
 desire.) At length our whole party arrived we found 
 several already in the ample dining-hall of the inn and 
 other parties came in. French and Germans, English 
 and Americans, ladies and gentlemen, it was a motley 
 but a cheerful company that gathered round the Hospice 
 board that night, prepared to do full justice to its gen- 
 erous cheer, and to enjoy the comfortable beds which 
 afterwards welcomed us to their embraces. 
 
 Well, well ; I had little idea of spinning so long a 
 yarn and one gets on so slow on paper. Simmons is 
 petrified, almost horrified, at the rate of our movements 
 over the mountains. He says, if he should tell how 
 much we have accomplished on some days: "My gra- 
 cious ! Mr. Beecher, I don't know, sir, whether people 
 would believe me, sir that is, sir you understand me, 
 sir people that are accustomed to travel in a different 
 way. It is so indeed, sir ; upon my word." But it is 
 weary slow work to go over the same ground on paper. 
 Since that night, we have seen Jungfrau ; seen her face 
 to face ; spent hours in the full radiance of her snowy 
 charms ; seen her made golden in the sunlight, made 
 silvery in the moon ; seen the avalanches roll down her 
 side and stream over her cliffs, and heard their myste- 
 rious roar breaking the solemn silence of her solitudes. 
 
450 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 It was a day to be ever remembered the brightest we 
 have spent thus far among the mountains, and towering 
 up amidst all my past experience with proportions as 
 majestic, an outline as distinct, and a brilliancy as trans- 
 cendent, as her own. But it is not to be described. Let 
 me simply say, in conclusion, that from the Grimsel 
 Hospice we went the next day (Saturday last) to Hof, 
 thence by carriage to Brienz on the lake of B., thence the 
 same night (quite unexpectedly to Mr. Simmons) to 
 Interlaken, where we spent the Sabbath with Jungfrau 
 in full view, visible through an opening between two 
 ranges, but coy, veiled more or less all the time, and 
 revealing her beauties only in detail and one by one. 
 Monday we made the excursion to Jungfrau, partly by 
 carriage, the rest on foot by Lauterbrunnen Valley and 
 the Staubbach over the Wengern Alp, where Jungfrau 
 met us kindly (not wholly free from mists, but glorious 
 through and with them) and held communion with us, 
 and told us things which it were not possible, if lawful, 
 for man to utter thence on to Grindelwald with its two 
 glaciers, and back through a beautiful, fertile valley to 
 Interlaken. We reached our inn, and turned to look at 
 Jungfrau: the sun was just setting, and oh joy ! she 
 was manifestly divesting herself of that waving cloud- 
 robe which had tantalized us so long ! Up, up they rose, 
 and melted as they rose, revealing more and more of 
 the pure outline and spotless splendor of her form, until 
 she stood complete before us in her nude majesty, her 
 peerless beauty, her simple, graceful, queenly dignity, 
 againt the gray-blue sky. Almost at the same instant 
 the moon appeared, full-orbed, directly by her side, and 
 lifted her silvery lamp gradually above her through all 
 that lovely evening. Judge whether we sought our pil- 
 lows early. But we were astir early the next morning, 
 first to Berne, with its queer old clock, queer old foun- 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 451 
 
 tains, and queer bears ; then on to Fribourg (ah !), and 
 thence to Geneva, where I finish this on Thursday, 
 July 30. To-morrow morning we are off to Chamouni. 
 
 BRIEG (VALLEY OF THE UPPER RHONE), ) 
 August 9, 1863. j 
 
 MY BELOVED WIFE : We came down from Zermatt yes- 
 terday, from the midst of everlasting snow and glacier-fields 
 of ice, miles in extent and hundreds of feet in thickness, 
 and are here to-day at the foot of the Simplon, sweltering 
 under a heat as intense as I ever felt in the tropics. To- 
 morrow we cross the pass of the Simplon into Italy. We 
 have gone through Switzerland at such a swinging pace 
 (being anxious to see as much of it as possible) that when 
 not on the tramp, I have felt like nothing but plunging in- 
 continently into bed, and repairing waste and wear in time 
 for the next start. . . . 
 
 For the first time in my life, the geography of Switzer- 
 land is cleared up to me ; I have learned the modes of 
 traveling here; and am in prime physical condition for 
 mountain-ranging, and even (had I time) for the more peril- 
 ous amusement of crossing glaciers. . . . 
 
 Oh that beautiful Jungfrau ! Now that we have gone 
 through the whole series, and can speak from an intelligent 
 comparison, I look back to her not only as my first love, 
 but as my last. It was a beautiful Monday morning when, 
 having spent a quiet Sabbath at Interlaken, our courier 
 waked us to our early dish of coffee, after which we took 
 carriage up the charming Lauterbrunnen valley. Interlaken 
 is the head-quarters for tourists in the Bernese Alps, and a 
 place of considerable resort from its own attractions of air 
 and scenery, to say nothing of the famous Molkenkur, where 
 people are cured of all sorts of maladies by simply drinking 
 whey to the sound of beautiful music. . . . 
 
452 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 It is beautifully situated on the short river that connects 
 the lakes of Thun and Brienz. Behind it runs the river 
 and (immediately beyond the river) a green mountain-range; 
 before it spreads a. fertile meadow, with noble trees and 
 pretty chalets scattered about, extending two or three miles 
 before it reaches the foot of the mountains, which throw their 
 wooded or rocky heights in that direction against the sky^ 
 and between two of which Jungfrau lifts afar her snowy 
 front. But Jungfrau, beautiful as she was, had kept herself 
 wrapped, now on one side and now on the other, in her 
 misty veil, and dreadfully piqued our curiosity to ascertain 
 her form. Three hours' drive along a most picturesque val- 
 ley brought us to Lauterbrunnen, a romantic little village 
 in the bosom of the hills, where no less than twenty cascades 
 may be seen in various directions leaping down the rocks 
 from immense heights ; among them the famous Staubbach, 
 which, however, did not strike me as meriting the special 
 distinction which has been given it. 
 
 We saw several cataracts which interested us more, some 
 of them miracles of almost spiritual grace and loveliness. 
 But the entire scenery about Lauterbrunnen is enchanting. 
 Here we parted with our carriage, which went round to meet 
 us in the afternoon at Grindelwald ; while, after about an 
 hour spent in wandering through this lovely vale, we ad- 
 dressed ourselves to climbing the Wengern Alp. It was 
 here that we first heard the beautiful effects of the Alpine 
 horn, sounded in spots where echoes peculiarly distinct and 
 fine catch up and repeat and prolong the notes till they die 
 away in exquisite cadences along the distant heights. My 
 companions did not seem to care much for these ; but they 
 had a strange fascination for me, and I never grudged the 
 few centimes which the horn-blowers expected in return for 
 the entertainment. 
 
 It was nearly noon when we had finished our ascent and 
 emerged at the crown of the Wengern Alp in the immediate 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 453 
 
 presence of the Jungfrau and her magnificent attendants. 
 Sheer down in front of us went a precipice of two or three 
 thousand feet into the rocky valley which separated us. That 
 valley, though probably five or six miles in width, seemed 
 scarcely half a mile, so vast were the dimensions of the 
 mountain mass which, on the opposite side of it, rose di- 
 rectly before our faces, as though you .might almost stretch 
 out your finger and touch its sides or count the rifts and 
 stains upon its surface. Jungfrau herself rested on a pre- 
 cipitous rocky base almost as high as we were ; thence it 
 lifted its magnificent form, wrapped in its everlasting robes 
 of snow, eight thousand feet and more against the blue sky, 
 in supreme grandeur and grace. Silberhorn and Schneehorn, 
 its two principal peaks, vied with each other in splendor, 
 and on either side Monch and Eiger, and Mittaghorn and 
 Breithorn, would each have seemed peerless, had Jungfrau 
 not been there. And over all those towering summits, those 
 boundless slopes, those mighty gorges of purest white, rested 
 such perfect calm, a serenity profound and sweet, as might 
 befit the selectest shrine of Him who dwelleth in secret and 
 hides His goings in the silence of ages as in a mantle. The 
 occasional rush of a distant avalanche, brought to our ears 
 across the valley, just served to make our sense of the abys- 
 mal stillness more acute. Ah ! it was an hour of rare and 
 indescribable delight we spent in that august presence; 
 then descending to sublunary matters, after refreshing the 
 material man, we started on our way. 
 
 The limitations of space and the necessity for selec- 
 tion compel the omission of a long and detailed descrip- 
 tive passage that follows here, graphic and picturesque 
 though it be. 
 
 . . . And now for Italy, the lakes, Turin, Milan, and Ven- 
 ice, where we turn our faces towards the dear West. O 
 
454 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 beloved land ! all that I have seen on these ancient shores 
 makes me but prize and love thee more ! With all thy faults, 
 and amidst all thy trials, I am proud of thee this day, and 
 defy comparison with any land on which the sun looks 
 down. Would that this weary war were ended ! but rather 
 let it be prolonged till we and our children sleep beneath 
 the sod than that her escutcheon receive a stain, or terms 
 be made with anarchists and traitors ! 
 
 And now, dear love, farewell once more. The days of 
 separation are rapidly numbering, and if only God's mercy 
 is continued to you at home, as to me, I trust we shall have 
 no occasion to regret them. 
 
 We have reached and turned our farthest goal ; hence- 
 forth our faces are turned towards the setting sun, and our 
 hearts keep tune to the music of "Homeward Bound." 
 
 To Mrs. WARD RAYMOND. 
 
 MILAN, ITALY, August 13, 1863. 
 
 MY DEAR SISTER FANNY : I have been reading over 
 your last welcome epistle from San Francisco welcome 
 when it first came to hand, and not less comforting in its 
 kind and loving tone when re-perused in these strange 
 lands. It has been my companion in all my wanderings. 
 The flowers you inclosed in it have grown drier and lost 
 their hues, but the letter itself is as fresh and relishful as 
 ever. How strange it seems for me, under these balmy 
 skies of Italy and amidst its gay profusion of flowers 
 flowers trained by Art, in "beds and curious knots," and 
 intermixed with fountains and statues and decorated build- 
 ings to be looking with Fancy's eye on your picture of 
 yourself and F. driving along that far Pacific shore, watch- 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 455 
 
 ing the surges as they broke against your horse's feet, and 
 then returning lap-laden from that valley of flowers, which 
 
 " Not nice Art in beds and curious knots, 
 But Nature boon poured forth profuse o'er hills 
 And dales and plains." 
 
 You kindly wish that some of us " poor city-wearied 
 folks" could share the exhilaration of the scenes you were 
 then passing through, and never had compassionate wish a 
 more fitting application than yours had to me, at the time I 
 read those words. For I was exceedingly forlorn, and had 
 been running down about the time you left for California, 
 until I was about ready to lie down in " the last ditch" and 
 die, like a despairing rebel. How shall I ever begin to 
 repay the considerate affection which, just in the nick of 
 time, devised this scheme of recruital for me, and with royal 
 generosity placed in my hands the means of carrying it 
 out? Not with words, I am sure, or I would write a 
 volume of them ; nor with any deeds, I fear, that are within 
 my power; but so far as mighty love can pay it " love that 
 most delights in this, still paying, still to owe" it shall be 
 paid to all of you, and every hour anew. 
 
 And so you are at home again. Do you know that, 
 intense and constant as has been my enjoyment through all 
 this European tour, those words begin to have a strangely 
 sweet, attractive sound to me? If I could have all you dear 
 ones with me, methinks I could wander on unwearied for a 
 long, long time to come not forever, though ; for, apart 
 from all private and domestic ties, America is the only land 
 for me; and the more I see and know of others and of 
 other people's, the greater is my pride and the brighter my 
 hopes of her. The moral wealth and glory of these countries 
 is not indeed wholly in the past ; but, with respect to the 
 present, we have no occasion to shrink from comparison 
 with the best of them. And the future ah ! the future 
 
456 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 that is peculiarly our own. These European nations appear 
 to have already attained their development, and the great 
 effort now is to retain what they have gained, to repair the 
 waste of time (which alone is more than they can accom- 
 plish), to repress what threatens to impair or overthrow 
 existing things, and to finish by slow and inadequate ad- 
 vances the works which the master-minds of former ages 
 devised and bequeathed and left to posterity to complete. 
 But we are at best in the infancy of our career. God 
 forbid that by imitating the vices and corruptions of older 
 countries we shall fall into premature decrepitude and 
 decay ! 
 
 We have followed with intense interest the progress of 
 things at home ; shared your humiliation and anxiety when 
 Lee made his audacious movement to the North ; your 
 exultation when his robber-hordes were checked and driven 
 back ; your new triumph in the emancipation of the Missis- 
 sippi, and your new shame and apprehension at the out- 
 break of treason in mob-violence in our own streets. I 
 confess that I am far from easy yet. But to despair would 
 be wicked, and I mean to hope against hope. In England 
 our spirit was constantly stirred within us by those who 
 professed to be friendly to the North, because, while they 
 avowed their sympathy in our great struggle for freedom 
 and hoped we should so far succeed as to destroy slavery, 
 they almost always added that they saw no possibility of 
 the re-establishment of the Union, nor did they usually 
 pretend to desire it. 
 
 In London I attended a breakfast given to Mr. Beecher 
 by some committee, at which one or two hundred of the 
 ministers and leading Christian men were present, the 
 object being not a public demonstration, but a free private 
 conference, with a view to promote friendly relations to the 
 North in this contest. Mr. Beecher spoke admirably and 
 with excellent effect. I had no intention to take part, and 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 457 
 
 expressly refused when first called upon by the Chair. But 
 as the conversation proceeded and Mr. Beecher's plain and 
 earnest talk brought out more and more clearly both the 
 good and the bad spirit of these sturdy Britons, my heart 
 burned within me ; and by and by one of those fits took me 
 which carry everything within me before them, and I let 
 them have it in as plain Saxon as I knew how to use. I told 
 those complacent John Bulls that we were engaged in a 
 death-struggle in America for our nation's life, one of those 
 contests that sharpen men's faculties and make it almost 
 impossible for them to err on any matter connected there- 
 with; that we knew perfectly well both what we had to 
 fight for, who were our enemies, and who were our friends ; 
 that there was a part of our people who were fighting 
 against Slavery, but that ALL were fighting for the Govern- 
 ment, the Constitution, and the Union against anarchy, dis- 
 integration, and national death ; that he who was not for us 
 in that thing was against us ; that we knew perfectly well 
 (as they themselves had told us) that the ruling political 
 and commercial interests of England were hostile to us in 
 this struggle from the most material and selfish considera- 
 tions; but, as they themselves professed to desire " friendly 
 relations" with the loyal people of America, it was impor- 
 tant they should understand that there could be no friendly 
 relations with us on any such terms; that if there was no 
 party in England who could sympathize with sufferings and 
 sacrifices in America, for the maintenance of society itself 
 and a just and free government against anarchists and 
 traitors, we must fight our battle without their sympathy, 
 but fight it we should, and could never accept their cheap 
 anti-slaveryism as a substitute for the thing they owed us, 
 or rather owed to civilization and humanity and a good 
 deal more of the same sort. 
 
 It was curious to see the effect. John Bull looked up at 
 first from his coffee arid wine, with round eyes, at this kind 
 
45 8 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 of talk. Presently, as one saucy thing after another came 
 out, his eyes began to light, and soon "Hear! hear!" 
 began to come from one and another. Before I got 
 through they seemed quite thoroughly waked up and on a 
 broad grin, and I observed the more squarely I planted my 
 blows the better they appeared to like it. For I must do 
 John the justice to acknowledge that he is not only plucky 
 himself, but a genuine admirer of pluck in others. At the 
 close a number of them acknowledged that they saw things 
 in a " very different light to what they had before," and 
 they were urgent in requesting that on our return to Eng- 
 land from the Continent a more public meeting should be 
 called and these views presented to the community. They 
 paid me the compliment of insisting that I must unite with 
 Mr. Beecher to make the thing complete, received with 
 laughter my assurances that I was no speaker, and sent 
 their committee to both of us next day to ask for our 
 photographs. I must confess I should like nothing better 
 than to " speak my mind " on this subject right out in Lon- 
 don ; but I presume my vacation will be about over by the 
 time we get around, and I shall have to hurry home. 
 
 But here I am at the end of my time, and away back in 
 London yet. How I got there I can hardly tell, for it 
 seems a year to look back upon since we bade adieu to the 
 white shores of "perfidious Albion" and commenced our 
 roamings among these people of strange tongues. And now 
 we are under the warm skies of Italy and speedily approach- 
 ing the farthest goal of our tour. Contrary to my expecta- 
 tions, I find myself cottoning to these Romanic nations, the 
 French and the Italians, even more than to those of the 
 Germanic stock, the English, Swiss, and Germans. Not 
 that I believe them to possess the sterling moral and reflec- 
 tive traits in a superior or even equal degree. But they 
 are more genial, simple-hearted, kindly, and lovable. 
 Children of the sun, life is to them not a burden of care 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 459 
 
 and a toil of ambition, but like that of the flowers, spon- 
 taneous and free and superficially (I fear not profoundly) 
 happy. Appropriating without scruple whatever comes 
 within their reach, they hoard nothing for the future and 
 grudge no one his better luck. This at least is one side, 
 the bright side, of Italian life, and from its novelty, if noth- 
 ing else, it has a great charm for me. It is a sunny, smiling, 
 social life, and a blessed relief from the prevailing rigid, 
 anxious, and care-worn expression which chilled our very 
 souls in southern Switzerland. 
 
 Milan is a very cheerful and comparatively beautiful city, 
 its houses nearly all built of a light-colored granite or 
 stucco, or imitation of it ; many of the streets broad and 
 handsomely paved, and its public buildings and palaces of 
 an elegant structure. It seems to be in some sense the 
 Paris of Italy, and the habits of the people resemble those 
 of Paris in many respects. The Cathedral is a miracle of 
 costly beauty, with its hundred and fifty white pinnacles 
 glittering in the sunlight; its marvelous richness and 
 variety of sculptured detail within and without ; its more 
 than seven thousand statues and fifteen hundred bas-reliefs 
 on the exterior, all fine and many of them wrought by the 
 hands of masters, and finished with an exquisite purity and 
 elaborate elegance, for which we are wont to look only 
 in the inmost shrines of luxury and refinement. As a 
 single illustration of the richness of this vast museum of 
 architectural and sculptural wealth, take this : the flying 
 buttresses which support the upper (clear-stony) walls are 
 decorated along their top with rows of finials wrought into 
 floral forms. There are fifteen thousand of these flower- 
 tops blossoming up towards the sky, and no two of the 
 whole number are alike. Of these lesser ornaments, such 
 as baskets of fruit and flowers, cherubs' heads, vines, 
 arabesques, amorini, grotesque gargoyles, and caprici of all 
 sorts, they are everywhere distributed and absolutely num- 
 
460 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 berless. I must confess, though, that there is little of the 
 solemn and elevated grandeur which so affected me in the 
 best English cathedrals, and the general contour of the 
 exterior, as seen from the distance of a half mile or a mile, 
 is very unimpressive. The interior is not liable to these criti- 
 cisms. It is exceedingly pure and noble, and its windows 
 exquisitely rich in coloring and design. 
 
 We have got into the region of fine paintings also, but 
 only admirable in the relics of the past. And there is so 
 much of the worthless and even odious preserved in these 
 vast, bewildering collections, out of which the precious 
 few must be sought and sifted, and even on these the ravages 
 of time and neglect (or worse) have often been so terrible, 
 that, in a hurried examination like ours, the pleasure and 
 profit are very seriously discounted by the fatigue. 
 Leonardo's once lovely fresco of the " Last Supper" is such 
 a perfect ruin as to excite none but painful feelings in the 
 contemplation of it, such as one would feel in looking upon 
 a once beautiful human form, changed by death, covered 
 with the damp and the mould of the sepulcher, and hasten- 
 ing to'corruption. Raffaelle's sweet "Marriage of the Virgin," 
 preserved by a thick coat of varnish which has lately been 
 removed with great care and skill, has been more fortunate, 
 and gives one a striking impression of the exceeding felicity 
 and elaborate care with which these old masters did their 
 work, and the perfection of the result. 
 
 August 15. Venice, Bride of the Sea ! The sun was 
 setting in a .flood of glory as we reached the end of our 
 railroad-ride, made under the blazing heat of one of the 
 hottest days ever known in Italy, and rendered still more 
 intolerable by the vexatious delays at the Austrian frontier 
 and the odious fare of the custom-house restaurant. A 
 fine cool breeze met us as we entered on the long railroad 
 bridge by which the city is now approached from the main- 
 land, belying Roger's statement to the contrary, and to me 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 461 
 
 who am a sort of child or foster-child of the salt water, and 
 to whom the scent and sight of the sea, after inland con- 
 finement, always brings refreshment and exhilaration, it was 
 like escaping from purgatory and snuffing the breath of 
 heaven. And there she lay along the horizon, her domes 
 and graceful campanili rising so calmly out of the blue 
 waves, and reposing so softly against the golden sky, 
 like a true bride, trustful and happy in the strong but 
 loving embrace that enfolded her ; and all my imaginings 
 of this city of enchantment were realized in those first 
 moments. 
 
 From the depot we stepped at once into a gondola, and 
 soon we were gliding over the liquid pavements of this 
 strange city, and threading its winding and mysterious ways, 
 with the palaces and memorials of departed centuries look- 
 ing down upon us, and all our souls astir with dim memo- 
 ries of the opulence and splendor, the gems and the wealth, 
 through whose abodes we were passing. To be sure, the 
 glory was a departed glory, and its ancient homes and deco- 
 rations bore a decidedly seedy and even shabby appearance. 
 But evening kindly drew her veil over these imperfections 
 and the thousand meannesses which the near inspection of 
 human habitations always reveals, and helped the imagina- 
 tion to renew and regild the palaces and repeople them 
 with a free and noble race a race of royal merchants, states- 
 men and artists, such as strode those marble halls and cor- 
 ridors, and skimmed those watery avenues in the days of 
 the great Republic. 
 
 Our hotel was originally a palace, the splendid resi- 
 dence of one of the most ancient and princely families 
 of Venice in her palmy days. Its front looks out upon 
 the Grand Canal just where it broadens out into the open 
 sea amidst beautiful islands scattered far off into the 
 horizon. It retains with scarcely any alteration all the 
 interior form of structure and decorations of sculpture and 
 
462 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 statuary which marked its more fortunate period. As we 
 glided up to its private entrance and stepped from our gon- 
 dola, under its stately porch, upon its marble steps and floor, 
 thence up the grand stairway lined with busts, and along 
 the tile-paved corridor to our apartments, we could easily 
 imagine how other sovereigns felt, in former times, when re- 
 ceived with such fitting stateliness and grace to this home of 
 the merchant-prince. 
 
 I will not tell you how much our self-complacency collapsed 
 in the course of last night, sweltered by an atmosphere like 
 that of twenty Tartaruses condensed, and punctured by the 
 probosces of forty million imps of perdition, vulgarly known 
 as mosquitoes. But we have lived through it, and, after a 
 comfortable breakfast, are about to start forth to see the 
 sights and enjoy what is enjoyable in Venice. I will con- 
 fess that my anticipations are not of quite that roseate and 
 golden hue in this plain day-light that they were in the 
 flush of evening. Another of my senses is also aroused this 
 morning, and snuifs suspicion in the air. But let me wait 
 and judge a righteous judgment. . . . 
 
 To Mrs. HOWARD. 
 
 VENICE, August 18, 1863. 
 
 MY DEAREST SISTER : I have been hoping ever since we 
 reached Milan for an hour of quiet and retirement, in which 
 I might send you a word of love and sympathy from amidst 
 scenes fraught with such sad and tender recollections. But 
 I have sought in vain. The weather has been oppressively 
 hot, and what time and thought have not been spent in the 
 bare labor of existence have been frittered away and dissi- 
 pated in the vain attempt to do weeks of wondering and 
 admiring every day. You know to what a locomotive 
 I am hitched, and how my wheels would be made to buzz 
 and glow by what is to him an ordinary pace. 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 463 
 
 The moment we crossed the line into Italy, dear Annie 
 became a presence to me, and the thought of her has been 
 with me ever since. It has been sad, I confess, to think of 
 her pining and fading under these golden skies and amidst 
 this glorious bursting life of nature, turning sick and faint 
 away from so many objects of beauty and interest on which 
 her bright mind would have fastened, in her ordinary health, 
 with such keen relish and delight, and closing her eyes at 
 last in an untimely death, not only on these fair scenes, but 
 on the loving ones who hung over her and watched in 
 agony for their reopening. No work of art has once 
 touched me, no gentle expression of nature has at any time 
 reached and stirred the fountains of emotion, but a tear 
 would start for her, and when all around me has been joyous- 
 ness and hilarity, my heart has ached in secret, as though 
 your grief, dear sister, and dear Tasker's and Jack's, were 
 renewed, and I stood within its very shadow. But the sad- 
 ness has not been gloom. Oh no, thank God! I have seen 
 beyond the shadow, and beyond the cloud that cast it, and 
 on the farther side all is bright so bright ! 
 
 It was a sweet, solemn Sabbath I spent on the banks of 
 Lake Como. Henry was greatly disappointed in Como, 
 because he had got the impression that its character was 
 one of pure loveliness, whereas, in mere beauty, it appeared 
 to both of us inferior both to Maggiore and Lugano, from 
 which we approached it. He missed especially the marks 
 of high culture and the elegant villas which he expected 
 along its shores, and complained of the brown and splin- 
 tered mountains which surrounded it. I was glad that the 
 villas were away and the mountains there. I thought of 
 " the mountains that stood round about Jerusalem," and of 
 what they symbolized, and rejoiced that the provisions of 
 divine love the waters of cleansing and refreshing for such 
 sinful and dying ones as we rest in the bosom of a perfect 
 security, of almighty and everlasting love. They were dark 
 
464 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 r 
 
 days to you, dear sister, when you sat or walked by the side 
 of Como, and I doubt not its waters looked gloomy and its 
 mountains stern, for the cloud was heavy and hung low 
 above you there. But as I looked down into the lake's 
 green depths, I saw the heavenly arch distinctly mirrored 
 there, and within that arch the image of our lost one stood 
 and smiled oh so peaceful, radiant, and loving! and her 
 look was full of hope and cheer, and it seemed to say, 
 " Speak words of comfort for me to the dear hearts at home 
 that still mourn my absence, and tell them that the days of 
 our separation will soon be ended ; for, though I shall not 
 return to them, they shall come to me which is far better" 
 And is it not better ? 
 
 At Milan we sought out the old nurse, as you requested. 
 She seemed delighted to see us, and at your remembrance 
 of her, and went over the sad story of Annie's sickness and 
 death in a way to show that she had told it often since, and 
 felt that it was a part of her experience. She sends kind 
 regards and a package in return for yours, inclosing, I think, 
 photographs of her children. 
 
 As I write, I look out of my windows on the face of the 
 Grand Canal, all ablaze with the pageant in celebration of the 
 birthday of the Austrian Emperor, an illuminated procession 
 of gondolas and fireworks on the opposite islands. The 
 soldiers, officials, and Austrians work it; the Italians look on 
 and say nothing. Lovingly, BROTHER JOHN. 
 
 To Mrs. R. R. RAYMOND. 
 
 MUNICH, August 25, 1863. 
 
 MY DEAR SISTER : It was a blessed inspiration that led 
 you to inclose your last letter to me in an envelope ad- 
 dressed to Mr. B.; for everything- with my name on it which 
 was due in Milan failed to reach me ; and you cannot con- 
 ceive the comfort which I got from your loving remembrance 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 465 
 
 of me, and the good news you sent respecting my beloved 
 ones in Angelica and all the rest of the circle. . . . 
 
 It was a little cruet of you, Sister mine, to draw with such 
 graphic pen that little fancy sketch of friends " with winged 
 power" to surround my wearied couch at night, and while 
 away, etc. etc., and particularly cool to add, " Well, there 
 we are! every night we are with you!" Humph! I don't 
 see it. If I did, I think I might be satisfied. And unfor- 
 tunately for your suggestion that " sunset never fails to 
 bring us together," there comes in the awkward astronomical 
 fact that by the time your sun sets, the slumbers of mid- 
 night have plunged us far beyond the reach of that comfort- 
 ing assurance. But I will be comforted by the thought that 
 " the days are rapidly passing," and we are on our home- 
 ward way, and that very soon the weary distance will be re- 
 traced and the dearest spot on earth be regained. 
 
 I am distressed to hear again and again of Robert's poor 
 health this summer. Oh, if he could have been, I will not 
 say, in my place for I am too selfish, I fear, to say that hon- 
 estly, and while I am wishing, I may as well wish for the 
 best but if he could have been with us ! I don't know how 
 he would have stood Mr. B.'s rate of movement, for I seem 
 to remember some very peremptory refusals of his to adopt 
 the pace of this locomotive leader of the people, and I 
 am sure Mr. B. has kept fully up to his average velocity. 
 
 But this I cannot doubt, that such delicious excitement 
 of mind and such vigorous exercise of the body, kept of 
 course within the proper limits, would have renewed Robert 
 as it has me. And I do wish he could have it in some form. 
 Why, I feel as though I had been born again within the 
 last six weeks. I look back with positive shuddering upon 
 " the hole of the pit" out of which I have been " digged," 
 and in which I should soon have been buried past the hope of 
 any earthly resurrection, and I entertain very serious doubts 
 about going back into that hole again, with any intention 
 
466 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 of staying in it. I have not a very long time to live at long- 
 est, and I begin to be a little doubtful about being buried 
 before my time. 
 
 Eh ! say you, what does all that mean ? Well, nothing 
 at all, my dear, that is, nothing much, nothing of serious 
 thought or purpose, but only something of feeling, which 
 has been working and, I suspect, growing within me, and 
 which just now happened to pop out into self-consciousness 
 and expression. 
 
 Our last chapter of Switzerland, the ascent of the Corner 
 Grat and the view therefrom of Monte Rosa and Matter- 
 horn, 'was the crowning glory of that peerless mountain 
 tour, but the miserable appearance of the people in the 
 Rhone and Visp valleys through which we traveled to that 
 glorious spot, and which is the most unhealthy region per- 
 haps on the Continent, the wretched home of goitre and 
 cretinism, became so painful and oppressive that it was in- 
 finite relief to escape over the majestic Simplon Pass into 
 the sunny plains of Northern Italy, and to rest on the shores 
 of those exquisite lakes. . . . 
 
 It was not Sunday according to our diaries, but in look- 
 ing back to the day we spent at Caddenabbia (the name 
 given to the site of the handsome hotel on the shore of 
 Como, whose waters laved its front steps while the forest- 
 clad hill-side shot up in the rear so close and so steep that 
 you might leap to it from the second-story back windows) 
 it seemed to me more like the Sabbath than almost any 
 Sunday I have spent in Europe, so perfect and sweet was 
 the repose, and so sacred were the memories of dear Annie 
 and her departure, connected with the spot. 
 
 Then came Milan, my recollections of which present a 
 strangely mingled and contrasted medley, so much of gayety 
 and beauty soliciting the senses and intoxicating the imagi- 
 nation, while memory never ceased to wave her cypress 
 branches above me, and visions of a higher beauty and bliss 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 467 
 
 whose gates seemed near this place, beckoned my thoughts 
 away. The two days we spent there, and the three in 
 Venice, seemed all too short for the treasures of art which 
 opened themselves to our inspection. But I have got some 
 impressions that I shall never lose ; the most distinct are 
 those connected with the exquisite cathedral at Milan and 
 two or three pictures by Leonardo and Raphael in the 
 Brera Gallery there, and in Venice with the architecture 
 and the street and water-life of the city, and the gorgeous 
 paintings of the Venetian masters, particularly Titian and 
 Tintoretto, preserved in the gallery of its Accademia delle 
 Belle Arti. You can think how stimulating to the imagina- 
 tion are all the peculiar external features of Venice ; but I 
 am persuaded that nothing but actual experience can begin 
 to convey an adequate conception of the reality. I had 
 read and dreamed enough about Venice, and seen pictures 
 enough, to make me recognize almost every important thing 
 at the first glance, and yet I felt a something in the presence 
 of the real thing which made my previous ideas like the 
 insubstantial shadows of a dream. 
 
 But the people are very sad and unhappy: they chafe 
 under the Austrian yoke. As many as can, get away and 
 do not return ; the rest either hang their heads and scowl, 
 or throw care away and live as much like children and birds 
 as they can. If they ever get a chance, won't they snap 
 those chains with a shout ! But as we pass through the 
 country from city to city, and gaze upon the stupendous 
 fortifications which frown all over the land and which are 
 augmented by large accessions each year, we cannot doubt 
 that it is the settled purpose of the Austrian Government to 
 maintain its hold at every hazard, and to crush with ruth- 
 less hand the slightest show of discontent. 
 
 And now we are in Germany ; our room has been full of 
 American gentlemen for the last hour, and my time is up 
 and I have hardly left myself a chance to say I love you. 
 
468 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 But love you I do, every one of you, with a love bigger than 
 all the mountains of Switzerland. 
 
 DRESDEN, August 30, 1863. 
 
 MY DARLING DAUGHTER : Do you know that I am now 
 every day drawing nearer to you ? I do, and my heart 
 expands and beats with an ever freer and more joyous throb. 
 Indeed, indeed, there is no place like home, and dearer than 
 all besides on earth are the dear ones there. Though my 
 eye is filled with seeing, and my mind is never for one 
 moment without matter of interesting observation and 
 reflection, my heart is very, very hungry, and I feel that its 
 cravings must soon be satisfied. 
 
 Our journey from Venice northward to this place, though 
 not marked by anything intensely exciting, has been full of 
 interest all along. It was at daybreak of a midsummer day 
 when we stepped on board of our gondola, and took our 
 last delightful ride over the liquid ways of that fairy-like 
 city. . . . 
 
 Our route in Northern Italy led us by Solferino, and over 
 much territory made historical by many a sanguinary struggle, 
 not only in the late war for the emancipation of Italy, but 
 in the old conflicts, between the first emperor and the 
 Austrians. In the afternoon and evening we pushed on to 
 Botzen, a curious old city in the Austrian Tyrol. Here we 
 reached the end of railroading, and took post for Innspruck 
 (one and a half days) by the Brenner Pass, through the 
 Tyrol mountains. Such a change as here came over the 
 aspect of our journey was curious to see. . . . 
 
 The pass of the Brenner, and I suppose the Tyrolese 
 valleys generally, differ very widely from those of Switzer- 
 land. There is none of that savage grandeur which charac- 
 terizes the most noted of the latter ; almost everywhere the 
 valleys are beautifully verdant, and the hill-tops are covered 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 469 
 
 with a rich forest growth. Even when snow caps the sum- 
 mit, the trees seem to grow and flourish up to the very snow- 
 line. But the rocks crop out sideways along the flanks of 
 the valley, in almost perpendicular cliffs and palisades, or 
 the hills are tossed and piled upon each other in the most 
 picturesque confusion. We were exceedingly pleased 
 with the appearance of the people hardy, muscular, often 
 handsome and bright-looking, and almost without exception 
 looking straight into your eyes out of honest and kindly 
 ones of their own. They wear their pretty costume with a 
 simple grace, and challenge at once your confidence and 
 esteem, and they are Catholics at that. But I must confess 
 I have never met in Catholic countries such indications of 
 a sincere, artless, and earnest devotion as here. 
 
 The crosses and prie-Dieus which are erected in all 
 Catholic countries to aid the devotion of the wayside 
 worshiper are somewhat more numerous, and decidedly 
 more demonstrative, here. The frescos of " Mary and the 
 Child" set up by the roadside, under little canopies, sheds, 
 or open shrines, are painted in more brilliant colors and 
 better taken care of, and the images of the Saviour on the 
 Cross are larger (often life size), with a " visage more 
 marred" with agony and with larger streams of redder gore 
 pouring down his face and over all his limbs, and the uni- 
 versal attendance upon daily worship is something very 
 remarkable. We stopped for the night at the village of 
 Sterzing, up among the mountains and almost at the sum- 
 mit of the pass. It is a single long street, the houses on 
 one side built with a loggia, or arcade, along the front of the 
 ground-floor (such as was so great a. curiosity when I first 
 met it in Chester, England, but which is a very common 
 feature of these older Italian, Austrian, and German towns). 
 The fronts of the houses have, many of them, a quaint sort of 
 ornamentation, all very old, but all in perfect repair, and 
 just as neat as a row of new pins. About midway the street' 
 
470 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 was crossed by a large arch over which rose a tall and solid 
 clock-tower. Our post-boy drove down the street, rattling 
 over the stones (the pavements here are all solid, as if built 
 for eternity, even in the villages), blowing his really musical 
 horn, and cracking his whip, after the fashion of the true 
 post-boy, as though he had touched off a pack of crackers at 
 the end of his lash ; and, arriving at the inn, whirled under 
 its archway, as though conscious of bringing at least a triplet 
 of emperors behind him. The ground-floor, or basement, 
 particularly of inns, is very commonly devoted to horses, 
 carriages, and the usual paraphernalia of a barn-yard, the 
 house itself resting above on a huge arch, or groined vault 
 which covers the whole area, and is open through wide doors 
 before and behind. A dozen ready hands were busy in an 
 instant to open our carriage and assist us to alight. The 
 buxom landlady stood smiling at the foot of the stairway 
 which led to the interior, and a few words from our experi- 
 enced courier having satisfied her of the quality of her 
 guests, she at once led the way to her best apartments. It 
 was a strange old house, with space enough for a 
 colony within it; the ceilings low, but every other dimension 
 on a scale of bounteous and massive amplitude : vast kitchens, 
 long arched corridors and passages, and doors without 
 number opening out of them in all manner of fanciful ways 
 and unlooked-for situations. It seemed more like some old 
 barricaded mansion of feudal times, meant as the common 
 home of a whole clan, fortified against elements and 
 enemies, and a very castle of comfort. In our own spacious 
 apartment, (Mr. Beecher and I always " chum it," in a 
 double-bedded room) everything was as clean and sweet as 
 the face and the clothing of our good landlady herself. 
 
 While supper was preparing we started out to explore 
 the town. It seemed strangely still and empty; but on 
 reaching the church (near the clock-tower) we learned the 
 cause. It was the hour for evening worship, and the people 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE 47* 
 
 were at church. The door stood ajar ; and hearing the 
 sound of voices within, we drew near and entered. It was 
 a novel and most affecting scene. The interior was large, 
 not without some architectural pretensions, and decorated 
 with a kind of rude and primitive costliness. Through the 
 evening dusk, which within the church walls was deepened 
 almost into a positive darkness, really needing the light of 
 the candles which burned before the altar and lit up the 
 chancel with a weird illumination, the kneeling people might 
 be dimly discerned, old men and matrons, young men and 
 maidens, and children of every age a goodly representa- 
 tion of the entire community, and almost filling the house. 
 These were engaged, not, as is usual in the Catholic 
 churches, in separate individual worship, while the priestly 
 service goes on as an independent matter, but, priest and 
 people, in a united service, and with an earnestness of 
 manner, an emphasis of tone, which were as impressive as 
 they were strange. Two voices proceeded from within the 
 chancel no persons were visible there the one a clear, 
 ringing, somewhat nasal, boy's soprano, the other a deep 
 guttural bass. These two with a loud, rapid semi-chant, 
 which pierced you through and through, would repeat in 
 unison a sentence of prayer or confession, whatever it might 
 be (evidently in the vernacular, not the Latin), and all the 
 people would respond, with a lower but perfectly distinct 
 and equally rapid utterance, in which every tone and quality 
 of voice could be distinguished, from the lisping treble of 
 infancy to the rich mellowness of the full-grown woman, 
 the raucous depth of strong, coarse men, and the tremulous- 
 ness of old age. 
 
 The tone was strangely full of feeling a kind of plain- 
 tive monotonous wail of contrition, confession, and suppli- 
 cation and, spite of yourself, it touched you sympatheti- 
 cally and swept you into the general current of emotion. This 
 .was kept up a long time, the same words being often re- 
 
472 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 peated over and over and over again, after the Catholic 
 fashion, as if in profoundness of penitence and wrestling 
 importunity of prayer. Then followed a succession of 
 longer prayers by the priest, with Amens and other brief 
 responses by the people, more like our own Episcopal ser- 
 vice, and then what I took to be a sort of creed, or confes- 
 sion, 'in which all united, following the priest, but very long 
 five or ten times as long as the Episcopal creeds and 
 finally the ordinary Catholic ceremonies by the priest be- 
 fore the altar, watched (contrary to Catholic custom) in pro- 
 found and silent attention by the people, until he took 
 in his hand the sacred symbol of the Divine Sacrifice, and 
 bore it down the center aisle to the door and back his 
 single boy attendant all the while throwing the light of his 
 candle strongly upon it when they all bowed before it, like 
 grain before the wind, rising again as it passed, with hasty 
 crossings of brow and breast and a low rustle of whispered 
 prayer, which altogether formed certainly the most peculiar 
 and impressive religious ceremony I ever witnessed. 
 
 It was over, and after a few moments of solemn silence 
 they began one after another to rise and quietly retire. We 
 supposed that it was some special feast-day, but learned to 
 our surprise that it was only the usual evening mass. This 
 was not all : Mr. Beecher had left the church before Mr. 
 Holme and myself, and had been wandering through the vil- 
 lage, and as we sat in our own room, talking over the strange 
 sscene we had witnessed, he came in to tell us how the im- 
 pression had been deepened by hearing the same sounds 
 proceeding from different houses in the village, as though those 
 who were detained at home were also uniting in the service. 
 
 Once he had stopped in front of the other inn ; and as 
 the voices seemed to proceed from the open basement, had 
 quietly ventured in to observe. It was quite dark, but he 
 could make out the forms of four or five men, apparently 
 postboys, teamsters, or herdsmen, kneeling among the wag- 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 473 
 
 ons, one of whom would repeat with loud tones the priestly 
 part, and all the rest would respond. Meanwhile other ser- 
 vants and persons were passing in and out,, attending to 
 their business, and seeming to take this as a matter of 
 course. 
 
 While Mr. Beecher was relating this, "Hark!" said Mr. 
 Holme, " what is that ?" We opened our door into the 
 hall ; and sure enough, there was the same peculiar sound 
 and many voices apparently engaged. We stepped quietly 
 along the passage, opened a door that stood ajar, and cross- 
 ing a little ante-room looked upon another scene, certainly 
 quite novel in a tavern. It was a little chapel fitted up with 
 altar, crucifix, flowers, and burning candles, and bright-col- 
 ored pictures hanging round the walls. Some twenty or 
 thirty men, women, and children, evidently servants and at- 
 taches of the inn were most ardently engaged in their devo- 
 tions. One of their number, a postboy who had learned to 
 read, held the book and conducted the service, while all the 
 rest responded. This, we learned on inquiry, was the daily 
 practice. Surely I am a good Protestant, but here was a 
 Catholic observance against which I had no heart to protest. 
 
 We slept like princes that night, and bright and early next 
 morning were on our way to Innspruck (/>., Inn's briicke, the 
 bridge of the river Inn). It was a charming drive the 
 whole distance, and thence by rail through the exceedingly 
 picturesque valley of the Inn to Munich. Innspruck, the 
 capital of the Austrian Tyrol, is one of the prettiest little 
 cities I have ever seen ; its site perfectly charming, in the 
 middle of a broad and fertile plain, bounded on either side 
 by mountains six, seven, and eight thousand feet high/whose 
 summits, though not covered with perpetual snow, were 
 capped with white that day, the fall of the preceding night. 
 It is well paved and well built, and the houses are built in 
 the Italian fashion, and colored with that admirable judg- 
 ment and taste which is one of the most observable and 
 
474 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 beautiful fashions of the Italian towns. (The feeling for 
 color is a national instinct with the Italians, and the Tyrol- 
 ese seem to share it.) 
 
 The prevailing colors are light and delicate; straw color, 
 faint green, and a pink blush or flesh color being the most 
 common. Over and between the windows you often see 
 decorations in white plaster, festoons or garlands of flowers, 
 etc., and nothing is more common than pictures in fresco on 
 the outer walls, the subjects usually religious, sometimes his- 
 torical, and the execution varying from respectable down 
 (I am sorry to say) to absurd and even detestable. But the 
 general effect of color is exceedingly cheerful, neat, and ele- 
 gant, and Innspruck, as we looked down upon it from that 
 winding mountain-road, set in the bosom of that green and 
 golden vale and overhung by those magnificent white-capped 
 mountains, was one of the loveliest specimens we have seen. 
 
 We spent three or four days at Munich, but really it 
 hardly came up to my anticipations. . . . There is 
 a monotonous uniformity in the splendid new streets 
 which contrasts most disadvamageously wifeh the homely 
 but picturesque and spirited variety of the old Ger- 
 man town, even with its own older parts. As to the paint- 
 ings and sculpture, there is no end to the profusion. All 
 the public buildings, inside and out, are befrescoed and be- 
 statued without limit, I had almost said ad nauseam. All 
 German history, poetry and legend, classical antiquity, 
 scripture and Catholic legends, are ransacked for subjects, 
 and these are treated in oil, in distemper, in fresco, in en- 
 caustic, in marble, bronze, wood, glass, and with immense 
 learning and a wonderful degree of cultivated dexterity in 
 all technical manipulations. And yet there is hardly a pic- 
 ture or a statue or a beautiful window which you would 
 turn back to see a second time, or which leaves an abiding 
 and quickening impression on your memory or heart. As 
 a rule it is all self-conscious, labored, imitative, and (you 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 475 
 
 often suspect) mercenary. You admire, and pass on and 
 on and on until you weary of the endless maze of very 
 fine, splendid, beautiful, exquisite, soulless things, and are 
 glad when the round is ended. One exception must be 
 made Kaulbach, the one great Protestant among these 
 troops of interested or effeminate Catholics, is a true master ; 
 perhaps not a " first-class" one, but genuine, healthy, rich, 
 free, and honest. . . . 
 
 Another real treasure in Munich is the old Pinakothek, or 
 Picture Gallery, containing many choice specimens of the 
 old masters admirably classified and arranged. 
 
 Our course from here is to Berlin, to Frankfort and 
 Heidelberg, down the Rhine to Cologne, thence by 
 Brussels and Antwerp to Ostend (or Calais), where we 
 cross directly to London. We shall not return to Paris, 
 our time is so far spent. What further I shall attempt in 
 Great Britain (if anything) is uncertain. I do not see any 
 prospect of getting started on the voyage home before the 
 first week in October. 
 
 Berlin, September 2, 1863. Here we are in the Prussian 
 capital, and " happy, happy, happy we" such a nice bunch 
 of letters ! I have glanced through them, just to see the 
 general complexion of the news, and must now read them, 
 hoping to add a line to Mother before this goes to the post. 
 
 Lovingly, FATHER. 
 
 To Dr. and Mrs. T. J. CONANT. 
 
 BERLIN, Sept. 4, 1863. 
 
 VERY DEAR DOCTOR AND "SISTER" HANNAH : I know 
 you will not measure my affection by the meagerness of 
 its expression; indeed I have been faithful in my heart. 
 In all my mountain wanderings I thought of you who 
 
47 6 JOHN H. KA YMOND. 
 
 with our dear Esther were the first, years ago, to desire 
 for me that enjoyment, and never did I experience an 
 hour of special exaltation or exultation, in that fortnight 
 of magnificent experiences, without remembering you 
 and wishing that you might share it with me. Beautiful 
 Italy too! how you would enjoy it, its charming lakes, its 
 fragments of antiquity, and its glorious collections of 
 art! We saw but little, and that not the best or richest 
 part of it ! But we saw more than I could hold or bring 
 away, or even fully appreciate on the spot. In Milan 
 and Venice and Padua and Verona we came upon locali- 
 ties associated with Shakespeare's stories, and though 
 Shakespeare knew but little about them, yet you could 
 not help feeling that his characters did; and I thought of 
 you there, and wanted to talk to you on the spot. Even 
 more have you been in our thoughts and on our lips 
 while studying cathedrals and pictures. O Hannah, 
 steal some money and bring your husband over. I can- 
 not tell you what I have seen, and I cannot bear that 
 you, so rarely gifted by nature and by culture both to en- 
 joy and to profit by it, should die without the sight. 
 
 And now we are in Germany, with an entirely new 
 world of interest opening before us, and all as free as 
 air. . . . 
 
 What would we not have given for Stillman in Munich! 
 we felt so much the need there of some one who was 
 familiar with the localities and the contents of the 
 several art collections, and who could at the same time 
 sympathize with our objects and put us on the track for 
 information. Knowing that Munich was itself the crea- 
 tion, and had become in some sense the home, of the 
 new German art, we wanted to make the best use of our 
 time in studying its best results. Couriers and valets-de- 
 place have their routine of " sights" to show, four fifths 
 of which you care nothing about; and if you desire to 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 477 
 
 go one step beyond a cursory glance at the surface of 
 things, they are no help and much hindrance. We gene- 
 rally preferred to take our chances under our own guid- 
 ance. . . . 
 
 I saw enough in Munich to satisfy me as to the com- 
 parative value of this school of German art. It is wonder- 
 ful what has been accomplished within so short a period, 
 and by a direct and conscious effort in that direction. 
 The number of the artists and their works, the variety 
 of arts which have ben cultivated, and the truly respect- 
 able character of the productions, must command admira- 
 tion. But in the range of art to which this new school 
 have aspired, respectability is doubtful praise. The 
 whole bears the unmistakable signs of a hot-house 
 growth, a rank, unnatural profession with an attenuated, 
 crude, and feeble development. The artists, by dint ap- 
 parently of thorough teaching and laborious practice 
 (for which due praise ; it shows the good scholar, but 
 more is needed to make the master), have certainly 
 attained to great facility in the use of the pencil and 
 chisel in the production and reproduction of certain con- 
 ventional forms and faces. But of original study of 
 nature, insight into character, profound earnestness of 
 feeling, invention or inspiration, I see few traces. Cor- 
 nelius, the founder of the school, I apprehend gave a 
 wrong direction to its efforts by holding up the old mas- 
 ters as the standard, instead of their mistress Nature. 
 So that we have the absurd paradox of a school of retrospec- 
 tive men endeavoring to reproduce prospective men. The 
 great masters into whose grand and earnest faces we 
 look back, stretching forward far in advance of their 
 own age and struggling to realize ideas yet embryonal 
 and future, are simply inverted and parodied by the 
 feeble-minded copyist, who, looking backward and lean- 
 ing forward, presents just the opposite aspect to our 
 
47^ JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 offended optics. The very munificence of the patronage 
 by which the Bavarian monarchs have sought to foster 
 and stimulate the development of this school has aug- 
 mented all its faults. By giving the best artists more 
 work to do than they could do well, it has led to habits 
 of haste, superficiality, conventionalism, and self-repeti- 
 tion, and by wasting and feeding the meanest of all 
 motives, the love of money (I hate money, / do !) it has 
 made them careless even of their fame, or willing to 
 allow vast quantities of inferior work (done by their 
 pupils) to pass under their names, because their names 
 will bring the dollars. I grew tired at last of gazing at 
 whole acres of frescoed walls and colored canvas, where 
 the same men and women appeared to be masquerading 
 in different costumes and attitudes, 
 
 "... merely players: 
 They have their exits ,and their entrances; 
 And one man in his time plays many parts," 
 
 and all assumed, theatrical, overstrained, with but few 
 touches of nature in them and few marks of a great or 
 noble aim in their creator. 
 
 Cornelius seemed to me strong, but hard and prosaic; 
 Overbeck, a purer, more refined and poetic nature, but 
 feeble and finally overcome and enslaved by a weak 
 pietism; Hess, Schnorr, and indeed all the rest, mainly 
 the creatures of cultivation, and therefore mainly of a 
 piece ; and Kaulbach, even Kaulbach, who is the best of 
 them, and by nature royally endowed, before whom, at 
 work in his studio with the facile ease of a master, my 
 spirit bowed and did obeisance even he has been cor- 
 rupted by success, and still more by its golden rewards. 
 "He hath the greater condemnation," by the grandeur 
 of the gifts he has prostituted, of the possibilities he has 
 failed to realize. To think of such a man allowing his 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 479 
 
 ideas (grandly though unequally sketched in his studio) 
 to be put into enduring colors, and sent down to pos- 
 terity as his own work, by mere pupils, and those of very 
 moderate ability, as he is now doing in the Museum 
 at Berlin, because he can (without forfeiting his con- 
 tract) make more money, at the same time, by staying 
 at home and illustrating Goethe by crayon drawings ! 
 What wonder if under such stimulus his wonderful 
 fertility runs to waste, and for quality he gives us mere 
 quantity to admire! And he, alas ! is the Protestant 
 among them. If he had but been true ! Very much the 
 same impression I received from what I saw of the 
 sculptors, and of the architects, and of the glass-painters, 
 and of the workers in bronze. Munich and its art, 
 interesting as a phenomenon in history, are not a living 
 growth but an artificial fabric, the production of a single 
 generation and of a royal patron's favor, not the slow 
 ripened fruit of ages, not the irrepressible utterance of a 
 people's thought and heart. It will wake a passing 
 wonder and receive the loud laudations of the present, 
 but it cannot endure; let us hope that it is at least stir- 
 ring the soil and scattering some seeds for a nobler har- 
 vest in the future. 
 
 Heidelberg, Sept. 6. Too bad that I should have been 
 cheated of that only remaining hour in Berlin which I 
 had consecrated to you, and which should have enabled 
 me to finish my letter, and to dispatch it from that 
 point. ... As to Munich, I was only going to add, that 
 at last, fairly drowned out by the flood of modern wish- 
 wash, I was glad to betake myself to the old Pinakothek 
 and its treasured heritage of the olden time, certainly 
 for art the better days. Indeed, but for the information 
 I had gained, I should have been vexed that I had not 
 confined my attention to it. For it contains much that 
 I could have studied to great advantage, much that I 
 
480 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 was obliged to leave with the most cursory and unsatis- 
 fying observation. At Dresden we did better, for we 
 had but one place to go to, the Gallery, whose excellent 
 arrangement greatly facilitated an intelligent compara- 
 tive study of its contents. We were nearly four days 
 there, and so far as brain and back would bear the ten- 
 sion we faithfully improved the hours. The Sistine 
 Madonna was " all my fancy painted her." Oh that won- 
 derful baby-Christ (Raffaelle's), with his solemn far-reach- 
 ing eyes and his calmly regal air, as though the infinite 
 government rested consciously, yet lightly, on his infant 
 shoulders, "prophet, priest, and king" at once, and still 
 a perfect, noble, human babe ! And that sweet girl- 
 mother, with her troubled but not fearful brow, as if 
 trembling under the vastness of the divine mystery 
 which she felt within her arms, yet not only clasping it 
 with the tenderness of a mother's love, but upbearing it 
 in the unconscious assertion of a mother's dignity and 
 right! Oh, it is wonderful! no engraving transcribes it, 
 and no words can interpret it. You must come and see 
 it. Holbein's Madonna is a very different thing, but in 
 its way very charming. Far less poetic and subtle in 
 its sentiment, almost without suggestion of the great 
 "mystery of godliness," it is very, very full of human 
 sweetness and dignity, and it is gloriously free from the 
 idealistic conventionalisms which so abound even in the 
 works of "the masters." It is a real woman, a true 
 mother and matron, sweet-hearted and full-brained, full 
 of thought, but none for herself; full of gentleness, kind- 
 ness, patience, pity in a word, of love, considerate and 
 ready for action (action which will be none the less 
 efficient because perfectly, studiously quiet), the love 
 that cares for and takes care of the weak and the erring 
 first, that takes their burdens and sorrows on herself, 
 and loses them in the tranquil fullness of that peace 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 481 
 
 whose springs are within, and whose outflow even from 
 her mere look gives constant cheer and comfort to others. 
 This is mainly in the face and head of the Madonna her- 
 self; the rest of the picture is admirable chiefly for the 
 sentiment of earnest, loving devotion in the father's face 
 (the women are Dutch dolls, or dolls almost, for expres- 
 sion), and for the minute and affectionate fidelity in the 
 painting of details, both of which are strikingly charac- 
 teristic of the early German masters. 
 
 Both in Dresden and afterwards in the Berlin Gallery 
 I became deeply interested in that school of which the 
 Van Eycks in the Netherlands and Diirer in Germany 
 were at once the founders and (almost) the finishers. Of 
 Diirer we have seen but little, and that not the best works 
 (these are at Vienna), but what we have seen, with his 
 engravings, furnish some idea at least of his manner. 
 But the specimens of the Van Eycks which we have 
 found, and which are in the same spirit of noble concep- 
 tion and wonderful execution, have filled us with delight 
 and with amazement that such a planting should have 
 yielded so meager a harvest. Though those brothers 
 had finished their labors in 1441, thirty years before 
 Diirer was born and while the Italian art was but just 
 struggling to the birth out of the old Byzantine, they 
 left no room for improvement in the technical perfection 
 of their work, while for profound and tender feeling and 
 a supreme devotion to truth (the highest glory of art) they 
 seem to me to stand to-day without a rival. The splen- 
 dor of their coloring is not eclipsed by the proudest of 
 the Venetian masters, and (to the confusion of all mod- 
 ern science) it is still as fresh and bright as though it 
 left the palette but yesterday. In minute accuracy and 
 finish they infinitely surpass the painters of the south, as 
 the Germans always have, and I see nothing in which 
 they are inferior except in a certain idealistic elevation 
 
482 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 of expression and grace of form, particularly in the 
 drawing of the figures of men and women, which the 
 Italians owe (I suspect) to their freer study of the nude 
 model and a freer sacrifice of truth and individuality to 
 the ideas of beauty, material and spiritual. This, how- 
 ever, has been enough to blind the multitude to their 
 nobler qualities, and the established worship of the Ital- 
 ians, by fixing a general standard of taste, has contribu- 
 ted to this popular indifference. 
 
 After having spent the better part of two days in the 
 Berlin Gallery, which to our surprise, and contrary to the 
 guide-book, we found even richer for illustration and 
 instruction than the Dresden, we had the good fortune 
 to fall in with Dr. Waagen, the director of the Museum 
 and an authority in art history and criticism. He spoke 
 good English (like a Christian man), took the liveli- 
 est interest in our inquiries, and not only answered us 
 freely and fully, but appointed an hour to meet us in 
 the gallery, and gave us an interesting lecture on just 
 the things we wanted to know, in presence of the pictures 
 themselves. It was pleasant to hear all the important 
 results to which we had been brought by our untaught 
 observations confirmed by such authority, and further 
 developed and illustrated by a multitude of particulars 
 which his familiarity with the subject and the works 
 enabled him readily to point out. He showed us, too, 
 how this German art, so glorious in its infancy, suc- 
 cumbed under the miserable spirit of imitation in the 
 beginning of the sixteenth century (while Diirer still 
 lived), when Mabuse and others went to Rome to study 
 under Michael Angelo and Raffaelle, and came home 
 to disown and destroy their native art. It was very 
 curious to see the diluted Italianism in the works of these 
 men which Dr. Waagen pointed out to us, the very thing 
 which had so disgusted us in Munich. When we sug- 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 483 
 
 gested this to the old gentleman, he shook his head and 
 sighed, and though he spoke in guarded and commenda- 
 tory terms of his contemporaries, his opinion could not 
 be concealed, and it did not condemn our own. 
 
 And now we are at Heidelberg. I have just returned 
 from a visit to the beautiful castle, after which I strolled 
 through the town and by the university, and thought 
 again of Stillman and his bright-cheeked wife, and of 
 Ros, and wished for the thousandth time that they still 
 were here. . . . But I must close. With special and 
 loving remembrance to Grandma Chaplin, and love to all 
 the dear children, 
 
 I am your heart-untraveled 
 
 " RAYMOND." 
 
 To Mrs. I. W. RAYMOND. 
 
 ANTWERP, Sept. 12, 1863. 
 
 MY VERY DEAR SISTER FANNY: Could you for a 
 moment seriously doubt the perpetual security of your 
 place in my memory and heart ? Could you imagine 
 any danger of "slipping" out of your "pigeon-hole," es- 
 pecially during the enjoyments of this delightful tour, 
 every happy day of which has brought new cause to re- 
 member your and dear Ward's affection for me ? I donot 
 believe you could, and I shall waste no paper, therefore, 
 on declarations and assurances to the contrary. 
 
 You see from my date that we have about completed our 
 circuit, and are drawing towards the day and the point of 
 our departure from old Europe to our own dear native 
 land. I am glad of it, not because I have not enjoyed the 
 journey, but because my enjoyment has been so intense 
 and constant that my power of enjoyment is about used 
 up. Having accomplished the great object of coming 
 abroad in the recruital of my health and the restored 
 
484 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 tone of my spirits, I want to get back to the field of my 
 duties. A life of luxuriant idleness is all very well if one 
 is born to it and to the means of honest indulgence in it, 
 but I belong to the working class; and as Providence 
 has so ordered, I am thankful that He has given me an 
 honest pride in my labor, and made protracted pleasure- 
 seeking irksome. . . . 
 
 Our tour since entering Germany has assumed an 
 entirely different character from what it had in Switzer- 
 land and Italy. We were there feasting on the beauties 
 and sublimities of nature, climbing mountains, crossing 
 glaciers, floating on the bosom of sunny lakes, or gliding 
 in gondolas over the blue waters of the Adriatic. But 
 here our time has been spent in capitals, looking upon 
 men, the great ones of the earth, and upon their works. 
 We have been in Munich (the capital of Bavaria), in 
 Dresden (of Saxony), Berlin (of Prussia), Brussels (of 
 Belgium), besides visiting Nuremberg and Heidelberg 
 and Cologne, making the tour of the Rhine, and getting 
 a passing glance at a multitude of other places famous in 
 the history of nations, learning and art. In this progress 
 we have had an opportunity of seeing many of the finest 
 architectural structures in Europe ; have examined the 
 richest galleries of painting and sculpture and collec- 
 tions of engravings out of Southern Italy; have looked 
 into the schools; have observed the people, and have 
 been brought into contact with some of the most notable 
 men of the age. Our American ministers and consuls 
 have in every instance received us with an unlooked-for 
 cordiality, opened their houses to us, introduced us at 
 once into society, helped and directed our inquiries, and 
 expressed but one regret that we could not stay long 
 enough to allow them to carry out their generous plans 
 of hospitality. . . . 
 
 Our Belgian minister, Mr. Sanford (by the way, he knows 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 485 
 
 Ward very well, and inquired after him), treated us very 
 handsomely in Brussels, and was particularly anxious to 
 bring about an interview with the king. He imagines 
 that Leopold's personal influence on the politics of both 
 England and France is very considerable, and he takes a 
 great deal of pains to keep him enlightened on our Ameri- 
 can affairs. He thought that a confirmation of some of 
 his statements by Americans fresh from the country and 
 familiar with its affairs would strengthen his influence 
 and do good. But, unfortunately, the ex-king of Portu- 
 gal having arrived the same day, the king could not 
 receive us, unless we could stay longer than we had 
 time to. So we dismissed the thought, and came on to 
 Antwerp. We have just now (Sept. i3th) received a tele- 
 gram from Sanford, stating that the king is to be at 
 Ghent to-morrow, and having consented to receive us 
 there, S. had taken the liberty to engage us. So we are 
 in for it. 
 
 Ghent, Sept. 14. This has been a great day in this 
 ancient city a grand fete in honor of the inauguration, 
 in the great square of the city, of a magnificent bronze 
 statue of James Van Artevelde, the champion of Flemish 
 rights, and particularly of the civic immunities and privi- 
 leges of the Gantois bourgeoisie in the middle ages. The 
 streets are all decorated with the national and munici- 
 pal colors intermingled with family shields and armorial 
 bearings and the devices of numerous ancient guilds, 
 are enlivened by strains of martial music, and filled with 
 burghers and neighboring peasantry dressed in their Sun- 
 day best. There has been a grand procession to the 
 square, a royal progress and presence, an original cantata 
 by more than 1300 performers and singers, some decora- 
 tion or order confirmed by the king on the sculptor, and 
 any quantity of illuminations and jubilations to-night; and 
 I am fearfully tired as I go to bed to-night to prepare for 
 
486 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 our reception to-morrow. Good-night, and God bless 
 you all. 
 
 To his CHILDREN. 
 
 .... Our American Minister at the Belgian court, 
 thinking it would give pleasure to us and that it might 
 do some good to our country, had spoken to the king 
 and arranged for not only a formal presentation but a 
 private interview with his Majesty. So we had to dress 
 ourselves in our best, put on our white gloves and our 
 white cravats (without which it would be considered 
 very disrespectful to appear before the king), call our 
 carriage, and at the appointed hour make our way to 
 the palace. The body-guard of the king was drawn up 
 before the entrance, and the street was filled with a 
 crowd of curious people, who gazed with intense interest 
 at the happy mortals who were passing into the august 
 presence. Entering the outer gate, we were conducted 
 by a soldier on guard there to the main door, where an 
 officer met us to whom we presented our cards. Touch- 
 ing his cap, he led us up the grand staircase to the door 
 of an ante-chamber, where an elderly usher with a long 
 wand met us, and, receiving our cards from the officer 
 with a low bow, conducted us to a door on the opposite 
 side, where one of the gentlemen-in-waiting stood. The 
 moment he saw our names, he approached us and said, 
 "You are punctual, gentlemen; his Majesty is just 
 ready to receive you." (We had heard that the king 
 was a stickler for punctuality, and were exact to the 
 moment.) Then, after just looking into the other room, 
 he beckoned us to follow ; we were passed into the 
 royal presence, and he retired and closed the door. 
 
 It was a large and elegant hall, but with very little 
 furniture and no chairs. The king was standing in the 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 
 
 middle of the room, but advanced a step or two to meet us 
 as we approached him. He is a noble-looking old gentle- 
 man, and his manner of receiving us was very gracious 
 and kind. He speaks very good English, fortunately for 
 us, and he immediately began inquiring about our jour- 
 ney, and what we had seen. We told him, and spoke of 
 the great pleasure we had enjoyed in his own kingdom, 
 and how happy and well-governed the people looked. 
 He seemed well pleased with our compliments ; and then 
 the conversation turned on America. He spoke very 
 kindly of our country, and was glad to hear how highly 
 our people thought of him. He expressed great concern 
 about the war, and wanted to know whether something 
 could not be done to bring about peace. We explained 
 to him how the war was begun and kept up by the slave- 
 holders, who rebelled against the government and 
 wanted to set up an independent confederacy so as to 
 have more chance to enslave men, and that the only way 
 to have a lasting peace was to subdue these rebels. 
 And so we went on in a very pleasant chat, for full half 
 an hour. We were afterwards told that this was a very 
 great honor, as the king seldom does more than say a 
 few words and dismiss his guests. At length his Majesty 
 expressed the great pleasure he had had in meeting us, 
 and as we had been instructed before by our Minister 
 that that would be the signal for us to retire, we paid 
 our parting respects, and bowed ourselves backwards to 
 the door. 
 
 As we regained our carriage and rattled away, the 
 people, who were all this time waiting for the king's 
 departure for which everything was in readiness gazed 
 harder than ever at the two simple republicans who had 
 enjoyed so unusual a share of the royal time and atten- 
 tion. For ourselves, we were well pleased with good 
 King Leopold ; but when we remembered how few kings 
 
488 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 are like him, and how, when he dies (which cannot be 
 long now, he is so old), it is a mere chance what sort of 
 a man will reign next, we were very glad that we 
 lived in a republic, where the people choose their own 
 rulers and, if they do not prove worthy, can change them 
 for better. But alas for our country, if the people are not 
 wise enough to elect the right men ! Every boy, there- 
 fore, who expects to be a man and to vote one day and 
 every girl who, though she does not vote, may, when a 
 woman, influence those who do vote should see to it 
 that they prepare themselves to be useful to their coun- 
 try by intelligence and by goodness. It is my daily 
 prayer that my children may love their dear native land 
 and be worthy of her liberties. 
 
 The following extract from some of Mr. Beecher's 
 recollections of this interview of two republicans with 
 royalty preserve the humorous elements of it, for 
 many years a topic of merriment in the circle : 
 
 Our tour on the Continent drawing to a close, we came 
 to Brussels, on our way to England, in September of 
 1863. Dining one day with Mr. Sanford, the American 
 Minister, our conversation naturally turned upon the 
 war in America. Greatly aroused at finding our friends 
 there somewhat despondent, and inclined to favor some 
 compromise, I gave my own views with no inconsider- 
 able energy. Mr. Sanford expressed a desire that I 
 should see the King of Belgium and repeat my views to 
 him. It was arranged that we should meet the king at 
 Ghent, where he was to be on the following Monday at 
 the unveiling of a statue of some famous man. Accord- 
 ingly we repaired thither, nothing loth ; for, to say the 
 truth, while I did not expect much from the interview, 
 I did hope a good deal from Van Houtte's great nursery 
 at that place world renowned ! We were informed that 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 489 
 
 the day would be wholly consumed by the king in 
 public affairs, but that on Tuesday morning at ten 
 o'clock he would give us audience. All day Monday, 
 therefore, we strolled through Van Houtte's grounds, and 
 it being a fete day, his workmen and scholars were enjoy- 
 ing holiday vacation, so that we had him all to ourselves. 
 Our courier was named Simmons, an Englishman with 
 a French wife, and long a resident of Paris. Simmons 
 was a character. He had been Mrs. Stowe's courier for 
 a year, and was quite proud when it was his good 
 fortune to have celebrities in hand. Now, for ourselves 
 mere vagabond clergymen, with little time and little 
 money, and no reputation that he had ever heard of 
 he had only a tolerable conceit. Even that suffered from 
 the indefatigable enterprise with which we had raced 
 him, by night and by day, all through Europe. But 
 when he learned on Monday that we had repaired to 
 Ghent to meet an appointment with the king, and that 
 the royal party were to remain till Tuesday expressly for 
 this interview, joy and pride took possession of his soul. 
 Not that he manifested it in any clamorous or indecorous 
 way. No; he was silent, dignified, and indifferent. He 
 spoke among the servants, couriers, and waiters that 
 thronged him, with the nonchalant air of a man who 
 attended royal levees every other week ! To us he was 
 more anxious. We must be put in costume ; etiquette 
 required a dress hat, a swallow-tail coat, white gloves, 
 and I know not what else. I was democratically obstinate. 
 If the king would not see me in my ordinary clothes, he 
 need not see me at all. Simmons was in despair. His 
 face grew sad as with the gloom of twenty sextons. At 
 length, after much persuasion, I compromised on the 
 gloves and hat, but utterly refused to exchange my best 
 frock coat. The master of ceremonies, whoever he was, 
 winked at the irregularity. 
 
49 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 Tuesday dawned. A pair of milk-white horses and 
 gorgeous open carriage had been procured by Simmons. 
 There came with them, as they dashed up to the door, a 
 curious crowd. Out rushed all the people of the hotel 
 cook, butler, steward, waiters, and guests. Simmons 
 stood upon the sidewalk, calm and cool, as a man not 
 easily moved. At length Dr. Raymond and I came forth. 
 A whisper ran round, " Which one is going to see the 
 king ?" and as Raymond had altogether the best of it 
 in looks and dignity, he carried off the honors of the 
 occasion. We ascended; the door was closed. Simmons 
 mounted with the driver. He took one triumphant look 
 at the admiring crowd, parted his coat-tails, and sat 
 down as \ihe were the king ! and away we dashed through 
 crowded streets, Simmons a world happier than was the 
 monarch we were going to see. Not an officer, not a 
 soldier, not a courier, that lingered about the mansion 
 where the king was to receive us but knew in half an 
 hour from Simmons that the king had waited over a 
 day to meet his party. 
 
 The king met us in a long reception-room. His Ma- 
 jesty, in full military dress, appeared to be a well-pre- 
 served man of sixty-five. Tall, dignified, and yet neither 
 stiff nor cold, he entered at once into easy conversation, 
 speaking admirable English. He kept his left hand 
 much of the time upon the sword at his side, as a rest. 
 Almost at once, his Majesty turned the conversation upon 
 America. I gave my views with some explicitness, and 
 was confirmed by Dr. Raymond. Etiquette, of course, 
 required us to address the king as "Sire" or "Your 
 Majesty." I did sometimes, and sometimes I forgot it 
 and said "Sir." Dr. Raymond, who took part in the 
 general conversation, preserved the proprieties more suc- 
 cessfully, and occasionally would follow up one of my 
 lapses with a remark in which "Sire" or "Your Majesty" 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 49* 
 
 received a delicate emphasis, by way of hint to me. 
 Once or twice I went back to correct the word, but 
 finally got "Sir" and "Sire" so mixed up that I used 
 both of them. The king plainly enjoyed it. A mirthful 
 look stole into his eye, and a smile to his lips. 
 
 We made very little impression on his Majesty's politi- 
 cal views. He said that the war was doubtless a case 
 for mediation, and more than intimated that he would 
 be happy to arbitrate between the South and the North. 
 I replied that there was no sovereign in Europe to whom 
 with more confidence the North would turn, if they were 
 disposed to refer the questions at issue at all; but that 
 our people had no wish or purpose to ask any one to 
 settle the quarrel for them; they intended to fight it out, 
 to the last man and the last dollar. 
 
 I was not, at that time, aware that Charlotte, (or 
 Carlotta, as she has since then been called,) the wife 
 of Maximilian, was the king's daughter. It was at the 
 time when the French were in Mexico, and the son-in- 
 law of the King of Belgium was spoken of for the Mex- 
 ican throne. The king asked me what the opinion of 
 our people was in regard to the appointment of Maxi- 
 milian as Emperor of Mexico. Quite unconscious of the 
 ground I was treading upon, I replied that but one feel- 
 ing existed in the United States as to the French inva- 
 sion: it was a cowardly thing a masked battery aimed 
 at us. While our hands were now full with the Civil 
 War nothing could be done, but he might be sure that 
 as soon as the war closed the French would leave Mex- 
 ico, and far more rapidly than they had entered. And, 
 as to Maximilian, I said that I should advise any one 
 who proposed to sit on the throne of Mexico to try 
 Vesuvius or Hecla for a while. If he could manage to 
 sit there quietly, he might then try Mexico. 
 
 His Majesty naturally received these views with de- 
 
492 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 cided coolness, and shortly afterwards asked us how 
 long we intended remaining in town, etc. which is the 
 signal for dismission. Now, although etiquette does not 
 allow one to turn his back upon royalty, yet the floor 
 was wooden, polished, and very slippery, and while I 
 began with cautious backing, I soon got quartering, so 
 that I could see where I was going, and near the door, 
 losing all propriety, I turned clear around and bolted out 
 as I would have done at home. 
 
 No sooner had we got fairly away than Dr. John ex- 
 ploded with merriment. Knowing all the time that the 
 king's daughter was wife of Maximilian, he saw me get- 
 ting myself into hot water with the most profane enjoy- 
 ment. Nor did the fun ever wear out. An allusion to 
 my gifts as a courtier was an unfailing source of amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 To his WIFE. 
 
 BERLIN, September 2, 1863. 
 
 . . . We left Munich Wednesday afternoon and ran out 
 north as far as Nuremberg, where we spent the night and 
 the next forenoon. I wish I could give you some idea of 
 Nuremberg, which. is one of the most curious and inter- 
 esting places that we have visited 
 
 It was evening when we arrived, and after supper I 
 left Mr. Beecher talking with some pleasant Boston 
 people whom we had met the day before in Kaulbach's 
 studio, and went out for a moonlight ramble alone. That 
 is the true light for one of these quaint old cities; and it 
 is one of the few sights which are best enjoyed by a sin- 
 gle pair of eyes. For an hour I threaded the narrow, 
 irregular streets, treading upon the same firm stones 
 which honest builders laid in times when substance was 
 in more esteem than show, and over which the busy 
 streams of human life have rolled so long and left so lit- 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 493 
 
 tie trace. I looked into the quaint faces of those old 
 burgher-mansions, many of which are still occupied by 
 the descendants of the men who built them so ample 
 and even in their dimensions, so diversified in their dec- 
 orations, so full of nooks and recesses, balconies, bay- 
 windows, and nameless architectural features, placed in 
 all manner of unexpected positions, and suggestive of 
 that complete subjection of all things to the interior com- 
 fort of the family which we know to have been the 
 reigning principle in their construction. I traced the 
 varied and picturesque outline made against the sky by 
 their peaked gables, their ornamental chimneys, and their 
 quaint turrets, in such utter contrast to the tame horizon- 
 tals and parallels of the bastard-Grecian streets in the 
 modern cities. I stood before the grand old Rathhaus 
 (or Town Hall), the churches, the beautiful bronze foun- 
 tains, and other monuments of the piety and public spirit 
 of Nuremberg in its palmy days, on which treasure and 
 genius had been expended without stint, yet without 
 waste. And I could not but be led into comparisons 
 between "the former times" and "these," which were not 
 altogether to the advantage of the latter. Seen by day- 
 light, no doubt, some new aspects might present them- 
 selves; but it was moonlight then, and when at last I 
 stood before the house of Albert Diirer, whose great 
 creative genius inspired and in large measure guided 
 the work of construction and decoration in this grand 
 old town, and who is at the same time the acknowledged 
 " father of Christian art" for all Germany, my spirit 
 was fully prepared to bow down and do him homage. 
 It is a melancholy fact that few or none of his great pic- 
 tures remain in his beloved Nuremberg. One after 
 another they have been stolen by the "great con- 
 querors" (and robbers) of mankind, and carried off to 
 adorn (and disgrace) the great capitals of modern times. 
 
494 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 LONDON, Sept. 10, 1863. 
 
 DEAR WIFE: We arrived in this great city this morn- 
 ing, and after dispatching unpostponables, I sit down in 
 great haste to write you a line. 
 
 Our tour in Germany and Belgium (at the last mo- 
 ment we abandoned Holland) has been full of interest^ 
 only too brief and hurried. It was a perfect contrast to 
 the preceding month, spent amidst the sublime and 
 picturesque scenes of Switzerland and Italy. The old 
 towns of Germany are indeed picturesque', and the Rhine, 
 with its bold banks draped in vines and crowned with 
 grand old castles and ruins from Heidelberg to Cologne. 
 But the feature of our German tour has been the capi- 
 tals, with their characteristic life in the present and their 
 rich collections of medieval art. And though we spent 
 three or four days in each, we felt that in each we had 
 but just chipped the shell and begun to realize how 
 much there was to explore within. 
 
 In Berlin we were received and entertained by Mr. 
 Judd, the American minister at that court, in a very 
 cordial manner. ... At their house we met the Neu- 
 mann ladies; the Professor himself was unfortunately 
 not at home. They were expecting us, from letters re- 
 ceived from Captain Ros, and were inconsolable that our 
 stay was so short. We also made there very pleasant 
 acquaintances in Mr. T. S. Fay, the late minister to 
 Prussia; in Prof. Ranke, the historian; his brother, the 
 president of the most important gymnasium in Germany, 
 which I visited, and there formed a pleasant acquaintance 
 with Zumpt, the celebrated Latinist, in his class-room; 
 and, above all, in Dr. Waagen, the Director of the Royal 
 Picture Gallery and the well-known historian of art in 
 the Berlin Museum, who took the most lively personal 
 interest in our study of the gallery, appointed an hour 
 to meet us there, and gave us in all two or three hours 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 495 
 
 of the most instructive and suggestive talk, illustrating 
 his views by the paintings themselves. Mr. Beecher 
 plied him with questions, and he answered with equal 
 enthusiasm and with exhaustless learning. 
 
 Did I tell you that we met Mr. Low and his family 
 in Munich, and again in Dresden, and had the most 
 charming time with them? His wife, two daughters, 
 three sons, and a son of Mr. Pierrepont are with him. (All 
 the boys have been Polytechnics, and have a delightful 
 faith in " the Doctor.") They insisted on our changing 
 our room to one adjoining them, and we made a common 
 circle, visiting the lions and the opera together and having 
 a delightful time generally. Mr. Low goes in the Scotia 
 on the loth of October, and is very earnest to have us 
 join his party. 
 
 In Dresden I also lighted upon another Polytechnic 
 boy. His father, a Mr. Stallknecht, is a Dane by birth 
 and practicing law in New York, and has brought his 
 boy over to give him a thorough training in Germany 
 at one of the gymnasiums there, of which he has a very 
 exalted opinion. He rendered me very important ser- 
 vice, delaying his departure for home a day that he 
 might devote it to me. We spent as much of it as I could 
 spare in first visiting one of the famous Kindergarten 
 schools, where children of every age, from the tenderest, 
 are received and taught on a perfectly natural plan, much 
 of it in the open air, in a pleasant garden-spot, which is 
 also in part cultivated by the pupils ; and then visiting a 
 very celebrated gymnasium. Mr. Stallknecht was well 
 acquainted with the principals of both, and was exceed- 
 ingly useful as a medium of communication between them 
 and me, their English being much like my German- 
 very valuable for its possessor's private uses, but of no 
 great account to others. 
 
 We were obliged to run away from Berlin between 
 
49 6 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 two days, making a hurried night-journey, by rail, across 
 Germany to Heidelberg. We knew very well what a 
 world of interest we thus sped by and left behind us a 
 terra incognita. But our time was passing more rapidly 
 than we, and this was the easiest way to accomplish the 
 sacrifice that was inevitable. . . . 
 
 Of Cologne cathedral, too, I am obliged to speak in 
 comparatively moderate terms. A beautiful structure 
 it unquestionably is, remarkable especially for the 
 harmony of its proportions, the graceful upward flow 
 of its vertical lines, and the delicacy of its carved decora- 
 tions; but the excessive laudations which give it pre-emi- 
 nence over all other Gothic cathedrals in Europe found 
 no response or confirmation in the impression it pro- 
 duced on my feelings, and Mr. Beecher expressed him- 
 self as even more disappointed than I was. I am not 
 sure but the very perfection of its harmony, may in 
 part account for its want of immediate effect, that being 
 a quality which is the very reverse of obtrusive, and 
 requires time for the mind to apprehend and feel it. . . . 
 In our minds, at least, Cologne must yield to Milan in 
 exquisite beauty, and to the English cathedrals for dig- 
 nity and a certain majestic simplicity, which places them 
 foremost in my heart as temples of worship to the 
 Christian's God. In Belgium the cathedrals are ex- 
 ceedingly noble, not having perhaps the exquisite pro- 
 portions and the delicate decorations of Cologne and 
 Milan, nor the majesty of York and Winchester, but 
 equally far removed from the wretched classicism of St. 
 Paul's and the whole Renaissance school, and the detes- 
 table extravagances of the later or Flamboyant Gothic, 
 which is overabundant on the Continent. The applica- 
 tions of the Gothic style to civil and domestic uses are 
 admirable and full of suggestions to our modern archi- 
 tects, if they had but the brains to take a hint. 
 
TRIP TO EUROPE. 497 
 
 And here we are back again in mighty London, and 
 at our comfortable old quarters at the Golden Cross, 
 Charing Cross. You can't think how much it seems 
 like getting back home, to be in a country where 
 our own dear mother-tongue is spoken, not by here and 
 there a man, but by everybody and on every side, and 
 where we are at once brought into living contact and 
 communion with our species through that wonderful, 
 vital medium, speech. ... It is now probable that Mr. 
 Beecher will remain and speak in England, and he is 
 very urgent to have me stay with him. I know there is 
 something in what he says, and I feel the claims of the 
 cause to be strong. But the trouble is that nothing can 
 be done to advantage here until after the middle of Oc- 
 tober, and that is too late for me to be absent. I must be 
 at home by that time at furthest, and shall be. 
 
 S. S. PERSIA, N. Y. BAY, ) 
 
 9A.M., Wednesday Morning, Oct. 7, 1863. f 
 
 How do you do this bright and beautiful morning ? 
 Within two hours, my feet will again touch the dear 
 native shore, and as soon thereafter as affairs will allow, 
 I shall be on my way to the spot where my treasures are 
 and my heart also. 
 
 We have had a glorious passage fine weather pleas- 
 ant companions five meals every day, and a most mag- 
 nificent termination this morning. I came alone, leaving 
 H. W. B. in England, where he will be heard in due 
 time. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 
 
 IN January, 1861, a letter had been received by Dr. 
 Raymond, informing him of his appointment as a 
 member of the first board of trustees of Vassar College. 
 The story of the origin and growth of that institution 
 will appear in the papers and correspondence below : 
 
 POUGHKEEPSIE, N.Y., Jan. 24, 1861. 
 JOHN H. RAYMOND, Esq. 
 
 DEAR SIR : You will perceive from a copy of the charter 
 accompanying that you are appointed one of the corporators 
 of "Vassar Female College." Permit me to express the 
 earnest hope that you will accept the trust, and that you 
 will not only give to the enterprise about to be inaugurated 
 the sanction of your name and reputation, but also your 
 best counsel and active support and co-operation. The first 
 meeting of the Trustees will be held at the Gregory House in 
 this city, on Tuesday, February 26th, at ten o'clock A.M. 
 
 Immediately on the organization of the Board, I shall 
 place in its hands the funds and securities which I have 
 appropriated to the college. 
 
 At this meeting measures must be adopted for the custody 
 and management of the college funds, the erection of the 
 buildings, and the improvement of the grounds. Needful 
 preliminary and prospective arrangements will also be con- 
 sidered in regard to the organization of the college. 
 
 With sentiments of high consideration, I am, 
 Very truly and respectfully, 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 
 M. VASSAR. 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY, 499 
 
 He obeyed the summons, and was deeply impressed 
 by the occurrences of this first meeting of the Board, 
 where its formal organization took place. He always 
 spoke of it as one of the most affecting scenes of his 
 life, and declared that nothing could exceed the thrill- 
 ing interest of the occasion, when the Founder of the 
 College gave up forever into the hands of others a 
 splendid fortune. We find an account of the trans- 
 action in his own language, occurring in a " Biographi- 
 cal Sketch of Matthew Vassar," read before the Uni- 
 versity Convocation held at Albany, N. Y., in August, 
 1868. 
 
 In 1855 the beautiful cottage and grounds since known as the 
 Cottage Hill Seminary, which were the property of Mr. Vassar, 
 were purchased by Prof. M. P. Jewett, who had been for many 
 years at the head of a flourishing female seminary in Alabama. 
 Friendly relations were formed between him and Mr. Vassar; 
 and, in the intercourse that followed, Mr. Vassar's interest 
 developed into a settled purpose, and the purpose gradually 
 ripened into a definite and noble plan. A COLLEGE, in the 
 proper sense of the word an institution which should be to 
 young women what Yale and Harvard are to young men, receiv- 
 ing them after suitable preparation at the academies and semi- 
 naries, and furnishing them with the means of a true liberal 
 education this was the conception which he would attempt to 
 realize. At least, he would make the beginning ; he would plant 
 the germ, and leave it to others of a kindred spirit, and to a 
 favoring Providence, to foster and perfect it. It was unoccupied 
 ground. Millions had been spent on colleges for young men, at 
 home and abroad, while not a single endowed college for young 
 women existed in all Christendom. He was satisfied that, in 
 taking this step, he was not only justified by the most weighty 
 intrinsic considerations, but was acting in harmony with a 
 general movement in the public mind was providing for a want 
 which had already begun to be felt and would grow more urgent 
 with every passing year. He believed that many would follow 
 
500 JOHN H. RA YMOND, 
 
 in the same path ; it would be honor enough for him to have led 
 the way. 
 
 His purpose formed, Mr. Vassar proceeded to its execution 
 with that mingled caution and decision which so strikingly char- 
 acterized him. He corresponded, personally and by letter, with 
 many leading educators, and sought wisdom from every accessi- 
 ble source in maturing his plans. He carefully made out a list 
 of twenty-eight persons, whom he invited to act as the first 
 trustees of the College. A charter was obtained from the Legis- 
 lature ; and on the 26th day of February, 1861, the Board was 
 convened, and Mr. Vassar formally transferred to their keeping 
 the funds he had appropriated for the founding of the college. 
 No one who was privileged to witness the impressive rcene 
 which occurred in the parlor of the Gregory House, in Pough- 
 keepsie, on that morning, will ever cease to remember it as one 
 of rare moral interest and grandeur. The bonds and mortgages, 
 certificates of stock, and other securities, which constituted the 
 sacred deposit, had been placed together in a small casket, the 
 key of which Mr. Vassar held in his hand during his brief and 
 dignified address : 
 
 "Gentlemen," said he, "as my long-cherished purpose to 
 apply a large portion of my estate to some benevolent object 
 is now about to be accomplished, it seems proper that I should 
 submit to you a statement of my motives, views, and wishes. 
 
 " It having pleased God that I should have no descendants to 
 inherit my property, it has long been my desire, after suitably 
 providing for those of my kindred who have claims upon me, to 
 make such a disposition of my means as should best honor God 
 and benefit my fellow-men. At different periods I have regarded 
 various plans with favor ; but these have all been dismissed, one 
 after another, until the subject of erecting and endowing a col- 
 lege for the education of young women was presented for my 
 consideration. The novelty, grandeur, and benignity of the idea 
 arrested my attention. The more carefully I examined it, the 
 more strongly it commended itself to my judgment and inter- 
 ested my feelings." 
 
 After a brief and impressive statement of the grounds on which 
 his decision rested, and of his wishes in regard to the character 
 of the institution, Mr. Vassar proceeded as follows : 
 
V ASS AX COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 501 
 
 " And now, gentlemen of the board of trustees, I transfer to 
 your possession and ownership the real and personal property 
 which I have set apart for the accomplishment of my design." 
 
 With these words, he delivered the key into the hand of the 
 president of the Board of Trustees, thus at a single stroke sacri- 
 ficing one half of his entire estate the fruits of a long and 
 laborious life on the altar of an enlightened philanthropy. 
 
 A site had already been selected, and plans and specifications 
 drawn for the college edifice, and on the 4th of June, 1861, Mr. 
 Vassar " broke ground " with his own hands, in the presence of 
 a few of his friends, and with no other ceremony than a simple 
 prayer for the blessing of God on the enterprise. The building 
 was finished and fully equipped for its purposes by the autumn 
 of 1865; and during this whole period Mr. Vassar, acting as 
 chairman of the executive committee of the Board, took the 
 leading and responsible part in the direction of affairs. 
 
 The College was built " in troublous times." Almost simulta- 
 neously with the commencement of the work, the war of the 
 Southern rebellion began, and continued through the four years 
 required for its completion. Before the close of the first year 
 there was a sudden and enormous rise in the prices of materials 
 and labor ; and this, together with the general derangement in 
 the business of the country, baffled all the calculations of the 
 contractor and the committee, and necessitated immense sacri- 
 fices in every branch of the work. Those who had looked upon 
 the undertaking as chimerical, and predicted its failure from the 
 beginning and they were not a few were now more than ever 
 confident of the fulfillment of their prediction ; and some ill- 
 natured ones were not wanting who, as they looked on the 
 gigantic walls slowly rising year after year, began to whisper 
 " Vassar's folly" as certain to be the designation of the completed 
 structure. With Mr. Vassar it was a period of the greatest 
 anxiety. It cost him more sleepless nights than he ever con- 
 fessed, and taxed hi-s resources more severely than the largest 
 and boldest of his business operations. But he never faltered 
 in his purpose; and, though he saw the outlay exceeding 
 the estimates at the rate of thousands monthly during the 
 entire process of erection and equipment, it was never once 
 arrested until the last blow was struck and the College was in 
 actual operation. 
 
502 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 In the summer of 1865, the preparations for opening being 
 substantially completed, Mr. Vassar resigned the position he had 
 held on the executive committee. He felt that the enterprise 
 had reached the point at which he ought to be relieved from 
 the prominent responsibility he had hitherto borne in its manage- 
 ment. His long and varied experience in practical life had been 
 of eminent service in superintending the material arrangements 
 for the college ; and he now called on others, whose previous 
 experience better fitted them to shape and direct its educational 
 machinery, to assume the charge. He had just completed his 
 seventy-third year ; and though his general health was still 
 good, yet the trying labor of the last four years, and certain 
 monitions he had received of the approach of age, made him 
 not unwilling to lay down the burdens of active life and content 
 himself with observing the further development of his project in 
 other hands. 
 
 The College was a success from the beginning. The first 
 announcement of Mr. Vassar's purpose, on the occasion of the 
 legislative act incorporating the College, was greeted with uni- 
 versal acclamations of applause, both in the Legislature and 
 throughout the country. On the day of opening it was filled 
 with students from the best families, and of a high average grade 
 of promise. After the opening its popularity increased rather 
 than diminished, so that by the close of the second year it became 
 necessary to provide for an additional number of students. The 
 satisfaction afforded Mr. Vassar by this outward prosperity was 
 very great ; but it was far surpassed by the pleasure he took in 
 watching the interior working of the institution. He never 
 wearied of walking through its spacious halls and apartments, 
 filled with busy workers in the noblest of human employments, 
 and witnessing their free and happy use of the abundant facili- 
 ties which he had placed at their disposal. He visited the Col- 
 lege daily when his health permitted, cultivated a friendly 
 acquaintance with the professors and students, and took a lively 
 interest in the discussion of all the questions that came up in the 
 current life of the institution. He was ever sure of a warm and 
 loving welcome there. Every face, as he appeared, was lighted 
 up with a smile of joy and affection ; and the feeling did not fail 
 to find modes of expression as delicate as they were beautiful and 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 503 
 
 touching. Among its more formal manifestations was the estab- 
 lishing of his birthday, under the title of " Founder's Day," as 
 the chief festival of the college year, to be annually commemo- 
 rated with appropriate observances under the immediate direc- 
 tion of the young ladies. Poetry, recitations, and dramatic 
 representations, having special reference to the day, formed the 
 literary part of the entertainment, while the accompaniments of 
 decoration, ceremony, and festal cheer tasked the invention and 
 artistic taste of the fair providers. To them a labor of love, 
 these were to Mr. Vassar occasions of affecting interest. The 
 feeling of the College towards himself, as " Founder, Father, 
 Friend," received at such times an explicit and emphatic expres- 
 sion which under ordinary circumstances would have been un- 
 suitable ; and the sight of so many happy youth exerting them- 
 selves to do him honor in beautiful forms, and the presence of 
 his old friends and neighbors gathering round him with kindly 
 hand-grasps and warm congratulations, might well move a heart 
 of less sensibility than his. On one such occasion he whis- 
 pered into the ear of the writer, on whose arm he chanced to be 
 leaning : " This is almost more happiness than I can bear. This 
 one day more than repays me for all I have done." Indeed, had 
 Mr. Vassar's sole object been to secure, out of his estate, the 
 largest amount of happiness to himself before his death, he could 
 not have selected a more fortunate investment ; and it is not too 
 much to say that the expenditure of his fortune yielded him, 
 during the last three years of his life, more genuine and un- 
 mingled satisfaction than all he had experienced in acquiring it 
 throughout his long and prosperous business career. So true 
 is it that " it is more blessed to give than to receive." 
 
 From the time of the first meeting of the Board of 
 Trustees, Dr. Raymond felt a growing interest in the 
 experiment (then regarded as novel) of a College for 
 Women. From each succeeding meeting of the Board 
 at Poughkeepsie he returned with new enthusiasm for 
 a cause with which he had felt at first only a general 
 sympathy, and of whose success he had never had 
 
504 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 great assurance. He took an active part in the delib- 
 erations of the trustees, but was not prepared to learn, 
 in the spring of 1864, that his own name had come 
 before the Board in relation to the office of President. 
 Professor Jewett, who had been associated with Mr. 
 Vassar in the earliest discussions and plans for the new 
 project, and who would naturally have been the first 
 President of the organized College, had from personal 
 reasons withdrawn from the enterprise ; and the promi- 
 nent part taken by Dr. Raymond in the deliberations of 
 the Board had impressed them with the belief that he was 
 a man able to harmonize and adjust, to organize and 
 animate the diverse elements of this perplexing scheme. 
 Whatever satisfaction he may have felt in this pro- 
 posed arrangement, and in the warmth with which its 
 acceptance was urged upon him, was counterbalanced 
 by the serious questions to which it gave rise. The 
 benefit gained from his European travels had proved 
 transient, and he had but just offered his resignation 
 at the Polytechnic on the ground of insufficient health 
 and the need, for a while, of complete rest from official 
 labors. Could he assume a burden of far greater mag- 
 nitude ? And would he pledge himself to an enterprise 
 attended by dangers which seemed to him overwhelm- 
 ing? His decision was not aided by the comments of 
 his immediate friends, who could not forbear indulging 
 in a little skepticism on the profit of an investment in 
 so unpromising a cause as " higher female education ;" 
 and his perplexity culminated when the trustees of the 
 Polytechnic declined to accept his resignation, pro- 
 posing measures by which his labors there might be 
 greatly lightened, and offering him other inducements 
 to remain. 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 505 
 
 For the first time in his life he now stopped to con- 
 sider the question of his own remuneration, driven to 
 it by the possibilities to which his failing health opened 
 his eyes. The hope which he had at one time felt for 
 Vassar College seemed destined to disappointment. 
 He had delighted in the thought of a college amply 
 endowed, whose powers should not be crippled by 
 poverty or its higher interests perpetually sacrificed to 
 its lower material needs. But, as described in the pre- 
 ceding extract, owing to the business conditions of the 
 country, the outlay in the erection of the college build- 
 ings was far greater than had been anticipated, and 
 thus was absorbed in mere foundation-work that which 
 would have been rich provision for the endowment of 
 professorships and of the scholarships which he so 
 much desired. He was somewhat influenced by this 
 fact in declining to assume the charge of the enter- 
 prise. He writes to his wife : 
 
 BROOKLYN, May 13, 1864. 
 
 I have dispatched my declinature to Mr. Vassar. Mr. 
 Sheldon, although, as you know, he was exceedingly desir- 
 ous to have me go, on hearing the letter read pronounced 
 it "excellent," "just the thing to do good," etc. etc. I 
 wrote very frankly, expressing my views in plain terms. 
 Oh, I assure you, I have "spoken right out in meeting;" 
 and though I felt all the delicacy and reluctance which 
 you express on the subject, yet a conviction of duty pressed 
 me to it. 
 
 This letter, which is given below, expresses his con- 
 viction of a fallacy from which the cause of Education 
 has always suffered. His general ideas on this subject 
 should perhaps be stated, to make clear the consistency 
 
506 JOHN H. A } A YMOND. 
 
 of the letter with his habitual spirit of self-sacrifice. 
 The popular misconception of the claims of Education 
 and the whole tone of public sentiment with regard to 
 its worth, as compared with more tangible and mate- 
 rial values ; the position of those in educational profes- 
 sions as the servants or beneficiaries rather than the 
 benefactors of the public, giving from their stores of 
 heart and brain and nerve treasures of supreme worth, 
 and receiving the most meager return ; the struggles of 
 its institutions for the very breath of life all this was 
 a ceaseless regret to him. He was sometimes asked : 
 " Then you think that education should be within the 
 reach of the wealthy alone ? And if it could be had 
 only at great price, what would become of those best 
 fitted to use and least able perhaps to pay for it?" He 
 would reply : " For such there should be special provi- 
 sion. Education should be freely given to those who 
 cannot buy it ; and that it may be given, those who 
 have abundant means should contribute liberally to its 
 revenues/' His constant effort in every institution 
 with which he was connected was for endowed scholar- 
 ships to meet this very want. But he maintained that 
 the rich should be willing to pay for a thing so precious 
 in proportion to its intrinsic importance, and held them 
 responsible for a false standard of values whereby they 
 were dismayed at the idea of giving for that which is 
 beyond price sums expended without a thought upon 
 things of transient worth or enjoyment. 
 
 The fairness of his plea may justify the publication 
 of a letter in which, for the only time in his life, he 
 mentioned his own sacrifices in this cause : 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 507 
 
 BROOKLYN, May 13, 1864. 
 MATTHEW VASSAR, Esq., Chairman of Committee, etc. 
 
 DEAR SIR: The distinguished honor done me by the 
 Founder and Trustees of Vassar Female College in my 
 election to its Presidency, the cordial unanimity of their 
 action, and the expressions of personal kindness with 
 which it has been communicated by the committee of 
 which you are chairman, have profoundly affected me. 
 The magnificent possibilities of usefulness open to the 
 incumbent of that chair make it impossible to treat the 
 summons lightly, and forbid any shrinking from the toil 
 and anxiety by which alone those possibilities can be 
 realized. One might indeed be excused for grasping 
 somewhat over-eagerly after the chances of such distinc- 
 tion, especially when encouraged by the approval of such 
 a body of counselors. 
 
 But I have not been able to forget that on me rests 
 the ultimate responsibility of a wise decision in this mat- 
 ter; and that, where both my own interests and those of 
 the College are so deeply involved, I cannot afford to be 
 tempted into a mistake. 
 
 I have felt sure of your sanction, therefore, in taking 
 time for a thorough and deliberate canvass of the whole 
 question; and it is with more regret than I can express 
 that, contrary to my expectation, I have found my mind 
 gradually settling to a negative conclusion. I regret it 
 the more because in assigning reasons for this conclu- 
 sion, although other considerations have had their weight, 
 I am compelled in candor to attach special and decisive 
 importance to those immediately connected with my own 
 interests. 
 
 In the first place, there seem to be imperative reasons 
 for opening the College next fall; and a great deal re- 
 mains to be done to complete the preparation. I do not 
 refer to the material arrangements, which are in good 
 
5 8 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 hands and more than sufficient for a beginning, but to 
 the interior and still more vital organization of the fac- 
 ulty and system of instruction and discipline, the selection 
 of professors and teachers, the course of studies, the distri- 
 bution of the labor, and, in general, the entire scheme of 
 regimen, domestic and educatory, for an institution of the 
 first class, and in many respects a novelty in the history 
 of education. This is a great work, the responsibility of 
 which must fall chiefly on the President; and so far as I 
 am concerned, it is nearly all of it work still to be done. 
 For in such a matter I could adopt no other man's notions 
 or materials without having first thought them through 
 and made them my own. Even if I were in full vigor, 
 I should hesitate to undertake so much within so limited 
 a period. But I am not in full vigor. For the first time 
 in my life I have thought it necessary to seek absolute 
 freedom from official responsibilities, to give me time and 
 opportunity for a thorough recruital of my health. A 
 year's respite I have thought little enough to make a sure 
 thing of it. It would certainly seem inconsistent with 
 that step, and I fear would be positively wrong, for me at 
 the same moment to take up a burden whose weight I 
 have never measured, but which cannot be less, and is 
 likely for the present to be very much greater, than that 
 which I lay down. 
 
 A flattering picture has been drawn me of a summer 
 to be spent mainly in pleasant out-door occupation, 
 traveling about the country to visit nominees for ap- 
 pointments in the College, and in supervising the work 
 of others rather than doing work myself. But I cannot 
 so deceive myself; and I observed, sir, with satisfaction 
 that when this view was suggested in your presence it 
 did not deceive you. What a man might make of the 
 position who took it merely to make an easy berth for 
 himself, I will not undertake to say. But for him who 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 509 
 
 undertakes it conscientiously and knows what it requires, 
 the tax on brain and nerve for the -next six months must 
 be constant and severe; and I must not be ashamed to 
 acknowledge, both on my own account and that of the 
 College, that, in my present physical condition, I shrink 
 from assuming it. 
 
 In the second place, even if this objection could in any 
 way be obviated, I am obliged to acknowledge my un- 
 willingness to accept this office for the largest compen- 
 sation that I have heard mentioned. This is a salary of 
 $3000 per annum with the rent of a partially furnished 
 house, equivalent to about $3500, while I should not be 
 willing to take the position for less than $5000. 
 
 What it has cost me to pen that last frank sentence it 
 must be difficult for business men to appreciate, accus- 
 tomed as they are to the daily exchange and mutual com- 
 parison of values. It is the first time in my life that I 
 ever attempted to set a value on my services; and I may 
 point to my past record as evidence that I do it now only 
 from a settled conviction of duty. 
 
 Having served the cause of public education to the 
 best of my poor ability for now nearly thirty years (four- 
 teen in the faculty at Hamilton, five at Rochester and 
 nine in my present position), I have it to say, that never 
 in a single instance until now have I sought, directly or 
 indirectly, to make terms for myself, never objected to 
 the compensation offered me, never asked for a dollar's 
 advance, and never made the two ends of a year meet. 
 During this entire period I have been laboring for the 
 benefit of large and wealthy communities (for the Bap- 
 tists of the Empire State, for the garden region of West- 
 ern New York, and for Brooklyn, the " third city of the 
 Union"); my labors have been accepted with an over- 
 generous praise, and paid for at the usual market-price 
 of such commodities, and yet I have done it at a constant 
 
510 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 pecuniary sacrifice to myself, and have .been dependent 
 upon extra-professional labors to eke out a bare support 
 for my family. 
 
 You will not, sir, of course, understand me as reflect- 
 ing in these simple statements of fact upon the trustees of 
 the institutions with which I have had the honor of a con- 
 nection. That were an ungrateful return for the gener- 
 ous kindness that I have invariably received at their 
 hands, and a very poor expression of the real feeling 
 with which I regard their philanthropic devotion to an 
 unrequited and often thankless service. The fault, if 
 there be any, is in the poverty of the institutions, and in 
 the imperfect appreciation by the great public of the 
 value of education, which is the cause of that poverty, 
 and whose deficiencies are only now and then supplied 
 by rare instances of private munificence. 
 
 To me, however, the result has been the same. I close 
 my work this summer, and with it my twenty-eighth year 
 of public service, with impaired health, a family unpro- 
 vided for, and an empty purse. 
 
 You will not, I am sure, misapprehend the spirit of 
 these personal references. The great apostle would not 
 be stinted in the luxury of " boasting" when he had once 
 begun. But I have nothing to boast of. I mention 
 these things simply to screen myself from the suspicion 
 of a sordid motive in offering such a response to such a 
 call. And now, sir, you shall yourself judge whether, 
 after such an apprenticeship as I have served, I am or 
 am not justified in saying what I do say most deliberately 
 and without reserve : that henceforth I cannot consci- 
 entiously accept office in any public institution without 
 a compensation regulated not by prevalent notions arid 
 usages on the subject, but by the actual value of the ser- 
 vice required and the cost of preparation for its proper 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY, 511 
 
 performance. You shall also be judge whether I have 
 set the figure too high to meet these conditions. 
 
 Whether I could, under any circumstances, be worth 
 that amount to the College is a very different question; it 
 is only another way of asking whether I am fit for the 
 place, which I certainly have not claimed to be. 
 
 It is a stiil different question whether the resources of 
 the College would justify it in paying such a salary to its 
 president. As one of its trustees I do not hesitate to ex- 
 press the opinion that the present resources of the College 
 would not. Accordingly, I have regarded the result 
 to which my mind has been brought on this point as de- 
 cisive of the whole question. For in this, and in every 
 other matter connected with the management of the Col- 
 lege, I am opposed to drawing in advance on the possi- 
 bilities of the future. In the generosity of the man who 
 has laid so broad and deep the foundation of this enter- 
 prise, and of other gentlemen who are equally interested 
 with him in the fame of the honored name it bears, the 
 College has everything to hope for, nothing to speculate 
 upon. And I believe the best warrant for the expectation 
 of further liberality will be the prudent management of 
 that already bestowed. In this connection, I for one have 
 heartily regretted, and still do, that the munificent sum 
 consecrated by you, sir, three years ago to this sacred cause 
 should, to so large an extent, have been absorbed in mere 
 material provisions, compelling us to begin the ungracious 
 work of retrenchment and enforced economy just as we 
 reach the vital part the men and women who are to 
 infuse their spirit into its life, and to put upon the 
 College for all time to come the impress of their heart 
 and brain in other words, compelling us after the old 
 fashion to pinch and starve the College at its heart. 
 
 But I forget that it is not my province to judge. I 
 trust the end will justify every step in the progress by 
 
512 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 which it shall be reached. Meanwhile, for the present 
 emergency it ought not to be difficult to find a stronger 
 and a better man for its president on terms entirely 
 within the means of the College. 
 
 Asking you to pardon the length of this communica- 
 tion, which would be shorter were my respect less for 
 those for whom it is intended, and to convey the sub- 
 stance of it to the Committee in such way as you may 
 deem best, I remain, dear sir, with sentiments of sincere 
 esteem and admiration, 
 
 Yours very truly, J. H. RAYMOND. 
 
 The only record of the result of this letter is found 
 in a hurried postscript to one of May 20 : 
 
 Alas! I have just lost this afternoon's mail. The Vas- 
 sar Committee called at one o'clock, and have only just 
 gone at 4 P.M., and now I must run for Philadelphia, 
 where I am to meet President Smith of Girard to-mor- 
 row morning. 
 
 As I feared, they are going to come to my terms. And 
 how shall I decide? They mean to have me. Mr. Vassar 
 admitted the force of my views, and said that I was per- 
 fectly reasonable and right. 
 
 To his WIFE. 
 
 BROOKLYN, June 7, 1864. 
 
 On Friday P.M. I received a note from Mr. Vassar, 
 by the hand of Mr. Buckingham of Poughkeepsie, of 
 such a tenor, and accompanied by such explanations from 
 Mr. B., as satisfied me that Mr. Vassar had in some re- 
 spects misapprehended my views. I determined to go 
 forthwith to him and settle matters in private personal 
 interview. Mr. B. was delighted with this, and tele- 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE-PRELIMINARY. 513 
 
 graphed that I would be there the next morning. Mr. 
 Vassar met me at the station, and nothing could exceed 
 the kindness and cordiality with which I was greeted. 
 The old gentleman had just moved out, the day before, 
 to his summer residence at Springside Cottage; and was 
 there with his housekeeper, Miss Germand, and their 
 servants. 
 
 They were memorable hours for me which I spent there 
 during this visit. For the first time I have been brought 
 into direct contact with Mr. Vassar's heart; it is as large 
 as an elephant's and as tender as a babe's. We talked 
 over the whole enterprise, and all that he aimed at, and 
 how he aimed to accomplish it. Our views harmonized 
 at every point. It is a wonder to me how a man without 
 any regular education can so correctly appreciate the 
 necessities of such an institution and the conditions of 
 its success. But it is the purity of his motives, and the 
 large and generous catholicity of his spirit, in combina- 
 tion with a broad common-sense and much business 
 experience, that explains it. " If thine eye be single, it 
 shall be full of light." 
 
 My anxieties as to the future endowment of the College 
 are at an end. For in this interview I became persuaded 
 that God had given to it an endowment in his heart and 
 remaining fortune, not of course absolutely free from 
 contingencies (what earthly provision can be ?), yet afford- 
 ing adequate ground for confidence, and making a de- 
 mand for written obligations on his part gratuitous and 
 offensive. You will anticipate the result. I have written 
 to the Polytechnic trustees, announcing my decision to 
 accept the Vassar presidency. 
 
 It was my purpose to return that evening. But the 
 irregularity of the day and the excitement of the after- 
 noon's conversation brought on a terrible headache; and 
 while the carriage waited at the door, I was obliged to 
 
514 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 leave the table and make my way to bed, from which I 
 did not rise till the next morning was far advanced. 
 How sick I was, and how kindly I was nursed, I will 
 not attempt to tell you, nor how sweet the Sabbath 
 repose I enjoyed in that exquisite spot. Such beautiful 
 grounds, such pure sweet air, such gambols of the squir- 
 rels, and such melody of birds! I lay on my pillow 
 Sunday morning, and could not restrain my tears as 
 the little creatures swarmed in the trees around my open 
 window, and seemed to vie with each other for my de- 
 light and for the honor of God. 
 
 Monday morning I had very satisfactory interviews 
 with the Executive Committee, and with young Mat- 
 thew, and came down the river quietly and comfortably 
 by boat. 
 
 Farewell, with boundless love to all. 
 
 This was followed very naturally by his letter of for- 
 mal acceptance, addressed to the Executive Committee. 
 Those who knew him best could bear witness to the 
 sincerity of its expressions : 
 
 BROOKLYN, June 10, 1864. 
 
 Messrs. VASSAR, BISHOP, and BUCKINGHAM, Committee of 
 Trustees of Vassar College. 
 
 GENTLEMEN: The honor done me by the Trustees of 
 Vassar College, by my election to its presidency, is made 
 doubly grateful by the channel through which it is com- 
 municated. After giving to the subject you have laid 
 before me the maturest consideration in my power, and 
 weighing the comparative force of this and other claims, 
 I have been led to the conclusion that it is my duty to 
 respond affirmatively to your call, and I hereby authorize 
 you to notify the Board of my acceptance of the appoint- 
 ment on the terms which have been fully considered by 
 the Committee. 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY, 515 
 
 It is needless to say that I have reached this conclu- 
 sion not without exceeding diffidence of my ability to 
 meet the too generous expectations of my friends, a 
 diffidence which reflection rather increases than dimin- 
 ishes. As other objections and obstacles have been suc- 
 cessively removed, this has grown upon me, and at times 
 been almost overpowering. If I have not allowed it to 
 determine me to an opposite conclusion, it is because I 
 find a counterbalancing encouragement in the character 
 of the men whose support is pledged to me, and am not 
 forbidden to seek wisdom and strength from Him to 
 whose honor this venture is devoted, and who is abun- 
 dantly able to supplement every deficiency, and to give 
 increase and ample fruitage to the humblest germs of 
 promise. 
 
 Thanking you, gentlemen, for the kind and consider- 
 ate manner with which you have conducted this busi- 
 ness, I remain 
 
 Your obliged servant and friend, 
 
 J. H. RAYMOND. 
 
 From Mr. VASSAR. 
 
 POUGHKEEPSIE, N. Y. , June 17, 1864. 
 
 MY DEAR MR. RAYMOND: I can hardly express to you 
 my satisfaction at the receipt of yours of the loth inst., 
 which removes the last doubt and anxiety from my mind 
 as to the assured success of our College. I am gratified 
 that our recent interview has resulted in removing every 
 doubt and obstacle from your path. You are most wel- 
 come to the position which is to reflect honor upon us 
 both. So far as in me lies, it will be my highest satis- 
 faction to sustain you and the enterprise which you are 
 to guide. It is, as you justly remark, the favorite child 
 of my age, and to see it in the full career of success and 
 
516 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 usefulness will be the crowning pleasure of my life. It 
 will be quite important that before the meeting of the 
 Trustees we have some consultation as to the business 
 to be transacted, and that you see the members of the 
 Executive Committee, that all views may be understood 
 and harmonized. Awaiting such meeting, I am 
 
 Most truly yours, 
 
 M. VASSAR. 
 
 To A DAUGHTER. 
 
 BROOKLYN, June 30, 1864. 
 
 MY DARLING DAUGHTER: Your welcome letter has just 
 come to hand. I trust your rose-colored anticipations 
 Vassar-ward are destined to no disappointment in the 
 uncertain future. Indeed, my own hopes predominate, 
 although I sympathize with all the regrets and misgiv- 
 ings which you report from others, and assume my grave 
 responsibilities with no slight anxiety, I assure you. 
 "Don't I shrink from the idea of leaving the 'Poly.'?" 
 You may safely believe it. It is my own child; and 
 though I am not ashamed of it as it is, I see many points 
 in which I should like to labor for its greater perfection. 
 But it is useless to look back. If the cloud of Divine 
 guidance moves forward, it is ours to follow to follow 
 with an implicit and joyful trust. I think it does; and 
 the only real occasion for solicitude is the possibility of 
 an error there. 
 
 Things have gone to suit me at the Poughkeepsie 
 Board meeting. Without assuming the responsibility of 
 deferring the opening of the College, I was able to 
 satisfy the trustees of what I believe to be their true 
 policy the taking of ample time to make their prepara- 
 tions perfect; to finish and furnish their building com- 
 pletely; to provide a handsome library, art-gallery, and 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY, 517 
 
 apparatus of every kind; and, above all, to select and 
 appoint just the right kind of Faculty and other officers, 
 and allow them full opportunity to understand the entire 
 scheme of the College and their individual duties before 
 opening the doors for the reception of students. The 
 time fixed is September, 1865. My dear old friend the 
 Founder is vastly pleased with the result. They have 
 almost worn him out for the last year by their perpetual 
 pushing, pushing, pushing to have the College started 
 this fall, contrary to his convictions of expediency, and 
 to the utter defeat of his cherished idea of having the 
 preparations carried out to a beautiful completeness. 
 He did not know which way my judgment would go, 
 but supposed I favored haste, and had made up his mind 
 to consent, though most reluctantly, to a compromise on 
 January or February next. But when I came out (as I 
 did most conscientiously, and after canvassing the whole 
 question on both sides) squarely and strongly on his 
 ground, and carried the Board unanimously there, he 
 told me with tears in his eyes that he felt a mountain 
 lifted off his heart, and thanked God that he had found 
 a man who could not only understand his ideas but 
 make other people understand them too. After the 
 meeting was over there was a general interchange of 
 hand-shakes and congratulations, and all professed to 
 breathe for the first time free in regard to the future of 
 the College. By all which I must not be seduced into 
 the dream that perils are passed, and that nothing but 
 smooth sailing is before us. I already discern thunder- 
 heads in the sky and hear the dash of distant breakers, 
 which admonish perpetual vigilance and forecast. But 
 I do thank God for the propitious gales with which we set 
 out on a voyage from which, with His blessing, I hope 
 for the most glorious results. 
 
518 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 To Dr. GEORGE R. BLISS. 
 
 ANGELICA, July 10, 1864. 
 
 MY DEAR BROTHER BLISS: . . . You will know from 
 the papers that I have been compelled to consider mat- 
 ters of very considerable importance to me during this 
 period, and you probably have learned what has been 
 the result. Since last December, when my health seemed 
 to give way again, much as it did a year before, I had 
 been settling into a conviction that I must have an entire 
 and permanent change of some kind. The old routine 
 at the Polytechnic had become hopelessly wearing and 
 depressing, and I had the feeling that my work was done 
 there, and that, remaining, I should settle down into an 
 old man at once, which was not an agreeable prospect. 
 I notified my trustees, therefore, that I should probably 
 resign at the close of the year. Yet I felt uncertain as 
 to what I should do with myself. I was supplying the 
 Madison Avenue pulpit with so much pleasure to myself 
 as to excite some question in my mind whether my new 
 vocation was not to be found in that direction; while at 
 times, when I felt most prostrated and miserable, I was 
 inclined to retreat from all official responsibilities, and 
 spend a year here at " Fountain Home" at some easy 
 work of body and mind, in hope of a renovation. 
 
 While in this state of incertitude I attended a Board 
 meeting at Vassar College, in February last. Here cir- 
 cumstances concurred, first in the Committee on Internal 
 Organization and next in the Board itself, which enabled 
 me to reconcile some divisions and to suggest solutions 
 of some embarrassing problems; and this, as it after- 
 wards appeared, greatly to my surprise, resulted in a 
 proposition to offer me the place of President. The result 
 of my first consideration of the subject was a declination. 
 I was asked to reconsider my decision and propose con- 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 519 
 
 ditions of acceptance. And thereupon followed a strug- 
 gle between the two Boards and in my own mind, which 
 has kept the summer pretty full. Early in June, how- 
 ever, my mind was made up; my objections were one 
 after another removed, and the case grew so strong in 
 favor of Vassar that I could resist no longer. So I have 
 put my neck under the yoke and am harnessed in. 
 
 After a few weeks of relaxation I shall set myself seri- 
 ously to the work, first, of maturing a scheme of study 
 and discipline, and then of collecting a Faculty and 
 assistants. If you can help me in either branch of the 
 work by any suggestions or nominations, I shall receive 
 them most thankfully. My idea is not at all the one at 
 first proposed: to make the school an omnium gatherum 
 of all ages, studying on all plans, but to make an honest 
 effort at organizing a liberal education for women, taking 
 students at the point where thorough education leaves 
 off in the existing Ladies' Seminaries, and carrying them 
 through a well-digested and well-balanced course of 
 higher culture adapted to the sex. Of course, liberal 
 provision must be made for exceptional cases and special 
 objects. But I believe in the responsibility of the Col- 
 lege to furnish a System of General Education, and I do 
 not propose to shirk that responsibility. Whether I am 
 competent to discharge it is another question. To you, 
 my dear brother, who have given so much reflection to 
 the principles which underlie and which shape the curri- 
 culum for young men, I shall look for help in determin- 
 ing what modifications are required in a woman's educa- 
 tion. 
 
 To Prof. R. R. RAYMOND. 
 
 ANGELICA, July 10, 1864. 
 
 MY DEAR BROTHER R.: I arrived here two days ago, 
 glad enough to escape the heat and dust of the city, and 
 
520 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 my own cares, in this green and tranquil retreat. . . . 
 After a little trip to Rochester this month, C. and 
 I think of going, in August and September, to 
 Hamilton (for the first time since I left there in 1850), 
 thence on to Catskill (the " Mountain House"), Pough- 
 keepsie, Peekskill, and Brooklyn. I promised the Poly- 
 technic folks to be on hand at the fall opening, to render 
 any assistance that I could in starting the work of the 
 new year. Nothing had been done towards looking up 
 a successor before I left, and I doubt whether anybody 
 has any person in view or any special plan. 
 
 My own work, thus far, proceeds satisfactorily. Both 
 Mr. Vassar and the trustees seem disposed to give me 
 carte blanche in respect to everything the plan of organi- 
 zation, the selection of officers, the time of opening, etc. I 
 cannot fail to see that, while this gives me a better chance 
 of success, it makes the responsibility of a possible failure 
 all the more concentrated and entire, and I try to refuse 
 responsibility and have them decide every question them- 
 selves on its own merits. It is a great encouragement to 
 me that I find myself in such harmony with Mr. Vassar 
 in all the great essentials of the enterprise. He is won- 
 derfully liberal in his conceptions, and wherever others 
 were shallow or narrow in policy I find that the old gen- 
 tleman's broad, good sense almost invariably dissented, 
 and only yielded from a modest feeling that they ought 
 to know better than he. He is now naturally delighted to 
 find that in every instance my views justify his and are 
 cordially indorsed by the Board. Still, I often draw a 
 long breath when I think how much is expected of me, 
 and with what apparent confidence. With God's help I 
 think a good thing will be done; but without it, whew ! 
 what a splash I shall make ! 
 
 Your letter from London reached me in Brooklyn just 
 in time to bring along. We rejoice with you in your es- 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 521 
 
 cape from the perils of the deep, and in your incipient 
 recovery from its fatigues. And where are you now? 
 Have you "done" London, and done with it, the Levia- 
 than ? And, pray, how did you feel when you heard 
 that the Alabama had come out of her hole to swallow 
 the Kearsarge? and how, when you learned that, instead 
 of swallowing, the whale had been swallowed by Jonah ? 
 What would I have given to see the light that gleamed 
 in your eye that morning as you gave the quiet "good- 
 day" to the John Bulls around you, especially to the 
 sympathizers with Secession! 
 
 Before you get this you will have looked on the gay 
 glitter of Paris, and have started, mayhap, for glorious 
 Switzerland. Oh that I were with you ! and all mine with 
 me ! 
 
 The summer trip alluded to in the foregoing letter 
 fortified him for a winter of labor and loneliness. 
 Not the least of the sacrifices involved in the long pre- 
 paratory work which he was to take up in the fall was 
 the separation from wife and children, who remained 
 at the grandfather's home while he was engaged in 
 the frequent journeyings necessary in his quest for 
 teachers. The letters of this period furnish a diary of 
 the hopes and fears that attended his great experiment, 
 and show its gradual development in his own mind : 
 
 To his WIFE. 
 
 POLYTECHNIC INSTITUTE, Sept. 12, 1864. 
 
 A lull in the tempest of business which rages in the 
 " President's Room," on the day of opening, offers a moment 
 in which to send love and greeting to dear Fountain Home. 
 It is astonishing to see how naturally I fall into my own 
 place and ways here at the Institute. The officers received 
 
522 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 me cordially, the boys uproariously, and I must confess it 
 seems very home-like and pleasant. The school opens full, 
 and all feel cheery and strong. . . . 
 
 After we parted in New York, you to turn your face to 
 the setting, I to the rising sun, I made my way through 
 the rain to the Sound steamer. There I found myself 
 snugly housed in the spacious and elegantly furnished 
 saloon, where, but for the undulatory basis on which all 
 rested, it would be easy to forget the treacherous waves 
 beneath us and the storm that raged around. As it was, I 
 enjoyed my evening paper and my evening meal in the 
 cabin, and then an old-time chat with Mrs. Conant and 
 the Doctor, winding up with a pleasant talk with Mr. 
 George Riley and Mr. Bentley of Chicago, who were on 
 their way to the centenary of Brown, where Bentley 
 graduated. . . . 
 
 Arrived at Providence the next morning, I went directly 
 to the hotel, where I met a host of gathering friends, and 
 thence proceeded to the college, to shake hands with old 
 acquaintances, form new, and join the procession for the 
 church. I had a place assigned me among college presi- 
 dents in the church and at the table of the Centennial Dinner 
 which followed, and sat through the whole Historical Dis- 
 course of two hours, by Dr. Sears ; dinner, and after-dinner 
 speeches, which last were unusually good and lasted until 
 the dusk of the evening compelled adjournment. Gover- 
 nor Clifford of Massachusetts presided admirably, and among 
 the speakers were Professor Goldwin Smith from Oxford, 
 England scholarly, genial towards America and apologetic 
 for England; ex-Secretary Chase a dignified and noble 
 reply, severely just to England, touchingly cordial towards 
 the few who have stood up for truth and our country, 
 " when to advocate them was to invite reproach, self-sacri- 
 fice, and loss ;" ex-President Wayland in his happiest vein 
 of parental affection, kindly humor, and Christian faithful- 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE-PRELIMINARY. 523 
 
 ness; George Wm. Curtis a most felicitous speech, the 
 gem of the hour, full of wit, classic elegance, and patriotic 
 fervor; poems by Thurber, Major John Hay (President 
 Lincoln's private secretary), and others " too numerous to 
 mention." 
 
 It was a proud day for old Brown, and all went away 
 feeling so, and interchanging warm congratulations. There 
 were many inquiries about Vassar, which I answered in the 
 true oracular style. I shall remain here a few days, and then 
 go up to Poughkeepsie to look over the ground there. 
 
 POUGHKEEPSIE, Sept. 21, 1864. 
 
 I cannot tell you how I enjoyed the trip up the river in 
 that beautiful boat " floating palace" indeed, a very literal 
 fact. I think I never knew an atmosphere of such exquisite 
 perfection as we had that day, so crystal clear that the out- 
 lines of the most distant hills stood out in bold distinctness, 
 as though you might reach out your hand and touch them, 
 and delicately tinged with a sort of golden glory, which, with- 
 out changing any of the natural colors, gave an indescrib- 
 able richness to them all. Before us spread the majestic 
 river with its gliding sheen of waters and the white sails of 
 its busy craft. Our beautiful steamer darted along the 
 water like a bird or arrow in its flight, while on the deck 
 good-and-happy-looking passengers sat in easy groups, 
 bathing in the luxurious temperature of the air, and listen- 
 ing to one another's talk and to some unusually good 
 music we had on board. Children were gamboling all 
 around me, and my heart cried out longingly for my own. 
 Patience, hungry heart ! there is a time to fast ; but the 
 time for feasting will come. 
 
 The last hour on the boat was enchanting, and as we 
 came in sight of the Poughkeepsie landing, veiled in the 
 cool shadows of the evening, and looked around on the 
 
524 JOHN //. RAYMOND. 
 
 bold green banks between which the river flows at this point, 
 and which rise as they recede into rolling and wood- 
 covered hills, and in the distance cut the horizon with sharp 
 mountain -ranges, I felt satisfied with our new home. 
 
 1 have temporarily taken a room at the Gregory House. 
 Yesterday afternoon I drove out to the College, where I 
 spent several hours in roaming over the grounds, and then 
 walked back to town. I had a wakeful night, and this 
 morning I find that the Raymond stock has fallen off several 
 degrees in self-complacency and self-confidence. But I 
 must be ready this afternoon for another visit to the College, 
 where I am to meet a number of scientific gentlemen (Pro- 
 fessors Dana, Torrey, Hall of Albany, and possibly Agassiz) 
 who are here by invitation as a committee of examination 
 on the Cabinet, now complete a beautiful thing, in arrange- 
 ment and exhibition unsurpassed by anything at home or 
 abroad. Dr. Magoon is also hard at work hanging his pic- 
 tures, which are about half up and will be finished this 
 week. Mr. Vassar's full-length portrait (by Elliott) shows 
 very finely ; and Miss Church's copies of u the Masters" 
 are quite effective. 
 
 POUGHKEEPSIE, Sept. 24, 1864. 
 
 I have made considerable progress in studying my big 
 problem here; />., what has been done thus far, and what is 
 fixed for the future. But I am more and more impressed 
 with the scale on which everything has been projected, and 
 which can hardly be carried out without bringing us to the 
 bottom of the till sooner than I want to see it. No calcula- 
 tion seems to have been made for a period of infancy in the 
 College. But I have little faith in Minervas born full-grown, 
 and I mean to shut down the gate as soon as I can get it 
 down. 
 
 It is a lowering gloomy day externally. But we are all 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 525 
 
 as chirk as squirrels over Sheridan's successive victories. 
 Oh such squirming and writhing of copperheads! It is 
 beautiful to behold. May the hateful ism not only "writhe 
 in pain" but u die amidst its worshipers." 
 
 POUGHKEF.PSIE, Sept. 30, 1864. 
 
 Everybody else being at last disposed of, my thoughts 
 turn to the best-beloved ones and wing their eager way to 
 that distant roof which shelters them. Would that I could 
 go as lightly and as swiftly ! Ah ! would that I could with 
 them cleave the intermediate space, and with these gather- 
 ing shades of evening enter that dear abode and gather my 
 treasures into my bosom. . . . 
 
 I have been fortunate as to my abiding-place here. I 
 have lighted on a quiet old-fashioned house (the Northern 
 Hotel) in a retired but pleasant street, kept without the 
 least pretension to " style," in a plain, substantial, domestic 
 way; a first-class country "tavern" of the olden time, neat 
 as wax, with good, savory eating and quiet, civil, and atten- 
 tive service. The landlord, " General" Platt, is a fatherly, 
 sensible old gentleman who " knows how to keep a hotel" 
 for sensible people, and his wife a neat thorough-going 
 housekeeper who knows how to make things taste good and 
 look like home. The " General" could hardly believe that 
 I was in earnest to pass the modern houses by and com? to 
 his modest mansion. But when I told him tliat I knew good 
 living when I saw it, his eye brightened, and he had me up 
 in his best chamber at once. I wish you could have looked 
 in upon me last evening, as I sat in my cosy arm-chair, 
 reading by my cheery gaslight (the only modern thing in 
 the room) and " taking mine ease in mine inn." I can kill 
 mosquitoes on the ceiling without rising on my toes ; but 
 the other dimensions are spacious, with three pleasant win- 
 dows, large old-fashioned secretary, open stove, etc. etc., 
 
526 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 and all as neat as wax. When you think of me in Poughkeep- 
 .sie hereafter, you may imagine me the occupant of this snug 
 Bachelor's Hall, and wanting nothing but you and the 
 other treasures of home! Heigho ! what a "but" is there! 
 " It is not good for man to be alone." 
 
 With more love than a little or than a good deal, 
 
 Yours. 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE, Oct. 27, 1864. 
 
 ... I find one great difficulty in being obliged to give 
 so much of my time to details outside my special official 
 duties. The hugeness of this concern and the multitude of 
 its details are such as to furnish endless material. Every 
 day brings its new questions. I am much engrossed with 
 these discussions ; often it is necessary to go out to 
 the College to settle a question intelligently, and that 
 consumes another half-day. But I am constantly turning 
 things over in my mind, and gradually clearing up my con- 
 ception of the whole grand scheme. Perhaps it is as well. 
 I shall work with more certainty and celerity when I begin. 
 
 How impatient I grow of the distance between us, and of 
 the tedious lapse of time ! I want this weary work of prepa- 
 ration over, that we may once more have one home and be 
 surrounded with the interests of a common life. Our cir- 
 cumstances are indeed very much changed from those of a 
 year ago. I think that in my own experience I never 
 passed through so much in the same length of time before. 
 Never has the space between me and eternity seemed so 
 short, and never have I so felt the folly of living for any- 
 thing short of eternal results and the favor and blessing of 
 God. It seems more and more strange to me that I should 
 have been pressed into this new and trying service. Often 
 I tremble at the thought of what is to come out of it, and 
 am weighed down with a sense of my utter insufficiency to 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 527 
 
 sustain the burden. But it is a consolation to remember 
 the way in which my mind was led to the conclusion, and 
 to feel that it was the conviction that God willed it which 
 decided me, and it is an unspeakable relief to roll the bur- 
 den off on the Everlasting Arm, praying to be satisfied with 
 any result which promotes His glory, whether it be by my 
 success or defeat. 
 
 After this Dr. Raymond made several trips to Phila- 
 delphia, Boston, etc., for the purpose of conferring 
 with those prominent in educational matters, and of 
 meeting instructors whom he wished to see with refer- 
 ence to possible appointments in the Vassar Faculty : 
 
 To his WIFE. 
 
 BROOKLYN, Nov. 30, 1864. 
 
 Yesterday I returned from the City of Brotherly Love, 
 where I had a very pleasant time visiting old friends, etc. 
 Saw Mrs. Sarah J. Hale, who agreeably disappointed me : 
 nothing of the " strong-minded" in her manner whatever ; 
 simple, quiet, lady-like, but bright and sensible, full of con- 
 versation, and running slightly to enthusiasm on her favor- 
 ite topics of Woman and the Bible. Prof. Carson pleased 
 me, a gentleman in manner and a scholar in taste and cul- 
 ture. I heard one of his lectures to Miss Dillaye's school, 
 on Shakespeare, and have no doubt as to the extent and 
 accuracy of his scholarship. . . . 
 
 And now to New England, and after the holidays to 
 Rochester; for I want to have things ready to report to our 
 Committee on Faculty by the first of February. So, you 
 see, my coat is off at last, and I am fairly at work. 
 
 BROOKLYN, Dec. 15, 1864. 
 
 I am back again, sooner, you see, than I thought possible 
 when I wrote last from Boston, thanks to Prof. Tenney's 
 
528' JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 courtesy, which led him to defer his lecture Tuesday eve- 
 ning for the sake of meeting me. I cannot tell you how 
 much I like him. He is a younger-looking man than I ex- 
 pected; is clear-headed, sensible and modest, earnest in his 
 work, and has had the discipline of several years of labor 
 under the best advantages. Set him down as sure for an 
 appointment ; and Miss Mitchell, if we can afford such a 
 costly luxury. 
 
 I was charmingly entertained at Dr. Hague's, where they 
 were urgent to prolong my stay. Monday evening I went 
 with them by special invitation to a literary club, where I 
 met a number of the Mite, and was gratified by the cordial 
 expressions of interest in the College. . . . 
 
 I hope you abide by your original purpose not to fix a 
 day for my coming. For my pudding is getting so thick 
 now that I cannot hurry the stirring of it. The only trouble 
 that the unfolding of my new work gives me is that it must 
 circumscribe my time with you and the dear flock in An- 
 gelica. I cannot bear to be so long separated. But I am 
 so grateful that while this must be you are blest with such 
 a home, and need not feel yourselves like a flock without a 
 fold if without a shepherd. And surely not without a Shep- 
 herd even the Best ! May His presence abide with you 
 ever! 
 
 In a letter to his brother Robert, then wintering in 
 Italy, he writes : 
 
 ANGELICA, Jan. 2, 1865. 
 
 We have just heard from Brooklyn of your last, announc- 
 ing your final settlement in Florence, " in a little cottage 
 opposite Powers' studio," which hasn't a bad sound to it. 
 
 And where am I, and mine? and how? Well, you see 
 by my date where I am, right in the heart of this Allegany 
 winter, and a right warm cordial heart I find it both to body 
 and spirit. Father M.'s house, so airy and cool amidst the 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 529 
 
 summer-heats, is as genial, snug and cosy under this freezing 
 Christmas sky as though there were no such thing as frost 
 except to decorate the window-panes, or snow except to lie 
 as a mantel of purity over field and hill and to rest as a 
 crown of glory on the pine and hemlock forests. I came 
 on from Po'keepsie just in time to enact Kriss Kringle at 
 the family Tree, which our merry circle of Angelica cousins 
 extemporized with splendid success at our house on the oc- 
 casion. If just at this time, for instance, you could have 
 been transported to our wintry clime, I think you would 
 have found some matter of mirth, as you would have been 
 right sure of a hearty and hilarious welcome. I found all 
 well and in tip-top holiday spirits. The children are in 
 splendid condition. Hal is a good boy, round and sound 
 and tough. It would have done your eyes good to see him, 
 as I first descried him, on the road a mile out of ihe village, 
 the day I arrived. Expecting me in the stage from Belvidere, 
 he had trudged out alone through a driving snow-storm to 
 meet me. " There !" said the driver, beside whom I sat on 
 the front seat of the stage-wagon, " do you know who that 
 is?" I peeped out of my blanket, but could make nothing 
 of the little chap I saw rolling through the drifts like a 
 miniature steam-tug in a high sea. "That," said he, "is 
 your boy." And sure enough, as we drew near, there were 
 Hal's happy eyes sparkling over a pair of cheeks that glowed 
 like two great, round, red apples, with a cherry-ripe nose 
 between. As he tumbled into the stage beside me, and I 
 threw my arm round his stout little body, perhaps I didn't 
 feel glad and grateful. O p^haps not! N.'s black eyes, 
 too, sparkled with health and good spirits. 
 
 My own health has been steadily improving, since I es- 
 caped from my old life of confinement, and I have got 
 saucy enough to laugh at the doctors, heart-disease and all. 
 
 I cannot be thankful enough for the returning vigor of 
 body and mind that makes work not only possible, but a 
 
53 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 positive pleasure to me. It is well that it is so, for I have 
 not at all exaggerated the magnitude of the enterprise be- 
 fore me. It grows upon me day by day, and it is no slight 
 evidence of my improved health that the prospect instead 
 of oppressing seems to inspire me ; and I am more satisfied 
 than ever that my trouble at the Polytechnic was not too 
 much work, but the character of the work, the monotony of 
 routine, and the multitude of petty details. I am too old 
 for that sort of thing, and, having served a long apprentice- 
 ship, I shall hereafter hold myself absolved therefrom. The 
 College grows slowly on, the externals about completed ex- 
 cept the furnishing, which is a big exception and will require 
 a world of discussion, negotiation, and hard work to finish 
 in season. The internals are as yet in embryonic process 
 of formation in my poor skull, though certain premonitory 
 throes there give token of approaching birth. As the ghost 
 in Hamlet has it, "my time is almost come." I have trav- 
 eled as far south as Philadelphia, and east as far as Boston 
 and Lynn, and had a pleasant time both ways. On leaving 
 here, about the i5th, I go north as far as Montreal, and by 
 the middle of February I hope to have my " recommenda- 
 tions" ready for the Board. Considerable time I have passed 
 in Poughkeepsie, and continue pleased with the prospects 
 there, though, of course, the difficulties assume a more 
 definite shape as we proceed. That I expected. 
 
 The Polytechnic is full to overflowing ; seventy new 
 desks added, and a long list of applicants waiting for a 
 chance to get in. It is the fruit of our labors, though others 
 have entered in to gather. 
 
 The brief Christmas holiday was followed by a win- 
 ter, spring, and summer of arduous and perplexing 
 work. Endless complications arose, particularly in his 
 choice of the college faculty and officers on whom he 
 must rely to carry out his purposes. For, however per- 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 531 
 
 feet the plan, he was powerless to give it tangible form 
 till he could find the men and women to fill its differ- 
 ent parts and aid him in its successful execution. For 
 every position he had an ideal occupant in whom were 
 united all the necessary gifts and graces. But to find 
 such perfections in flesh-and-blood embodiment was no 
 easy matter; nor always, when found, to secure them 
 for the College, which was regarded by many as a doubt- 
 ful field of labor. Feeling the responsibility of the 
 great trust to be committed to him, he sought no more 
 anxiously for the intellectual than the spiritual culture 
 which must impress the future students. They were 
 not always combined in the same individual, and he was 
 constantly embarrassed by his high standard. 
 
 He was to make his final nomination of candidates 
 to the trustees at their meeting in April, presenting 
 to them then his fully matured scheme, and he was 
 steadily occupied in preparations for this report. 
 
 Soon after his return in January he writes: 
 
 POUGHKEEPSIE, Jan. 27, 1865. 
 
 DEAR E. ; . . . Oh but it is a hundred-legged animal we 
 are making ! and as every limb of the centipede has to be 
 shaped and articulated and adjusted with respect to every 
 other, there is no finally deciding any one important ques- 
 tion till we are ready to decide all at once, and this " small 
 head" must carry it all along together as best it may. 
 
 The " materialities," as Mr. Vassar calls them, are pro- 
 gressing nicely, furniture being at present "the subject of 
 our story." . . . 
 
 I have spent several evenings with Mr. Vassar going over 
 my plan, and he says it "hits the notch exactly." The 
 dear old gentleman is full of hope and of faith in my 
 ability to carry out all his ideas and realize his great object, 
 
53 2 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 and seems delighted with the picture I have sketched of the 
 machine at work. 
 
 There was no office, perhaps, to which he attached 
 more importance than that of the Lady Principal, on 
 account of the intimate personal relation she must hold 
 to the students, and her influence in the shaping of 
 character. As their model and guide in all feminine 
 accomplishments, and as one of the chief representa- 
 tives of the College to parents and patrons, it was 
 desirable that she should be a type of social elegance 
 as well as of all mental and moral refinements. As a 
 member of the faculty, she must share to some extent 
 the responsibility of its educational policy, and alas 
 for her if with all else she possess not an endowment 
 of physical vigor equal to the ceaseless drain upon it ! 
 
 How successful he was in filling this position may be 
 judged by those who knew the first Lady Principal of 
 Vassar College. Who could meet her without feeling 
 the presence of a queenly nature ? What anxious 
 " parent or guardian" ever felt the charm of her noble 
 bearing, of her stimulating conversation and magnetic 
 sympathy, or talked with her of the highest interests of 
 a pupil, without dismissing all fears ? In all questions 
 with regard to the interior management of the College, 
 questions that might not strictly belong to the presi- 
 dential province, but from which the president could 
 not turn when the welfare of students was involved, 
 she proved the counselor that he sought. What did 
 he not owe to her ever-ready aid, to the devotion which 
 in its utter self-forgetfulness was absolute heroism ! 
 Remembering the years in which they labored together 
 for this cause, and in which her helpful sympathy never 
 failed, we go back to the time when her attention was 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 533 
 
 first invited to it, and follow the correspondence which 
 traces the progress of an acquaintance that ripened 
 into friendship before the opportunity of their first 
 meeting. His first letter to her was written at Roches- 
 ter, where he had gone for important interviews after 
 his Christmas holiday : 
 
 ROCHESTER, N. Y., Jan. 20, 1865. 
 Miss H. W. LYMAN. 
 
 DEAR MADAM : You are probably informed to some 
 extent respecting the foundation laid by Matthew Vassar of 
 Poughkeepsie for a Woman's College, and of the prelimi- 
 nary proceedings in the establishment of the institution. 
 By the last circular of its trustees, a copy of which I send 
 you herewith, you will be enabled to form a general 
 estimate of the condition and prospects of the enterprise, 
 which its friends hope may be destined, under the guidance 
 and blessing of Divine Providence, to do a great and good 
 work in the education of woman. 
 
 This circular was issued in June last ; and since then the 
 work has been steadily prosecuted according to the pro- 
 gramme outlined therein, and now approaches completion. 
 The spacious edifice, with all its essential appointments, is 
 substantially finished, and the interior furnishing is all, of a 
 material character, that remains to be done. Meanwhile 
 the more important^ matter of internal organization is not 
 neglected. I am myself in the field maturing the details of 
 the plan with the aid of the best counsel I can obtain, and 
 canvassing the long list of " candidates" for positions in its 
 corps of officers and instructors. Not the least difficult 
 part to fill satisfactorily (perhaps I should rather say, the 
 most difficult of all, for reasons which you will readily 
 appreciate) is that of "Lady Principal," the chief executive 
 officer among the ladies of the corps, and the immediate 
 associate and aid of the President in the internal administra- 
 
534 JOHN IL RA YMOND. 
 
 tion of the College. As the personal and confidential 
 adviser of the young ladies, she would have a more decisive 
 influence than any other officer in the moulding of their 
 personal habits, and especially in their moral and religious 
 training, and would probably more than any other determine 
 the characteristic and ruling spirit of the College. 
 
 It would be no disparagement to any lady of our pro- 
 fession to say that she did not possess all the qualifications 
 desirable for such a position ; while, surely, the noblest 
 powers, consecrated to the holiest purposes, may here find 
 ample scope and the grandest incentives to exertion. 
 
 And now, madam, to the immediate object of my writing. 
 Your name has repeatedly been mentioned, as that of one 
 possessing eminent qualifications for the post; and from all 
 I have heard, I find my mind drawn so strongly in your 
 direction that I am induced to presume upon your indul- 
 gence so far as to inquire, in this frank unceremonious way, 
 whether you would be willing to consider the question of 
 accepting such an appointment. I do not, of course, ask a 
 commitment of any sort or to any extent, as I, on my part, 
 have no authority to commit the trustees. But, charged 
 as I am with the responsibility of nominating the best 
 obtainable candidates for this with other offices, and pro- 
 foundly impressed as I am with the central importance of 
 this, especially to the highest personal welfare of the future 
 pupils of the institution, what I seek is simply permission 
 and an opportunity to unfold more fully to your mind the 
 spirit of the proposed administration of the College and the 
 character of the special province here inviting an occupant, 
 and at the same time such a mutual acquaintance as would 
 assist both parties to judge whether the Master has work in 
 it for you to do. 
 
 Should you consent to entertain the proposition, it 
 would probably be best for me to visit Montreal for a 
 personal interview. In any event, this correspondence will, 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 535 
 
 on my part, be regarded as strictly confidential so long as 
 you desire it to continue so. 
 
 Trusting that I may be favored with a reply soon after 
 my return to Poughkeepsie, which will be by the middle of 
 next week, 
 
 I remain, dear madam, with very great respect, 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 J. H. RAYMOND. 
 
 VASSAR FEMALE COLLEGE, ) 
 POUGHKEEPSIE, February 3, 1865. ) 
 
 MY DEAR Miss LYMAN : Your favor of the 27th ult. came 
 duly to hand. My " impression" of you was certainly de- 
 rived from warm friends of yours, but friends of mine as 
 well, and friends in whose judgment I could safely confide. 
 And that impression, whether " too favorable" or not, your 
 letter, both the tenor and the manner of it, has confirmed. 
 Were it the will of Providence to assign you a share in the 
 great work that is before us here, I feel how much I should 
 be privileged and strengthened by the association, and how 
 greatly the prospect of a true success for the College would 
 be brightened. 
 
 I was not aware how long you had been in the service. 
 Nor do I wonder that after having so long " endured hard- 
 ness" in the field you occupy, and won for yourself so " good 
 a degree," you shrink from the hazards of a change in the 
 sphere and character of your responsibility. 
 
 Your " talent for organization," of which you would prob- 
 ably have a better opinion now if it had been more thor- 
 oughly tried before, would unquestionably, for some time, 
 be somewhat severely taxed in the Lady-Principalship of 
 the College ; and the duties would perhaps always be more 
 largely administrative than might be to your taste. In this 
 view, would that you were "ten years your junior" for our 
 
53 6 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 sake, not for yours ; though, if you could engage in these 
 duties con amore, and your physical health and strength 
 proved sufficient for the demand upon them, you certainly 
 would not fail of a signal success. 
 
 And now, my dear Miss Lyman, will you not more clearly 
 indicate the "post" which you say you can "imagine," and 
 which you imply you might assume with less hesitancy? 
 Our trustees have confided the internal organization of the 
 College very generously, if not very wisely, to my direction ; 
 and there are several posts to which I attach more impor- 
 tance than is usually given them, and for which I am still 
 anxiously seeking incumbents. Perhaps it is the design of 
 Providence that our views should meet at another point, 
 and in this matter our only interest can be, as I trust our 
 common desire is, that the will of the Lord be done. With 
 sincere fraternal regard, 
 I am, dear madam, 
 
 Your friend and servant in Christ, 
 
 J. H. RAYMOND. 
 
 From Miss LYMAN. 
 
 MONTREAL, Feb. 6, 1865. 
 
 MY DEAR DR. RAYMOND : The circular reached me safely. 
 I am glad to see that the College is to be a step in advance 
 of other schools. It will then gather to us the best female 
 talent in the land ; will be, or may be, the place where our 
 missionaries, authors, teachers shall receive the advantages 
 needed to fit them for their work. It will probably be 
 avoided by fashionable triflers. 
 
 I have received your second letter, which makes me feel 
 as its predecessor did, that I should like to work with you, 
 and be quite willing to defer to your judgment when we 
 differed. The freedom from responsibility thus gained 
 would be delightful to me. It would clearly have been 
 
VASSAR COLLEGEPRELIMINARY. 537 
 
 wiser in me to have asked you what you would expect from 
 a Lady Principal rather than jump to the conclusion that we 
 should differ on that point. It only shows that I am a very 
 woman. 
 
 But you ask me to describe the post I think I could oc- 
 cupy, and I will try to sketch it imperfectly. I supposed 
 that the work of the Lady Principal would divide itself into 
 two parts : that she was intended to be what Pastor Flied- 
 ner in his deaconesses establishments calls the " House 
 Mother;" one to whom the students could go with wants, 
 trials, sicknesses; one who, studying each individual, would 
 see that her needs were fully met, her duties performed. 
 The boundary between your duties and those of this office I 
 have not thought of; only understand that I am not afraid 
 of this kind of work in abundance. All this planning 
 and arranging I should like to do as far as I am capable. 
 The motherly guidance, the religious instruction I should 
 enjoy, though I presume you would take the prominent part 
 of this last. And this would not be too much for me, for I 
 suppose I should be relieved of domestic and pecuniary care. 
 
 But I took up in some way the impression that there 
 would be expected of me a minute attention to details for 
 which I am not naturally fitted. If I could have an assis- 
 tant, who might be called (and was so at the " Spingler") 
 the " Governess" (Mrs. Abbot being " House Mother"), who 
 would see that every one was kept to the work; would 
 watch over the machinery and let me know when it needed 
 oil; would look after what records you design to have; 
 would keep a daily journal of the doings ; would always be 
 on hand for meals or prayers when I could not be ; with 
 such an one to aid me, I think I could work heartily and 
 efficiently. Moreover, if in that case my labors would be 
 considered too light, I could add to them now, do not 
 think me presuming instruction in my favorite subjects, 
 history and general literature. 
 
53 8 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 One thing more. Will you write to my old teacher, Mrs. 
 W. B. Banister of Newburyport, Mass, (formerly Miss 
 Grant of Ipswich), and ask her what she thinks of my adap- 
 tation for the post ? In my young days she asked me to 
 stand second to herself at Ipswich, and in later years our 
 correspondence has been intimate. She has spent a month 
 in my house, has heard me teach, and to her I have unfolded 
 all my heart. Yet her high sense of the responsibility at- 
 tached to all educational movements, and her extreme con- 
 scientiousness, will enable her to speak of me as if she loved 
 me not ; and her opinion, which I have not yet received, 
 would greatly influence myself. 
 
 My friends Prof, and Mrs. H. B. Smith, of New York, 
 urge upon me a careful consideration of the matter, as they 
 -seem to consider the post of honorable importance. Mrs. 
 Smith is a friend of thirty years' standing, has been in my 
 house, and her daughter was a year under my care. She 
 can tell you all about me. 
 
 You do not expect me to say that if I could have such 
 arrangements as these made for me, I would go to Pough- 
 keepsie. I should want to know more of the plans, above 
 all, more of your ideas on female education ; and I do not 
 understand that you are yet sure that I am the one you 
 want. For myself, I believe that I shall be directed by the 
 same kind Providence that brought me hither. And as we 
 both seek to be led by our heavenly Father, may not we 
 be sure that if I am called to this work, it will be ordered 
 for His glory, even though that be displayed by my utter 
 failure? I will trust Him. I have learned, too, that hap- 
 piness is found in doing His work, not in our surroundings. 
 
 Of tone thing be assured, my dear sir, that whether it seem 
 best to join you or not, my deep and hearty interest is 
 henceforward enlisted on behalf of the Vassar College. 
 I shall regard it as one of the hopeful signs of the times, 
 and shall be glad to aid in your blessed work by any means 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 539 
 
 in my power. It is singular that I should have been brought 
 to consider this subject. Two months ago I should have 
 said it was impossible to think of it. Believe me, dear 
 Mr. President, 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 H. W. LYMAN. 
 
 While absent on a journey to New "England in which 
 he hoped to complete his corps of officers and teachers, 
 he had expressed in a letter to Miss Lyman the doubts 
 that sometimes troubled him of the wisdom of her 
 coming: 
 
 BRIDGEPORT, CONN., March 2, 1865. 
 
 MY DEAR Miss LYMAN: Your second (unanswered) let- 
 ter has just reached me. My correspondence has to chase 
 me about the country now, and I often lead it a wild hunt 
 before it overtakes me. This, however, is but in part the 
 explanation of the delay in answering your first, which 
 you so gently chide. It ought at least to have been 
 acknowledged sooner, and should have been if I had 
 been clear as to what I ought to say, or had I not prom- 
 ised myself to have been ere this in a better condition to 
 speak definitely. I fully expected to have accomplished 
 last week the journey to the East, which I am only just 
 commencing, to have seen and conversed with your friend 
 Mrs. Banister, and other persons variously related to 
 the question, and to have my mind made up on some points, 
 if not on all. Several unforeseen circumstances have 
 intervened to prevent; among them the last illness and 
 death of one of my oldest and most cherished friends, 
 the late Mrs. Conant of Brooklyn, by whose dying pil- 
 low, and in the house darkened by her departure, my 
 time and mind were for several days sadly engrossed. 
 
 But without attempting to excuse the procrastination 
 which was not necessary, and though still hesitating in 
 
540 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 judgment, I will in few words state how I do feel, and 
 wait for more light. There is so much in the spirit of 
 your conceptions and expressions that harmonizes with 
 my idea of what should be the governing spirit in the 
 management of the College, and with my earnest desire 
 as to what may be, that I can hardly avoid the impres- 
 sion that God has- called you to the work. The kind of 
 responsibility which you describe as most to your taste, 
 and for which there can be no doubt of your possessing 
 special aptitude, is certainly the most important part of 
 that which I had assigned to the office under considera- 
 tion. Nor could there be any insurmountable difficulty 
 in modifying the arrangements in the minor respects to 
 which you allude. I have no cast-iron system to which 
 I am endeavoring to shape my teachers; but, keeping in 
 view, as far as I can, the great essentials to be arrived at, 
 and seeking to find a corps of officers among whom the 
 requisite qualifications for all may be found, I can afford 
 to leave the distribution of the work to be measurably 
 determined by their several adaptations. 
 
 My chief doubt, I will be frank to say, grows out of 
 the very completeness of your maturity. The trans- 
 plantation of full-grown trees is proverbially perilous, 
 and to be cautiously undertaken just in proportion to 
 the perfection and beauty of the existing growth. What 
 we shall succeed in making the College no man is wise 
 enough to predict. It is a huge thing, and I daily feel 
 how entirely it is beyond my power to grasp and control 
 the conditions of its success. If God blesses, there seem 
 to be the elements of a great benefit to the cause of 
 woman's education; but it would not be strange if at 
 least one generation of officers should be used up in get- 
 ting it fairly under way. I shrink, therefore, as much, I 
 think, on your account as our own, from urging you to 
 cast in your lot with us, from a conviction that, if your 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 541 
 
 own or our anticipations should not be realized, if the 
 field should not prove one adapted to your talents or your 
 tastes, the mischief could not so readily be repaired as it 
 might be if you were ten years younger. You see that I 
 mean to be entirely frank, as I know you want me to be. 
 If I could find your other self in a younger person, a twin- 
 sister (to be Irish) ten years your junior, my doubts 
 would be all resolved. If I do not, I shall begin to 
 question whether this matter of age is so weighty a one 
 after all, or whether, closely scanned, it is not an abso- 
 lute advantage. I already see how an effective argument 
 might be constructed on that side of the question. 
 
 I am writing in the bar-room of a hotel, in momentary 
 expectation of the omnibus which takes us to the cars. 
 What I have written, however, will show why I am wait- 
 ing for more light. I have promised myself the pleasure 
 and profit of a long talk with Mrs. Banister on this and 
 other subjects, and hope before a great while to see my 
 way clearer. Our Board meets in April, though it will not 
 be necessary to act definitely on this subject then. Still, 
 I shall feel anxious, for your sake as well as our own, 
 to have the question settled at the earliest possible mo- 
 ment. . . . 
 
 There ! I think you will agree that I can write quite as 
 rambling a letter as you are equal to ; but on one point 
 I find my mfnd clear and steadfast; to wit, that I am, and 
 expect to be always hereafter, 
 
 Your sincere friend and admirer, 
 
 J. H. RAYMOND, 
 
 To his WIFE. 
 
 March 22, 1865. 
 
 I have been eagerly looking for your answer to my 
 suggestion about your coming on earlier than May. 
 The weather has been so perfect, and spring has ad- 
 
542 JOHN H. RA YMOND, 
 
 vanced with such rapid strides, that I am constantly 
 wishing you here to enjoy it. I went out to the College 
 again yesterday, and I assure you it was pleasant to see 
 the broad campus escaped from its wintry fetters and 
 preparing to put on spring attire. Inside, the finishing 
 up of a multitude of little details continually advances 
 the home-like appearance of things, and makes me more 
 and more eager for the beginning of the fray. Our 
 orders are out for the principal part of the college furni- 
 ture, and everything " progresseth silverly." 
 
 I have another letter from Miss Lyman which I in- 
 close. She evidently begins to feel interested, as you 
 will see. 
 
 POUGHKEEPSIE, March 24, 1865. 
 
 MY DEAR Miss LYMAN: . . . Well, I have completed 
 the circuit of our Yankee Orient, and got back to my 
 starting-point, thoroughly jaded with over-much talk 
 and the incessant asking and answering of questions. 
 If I die suddenly, I think the " crowner's quest" will 
 find " Died of school-marm on the brain." And now I 
 have before me the yet more responsible duty of gather- 
 ing up the results of all this inquiry, and digesting it 
 (if possible) into some practical form for the considera- 
 tion of our Trustees at their April meeting. 
 
 My easternmost point was Newburyport, wrnther I went 
 for the sole purpose of an interview with Mrs. Banister. 
 It was my first meeting with that admirable woman; 
 and I no longer wonder at the ascendency which she 
 has been wont to gain over the best natures and most 
 intelligent minds when brought into close contact with 
 them. It is an intellect to govern a state or adorn the 
 bench, yet informed by a spirit as womanly as it is truly 
 Christian and broadly catholic. 
 
FASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY, 543 
 
 I spent some three hours in conversation with her; 
 and I was equally gratified and encouraged to find how 
 far my views, formed in large measure but recently and 
 with but too much reason for diffidence, were coincident 
 with and confirmed by her own, the fruit of so much 
 experience and ripened wisdom. 
 
 Among the interesting topics which occupied us, you 
 were perhaps the most prominent, and I am constrained 
 to acknowledge that, had I gone to find good reasons 
 for discontinuing this correspondence, I should have 
 failed of my object. If Mrs. Banister rightly judges, it 
 should go on, and I feel more desirous than ever of a 
 personal interview. So far as I can get your ideas from 
 the necessarily partial statement of them in your letters, 
 I do not apprehend any serious difficulty in the arrange- 
 ment of details. But an hour's conversation would effect 
 more for mutual understanding than a month's corre- 
 spondence. . . . 
 
 From Miss LYMAN. 
 
 MONTREAL, March 29, 1865. 
 
 MY DEAR DR. RAYMOND : Yours of the 24th surprised 
 me, for the Bridgeport letter tallied so completely with 
 my own convictions that I laid aside all idea of attempt- 
 ing anything new, made my arrangements for another 
 year, and began to see vividly the bright side of staying 
 here. The few friends who knew of the matter have 
 congratulated me on my (your?) decision, except, indeed, 
 the H. B. Smiths of New York. 
 
 And now, when I had imagined you discussing with 
 some younger woman the arrangements for Lady Princi- 
 pal, behold the whole subject is opened again. 
 
 What shall I say in the few minutes that I can just 
 now snatch ? . . . . 
 
544 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 Can you not depute some one to answer for "an in- 
 quiring friend " such questions as these? What is "the 
 denominational connection of the College*? the number 
 of teachers, the number of pupils expected (how I wish 
 you could begin with only a hundred and fifty !) whether 
 these are to be mostly female teachers. " Any intelligence 
 will be gratefully received" by one who knows only what 
 you have written and the facts contained in the circular. 
 
 To Miss LYMAN. 
 
 POUGHKEEPSIE, April 4, 1865. 
 
 I have just returned from New York, and find yours 
 of the 29th ult., which has been awaiting my return 
 several days. 
 
 What could I have said in that Bridgeport letter to 
 convey an impression so contrary to the fact respecting 
 my feeling on the subject of your coming to help us in 
 our great work in Poughkeepsie ? . . . . 
 
 I have earnestly desired that, in the filling of this post 
 particularly, the guidance of Providence should be clear; 
 and I have felt it due to you that above all things else I 
 should state honestly whatever seemed to make against 
 your coming. The feeling of dismay (I can call it by no 
 other name) with which I read your opening sentences, 
 at the possibility of my having fatally misled you by my 
 reticence and occasioned a peremptory closing of the 
 door upon this negotiation, has both revealed to me more 
 clearly than ever the strength of my convictions, and 
 taught me the danger of error on the side of reserve also. 
 
 And now, my dear Miss Lyman, I say, as I have said 
 before, if the Lord send you not, I do pray, for your 
 sake not less than for ours, and for the sake of the 
 priceless interests involved, that you may not be per- 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 545 
 
 mitted to come. Yet it does appear as though it might 
 be His will. . . . 
 
 And now to the relief of our <! inquiring friend," whose 
 questions I can better answer myself than through any 
 deputy, and I but imperfectly in some respects. 
 
 "What is the denominational connection of the Col- 
 lege ?" So far as it has any, Baptist. It is, however, 
 simple justice to the fact to state what, if you were a 
 Baptist, I should state much more emphatically, that the 
 connection is very slight, consisting simply in the fact 
 that the majority of its trustees are members either of 
 Baptist churches or of Baptist congregations. This 
 organization of the Board is in accordance with the 
 established conviction of our American religious com- 
 munity that some denomination of recognized ortho- 
 doxy should take special responsibility in the manage- 
 ment of every chartered educational institution. The 
 selection was made of catholic men, such as would 
 cheerfully carry out the Founder's well-known and 
 strongly anti-sectarian views in the management of 
 the College. Mr. Vassar is of Baptist parentage and, in 
 the main, of Baptist sentiments. He has been a liberal 
 supporter of that society and its missions all his life; 
 but, although for several years past he has indulged a 
 hope in Christ, he has never seen his way clear to join 
 any church. 
 
 For myself, I am strongly in sympathy with Mr. Vas- 
 sar on this point of catholicity. I am a member of a 
 Baptist church, holding with them substantially in rela- 
 tion to the ordinance from which they take their name, 
 but remaining with them under protest in regard to the 
 tenet " baptism prerequisite to communion," wherein I 
 think them (in common with the majority of Protestant 
 theologians of all sects) in error. My notions in regard 
 to the Church I mean its outward organization, ordi- 
 
54^ JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 nances, and forms of worship would be received proba- 
 bly with some "head-shake" by my brethren all around ; 
 and yet, never was an unworthy servant of Christ 
 honored with more general and generous fellowship and 
 all-covering charity by Christians of every name, than 
 I have been. I could be a member of an orthodox Con- 
 gregational church with about the same amount of pro- 
 testation as I am of a Baptist ; of a Presbyterian or 
 Episcopal, with some more. But I should be a poor 
 Congregationalist, and poorer Presbyterian and Episco- 
 palian, just as it is understood I am a poor Baptist, and 
 as I am willing to be if I may but be in the same pro- 
 portion a better Christian. 
 
 With regard to the College, my heart's desire and 
 prayer to God is that, religiously, it may be a school of 
 Christ, a place where His word and doctrine shall be 
 taught in purity and power, and where His renewing and 
 sanctifying spirit shall continually dwell ; but so far in- 
 dependent of special ecclesiastical alliances, and so far 
 pervaded by a spirit of true and loving Catholicism, that 
 all who love Jesus in sincerity and truth may feel at 
 home there and surrounded by sisters and brothers. 
 So far as this, my purpose is fixed that, as Providence 
 has not made the College dependent for its pecuniary 
 support on any denomination, so under my administra- 
 tion it shall never be managed in the interest of any. 
 In this I expect to be sustained by the Trustees, as I 
 know I shall be by the Founder. 
 
 In canvassing the claims of competing candidates for 
 situations in the College, I have never asked, to what 
 churches do they respectively belong? always, which 
 is the living Christian? which will bring the largest 
 accession of spiritual power? Of eight heads of depart- 
 ments .on whom I have thus far substantially fixed (not 
 counting yourself), four are Congregationalists, two 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 547 
 
 Baptists, one Episcopalian, and one Friend. And this 
 proportion is wholly accidental or providential ; for, until 
 a friend happened to ask me the question the other day, 
 I had entirely (culpably, perphaps) forgotten to make 
 the reckoning. Whether this proportion is likely to be 
 preserved in future selections, you can judge as well as I. 
 I have been thus explicit on this point because I see 
 how important a matter it may be to you, and because 
 (let me confess it), if you do not somewhat sympathize 
 with me in this Christian heresy, it will be a greater trial 
 to me than anything I have ever thought of, in view of 
 our possible prospective association. 
 
 This letter concludes with his answers to her ques- 
 tions of minor importance. 
 
 From Miss LYMAN. 
 
 MONTREAL, April 7, 1865. 
 
 .... With all my heart I agree in your views. I cannot 
 think church government of much importance, and am 
 called only a half Congregationalist, while the evangelical 
 Church of England party say I am " High Church." I have 
 pupils of all denominations, and would never give a straw to 
 turn one from the way of her fathers, provided the Gospel 
 be preached there. 
 
 Your ideal of what the College should be in religious 
 matters is my own, and draws out my heart as is rarely done. 
 I should feel it an honor and a privilege to work with you, 
 and under you to advance the kingdom of Christ. Indeed 
 nothing has so much attracted me to Poughkeepsie as that 
 picture of your views. 
 
 When I received your first letter, your way of putting the 
 subject arrested my attention and drove away the decided 
 negative that sprang to my lips. I gave the whole subject 
 into the Lord's hands, and waited His direction. Never 
 
548 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 did I feel more absolutely resigned to His will. The thought 
 of what I was to relinquish was laid aside. If the Master 
 called me, He could and would supply all my need. The 
 Bridgeport letter having settled the matter in my view, I as 
 quietly gave up the whole, and turned to my summer arrange- 
 ments'. Now that the subject is reopened, and especially 
 since I have read your last letter, and have seen the spiritual 
 demands that will be made upon me, I mourn that I have 
 not that spirit of consecration that I felt before. Inferior 
 questions seem to crowd from my view the great one, " Lord, 
 what wilt Thou have for me to do ?" Next week is " Passion 
 week;" I always keep it, reading in the family the " Lessons 
 for the day," and worshiping with the Church of England 
 on Friday and Sunday. I intend to devote the coming 
 days especially to prayer for direction in this matter. Will 
 you not, my dear friend, seek for me that simplicity of pur- 
 pose, that entireness of consecration which will lead me to 
 
 "... hear the Master's voice 
 
 And follow calm and still, 
 For love can easily divine 
 The best Beloved's will." 
 
 Then whether I go or stay it will be as is best for the 
 institution ; for you, for me, and, above all, for the interests 
 of our Lord's kingdom. 
 
 MONTREAL, April 13, 1865. 
 
 MY DEAR DR. RAYMOND: Lying awake last night, 
 according to a habit which I am afraid is growing upon me 
 since I received my first letter from the President of Vassar 
 College, I began to think over the question now before me, 
 and, at the risk of wearying you, I am tempted to tell you 
 some of my thoughts. I asked myself what I was to do with 
 two hundred girls, all strangers to me. . . . 
 
 If I were to take a school and organize and carry it on, I 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 549 
 
 could do it up to certain limits as to number, as I did long 
 ago with more than seventy pupils. But I suppose no, I 
 won't suppose. Please to define my prospective position. 
 I do not understand the arrangement of the " Departments," 
 et cetera. All that you will explain to me when you come. 
 
 My theory has always been that boarding-schools are 
 necessary evils; that to make them as like a family as pos- 
 sible is the best way. But I see also that it is impossible 
 that women should receive the highest kind of culture with- 
 out large institutions. There they must be allowed to 
 develop individually as far as possible. One does not 
 want them to be like the trees of the forest tall, ungainly, 
 bare of branches till near the summits but rather like 
 those glorious cedars in Warwick Park, or one of our own 
 graceful elms. 
 
 Vassar College is founded, as I understand, to aid in the 
 formation of symmetrical, graceful, noble womanhood. With 
 all my heart I wish it God speed, but am I the one to add 
 to its success ? . . . 
 
 Where can I do the most for Christ's cause? must be my 
 only question. With the air of my native land filled with 
 rejoicings that the suppressed rebellion has placed her once 
 more before the world as the great Republic; that her 
 starry banner floats no longer over a slave ; and that she is 
 at liberty to set forth on a new career to conquer the world 
 for Jesus, I confess my heart leaps forth to work there. 
 God forbid that America shall not prove faithful to her 
 mission ! 
 
 Whether I go or not I feel sure you will, amid trials and 
 difficulties, have a great success, and if "the first generation 
 of teachers dies," as you sometimes fear, in getting the College 
 into operation, perhaps it will be as pleasant to watch its 
 success from the heavenly heights as it would be from an 
 earthly point of view. 
 
 Should it never succeed ; should the Lord not accept the 
 
55 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 offering of the Founder, the " Well done" at last will to you 
 make amends for all. 
 
 For your last letter I am continually thankful, showing 
 me as it does into what hands such great educational inter- 
 ests are committed. 
 
 POUGHKEEPSIE, N. Y. April 20, 1865. 
 
 MY DEAR Miss LYMAN: ... I do not wonder that your heart 
 " sank a little" at the idea of being set to brood over a nest- 
 ful of " two hundred" birdlings all at once. Is it necessary ? 
 Indeed, I fear we shall have to dismiss the whole idea of 
 birdlings (sixteen years old !) and the sweet picture of that 
 home-like interior to which it is not strange your heart 
 should cling. Yet I want my " missionary field'' planted 
 with the same seed and, by the blessing of God, budding 
 and blossoming equally like a rose ! Is it too much to hope 
 for? Certainly not to strive for. And who can hope for 
 success but one who knows the seed and is familiar with 
 that kind of horticulture ? " But how to introduce it on 
 such a scale, that is the difficulty." Did I ever say it 
 was not, and a great difficulty too ? An impossibility ? I 
 trow not. By God's blessing, boldly no. 
 
 " Please to define my prospective position," you ask. 
 Willingly. It will be just that which you and I shall sit 
 down and mark out (asking divine guidance) as most likely 
 to make your personal influence most powerful for good. I 
 do not anticipate that it would contemplate an effort to 
 spread that influence directly and equally over the entire 
 body of young ladies. It would differ from your present 
 position very much as the presidency of a college does from 
 the mastership of a private school. So far as your immediate 
 personal instruction and daily intimate intercourse were 
 concerned, these would (I presume) be limited to a small 
 class, perhaps only the most advanced, perhaps with the 
 new-comers. Through these you would more or less affect 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 551 
 
 the whole. ("Give me my sixth form," Dr. Arnold used to 
 say, "and I am sure of the school.") Besides this, you 
 would have special opportunities in dealing with individual 
 cases requiring special study and special care the morally 
 weak and sickly, instances of peculiar moral or religious 
 experience, etc. etc., coming to your knowledge through the 
 teachers, and demanding judicious and sympathetic treat- 
 ment. Another interesting part of your office would be 
 the supervision of all the moral influences at work in the 
 institution, and, by precept and example both, inspiring 
 the younger teachers with a high conception of their work 
 and a high standard of Christian fidelity to their pupils. . . . 
 
 To his WIFE. 
 
 POUGHKEEPSIE, April 13, 1865. 
 
 Congratulate me, my dear wife ! The last man of the 
 last committee has left me, and I feel that I am out of the 
 woods at least, of one piece of them. 
 
 Monday night I went to bed, a wonder to myself that I 
 had gone through the work of the preceding five days, 
 steady quill-driving on my report, and felt jaded indeed, 
 but clear and well. Tuesday morning I woke with a head- 
 ache, reaction coming on ; and the committee came too, 
 and the afternoon and evening till midnight were spent in 
 reading and talking, reading and talking, till oh my head ! 
 
 Wednesday morning, waked with a headache and full of 
 anxiety lest I should break down in Board meeting. Com- 
 mittee meeting at half-past eight ; then followed Board at 
 eleven. At about ten the clouds broke, the brain cleared 
 up, and I had a splendid day. My scheme for the College 
 seemed to be received with universal favor and approval, 
 and many pleasant things were said. Of course, the 
 unpleasant things would not be so likely to reach my ears. 
 Still, the discussions of the Board were free, and had there 
 
552 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 been any disposition to criticise severely, I could not have 
 failed to find it out. Now for the remainder of my work. 
 I feel as though more than half the burden were off my mind, 
 now that I have ceitain stakes driven that I can work to, 
 and not be obliged to carry so many points afloat in my 
 thoughts. My first business, after clearing my table of 
 incidentals, will be the preparation and publication of the 
 College circular, and the first thing after that, I think, must 
 be Montreal. And now to make my movements chime 
 with yours. Can you meet me on my return from Montreal, 
 and where? 
 
 POUGHKEEPSIE, N. Y., April 26, 1865. 
 
 MY BEST BELOVED : Are you out of patience ? Well, not 
 more weary than I am of this interminable job, which 
 " draws out " as though it would stretch " to the crack of 
 doom." My purpose was to print a very brief circular in 
 the ordinary form, embracing merely items of information 
 for the guidance of those who wished to come to the College. 
 But it was thought the public wanted more, a development 
 of our entire plan and the reasons for various provisions. 
 And when I got at work, this idea gained strength in my 
 own convictions. It involved a remoulding of my report 
 into a suitable form, with the needful omissions, additions, 
 and modifications, really a more perplexing task than the 
 first writing. I have been " pegging away " till now, with 
 many interruptions from public and private causes, and still 
 the job is incomplete, and I have waited for this to be done 
 before looking forward to the question, "What next?" I 
 think I shall be ready to go to New York on the 2pth. 
 There I shall stay only long enough to make arrangements 
 for printing the Prospectus and see half a dozen people, 
 and then I think I had better, as my plan has been, slip 
 away to Montreal and settle the " Lyman " affair. Bless 
 the woman, you may as well prepare to surrender your heart 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 5.53 
 
 to her ! I have a bunch of her letters to show you which 
 it will refresh you to read, and you cannot help loving her, 
 not only for her own goodness, but for the genuine interest 
 she has in your husband and his work ! I should not be 
 back, probably, before early in the following week. And 
 then I am ready to grapple you, and stick to you, as poor 
 Wilder used to say, "like bricks," /. e. so long as you will go 
 with me. For I shall have to be on the move more or less, 
 I presume, for some time to come. Whither, or for how long, 
 I cannot tell now, for I have put off everything for the 
 Prospectus, and do not even think of what lies beyond. 
 
 When I have thought of you of late and I always do at 
 the mercy-seat it has been with anxiety about your health. 
 God restore and confirm it ! How I have wished for you, 
 and for H., in my daily walks about this most picturesque 
 of rural cities! For I find it absolutely necessary to be 
 regular in my daily exercise, and I have enjoyed it greatly. 
 I breakfast at seven A.M., but not till I have had a brisk 
 promenade out into the country and back ; then, after an 
 hour or so spent in private duties and reading the Pough- 
 keepsie paper, I go round to my workshop. 
 
 My faithful Schou precedes me, and a pile of letters awaits 
 my attention on the table. These opened, read, answered, 
 or otherwise disposed of, I take up my regular morning's 
 work, happy if I am not intruded on by more than three or 
 four, and do not lose more than half the time in answering 
 their inquiries or chatting with Father Vassar, who tries to 
 let me alone but cannot. Another walk half an hour before 
 dinner, an afternoon of work, and then at half after five I 
 lay aside my pen and take my glorious evening tramp, 
 instead of supper, which I have eschewe'd, much to my 
 inward salubrity. And oh ! what lovely scenes, especially 
 during these charming spring days ! North, south and east, 
 every day new discoveries, and the last always the loveliest 
 of all. The west, across the river, I reserve for want of 
 
554 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 time, and that, they say, is finest of all. I have a good long 
 evening for work, and on my way home I frequently stop at 
 Mr. Vassar's, where I have a standing invitation to break 
 bread and cheese. Ought I not to fare well on such fare? 
 which reminds me that I must say farewell to my fair, with 
 an overflowing heart of love to all my dear ones about you. 
 How is little Black Eyes ? Kiss her well for me, and tell her 
 not to read her precious eyes out, for we cannot spare them. 
 And Hal, my boy, my only boy his father's chief hope, 
 and, I trust, to become one day my greatest joy and pride 
 let him play enough, and play with all his might; but let 
 him not forget to put knowledge into his little head ; above 
 all, let him learn to be brave and truthful and obedient 
 and generous and good. My dear M. shall I ever get to 
 the letter I have had it for weeks in my heart to write her? 
 And H. must love me in the spirit, letter or no letter. I am 
 very well, but at times savagely homesick. Once more 
 adieu. 
 
 To Miss LYMAN. 
 
 BROOKLYN, May n, 1865. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND : . . . On the subject of dancing 
 suffice it now to say that the College is wholly uncommitted, 
 and so am I, and you need not fear that anything would 
 ever be done there bearing on the religious welfare of the 
 students without your full approval. One security you 
 have. All the controlling influences in the Board would be 
 with you in favor of strictness, and all you would need to 
 do would be to keep me straight. For myself, I am con- 
 strained to confess I may need looking after, for I am a be- 
 liever in Christian liberty, and in the divinity of the beau- 
 tiful, and in the desirableness of an emancipation of the 
 truth and spirit of Christ, in His people, from all the tram- 
 mels of a narrow theology and a harsh and stern morality. 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 555 
 
 There, I have told the worst and I feel better. But don't 
 suspect me of such narrowness in my opposition to narrow- 
 ness as to be unaware of the terrible dangers on the side of 
 breadth ; don't suspect me of heedlessly confounding 
 " Christian liberty" with latitudinarianism in opinion or 
 license of life, or of rendering to beauty the worship due to 
 the God of beauty. My doctrine on the whole subject is just 
 your doctrine, I am sure, because it is just Paul's : " Ye are 
 called to liberty ; only use not liberty for an occasion to the 
 flesh." " Every gift of God is good, and to be received [if 
 only it be received] with thanksgiving and sanctified by the 
 word of God and prayer." " All things are lawful, but not 
 expedient." " I will eat no meat while the world standeth, 
 if meat make my brother to offend." That is good theology, 
 is it not? Well, I think I love it, every word of it, and I 
 will do my best, with your help and the blessing of God, to 
 administer the College in its spirit. 
 
 But, the application ? Yes, I know that is the difficulty, 
 and if 1 don't speak right to the point, it is not because I 
 have any notions to conceal, but because I have no opinions 
 definitely formed on the subject. You know it has never 
 till now been a practical question with me. I have not 
 lived among a dancing people; "on the contrary, werry 
 much the rewerse" (as Mr. Weller remarked). In my 
 schools it has never met me, nor in my church, and in my 
 family the only person whom it has concerned thus far has 
 been my eldest daughter, who is such a clear-headed little 
 specimen of quiet Puritanic decision, that not even paternal 
 arts and influences have ever been able to corrupt her in 
 such matters as dancing, card-playing, or theater-going. 
 So, what can you expect ? I wait for light. When I talk 
 with you, I presume you will find me pleading on the liberal 
 side i.e., except when I find you leaning too far that way, 
 in which case I shall try to be faithful ; but when it comes 
 to public expressions, and especially to the admission 
 
55 6 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 of doubtful influences into the College-life, you will 
 find me a model of caution. In a word, my dear Miss Ly- 
 man, I think you will find me not only " somewhat" but 
 altogether in sympathy with you in the desire to have 
 Christ's " idea" incorporated into our system, and to banish 
 everything calculated to grieve His spirit from our midst or 
 hinder the saving influences of the Gospel. 
 
 To-morrow I expect to see Mrs. Raymond, after a sepa- 
 tion of four months ! It is our silver-wedding-day, and we 
 expected to spend it together after my return from Mon- 
 treal. That plan my lumbago broke the back of. And 
 now, since I must defer going till next week, I have tele- 
 graphed her to come. I am sorry that I have no photograph of 
 her which I should be willing to send you. Picture to yourself 
 the soul of goodness, a spirit as free from guile, as unselfish, 
 as gentle, as true to duty, and as submissive to divine dis- 
 cipline, as ever dwelt in human bosom, and you have the 
 only picture that will do her justice. Without pretension 
 to " parts" or accomplishments, yet clear in intelligence and 
 sound in all judgment, transparent as the day, "loving herself 
 last" and full of sympathies forall beside, chastened by much 
 experience of sorrow (five darlings have taken flight out of 
 her bosom to God's), yet ever cheerful in look and tone for 
 others, you cannot help but love her when you know her ; 
 but for one trace of all this you might search in her photo- 
 graph a month, and search in vain. " Have I children?" 
 I think I have! Five in heaven, and four yet spared to us 
 on earth. But, happily, here's the end of my sheet. I 
 should be blubbering next. Farewell, and believe me, ever 
 affectionately, 
 
 Your brother, J. H. RAYMOND. 
 
 P. S. I shall get away (D.V.) early next week, and hope 
 to be in M. by Wednesday morning. 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 557 
 
 The long-delayed meeting with Miss Lyman took 
 place at Montreal, and the friendly relations formed 
 during a five months' correspondence were con- 
 firmed in a nearer acquaintance. During this visit 
 Miss Lyman's final hesitancy was removed, and she 
 consented to the presentation of her name for election 
 to the Lady-Principalship of Vassar College, which oc- 
 curred during the meeting of the Board in June. 
 
 Only those who knew Dr. Raymond best could 
 have any idea of the terrible weight upon his spirit 
 which was removed by the successful opening of the 
 College. It was the nightmare in which that huge 
 building, like a soulless mass, seemed the mountain- 
 load that was crushing him to the earth. Although 
 he had ever been subject to great alternations of feel- 
 ing, from exaltation to extreme despondency, it was 
 his habit to give expression chiefly to the cheerful 
 mood, and no letter at this time fully confesses the 
 doubts which oppressed him. They are touched upon, 
 however, in the following brief extract from a letter to 
 Miss Lyman, under date of May 2ist: 
 
 ... I have been living for some time past the 42d Ps., 
 "Why art thou cast down," etc. And I believe "I shall 
 yet praise Him." I wait on Him, and He will strengthen 
 my heart ; and you shall say, " Is this the timid and careful 
 man who came to me with such downcast looks, and painted 
 the prospect at Poughkeepsie so dismally, as though his very 
 object were to deter me from venturing there ?" When 
 we get the big ship launched and the voyage fairly begun, 
 when difficulties take on a substantial form, when I have 
 escaped from this terrible cloud-land of solitary speculation, 
 this anticipation of all conceivable and inconceivable possi- 
 bilities of peril, and we are battling real troubles, God for- 
 
JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 bid that you should find me unmanned or unmanly. But I 
 do not mean always to talk to you in this melancholy strain. 
 
 " Shadows to-night 
 
 Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard 
 Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers 
 All armed in proof." 
 
 In the short visits with his family, during the pre- 
 ceding summer, there were many hours when they felt 
 that he " dwelt apart" within a shadow which the sym- 
 pathy of those nearest and dearest could not penetrate. 
 Greater than all the present and positive difficulties 
 were the unknown dangers that haunted him in that 
 " terrible cloud-land of solitary speculation." It was 
 only in the dawning of the real life of the College that 
 the full light broke upon his soul, and the spectres were 
 put to flight : 
 
 To his WIFE. 
 
 OPENING DAY, Sept. 20. 
 
 Thus far we run before the wind. A splendid day, and 
 the building and grounds alive with people. We must have 
 received over two hundred young ladies already, and dined 
 three hundred people in the hall quite comfortably. Our 
 arrangements are perfect and work smoothly. I sit in my 
 little sanctum busy with my papers, except when questions 
 are brought to me for settlement. Poor Miss Lyman is so 
 hoarse she can hardly speak, but is smiling as the day and 
 strong as a lion. Our only difficulties grow out of the very 
 natural circumstance that everybody would like to have the 
 best room, and nobody wants to take the worst or even one 
 of the worst. A few are exceedingly pertinacious. 
 
 I have bought my horse, the pretty Cuban pony. His 
 name is Sherry, and he is a nice fellow. 
 
 How I wish you were here ! Love to all my loves. 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE PRELIMINARY. 559 
 
 SATURDAY, P.M., Sept. 23. 
 
 I am very tired, and have to preach my first sermon to- 
 morrow. So you will not expect much of a letter. 
 
 It seems like a dream, the sudden transmutation of this 
 great lumbering pile of brick and mortar, which hung on 
 my spirit like a mountainous millstone, into a palace of 
 light and life. Last evening, about nine o'clock, I got out 
 for the first time after dark, walked quietly down the front 
 avenue to the gate-lodge under the dim light of the stars, 
 and then turned to look at the College. It was illuminated 
 from end to end. I then returned and walked around the 
 whole. On every side it sparkled like a diamond. The 
 front windows open, you know, on the corridors, which were 
 all ablaze with gas ; the end and rear windows are in the 
 young ladies' rooms, and of course were equally brilliant. 
 The blinds were generally open, and many of the windows ; 
 and everywhere fair young forms were moving around, and 
 merry voices were heard in conversation and song. At the 
 rear the pianos were going, and you would have thought 
 the building had been inhabited for years instead of hours. 
 We have a fine set of students, and they make themselves at 
 home at once and behave beautifully. Towards sundown 
 the grounds are all alive with happy groups but you must 
 come and see for yourself. 
 
 The work of reducing this beautiful chaos to order is, of 
 course, great, and we are now at it. The responsible part 
 comes largely on me ; but, thank God, my fears are thus far 
 disappointed, and I am working with a happy heart. But 
 I do want you, all of you, so much. I cannot half enjoy the 
 enjoyable things because you are not here to share; and 
 our house, though most welcome for its quiet, is getting very 
 lonely, and seems to complain that it alone is without a 
 family and a mistress. . . . 
 
 Mr. Vassar has only just lived through it. He is almost 
 
560 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 sick of joy. And good old Mr. Mitchell is the picture of 
 happiness. 
 
 Things are dreadfully unregulated about the house. The 
 steward has not his department at all in hand. But, so far, 
 all are good-natured and indisposed to complain. That, of 
 course, will not continue, and I hope the disorder will not. 
 But the sermon waits. Farewell. 
 
 The sooner you are here the happier I shall be. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE FORMATIVE YEARS. 
 
 THERE is so much general reference in Dr. Ray- 
 mond's letters to the work upon which he had 
 entered, and to its great responsibilities and risks, that it 
 is natural to seek for a more definite knowledge of them. 
 He has himself given a full account of the aims of the 
 College, and of the questions involved in its organi- 
 zation ; and in following him through the history of 
 the problem that so long occupied his thoughts, we get 
 the clearest idea of its solution, and of the end actually 
 attained. The statements are taken from a report that 
 he was requested to furnish, " in connection with other 
 documents relating to our American systems of popu- 
 lar and higher education," to the International Exposi- 
 tion at Vienna : 
 
 THE COURSE OF STUDY. 
 
 HISTORY OF ITS DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 The Founder of Vassar College did not establish the institu- 
 tion to carry out any peculiar theory of education. His motive 
 was one of general philanthropy. He sought for some benefi- 
 cent object to which to devote the accumulations of an indus- 
 trious life; and he found it in the erection of a College for 
 Women. The scope of the idea, as it lay in his mind, was 
 simply this, "to found and perpetuate an institution which 
 should accomplish for young women what our colleges are 
 accomplishing for young men." 
 
 For methods of procedure he relied upon others. " In rela- 
 tion to matters literary and professional," said he, in one of his 
 
562 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 
 
 early addresses to the Board of Trustees, " I cannot claim any 
 knowledge, and I decline all responsibility: 1 shall leave such 
 questions to your superior wisdom." He stipulated only that 
 the educational standard should be high higher than that 
 usually recognized in schools for young women. "The attempt 
 you are to aid me in making," he said, " fails wholly of its point 
 if it be not in advance, and a decided advance. I wish to give 
 one sex all the advantages too long monopolized by the other." 
 
 The problem, then, which the Trustees had before them was 
 this: to devise a system of intellectual training which, while 
 adapted to the special wants of the sex, should be of as high a 
 grade relatively, and should accomplish essentially the same 
 ends, as the American college for young men , in other words, 
 to devise a system of liberal education for women. What should 
 it be? What elements of instruction and training should it 
 embrace, and in what relative proportions ? At what grade of 
 advancement should the course begin, and to what extent should 
 it be carried ? 
 
 The question was embarrassed by several difficulties. In the 
 first place, the only standard of measurement afforded them by 
 the Founder's words had become itself unsettled. What was 
 the proper function of the college for young menwas in dispute. 
 The champions of a " new education" were demanding essen- 
 tial changes in the orthodox collegiate system. They claimed 
 that the vast growth and importance of the physical sciences 
 entitled these to a larger space in the curriculum. Some of 
 them boldly impugned the comparative value of classical train- 
 ing; and all urged that at least a wider scope should be given 
 to individual choice in the selection of studies. Institutions of 
 venerable authority were ranging themselves on opposite sides, 
 and it was not easy to predict the result. 
 
 Again, supposing the conditions of a liberal education for 
 men to be settled, were those for the other sex to be the same 
 or different? and if different, to what extent, and in what par- 
 ticulars? The idea of a full scientific education for women was 
 comparatively novel. Some sneered ; many doubted ; and those 
 who had faith could point to no successful experiments to jus- 
 tify their confidence, and could find no recognized precedents to 
 guide their policy. All was theory, and opinions were divided, 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE FORMATIVE YEARS. 563 
 
 There were those who believed that the physical organization 
 and functions of woman naturally disqualify her for severe 
 study, and that an education essentially popular, and largely 
 ornamental, is alone suited to her sphere. These deprecated 
 all such movements as ignoring the laws of God and nature, 
 and striking at the foundations of the physical and moral wel- 
 fare of the race. Others, on the ground that there is "no sex 
 in mind," demanded for women precisely the same educational, 
 treatment as for men demanded, indeed, the admission of 
 young women to the existing colleges, and their education side 
 by side with young men, as the true solution of the problem. 
 Between these extremes, a large and increasing number of intel- 
 ligent educators and thoughtful parents were taking middle 
 ground. Recognizing the possession by woman of the same 
 intellectual constitution as man's, they claimed for her an equal 
 right to intellectual culture, and a system of development and 
 discipline based on the same fundamental principles. They 
 denied that any amount of intellectual training, if properly con- 
 ducted, could be prejudicial, in either sex, to physical health or 
 to the moral and social virtues. They believed, in the light of 
 all experience, that the larger the stock of knowledge and the 
 more thorough the mental discipline a woman actually attains, 
 other things being equal, the better she is fitted to fill every 
 womanly position, and to perform every womanly duty, at home 
 and in society. At the same time, they could not but see that 
 there are specialties in the feminine constitution, and in the 
 functions allotted to woman in life; and they believed that 
 these should not be lost sight of in arranging the details of her 
 education. It seemed obvious, too, that young women away 
 from home should be surrounded with more effective social safe- 
 guards ; that special sanitary provisions should be made for 
 them ; and that they should be furnished with ampler means of 
 personal and domestic comfort than are usually thought neces- 
 sary for young men. They could not, therefore, recognize the 
 existing colleges as fully meeting the case, until those colleges 
 shall be prepared to assume the whole of this responsibility by 
 providing adequate personal accommodations and by enlarging 
 their curriculum so as to embrace all the elements of feminine 
 as well as masculine culture. 
 
564 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 The Trustees of Vassar College, in common with its Founder, 
 held this middle ground ; and two or three starting-points were 
 thus determined for them. 
 
 1. A complete domestic system must be incorporated with 
 the educational in the organization of the college. It was 
 accordingly decided that all its students should be members of 
 the college family; that they should live together under one 
 roof; that the security and comforts of a well-ordered home 
 should be assured them ; and that the sanitary and social regu- 
 lation of their life, as well as their intellectual training, should 
 be taken under the responsible direction of the college authori- 
 ties. Hence the erection of the large and costly edifice, with its 
 suits of furnished private apartments, its thoroughly equipped 
 kitchen and laundry, the extensive apparatus for the supply of 
 light, heat, and water, and the complicated arrangement of busi- 
 ness offices, which otherwise might have been dispensed with. 
 Hence, too, the appointment of a lady principal and a resident 
 physician, and the important functions assigned those officers 
 in the internal polity of the college. And hence a complete sys- 
 tem of house regulations, matured by the Faculty, and intended 
 to harmonize the personal with the student life of its members. 
 In this feature the plan of Vassar College resembles that of the 
 ladies' seminary or boarding-school, or that of the "college" or 
 " hall " in the English university (as distinguished from the uni- 
 versity itself), more nearly than it does that of the American 
 college of the last half-century. 
 
 2. The course of study must be liberal, not elementary ; thor- 
 ough and scientific, not popular and superficial. In this respect 
 it was decided that Vassar should resemble the American col- 
 lege, rather than the seminary, academy, or high school. It was 
 obvious, on a very little reflection, that the moulders of this 
 institution were not so much concerned with the points which 
 separated the old colleges from one another as with those which 
 discriminated them in common from the secondary schools in 
 our American system. The advocates of the new education 
 were striving to make liberal education more liberal, to advance 
 the college in breadth and altitude one step nearer the univer- 
 sity. The question here was whether woman should have 
 liberal education at all, whether the course of study to be estab- 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE FORMATIVE YEARS. 565 
 
 lished should be collegiate in any proper sense of the word ; and 
 this question was settled in the affirmative. It should be col- 
 legiate, alike in the grade and in the method of its instructions. 
 The text-books employed should not be the ordinary school- 
 compendiums, but works of the highest authority in the several 
 fields of knowledge. Not only the results of scientific and 
 literary investigation should be taught, but (as far as possible) 
 the methods. Mere memoriter recitations should be discarded ; 
 and the student should be not merely required to "learn les- 
 sons," but trained to discuss subjects and to form and maintain 
 opinions. This implied the devoting of some years, at the out- 
 set of the course, to disciplinary studies; and, for this prepara- 
 tory discipline, no substitute was found for the time-honored 
 grammatical and mathematical drill on which the successful 
 schools of liberal culture throughout Christendom have always 
 relied, and still unanimously rely, as the indispensable founda- 
 tion. This, in the judgment of the Trustees, was the step " in 
 advance" to which the Founder had originally pledged them. 
 In no other way could the expensive professorships, the scien- 
 tific collections and other costly apparatus of instruction which 
 he had furnished, be utilized, or the pecuniary provisions made 
 for their continuance and enlargement be justified. Their 
 efforts, therefore, have had this as a uniform and leading aim, 
 to make Vassar College a COLLEGE, not in name only, but in 
 fact, a college in the grade and in the style of its instruction. 
 
 3. ,But, finally, the plan should not be a servile copy of exist- 
 ing models. If the old college system could be modified in any 
 respect, either by addition or subtraction, so as to secure a more 
 perfect adaptation to the wants of woman, the change was to be 
 made without hesitation. Whatever might be added to former 
 ideals of womanly culture on the score of breadth and thorough- 
 ness, there must be no lowering of the standard of womanly 
 refinement and grace. The claims of aesthetic culture were there- 
 fore at once recognized ; the provisions made for instruction in 
 the arts of design and in music must be ample, and adequate 
 time be allowed for this culture in the regular curriculum. 
 
 So far all was plain ; but it was not so clear whether any fur- 
 ther changes were required on account of the sex of the stu- 
 dents. Some thought there should be relatively less of mathe- 
 
566 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 matics and more of languages, less of science and more of litera- 
 ture. Some, that the classical or " dead " languages should be 
 replaced by modern tongues ; and others, that the study of the 
 vernacular, and the arts of composition, should occupy a much 
 larger share of the student's attention in a woman's college than 
 in a man's. The old controversy as to the comparative claim 
 of practical studies in a course of liberal culture came in ; and 
 the old difficulty was found, of determining what studies are 
 practical and what not. 
 
 There was another point about which opinions differed; 
 namely, whether the course of study should be prescribed or 
 optional. In June, 1863, while the college edifice was building, 
 a committee of the Board reported a plan of organization, 
 recommending the adoption of what was called the University 
 System, " an arrangement suggested by the system which pre- 
 vails in European universities," and which was thus described: 
 "Similar or collateral branches are combined into distinct 
 departments or schools, which are practically independent of 
 one another. Thus, we have the school of mathematics, the 
 school of languages, the school of natural history, etc., each 
 having its appropriate course of study. The student selects which- 
 ever of these schools or studies his talents, tastes, inclinations, 
 Pecuniary circumstances, or objects in life may lead him to prefer ; 
 and when he has mastered the studies of a school, he receives a 
 testimonial certifying to that effect. Each school confers a dis- 
 tinct testimonial. When the student has gained testimonials 
 in a specified number of schools, he is entitled to a diploma as 
 a graduate of the university." This plan, though recommended 
 by some theoretical advantages, other members of the Board 
 thought not to be suited to the actual exigencies of the situa- 
 tion. It was believed that at the point indicated above by 
 italics it would prove to be fatally defective; that the average 
 student, or her friends, would not make such a selection or 
 arrangement of studies as would attain the ends of a liberal 
 education ; and that in leaving so essential a matter wholly at 
 the disposal of its students a college would be shirking its 
 proper responsibility. The question was left at that time unde- 
 cided. 
 
 To these theoretical difficulties a more peremptory practical 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE-FORMATIVE YEARS. 567 
 
 one was added the necessity of taking into account the opin- 
 ion of the public at large. There could be no college of any 
 kind without students ; and in this case, since there were no 
 endowments for the support of instruction, they must Spaying 
 students. In this respect, it may safely be said, the enterprise 
 has had to endure a test to which no school of liberal education 
 was ever before subjected, and which has not always been borne 
 in mind by those who have criticised its management from a 
 purely theoretical point of view. The great building must be 
 filled at once with students, and kept full to the number of 
 nearly four hundred, at full rates of charge, or the enterprise 
 would be crippled at the start. Whatever theories might re- 
 quire, it was idle to adopt any scheme which would not attract 
 a liberal patronage from the well-to-do classes of the commu- 
 nity. 
 
 The best thing to be done was, manifestly, to begin with a 
 provisional plan, allowing opportunity for the public sentiment 
 to declare itself, and taking time to mature the permanent 
 course in the light of experience. Such a plan was outlined, 
 and published as a " prospectus" in the spring of 1865. It offered 
 instruction in all the branches of a collegiate course, but pre- 
 scribed no uniform arrangement of them, committing the selec- 
 tion of studies in each case individually to the direction of the 
 President and Faculty. The only prerequisites to admission 
 were that the candidate should be over fifteen years of age, and 
 should be prepared for examination in arithmetic, English 
 grammar, modern geography, and American history. The 
 prospectus exhibited the titles of studies to be taught in the 
 college, grouped together loosely in ten departments of instruc- 
 tion. But it was added: ''This scheme must be regarded as 
 merely tentative. The Board reserves its final decision on the 
 distribution of studies until experience has developed the wants 
 of the community, and the whole subject has been maturely 
 canvassed by the Faculty." 
 
 Of the three hundred and fifty students with which the col- 
 lege began, a respectable minority, perhaps one third, had been 
 well taught, a few admirably. But of the great majority it 
 could not be said with truth that they were thoroughly grounded 
 in anything. 
 
568 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 In the ordinary English branches, had the same tests been 
 applied then that are applied now with unvarying strictness at 
 every entrance examination, one half the candidates would 
 have been refused. In these branches the advantage was nota- 
 bly with those who had been taught in the graded public 
 schools of the country, particularly of the larger towns and 
 cities ; and none appeared to less advantage, as a general fact, 
 than those on whom the greatest expense had been lavished in 
 governesses and special forms of home or foreign education. 
 
 In the more advanced studies, the examinations revealed a 
 prevailing want of method and order, and much of that super- 
 ficiality which must necessarily result from taking up such 
 studies without disciplinary preparation, Such preparation 
 seemed not to have been wholly neglected ; but in a majority 
 of cases it had been quite insufficient, and often little better 
 than nominal. Most of the older students, for instance, had 
 professedly studied Latin, and either algebra or geometry, or 
 both. But the Latin had usually been " finished " with reading 
 very imperfectly a little Caesar and Virgil ; and the algebra and 
 geometry, though perhaps in general better taught, had not 
 infrequently been studied in easy abridgments, of little or no 
 value for the purposes of higher scientific education. . . . 
 
 One thing was made clear by these preliminary examinations : 
 that, if the condition of the higher female education in the 
 United States was fairly represented by this company of young 
 women, with a great deal that was elevated in aim and earnest 
 in intention, it was characterized by much confusion, much 
 waste of power, and much barrenness of result, and admitted of 
 essential improvement. 
 
 An inquiry into their plans for future study revealed as 
 clearly their need of authoritative guidance and direction. 
 There was no lack of zeal for improvement. Almost all had 
 been drawn to the College by the hope of obtaining a higher 
 and completer education than would be afforded them else- 
 where. Indeed, the earnestness of purpose, assiduity of appli- 
 cation, and intelligence to appreciate good counsel, which 
 have, from the beginning, characterized the students as a body, 
 are a noticeable and encouraging fact. But their reliance at 
 first was largely on the adventitious advantages which the 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE FORMATIVE YEARS. 569 
 
 College was supposed to possess for putting them in possession 
 of their favorite branches of knowledge and culture. Of the 
 real elements and processes of a higher education, and of the 
 subjective conditions of mental growth and training, compara- 
 tively few, either of the students or their parents, appeared to 
 have any definite idea. There was no lack of definiteness of 
 choice. Tastes and inclinations were usually positive; reasons 
 were not so plentiful. That the young lady " liked " this study 
 or "disliked" that was the reason perhaps most frequently 
 assigned. If its force was not at once conceded, she strengthened 
 it by increased emphasis, declaring that she was "passionately 
 fond " of the one and " utterly detested" or " never could endure" 
 the other. Practical studies were greatly in vogue, especially 
 with parents ; " practical " meaning such as had an immediate 
 relation, real or fancied, to some utility of actual life, such, for 
 example, as that of chemistry to cooking, or of French to a tour 
 in Europe. Appropriateness for the discipline of the faculties, 
 or the equipment of the mind for scientific or philosophical 
 investigation, might not be appreciated as practical considera- 
 tions at all. 
 
 The deepest impression made by these preliminary examina- 
 tions on those who conducted them was this, that the grand 
 desideratum for the higher education of women was regulation, 
 authoritative and peremptory. Granting that the college sys- 
 tem for young men, coming down from an age of narrow pre- 
 scription and rigid uniformity, needed expansion, relaxation, a 
 wider variety of studies and freer scope for individual choice, 
 there was evidently no such call in a college for women. In 
 the field of "female education" without endowments, without 
 universities or other institutions of recognized authority, with- 
 out a history or even a generally accepted theory, there was 
 really no established system at all ; and a system was, of all 
 things, the thing most urgently demanded. That it should be 
 a perfect system was less important than that it should be 
 definite and fixed, based upon intelligent and well-considered 
 principles, and adhered to irrespective of the taste and fancies 
 and crude speculations of the students or their friends. The 
 young women who, all over the land, were urging so importu- 
 nate a claim for thorough intellectual culture should first of all 
 
570 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 be taught what are the unalterable conditions of a thorough 
 culture, alike for women and for men, and should be held to 
 those conditions, just as young men are held, whether they 
 " liked " the discipline or not. The rising interest in the subject 
 of woman's education, which so signally marked the recent 
 progress of public sentiment, required a channel through which 
 it might be directed to positive results. If Vassar College had 
 a mission, was it not, clearly, to contribute something to that 
 consummation? To adopt the "University System," or any 
 other based on the purely optional principle, was manifestly to 
 throw away the opportunity, and to use whatever of power and 
 influence the College might have derived from the munificence 
 of its Founder to perpetuate thedeplorable state of things which 
 it had been his chief desire to assist in changing. 
 
 To the task, therefore, of reducing to order the heterogeneous 
 medley before them, the Faculty set themselves with all earnest- 
 ness. Many have wondered why there should have been any 
 delay in doing this, why a collegiate course was not at once 
 marked out and the students forthwith formed into correspond- 
 ing classes. The reason will appear on a moment's reflection. 
 It is easy to build a college on paper. To produce the real thing 
 requires a variety of material, prepared and shaped for the pur- 
 pose. -There must not only be buildings and apparatus, books 
 and learned professors, but there must be students, students 
 who have passed through a preparatory process which requires 
 not only time, but certain moulding influences of a very definite 
 character; and it will not be found easy at least, it was not 
 found easy in 1865 to get together four hundred young women, 
 or one fourth of that number, so prepared. It was one of the 
 great difficulties in the way of establishing a true Woman's 
 College, that there was an entire lack of organized preparatory 
 schools to furnish it with students properly grounded in the 
 disciplinary branches, and that the schools which could do this 
 work were to so great an extent committed to methods which 
 tend rather to unfit the student for commencing a college 
 course. 
 
 One fact, however, the Faculty discovered, which went far to 
 counterbalance all their discouragements : The most mature, 
 thoughtful, and influential of the students perfectly appre- 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE FORMATIVE YEARS. 571 
 
 bended the situation, knew what they needed, and earnestly 
 sought it. They were really in advance of the men of years 
 and experience with whom the decision rested. With the quick 
 insight of intelligent women or, rather, with that exact dis- 
 cernment wherewith the sufferer of an evil takes its measure 
 and presages its remedy they had worked out the solution of 
 the problem. Modestly, but firmly, earnestly, and intelligently, 
 they pleaded for the adoption of the highest educational stand- 
 ard, avowed their readiness to submit for themselves to the 
 most rigid conditions, and exerted a powerful influence to dif- 
 fuse right views among the more intelligent of their fellow- 
 students. It soon became evident that here was the vital nucleus 
 for the future college ; and around that nucleus the elements 
 gathered with decisive rapidity. Before the close of the year, 
 the Faculty found themselves supported in their desire for a 
 full and strict collegiate course by a strong current of sentiment 
 among the students themselves. The controversy was at an 
 end. What remained was to make the idea a reality. 
 
 For the first year, no attempt was made to grade the students 
 by any common standard. It would hardly have been possible 
 to do so, so dissimilar had their previous plans of study been. 
 Their individual wants were, therefore, considered only; and 
 they were classified in the several departments of instruction 
 separately. A great deal of earnest and profitable studying was 
 done ; and much progress was made in the development of edu- 
 cational intelligence, and in habits of steady movement under a 
 decided discipline. 
 
 Toward the close of the second year, the first attempt was 
 made to arrange a portion of the students (about one third of 
 the whole) in college classes. 
 
 But it was not until the close of its third year that the insti- 
 tution fully attained a collegiate character. During these three 
 years the Faculty had been carefully studying the conditions of 
 the problem before them, ascertaining, through an extensive 
 intercourse with students, parents, intelligent educators, and 
 through other channels of information, the nature of the public 
 demand, and gradually maturing a permanent course of study 
 to meet as far as practicable its conflicting elements. At the 
 opening of the fourth collegiate year (1868-69) this course defini- 
 
57 2 JOHN H. RAYMOND, 
 
 lively replaced the provisional one adopted at the outset, and, 
 with occasional modifications of detail, has remained in opera- 
 tion since. When the changes since made have in any way 
 affected the standard of education, it has invariably beer in the 
 direction of its further elevation. 
 
 There is a fascination to many in watching the de- 
 velopment of any genuine idea, especially if it attain large 
 growth and fruitfulness. To one who cares to follow 
 the history of the first Woman's College in America, 
 and of the principles which it sought to establish, it is 
 interesting to trace their progress during the four years 
 which complete the first and formative stage of the 
 College. In the President's annual reports to the 
 Board of Trustees we see the unfolding of his plan 
 (already broadly sketched in the " Vienna Pamphlet" 
 just quoted from) as the chaotic elements upon which 
 he worked gradually fell into order at his touch. 
 
 In his report for the first college year, we follow him 
 through the weary mazes of " classification." After 
 threading that labyrinth, it is cheering to see the way 
 opening, in the second and third years, to that " Reg- 
 ular Course" for which he labored so untiringly with 
 those under his care, that " royal road" to learning 
 which to so many happy converts, convinced of its 
 wisdom in those ever-memorable talks in the " Presi- 
 dent's Room," proved a way of pleasantness and a path 
 of peace. 
 
 It was not strange that he should find occasion for 
 expressions of special gratitude at reaching the suc- 
 cessful close of the first year. His first annual report 
 is given in full : 
 
 A favoring Providence has brought us through this our first 
 year of experiment and trial, with perhaps as much occasion for 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE FORMATIVE YEARS. 573 
 
 congratulation, and as little for regret, as it would have been 
 reasonable to anticipate. To me at least, who have stood at a 
 point of observation which commanded the whole field of diffi- 
 culty, and at a post of duty to which every suffering interest has 
 appealed for relief, and where there was no escape from the 
 responsibility, day by day and hour by hour, of deciding doubt- 
 ful questions, reconciling differences, moulding many and often 
 inharmonious elements into an organization which would meet 
 the demands of immediate necessity without compromising the 
 permanent welfare of the College, and (last, not least) accustom- 
 ing a large corps of able professors and teachers, representing 
 almost as large a variety of professional habits, opinions, and 
 expectations, to willing and harmonious action on the plan pre- 
 scribed to me, I say, after the experience of such a year, the 
 approach of its close, without disaster, is eminently grateful, and, 
 with more than wonted emphasis, I "thank God and take cour- 
 age." Many, I am aware, who have caught glimpses of the 
 embryonic confusion inseparable from this formative stage, and 
 contrasted what they have seen in part with the neat and finished 
 ideal which it was so easy to spread on the pages of the Pros- 
 pectus, have thought the process slow, and been disposed to 
 censure the management of the College on that account. I do 
 not fear such a judgment from any who have ever had a similar 
 experiment to conduct. One on so large a scale and involving 
 so many difficulties has, I think, rarely been attempted in the 
 educational sphere. For myself, I must be allowed to say to 
 you, to whom I am responsible, that during the past year I have 
 felt the necessity of holding back quite as much as that of press- 
 ing forward ; and, if any credit is to be awarded me, claim to- 
 day as much for having prevented premature decisions as for 
 contributing in my sphere to prepare the College to pass safely 
 out of this period of expedients and experiment to the next, 
 that of general law and incipient regulation. 
 
 But to a more particular review of the year. 
 
 i. Classification of Students, and Instruction. The College 
 opened on the 2Oth day of September with nearly three hun- 
 dred students. The maximum number of three hundred and 
 thirty was attained during the fall. It was an easy task to dis- 
 tribute them in the comfortable rooms made ready for their 
 
574 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 accommodation, and to surround them with all the outward con- 
 ditions of successful study. Here our work as teachers began ; 
 here, too, we met with our first difficulty, and a formidable diffi- 
 culty it was, with whose inevitable consequences we have been 
 contending through the entire year. It was not that these three 
 hundred and thirty young ladies were all strangers to us had 
 each to be carefully examined and graded in every branch of 
 study she was to pursue. That required only time and patience, 
 and it was done by the professors and teachers, under my direc- 
 tion, conscientiously and thoroughly. The difficulty lay in what 
 that examination revealed. 
 
 It had been thought necessary, on financial grounds and with 
 a view to the impression on the public mind, that the College 
 should at once be filled, and that to this end the door should be 
 opened as wide as possible for the admission of students. This 
 meant the lowering of the standard of requirements. Had there 
 been a strict adherence even to the easy conditions prescribed 
 in the Prospectus, the number of students would have been 
 reduced more than one half; and the task of organizing the 
 department of instruction would have been delightfully easy and 
 agreeable. We should not have accepted more than two thirds 
 of those we did accept as candidates for admission ; and of that 
 number we should have dismissed a very considerable propor- 
 tion on the results of the actual examination. Some of our pro- 
 fessors and teachers, and many of the advanced students, felt 
 disappointed and almost aggrieved that this was not done ; and 
 I know that some of the most intelligent friends of the College 
 still believe that it should be done. I am not of the number. 
 In an enterprise which, like this, aims not to carry out any nar- 
 row theory or to promote any special mode of reform, but to do 
 the utmost possible good in the field it occupies, I believe in 
 taking things as they are and working with Providence to im- 
 prove them. The number of students who could be got together 
 to pursue and complete a full college course must for some 
 time to come be too small to warrant the maintenance of so 
 costly an establishment as this, whose advantages might mean- 
 while be made useful to so many others, and especially in foster- 
 ing and diffusing that love of learning which alone will inspire 
 in the sex a desire for higher education. On the other hand, it 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE- FORMATIVE YEARS. 575 
 
 is indispensable, if we would maintain for Vassar College that 
 foremost rank among schools for women to which all her ante- 
 cedents bind her, not only that her regular course of study 
 have a collegiate elevation and completeness, but that no stu- 
 dent should be admitted in any relation who is not advanced 
 beyond the need of mere elementary instruction, and that the 
 published conditions of admission be strictly adhered to. Be- 
 yond this point, the claims of the business department must not 
 be permitted to press upon the educational. 
 
 The consequence of the liberal principle of admission which 
 it seemed expedient to adopt last fall was this : that among 
 our three hundred and thirty students we had represented every 
 age from under fifteen to about twenty-four not to mention 
 sporadic cases of even greater maturity and every grade of 
 educational advancement from that of a respectable college 
 Junior down to a point lower than I have any convenient way 
 of indicating or should take any pride in mentioning. Many 
 of them, probably a majority of the whole, had been well taught, 
 and were advanced either to the Freshman grade or within a 
 year of it. Even these, however, had been educated so irregu- 
 larly as to make the difficulty of classing them not small; while 
 the minority was formidably large of those who, though they 
 were ambitious for the topmost places, and often displayed im- 
 posing lists of the higher branches which they had studied else- 
 where, were deplorably destitute of any educational foundation, 
 and could not by any conscientious and intelligent teacher be 
 assigned to other than elementary classes. In partial antici- 
 pation of the necessity, it had been arranged to form preparatory 
 classes for beginners in Latin, French, and Algebra; but this 
 was very far from meeting the emergency. We found that more 
 than one third of the entire number were so deficient in the 
 rudiments of Arithmetic and English Grammar that provision 
 must be made for their regular and careful instruction therein. 
 Such were the multifarious elements I found thrown suddenly 
 under my hand, and demanding organization and arrangement 
 into a working scheme which would meet their diversified wants 
 and furnish the embryo of a regular system hereafter. 
 
 Within a week, as the results of the examinations developed 
 themselves, I had abandoned all idea of a general class arrange- 
 
JOHN //, RA YMOND. 
 
 ment for the present year, and resolved to class them, one by 
 one, according to their degrees of proficiency, in the several 
 departments to which they were admitted. This involved an 
 amount of minute, laborious, and vexatious detail to which I 
 should be sorry to see my worst enemy condemned. Nor was 
 the difficulty that alone which was inherent in the task itself. 
 Every one of these young ladies had come to Vassar College 
 with rose-colored ideas of its perfect adaptedness to her particu- 
 lar wants, and of the freedom with which she would be allowed 
 to select from its unlimited advantages to finish her education 
 according to her own plan or that of friends perhaps no better 
 competent to judge. "Special courses" were in great demand ; 
 and when those marked out were not approved, it became clear 
 in many instances that even female Young America has a will 
 of her own, and equally clear that she has been too much ac- 
 customed to have her own way in the choice and direction of 
 her studies. ... It took a world of talking, with individuals in 
 private and to the school at large, to make it clearly under- 
 stood that, while no effort would be spared to provide for the 
 real wants (however peculiar) of every student, sham education, 
 of whatever kind, was not the policy of the College; that the 
 choice of their studies was not a matter of taste, affection, or 
 caprice; that there was a natural relation of the various depart- 
 ments of knowledge to each other and to the common end a 
 well-informed and well-disciplined mind and a proper order of 
 consecution which could not be disregarded without ruining the 
 whole ; that what they contemned as mere elementary branches 
 were the most indispensable part of their education ; that the 
 attempt to build the upper stories without a foundation was an 
 -architectural folly to which, neither for their sakes nor our own, 
 could we afford to be a party ; and that whenever on points of 
 this kind their ideas differed from ours, it was our duty as good 
 teachers to understand the matter better than they could, and 
 their duty as good pupils, as well as their highest interest,. to be 
 governed by our judgment. If these lessons were thoroughly 
 and finally taught the school, the time and labor expended were 
 not thrown away. I trust they were ; there was at least a gen- 
 eral acquiescence in them, and the first half of our academic 
 year saw a large proportion of the students of Vassar College 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE FORMATIVE YEARS. S77 
 
 busily engaged in the review of their long-forgotten Grammar 
 and Arithmetic, and on the rudiments of Latin, French, and 
 Algebra, as preparatory to the regular College Course. 
 
 Meanwhile, there was the handsome collection of really ad- 
 vanced students, for whom provision was none the less to be 
 made. They were not neglected. They too were at first classed 
 according to their diversified proficiency in the several depart- 
 ments; and a steady endeavor has been made, throughout the 
 year, to bring them gradually and without violence into line 
 according to the regular course of study which the Faculty have 
 laid down for the College proper. . . . 
 
 We shall commence work next year with the great advantage 
 of a definite class-organization and a, course of study which, 
 though it will probably need further modification to adapt it 
 fully to the educational demands of the time and the sex, will 
 serve the purposes of present guidance. And the internal com- 
 pactness and efficiency of the College will be further enhanced 
 if the Board will sustain the President and Faculty in the en- 
 forcement of two other principles of its internal administration : 
 
 1. That the College shall not undertake to teach the mere 
 elements of an ordinary English education, but will insist on 
 thorough preparation in these as an indispensable prerequisite 
 to admission ; and 
 
 2. That the special classes shall not be opened to the admis- 
 sion of younger students who have no good reason to give for 
 not taking the regular course. 
 
 It will not be uninteresting to note among the prob- 
 lems for solution the difficulties experienced in reduc- 
 ing to disciplined order the captains and lieutenants of 
 this newly gathered educational force, as well as the 
 rank and file of the pupils : 
 
 The College has experienced during the year some not unfore- 
 seen difficulty from the lack not merely of a code of regulations 
 for governing the students, but of an authoritative scheme 
 defining the provinces of the various officers of the College and 
 distributing the necessary powers and duties among them. This 
 was an unavoidable deficiency. At the time of the opening of 
 
578 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 the College it would have been premature to attempt to supply 
 it. The scope and aim of the institution were in many respects 
 new, and in some not clearly settled even in the mind of the 
 Founder and the Trustees. It would have been unreasonable to 
 anticipate a cheerful acquiescence on the part of so many con- 
 cerned in the theoretical decisions of any single mind, and there 
 was no common experience to which we could appeal as a basis 
 for discussion. The only alternative was to rely upon those 
 general ideas respecting our mutual relations and duties with 
 which we should come together from our former and similar 
 fields of labor, and which could hardly fail to agree in the most 
 essential particulars; and, for the rest, for the adjustment of 
 occasional differences of opinion or feeling, to depend on an 
 impartial and kindly exercise of the Presidential authority and 
 the common spirit of loyalty to truth and the College. 
 
 The collisions have been somewhat more numerous and seri- 
 ous than I hoped ; yet, on the whole, the result has been satis- 
 factory. Everybody's authority has at one time or other been 
 sharply questioned, from the President's down, but always (I 
 believe) honestly and out of love for the College. And, after 
 all, we have got through the year with certainly no greater 
 amount of friction than many other similar enterprises have 
 experienced and happily survived, and so far as the officers are 
 concerned, I am persuaded, with an increased feeling of mutual 
 confidence and esteem. As for the students, they have as a 
 body earned the highest praise for the spirit of intelligent self- 
 discipline which has characterized them, and their ready amena- 
 bility to a purely moral government. 
 
 At the close of the second year he is able to report 
 still greater advancement in classification of pupils and 
 regulation of departments and teachers, and to announce 
 the graduation of the first College class. In this report 
 he specifically combats the too free granting of special 
 courses, mentioned toward the close of the first report, 
 and shows the inevitable result of such a policy: 
 
 The difficult work of organization has made encouraging 
 progress. A little more than one half of the students have 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE FORMATIVE YEARS. 579 
 
 entered upon the Regular Course of study prescribed for the Col- 
 lege, and nearly all of these are either in full membership of its 
 several classes or will become so before the termination of the 
 next year. The standard of scholarship in these classes is high ; 
 and an earnest purpose to secure the benefits of a sound, thor- 
 ough, and comprehensive education is a marked characteristic 
 of the school. I cannot but augur the happiest results. 
 
 Of the 189 students who are allowed to pursue special courses 
 more than one half are over eighteen years of age, and a still 
 larger proportion are earnest, faithful, and successful students, 
 who are making the best use of their time, and proving them- 
 selves worthy to enjoy the advantages of the institution. There 
 is a fraction of this class, however, who form an exception to the 
 general character of the students, having little or none of the 
 real spirit of study, and, to the extent of their influence, lower- 
 ing the tone of the College in every way. This is so uniformly 
 true of those who, entering at a very early age, refuse to take 
 our Regular Course on frivolous pretexts, but for no real reason 
 except their distaste for systematic and thorough study, that it 
 has been thought best to allow special courses hereafter to none 
 under seventeen years of age. Of that class there were 21 last 
 year who prevented the reception of an equal number of suit- 
 able students, and were the occasion of nearly all the trial to 
 our discipline during the year. . . . 
 
 The Code of " Laws and Regulations" which was drawn up 
 by a Special Committee of the Board appointed at your last 
 annual meeting, and which was printed and put in force early in 
 the year by the Executive Committee, according to your direc- 
 tion, has had the happiest effect in settling questions of doubt- 
 ful jurisdiction among the officers of the College, and giving to 
 each officer a definite knowledge of the duties of his position 
 and the exact extent of his powers for their performance. The 
 cheerful acquiescence in the will of the Board as thus made 
 known, which has almost without exception been evinced by 
 the officers, establishes the justness of the opinion expressed in 
 my first Annual Report, that nothing else was needed as a gen- 
 eral fact to prevent collision and insure harmonious action. . . . 
 
 Finally, I feel that the Founder and guardians of Vassar Col- 
 lege have abundant occasion for gratitude and encouragement 
 
580 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 in the progress already made in the development of their plans. 
 At the end of its second year the College has graduated its first 
 class of students, and has no reason to be ashamed of them. At 
 a proper time in the course of this meeting it will be my pleasant 
 duty to present the names of the four young ladies who com- 
 pose this class as worthy candidates for the First Degree in 
 Liberal Arts, and to ask the Board to take action with a view 
 to conferring upon them diplomas in testimony of the facts, 
 drawn in suitable form, executed by the proper officers, and 
 duly sealed with the corporate seal of the College. 
 
 We have now also fully organized and successfully at work a 
 regular series of classes, larger in size than the first, stronger in 
 aggregate ability, and, so far as their education is advanced, 
 more systematically and completely trained. 
 
 The provisional course of study had now done its 
 work, and at the close of the third year, he reports the 
 completion of the regular College curriculum, upon 
 which he had spent much'laborious thought: 
 
 While the aggregate attendance during the past year has been 
 somewhat less, a much larger proportion of the number are 
 enrolled in our regular classes, and expect to remain until they 
 graduate. At the close of last year less than one third of the 
 students were Regulars, and the class-organization of these was 
 still imperfect. At the close of this year exactly two thirds of 
 the whole will be arranged in the four College classes, and will 
 hereafter go forward on a uniform plan of instruction, admitting 
 all desirable varieties without sacrificing unity and system to the 
 completion of their course. 
 
 This perfecting of our regular organization has been effected 
 not only without lowering the claims of exactness and thor- 
 oughness, but in connection with a steady tightening of the 
 reins of discipline in every respect. The endeavors oi the 
 Faculty in this direction have been sustained and effectively 
 aided by the intelligent co-operation of the students, among 
 whom a strong and very remarkable esprit de corps is developed 
 in favor of a higher style of education. Their class-feeling is 
 one of generous but very earnest emulation, and they are moved 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE FORMATIVE YEARS. 581; 
 
 by a common ambition to have this Woman's College, their 
 Alma Mater, rank with the best in all things that the wise com- 
 mend. 
 
 A large amount of time and thought has been given this 
 year by the Faculty to a revisal of the course of study. It was 
 not anticipated that the course adopted provisionally at the, 
 opening of the College would fully meet the wants which time 
 might develop. Its imperfections soon made themselves felt, 
 and last year some partial attempts were made to correct them. 
 But owing to inharmonious elements in the Faculty, and to the 
 want of fully developed results of experience, those attempts 
 accomplished little. This year we began early and worked hard ; 
 and the result will be (ound in the Course of Study published in 
 the new Catalogue, to which 1 invite the particular attention of 
 the Board. 
 
 The difficulty of devising such a scheme as would reconcile 
 conflicting interests and opinions, in a field comparatively new 
 and untried, without sacrificing internal consistency and work- 
 ing efficiency, no one can estimate who has not made a like 
 attempt. We by no means regard the work as completed ; but 
 we hope that an advance has been made towards a satisfactory 
 solution of some of the chief difficulties of our problem. 
 
 This is not the place for discussing the principles that enter 
 into the composition of the course. I wish only to call attention 
 to the fact that the grade of education it aims at is decidedly 
 high, not merely in the studies pursued, but in the extent to 
 which they are earned and the provision made for teaching 
 them ; approximating, if not (in all its details) equaling, the 
 standard of the first-class colleges for men. If it can be carried 
 out, it will place Vassar College, in this respect, distinctly in 
 advance of all the institutes for woman's instruction in the 
 country. 
 
 We have not concealed from ourselves the fact that it is yet 
 an experiment how far there may be a paying demand for such 
 education for women. Higher education, even for men, has 
 never been a source of pecuniary profit, simply because there are 
 comparatively few who really appceciate it, and still fewer who 
 are at once able and willing to pay what it costs in money, 
 time, and labor. A course of study might easily have been 
 
582 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 devised which, by adapting itself to a wider popular demand, 
 would have been more likely to yield large immediate returns. 
 But this would have been merely to add another good " Female 
 Seminary" or " Ladies' Boarding-School" to the many already 
 existing one somewhat larger and wealthier and better ap- 
 pointed than the rest, but not different in kind ; nor affording to 
 the intellectually ambitious of the other sex any essentially new 
 opportunities for development and culture. 
 
 To the other and nobler experiment we have felt that Vassar 
 College was committed (i) by the known wishes and avowed 
 purpose of its Founder, and the pledges given in his name to the 
 community ; (2) by the costly collections and equipments of the 
 College, begun on a scale which would be mere folly and waste 
 unless with reference to full collegiate courses of instruction ; 
 and (3) by the aspirations of so many of our students who have 
 gathered to your halls in full faith that these pledges are to be 
 redeemed, and that here they are to have not the empty shell, 
 not the delusive name, but the reality and substance of the 
 opportunities enjoyed by their brothers in the colleges of the 
 land. 
 
 We have found these young women unexpectedly intelligent 
 in their discriminations between real education and the glitter- 
 ing semblances too generally offered to their sex in its name. 
 They have apprehended precisely the point of our deliberations, 
 and watched their progress with intense interest. They hail 
 with gratitude and joy every new provision introduced into our 
 plan that tends to raise the intellectual standard of the College. 
 However it may increase the severity of the requirements on 
 themselves, and even though in some cases it cuts them off from 
 the hope of personally wearing its honors, still they accept it as 
 a compliment to the intellect of their sex and a harbinger of its 
 coming elevation. 
 
 This feeling, so strong and so pervasive of all the true women 
 among us, whether teachers or students, so much more earnest 
 than 1 had anticipated, has, I confess, been decisive in my judg- 
 ment both of the question of duty and of the question of expedi- 
 ency. Disappoint it by adopting a standard not essentially 
 above that of other good female schools, and your best students 
 will at once fall away from you, and carry no good report of you 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE FORMATIVE YEARS. 583 
 
 to their homes. Meet this feeling and satisfy it, foster and 
 stimulate and strengthen it by giving it the food it demands, 
 make it characteristic of the institution, and the news will be 
 borne to all parts of the land by proud and happy tongues, and 
 Vassar College will everywhere be known as something nobly 
 unique, as really what it was promised it should be, the Yale or 
 Harvard among women's colleges, and the place above all other 
 places where women most gifted and most capable of rulture 
 may seek a true education without peril of failure. The only 
 question remaining will be whether the country will furnish 
 young women enough who desire such opportunities, and who 
 can find the means of paying for them. And that, I apprehend, 
 at the worst, can be but a question of time. 
 
 His remark in this report concerning the mode by 
 which his officers and instructors had been gradually 
 brought into nearer mutual sympathy and accord is 
 characteristic of his methods and worthy of note : 
 
 . . . . The deliberations of the Faculty have been con- 
 ducted with unprecedented harmony and vigor, and with satis- 
 factory results. It is cheering to the President, and full of happy 
 augury to the institution, to see this body becoming more and 
 more a unit and a power in the College, through an increasing 
 spirit of mutual respect and a practical coincidence of views 
 among the Professors, which is all the more intelligent and the 
 more likely to be permanent because it is reached through the freest 
 and most earnest discussion. 
 
 The following year, in his fourth annual report, he 
 gives a further exposition of the principles on which 
 the revisal of the Course of Study had been made, 
 developing his own theory of a course suited to a col- 
 lege for women. 
 
 The revised Course of Studies, which went into effect at the 
 close of the last collegiate year, has worked well in the institu- 
 tion after its brief trial. 
 
 It is modeled, as the Board know, in its general features and 
 
5 8 4 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 the leading principles which have governed the selection and 
 arrangement of its parts, after the so-called College System 
 not by any means because that system is regarded by myself or 
 by my associates in the Faculty as perfect in itself, or in all par- 
 ticulars suited to the special wants of woman, but : (i) because 
 it offered itself as the most available means (I may say the only 
 available means) for specially securing some sort of definiteness 
 and system the crying and fatal defect in all womanly education 
 to the present hour ; (2) because it was a simple and universally 
 intelligible mode of asserting the educational rank and character 
 of the institution, as something more than a larger Boarding- 
 School for Girls, or Ladies' Seminary with somewhat better ap- 
 pointments an institution which aimed at definite and high re- 
 sults, and in order to attain them prescribed the methods, ex- 
 pecting the pupil not to dictate, but to comply ; and (3) because 
 the cardinal principles of the old College System, both as to 
 aims and method, are peculiarly suited to shape the foundation 
 of the " new education" for women. My own faith on this subject 
 is briefly this : that, while the education for men has outgrown 
 the old college system, and is demanding room for expansion 
 and free development in various directions, that for women has 
 but just grown up to it, and needs for a season the bracing and 
 support of its somewhat narrow forms. And I think we shall 
 commit a serious, if not fatal, mistake in our policy for the Col- 
 lege if we overlook this important distinction. 
 
 At the same time, I have never entertained the idea of a rigid 
 adherence to college forms and precedents. It was neces- 
 sary that we should begin somewhere to impress some definite 
 form on our work, and this seemed the nearest and best that 
 offered. But we are under no necessity and no temptation to 
 suffocate our prosperous and promising infant with swathing 
 bands. Already our plan embraces many features which are 
 quite unknown to colleges for young men, and such must steadily 
 increase, as the demands of the sex, and of the age upon the sex, 
 become more fully developed and are more fully announced. 
 
 I am aware that anxiety has been felt by many of the most 
 devoted and enlightened friends of the College lest, by too close 
 an imitation of the forms and studies and too much cultivation 
 of the spirit of ordinary colleges, we should impair womanliness 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE FORMATIVE YEARS. 585 
 
 of character in our students, and encourage the formation of 
 those mannish tastes and manners which are so offensive to 
 every right mind and feeling. I have here time only to say 
 that that anxiety we not only profoundly respect, but share with 
 an intensity and earnestness commensurate with our greater re- 
 sponsibility. We are trusting to no theory, we are following no 
 party leaders ; we are watching closely the tendencies of things 
 on the young women who are under our eye daily, and for the 
 present we ask simply to be judged by our work. Its results 
 are before you ; scrutinize them closely, get the verdict of the re- 
 fined and sensible of both sexes. When our daughters will not 
 bear inspection ; when Vassar College, as represented, in public 
 and in private, not by its tyros but by its seniors and its alumnae, 
 becomes popular with the vulgar and extreme "woman's rights" 
 people, and disgusts the wise, we must confess our error. Until 
 then, and so long as the young women who have drunk most 
 deeply of the spirit of the College, and most profoundly of the 
 sources of scientific and literary culture which it opens, com- 
 mand a universal admiration for the breadth and clearness of 
 their intelligence, for the sobriety and soundness of their judg- 
 ments, for the simplicity and delicacy of their manners, and for 
 the dignity, purity, and symmetry of their character, we feel that 
 we may fairly ask for a little longer trial. 
 
 His faith in the capability of women to master the 
 most difficult branches had been well tested. The 
 statements of the work accomplished during this fourth 
 year in the different departments of instruction show 
 the " high" character of the course, and the zeal with 
 which it had been pursued. In none, perhaps, is it 
 more forcibly illustrated than in those of Astronomy, 
 under Professor Mitchell, and the Classical Languages, 
 at that time under Prof. Robert : 
 
 The instruction in Astronomy has been given to two classes, 
 one in Robinson's Astronomy, and the other in Pierce 's Spherical 
 Astronomy. A large amount of time has been devoted by both to 
 practical observing, in which the young ladies of last year's 
 
586 JOHN H. RA YMOND 
 
 class have joined. They were fortunate in their observations of 
 the meteoric shower of November, 1868 ; have recorded the path 
 of four thousand meteors, and contributed some valuable data 
 for determining the height of the meteors above the earth. The 
 importance of these contributions has been recognized by the 
 highest scientific authorities. The sun has been observed with 
 special care, it being near the maximum period for solar spots. 
 Drawings have been made of the most important ones, on twenty- 
 six days. The meteorological journal has been regularly kept. 
 
 The large equatorial telescope was greatly improved by the 
 skillful manipulating of Mr. Alvan Clark last August, and, so far 
 as the object-glass is concerned, may now be regarded as the 
 third in the country, those of Chicago and Cambridge only ex- 
 celling it. The students of the previous year had given their 
 time principally to the study of the Calculus and of Prof. Pierce's 
 work on Eclipses, investigating the theory and rigorous formulae 
 devised by Bond for the computation of solar eclipses, with a 
 thoroughness certainly unusual for undergraduates, and demon- 
 strating their practical mastery of the subject by independent 
 calculations of the solar eclipse of August, 1869. 
 
 The fact that such work is done in Vassar College by members 
 of its Senior class will be to competent judges among the convinc- 
 ing proofs of the elevation and thoroughness of the education 
 here afforded. 
 
 The department of Languages was, this year, in a 
 most flourishing condition. He was greatly encouraged 
 by the sympathetic views of the professor who had 
 been called to that chair, by his zeal for classical culture, 
 and his efficient aid in strengthening the classical foun- 
 dations. Dr. Raymond had never lost his strong con- 
 viction of the importance of Latin as the groundwork of 
 an education, and he emphasizes it in his review of 
 the work done in that department (which, however, 
 embraced modern as well as ancient languages) : 
 
 Besides the reading of the regular Latin authors, the advanced 
 classes have been exercised in written translations and analyses 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE FORMATIVE YEARS. 587 
 
 of the works studied, and each student has presented an elabo- 
 rate essay on some theme relating to classical antiquity and 
 requiring extensive reading in its preparation. The students 
 have manifested great interest in these studies, and a laudable 
 ambition to attain a high standard of excellence in scholarship. 
 Of the beneficial effect of this earnest and thorough study in 
 the development of their intelligence, and in preparing them for 
 the successful pursuit of literature, science, and philosophy, it is 
 impossible for me to feel the shadow of a doubt. 
 
 The unusual attainments of the higher classes in 
 Greek furnished an opportunity for the expression of 
 his views on the knowledge of that language as a 
 womanly accomplishment : 
 
 The selections read from the authors named (Homer, Thucy- 
 dides, and Herodotus, in the Junior year, and, in the Senior, 
 Sophocles, Pindar, and Plato) were quite full and extended as 
 compared with those usually made by the colleges,, and the 
 study of this peerless language was pursued by the few who 
 undertook it with a rare enthusiasm and success. I have never 
 been an ardent Hellenist, but I confess I know of no field of 
 elegant scholarship more suited to womanly cultivation than 
 this. And now that the masculine intellect of the age is so 
 powerfully drawn in other directions, and must be more and 
 more so, to keep pace with the gigantic growths of material 
 science and political philosophy, may we not hope that for some 
 finer minds of the other sex the office is reserved of keeping 
 open the channels for the refining and humanizing influences 
 of that most exquisite of the ancient civilizations ? 
 
 Although the study of Greek was made elective, 
 there were many who were won by the fascinations of 
 the field which it opened to them. One who felt the 
 power of these attractions writes : 
 
 I think the enthusiasm felt by our class on the subject of 
 Greek was owing almost entirely to Dr. Raymond's influence. 
 The number of those selecting it had been for some time small, 
 
588 JOHN H. RA YMOND. ' 
 
 as the majority of students chose the sciences. Being desirous 
 to correct this tendency, the President made a plea for Greek 
 to the students. He represented the advantages to be gained 
 from it as a disciplinary study, and the attractions of the lan- 
 guage itself, and showed that a knowledge of it is a great help 
 to a correct and thorough appreciation of classical history, 
 both of art and civilization. The result was a revival of interest 
 in the classical studies, especially Greek, and the formation of a 
 class comparatively large, numbering twenty. 
 
 So strong was his belief in the mental discipline 
 attained through the severer studies that he even 
 urged its important relation to the fine arts, and its 
 value in preparing the way for their cultivation. The 
 success of the Department of Music confirmed this 
 view. The remarkable proficiency of the pupils in this 
 department, in spite of the limitations in time, he 
 attributes in great measure to " the healthy r effect of 
 the college course in strengthening the power of con- 
 centration and general capacity for improvement." 
 He says : 
 
 The enthusiasm with which so many of our best regular 
 students pursue this truly feminine accomplishment affords the 
 strongest proof that there is nothing in the highest literary and 
 scientific culture incompatible with an enlightened zeal for 
 esthetic culture ; while the remarkable success with which 
 these young ' ladies, within the narrow limits of time here 
 allowed them, attack and master the most difficult classical 
 music shows that intellectual discipline tells also in this direc- 
 tion. It is the explicit testimony of Prof. Ritter, who has large 
 experience in the most noted and fashionable schools in New 
 York, in which music is made a specialty and absorbs a large 
 portion of the young ladies' time, that our best students (those 
 who are most diligent and successful in the severer studies of 
 our course) do more and better work, and make higher attain- 
 ments in music, than any other class of pupils that come under 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE FORMATIVE YEARS. 589 
 
 his instructions. He undertook the professorship with many 
 misgivings on account of the limited time allowed to the students, 
 but has become enthusiastic over the results. 
 
 Both the Art Schools, like the Department of Astronomy, 
 have suffered heretofore from their disadvantageous competition 
 with the claims of the college course. The principles on 
 which the revised course is arranged will leave pur regular 
 students more free than they have formerly been to combine 
 art-culture with their studies in literature and science ; and we 
 can consistently encourage them in so doing just in proportion 
 as we succeed in giving an intellectual character and dignity to 
 the instructions of those schools. 
 
 If that end was accomplished, it was due to some 
 extent to Dr. Raymond's personal interest in a finer 
 culture. Many of his students bear witness to the 
 impulse received from his sympathy in all matters of 
 aesthetic enjoyment, and from the discriminating com- 
 ments which were an education to all who were par- 
 takers with him in such enjoyments. His enthusiastic 
 love of the beautiful and the purity of his taste could 
 hardly fail to influence the general tone of culture in 
 the College ; while his own critical knowledge of art, 
 and the high ground which he took with regard to its 
 methods of instruction, fitted him to organize the 
 Schools of Music and Painting. He could only intrust 
 the administration of those departments to those in full 
 sympathy with his own high idea, and it was a chief 
 cause of satisfaction that he was able to secure the 
 eminent talent which he sought in those professorships. 
 
 His conception of the claims of the Musical Depart- 
 ment is seen in his statement of the way in which those 
 needs were met by Prof. Ritter: 
 
 Our first Professor of Music was principally successful in 
 giving an exterior organization and discipline to that depart- 
 
59 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 ment. His successor, without being deficient in this respect, 
 has infused into it a new soul. His standard is the highest, and 
 he has the faculty of rousing the ambition and stimulating the 
 energies of all who work under him, both teachers and pupils, in 
 a remarkable degree. The elevation of the aims of the Music 
 Department, and the superiority of the results actually produced 
 under his administration, are noticed by all. In addition to his 
 qualities as an instructor and director of the art, he has a range 
 of learning as to its literature and history, and a zeal for turning 
 this learning to account, which make him a peculiarly desirable 
 officer for such an institution as our own. The two series of 
 "Historical Recitals," which he recently gave in the college 
 chapel, from the great schools and masters of music in Europe 
 formed an entertainment entirely unique (so far as I know) in 
 this country, and valuable not merely for passing gratification, 
 but as a means of positive instruction not otherwise obtainable 
 by the student of music. 
 
 With all the causes for encouragement, the President 
 could not forget the dangers that remained, and at this 
 same meeting of the Trustees, in June, 1869, he remon- 
 strated more urgently than ever against the admission 
 of non-collegiate students. This was pre-eminently his 
 work for Vassar College to insist upon its collegiate 
 character and his plea is repeated and emphasized in 
 all his discussions before the Board. This was the trust 
 which he had accepted as a sacred commission, to keep 
 the College true to its noble ideal, and no one knew 
 better than he what ceaseless vigilance was necessary, 
 or was quicker to detect the slightest downward ten- 
 dency. He had reported a gain in the number of 
 students, but added : 
 
 This gain was secured by the admission of precisely that 
 number of young ladies who were not up to the required grade 
 in their studies, and who were allowed to review or complete 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE FORMATIVE YEARS. 591 
 
 elementary branches under the instruction of our teachers. My 
 opinion is that the loss of the College in reputation, in internal 
 order and scholarly spirit, and in the waste of teaching force 
 required for the care of so many immature, undisciplined, and 
 backward minds was greater than the pecuniary gain. I trust 
 it will not be thought necessary to repeat the experiment. 
 
 The ratio of students pursuing regular to those pursuing 
 irregular or special courses has continued to change steadily in 
 favor of the former. The advantages resulting from this change 
 are important in many ways. The professors and teachers, 
 dealing to so much greater extent with carefully graded classes 
 of equal culture and homogeneous pursuits, are able to econo- 
 mize their time and strength, and so to concentrate their force 
 on definite points as to secure far better results. The students 
 experience the benefit in an improved quality of instruction and 
 a more vigorous development of class spirit. 
 
 It is more and more clear to me that the privilege of taking 
 irregular courses should be firmly limited to those who in the 
 judgment of the Faculty will be benefited by it, and that all 
 others should as soon as possible be brought into line with the 
 regular movements of our educational system. The time may 
 come when the higher education of women may share to advan- 
 tage in the endeavors now making in so many directions, and 
 in so enlightened a spirit, to give to that of men a wider scope 
 and greater freedom of individual adaptation. But the first 
 thing to be done is to reduce it to order, and this, I submit, is the 
 present mission of Vassar College. 
 
 Many years after this, in 1876, when the perilous 
 times were thought to be past, his watchfulness took 
 the alarm. The number of students had been some- 
 what diminished, and the ratio of " preparatories" to 
 the whole number had been slowly increasing. Dis- 
 mayed at the possibility that it was not even then too 
 laie for the College to fail of its high purpose, he made 
 one more appeal to the trustees to aid him in upholding 
 the collegiate standard. He had given the statistics 
 
59 2 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 of attendance for several years, and from these he 
 draws the most portentous inferences : 
 
 These comparisons would seem to show not only that our 
 aggregate number of students is falling off, but (a far more 
 serious fact) that the character of the institution is changing 
 that, under the influence of some new and steadily acting cause or 
 causes,the upward progress of the institution towards an unquali- 
 fied college grade has been arrested, and retrograde movement 
 has commenced. What is the end to be ? We have now about 
 an equal number of collegiates and preparatories. Let the 
 change continue in the same direction and at the same rate, 
 and in seven years more than three fourths of our students 
 would be preparatories. Let it continue in the same direction, 
 and we may be sure it would proceed at an accelerated rate ; and 
 within seven years the character and function of Vassar would 
 be settled as that of a great preparatory school of secondary 
 grade, fitting students for the colleges pure and simple. Already 
 many kind friends are predicting that this is to be our destiny; 
 and even some of our devoted alumnae declare that they scruple 
 to advise young women seeking a true collegiate education to 
 prefer Vassar to Smith, to Sage, or to Michigan, so long as her 
 halls are so crowded with immature students and half the 
 strength of her professors must be given to mere elementary in- 
 struction. The representations are greatly exaggerated, but the 
 trouble is, they tend to realize themselves. Our ambitious stu- 
 dents will not accept their education of an institution of equivo- 
 cal standing. 
 
 I certainly think the danger is real, and that it should be met 
 by a decisive policy. It should be settled, first, clearly in this 
 Board that Vassar College is not to be allowed to lose its posi- 
 tion in the forefront of the movement for Woman's Higher Ed- 
 ucation ; that none of the institutions which have entered later 
 on the course are to be permitted to outstrip her in the race; 
 that she exists for the sake of her advanced position ; that her 
 accomplished professors, her costly collections in science and 
 art, her fine and growing library, and all her large educational 
 resources are not meant for children, but for young women who 
 are prepared to appreciate and to use them ; and that the pre- 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE FORMATIVE YEARS. 593 
 
 paratory department is no integral part of the institution, but 
 an accidental appendage, to be continued only so long as it sub- 
 serves the College, and never to interfere with its interests. 
 
 Next, all this should be made clear to the public. All doubt 
 should be dissipated. The preparatory department cannot be 
 spared ; but the separation between it and the College should be 
 distinct and broad. The standard of admission to the College 
 should be the recognized collegiate standard; and its diploma 
 should be made to mean as much as that of any institution in 
 the land that offers its advantages to young women. The Col- 
 lege students should be made to feel that, in the disposing of 
 its accommodations, they will be first considered, and that, in 
 all matters bearing upon the effective prosecution of advanced 
 studies, provisions shall be made here at least equal to the best 
 elsewhere. 
 
 I do not know that I can justify this policy on grounds of im- 
 mediate economy. It probably means fewer students or en- 
 larged accommodations. But if the position of Vassar among 
 the colleges is in question, can we hesitate ? Do we not owe it 
 to the Founder and his great idea to take the risk ? It is not 
 certain that an investment of faith may not yield as large results 
 financially as one of business sagacity. Great institutions of 
 learning have never been sustained without great gifts, and ours 
 is clearly not to be an exception. The prospect does not dismay 
 me. Let this Board be true first to its most sacred trust that 
 of maintaining the high character of the College, not rashly, but 
 bravely, and by accepting for this purpose responsibilities which 
 are inevitable, and friends will not be wanting. Are there not 
 sitting within these walls those who, with means (thank God) 
 not scanty, have too profound a love for the College, too much 
 of the blood and spirit of the Founder, to permit it to lack for 
 anything necessary to make it a complete success ? I believe 
 it; and I believe that when the time comes, when one such in- 
 spiring example is given here, one stirring deed kindred to that 
 of the original foundation, it will call out an army of enthusiastic 
 helpers from other parts of the land. Such an act would be 
 hailed everywhere as a second founding of Vassar, and would 
 place the future of the College beyond peradventure. 
 
594 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 These discouragements, happily, were but tempo- 
 rary, the following year " restoring the normal numeri- 
 cal ratio between the collegiates and preparatories." 
 From this time there was no room to doubt the full 
 success of the institution, or to question the fulfillment 
 of its mission as a COLLEGE. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 
 
 IN the spring of 1865 the Trustees of Vassar College 
 had adopted the plan of interior organization pre- 
 sented by the President, and thus launched the College 
 into actual existence. The first decade of its active 
 history was completed, therefore, in 1875. In Febru- 
 ary of that year an opportunity occurred to summarize 
 the results of the ten years spent in moulding the insti- 
 tution. The completion of the large and beautiful 
 Museum, and its opening for the reception of the art- 
 collections and of the rapidly growing cabinets, fur- 
 nished the occasion for a Social Reunion, to which the 
 friends of Woman's Higher Education were summoned. 
 The growth of the material resources of the College 
 thus afforded an opportunity to review the progress 
 made in more important directions. It was " an occa- 
 sion of vital significance," said one who was present, 
 marking the full triumph of the cause which, in all 
 these years of busy silence, had with quiet and resolute 
 courage been fighting its battles a cause in which 
 Vassar College now held the " unchallenged leader- 
 ship." The interest with which the struggle had been 
 watched was a surprise to those most earnestly engaged 
 in it, when the responses which came to the invitation 
 from hundreds in the land told of the sympathy and 
 confidence which were now ready to greet the enter- 
 prise. From representative men and women in all 
 
596 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 parts of the country, from the highest official and edu- 
 cational circles, came one voice of fervent congratula- 
 tion. It was easy now to predict a future of brightness 
 and blessing, and the friendly prophecies were multi- 
 plied by those who gathered to see what had already 
 been accomplished. Such was the tone of the addresses 
 which were made. Good wishes and commendations 
 were the natural utterance of the hour. To those who 
 spoke as representatives of the College a little quiet 
 elation might be forgiven. To one who has worked in 
 silence upon the shapeless clay, gradually evoking form 
 and grace, the hour of unveiling must be an exultant 
 one. It was with no common joy that those who had 
 patiently fashioned this structure could point to the 
 living monument and show a completed work. 
 
 The results which had actually been attained are set 
 forth in the words spoken by Dr. Raymond that even- 
 ing. Referring to the ten years now drawing to a 
 close, he said : 
 
 The period has been marked by great progress in public senti- 
 ment in regard to the truths announced by Mr. Vassaras under- 
 lying the act which consecrated his possessions to this object. 
 The natural right of woman to intellectual culture and develop- 
 ment ; her right to share in all useful and proper employments 
 for which by proper training she can be fitted ; the policy of 
 throwing open the avenues to such employment to women, 
 whenever and wherever they are found qualified therefor and 
 inclined thereto ; and, above all, the indispensable need of ample 
 endowments to secure to colleges for young women the elevated 
 character, the stability and permanency of our best colleges for 
 young men : these have ceased in many minds to be doubtful 
 propositions, or at best mere sentimental possibilities, and have 
 deepened into moral convictions tending to action. The idea 
 of collegiate education for women has, in one form or another, 
 become familiar to the public mind. Some respectable colleges 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 597 
 
 organized and officered for young men, notably the State Uni- 
 versity of Michigan and our own Cornell, have thrown open 
 their doors for the admission of women, assuming this new and 
 grave responsibility with more or less adequate provision for 
 its discharge. In Massachusetts, the mother of schools, the 
 foundations have been laid by private liberality for two new 
 colleges for women, one at Wellesley (near Boston) and the other 
 at Northampton ; and in many of the academies and secondary 
 schools facilities are beginning to be afforded to girls, as well as 
 to boys, for that special disciplinary preparation on which 
 alone the college can successfully build. And in all directions 
 in the discussions of the press, of educational associations, 
 and of well-informed private circles evidences are multiplying 
 that the clear common-sense of the people has caught the signs 
 of the time, and that the question is no longer whether women 
 shall have opportunities for a collegiate education, but what 
 are the best forms of organizing and conducting it, and how 
 shall the endowments be obtained that are necessary to make it 
 a reality. 
 
 Coincidently with these educational tendencies, the period 
 has been marked with a wide-spread agitation of new problems, 
 all bearing upon the scope of woman's responsibility in church 
 and state, and all looking to the probable enlargement of her 
 sphere and the more perfect utilization of her energies ; not 
 only in the home and the social circle of which she has long 
 been the acknowledged ornament and queen, but also in science 
 and letters, in industrial and esthetic art, in the missionary 
 field, in moral and philanthropic enterprise, and even in pro- 
 fessional life. These questions are still far from being settled, 
 and the agitation of them has been attended by sharp antago- 
 nisms, extreme opinions on opposite sides, rancorous and 
 unprofitable disputations, by all the manifestations of ultraism 
 and partyism which invariably accompany the progress of ideas 
 whose discussion is free. However they may ultimately be deter- 
 mined, the simultaneous discussion of these problems during 
 these ten years is proof of the deepening interest felt by the 
 civilized and Christian world in the readjustment of woman's 
 relations to the life of humanity ; all enforce the importance of 
 giving her the soundest intellectual and moral training, that 
 
59 8 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 she may the more wisely judge for herself and the more effec- 
 tually discharge the duties which Providence shall devolve 
 upon her, whatever they may be. 
 
 In the discussion of these questions, educational, social, reli- 
 gious, political, Vassar College takes no sides. The institution 
 was not founded, and is not administered, in the interest of any 
 doctrine or class of doctrines. Its business is education, in the 
 broadest sense, and exclusively that. Its doors are open to all, 
 without regard to sect or party ; and here thought is free, in 
 respect to those varieties of opinion in which the good may 
 differ. The only thing that we ask of our pupils is that there 
 should be thought, honest and earnest ; and the aim of our 
 training is, not to inculcate a particular creed or system of 
 belief, but to furnish the youthful mind with the well-established 
 and undisputed results of past inquiry, to inform it clearly in 
 respect to the great questions in philosophy and science which 
 now divide the thinking world, and so to develop and discipline 
 its faculties that it shall be able in due time to form its own 
 opinions, and to understand and explain the grounds on which 
 those opinions rest. In this respect, here, as in every true 
 college, the microcosm of college reflects faithfully the macro- 
 cosm without. Minds meet in free and earnest, sometimes in 
 sharp, encounter; nor do we fear the result for any, so long as 
 the discussions are animated by sincerity, candor, and mutual 
 respect. Those who are in error are in a fair way to be enlight- 
 ened ; and those who hold the truth, hold it none the less firmly 
 for being compelled to defend it, none the less securely for 
 learning some of the sophistries by which it is assailed. 
 
 The growth of the College during these years has not been so 
 much in the number of its students (which soon after its open- 
 ing became quite equal to its capacity) as in other respects. Its 
 progress has been seen in the gradual development and maturing 
 of its organization and internal polity, and in the steady eleva- 
 tion of its educational standard. With certainly no greater 
 amount of native talent in the whole body of students, with 
 fewer instances among them of exceptional maturity and force 
 of character, the general advance made in the facility and finish 
 of the performances in the class-room, in the literary societies, 
 and in the general management of their affairs, is very notice- 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 599 
 
 able. The improvement in the methods of instruction in the 
 several departments has been commensurate with the gradual 
 augmentation of the facilities, and such as marks the progress 
 of every live institution of learning. 
 
 After a review of the growth of the Library, the Art 
 Gallery, and the collections illustrative of Natural His- 
 tory, which were to be accommodated in the new 
 Museum, whose completion was the occasion of the 
 gathering, he proceeds : 
 
 The question of co-education is not a practical one for us. 
 The limitations of our charter determine us to the system of a 
 separate education for women. We do not feel called upon to 
 assail the other method. We are more than willing that its 
 friends should develop and illustrate its advantages, if it have 
 any we rejoice in the trial of every experiment that promises to 
 throw light upon the problems of woman's higher education. 
 But whatever may be its dangers, whatever hazard may attend 
 the gathering into the same academical community of large 
 numbers of young men and women, or whatever difficulty 
 there may be in adjusting a common curriculum to the claims 
 of both a masculine and a feminine culture, Vassar is free from 
 such embarrassments. She has fairly tried the experiment of 
 the capacity of women under conditions especially adapted to their 
 wants, for the most thorough, systematic, and comprehensive 
 education. Under such conditions, at least, she has furnished a 
 practical refutation of ancient prejudices on this subject. . . . 
 For rosy health and vigor she challenges the production of four 
 hundred young women thrown together under any other system 
 of training, or in any other line of life, who will surpass or equal 
 her students. And if any still labor under the impression that 
 earnest study and high intellectual culture are destructive of 
 feminine grace and refinement, let a visit to Vassar dispel the 
 illusion. No parts of the system here adopted have yielded 
 more thoroughly satisfactory results than the provisions made 
 for health and for social and moral culture. The success attained 
 in these respects is believed to be attributable to the systematic 
 
6oo JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 care which has been extended over those invaluable interests, 
 and to the presence and tireless efficiency of responsible officers 
 charged with their protection. . . . 
 
 How, then, shall we sum up the results of the first ten years 
 in the experience of the College ? 
 
 1. It has survived the perils of infancy, and disappointed the 
 predictions of unfriendly skeptics and timid friends. 
 
 2. It has been true to the objects to which its Founder conse- 
 crated it, using all its resources for the single purpose of elevat- 
 ing the standard of women's education, and steadfastly refusing 
 all entangling alliances with other interests, however alluring 
 and however worthy. 
 
 3. Its ability of self-support has ceased to be a problem. To 
 have placed that matter beyond reasonable doubt is no slight 
 ground for congratulation. For the necessary expenses of the 
 establishment, whether as compared with those of colleges for 
 young men or with those of ordinary female seminaries of the 
 highest class, are enormous. The necessity of maintaining a 
 full corps of college professors, with the salaries belonging to 
 that grade of instructors, and the cost of a domestic establish- 
 ment as thoroughly appointed and officered as the theory of our 
 institution requires, will explain the fact. The actual expendi- 
 tures from year to year for the support of instruction and the 
 family life have fallen little short of one hundred thousand dol- 
 lars. . . . These expenses, however, have always been met, 
 and there is no reason to doubt that, with an average amount of 
 business prosperity in the community generally, Vassar College 
 will be abundantly able to take care of itself. Ought we then to 
 be satisfied ? With such a generous measure of the public con- 
 fidence, with so much success in the past and such elements of 
 a steady and healthy growth in the future, what more ought her 
 friends to desire for her? I can speak only for one. With a 
 heart full of gratitude for this cheering beginning, I still must 
 look and hope for greater things. . . . 
 
 Let me not be misunderstood. For herself, Vassar has nothing 
 to ask, absolutely nothing. It would be the simplest thing in 
 the world, by judiciously popularizing her courses of study 
 (which may heaven forefend !) to coin money out of the invest- 
 ments here made. Even without such debasement, as I have 
 
VASSAR COLLEGEm&f84ECADE. 601 
 
 said, her ability to maintain herself is established. But is self- 
 support a satisfying end for a true college ? It has never 
 been so regarded. The true conception of a college, as I under- 
 stand it, is not merely that of an emporium for the sale of 
 knowledge to those only who are able to defray its necessary 
 cost, but that of a fountain as well, pouring it forth freely for 
 all who thirst, and, if they lack money, "without money and 
 without price." 1 would ask for Vassar College not one cent. 
 But I would entreat men and women of wealth and liberality to 
 remember the poor girls, scattered over the land, with ardent 
 longings for the advantages here afforded, but without means to 
 defray the necessary expense. If only a second Matthew Vassar 
 could arise, or if men and women enough could be found in the 
 entire community to duplicate his gift, it would add one hun- 
 dred and fifty to the number of our students one hundred and 
 fifty of the very class who would most highly prize, most faith- 
 fully and successfully improve the opportunity, and yield the 
 largest returns of productive labor for science and letters, for 
 education, religion, and humanity. 
 
 If I were permitted to-night to sound the key-note of our sec- 
 ond decade, it would be this : Additional endowments not for 
 the support of professors and teachers, not for the enlargement 
 of library and cabinets, not for additional buildings or the adorn- 
 ment of the grounds ; but to open a way for poor girls to the 
 fountains of knowledge and the means of a higher culture. 
 
 Among the perils which Vassar College had safely 
 passed was one to which allusion is made in this ad- 
 dress. When its president affirmed its independence 
 of all entanglements in the questions of the day relating 
 to Woman's disputed sphere, he declared the policy 
 which he had himself guided. Those most deeply 
 interested in the welfare of the College knew what it 
 owed to the conservative wisdom which had guarded 
 it from this danger. It was an escape realized by one 
 of its alumnae, who exclaimed, " What a mercy that 
 Vassar was never swamped on any isms /" None were 
 
602 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 better able than its own students to appreciate the 
 safety of their Alma Mater ; and none are more ready to 
 bear witness to the singleness of aim which was its great 
 security, and which never lost sight of the fact that 
 " the mission of Vassar College was not to reform 
 society, but to educate women." It was a fact to which 
 some learned to become reconciled who came to its 
 halls with a different idea. Perhaps none felt this con- 
 servative influence more strongly than those students 
 who, coming from the most radical centers, were met 
 by questions of grander moment than those which they 
 had been prepared to urge. Some who had been most 
 clamorous in demanding, " What can Vassar do to ex- 
 tend and exalt our womanly sphere?" were soon ready 
 to ask, " How can she fit us worthily to occupy what 
 is already ours?" The valor that was eager to battle 
 for unfettered powers found a nobler field in the ear- 
 nest study by which those powers must be developed. 
 The most ardent zeal for woman's rights was sobered 
 by the lesson of her responsibilities that awaited every 
 student of Vassar. It is the testimony of all who 
 listened to Dr. Raymond's teachings that he never 
 forgot the high and sacred purpose to which he was 
 committed so to mould and' elevate those under his 
 influence that they should be prepared to fill any 
 sphere and to meet any issues that life might bring 
 them, that they should be truly educated, " thoroughly 
 furnished '' in mind and heart " unto all good works." 
 
 The feeling which is general among the more 
 thoughtful alumnae of the College is corroborated 
 by the testimony of those chiefly responsible in its 
 management. The two following letters from mem- 
 bers of the Board bear witness to the unswerving 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 603 
 
 policy of the President. The first is addressed to Mrs. 
 Raymond : 
 
 THE RIDGE, February, 1880. 
 
 MY DEAR MADAM: I am glad to know that a memorial 
 of your late husband, in literary form, is to be prepared, 
 for his was a life of purity and usefulness, the prominent 
 incidents of which ought to have a permanent record. 
 
 My first acquaintace with Dr. Raymond was formed at 
 the organization of the Board of Trustees of Vassar 
 College, in February, 1861. I was then impressed with 
 his earnestness and wisdom. This impression was con- 
 tinually deepened during our service together in the 
 Board for eighteen years. 
 
 From the very beginning of Dr. Raymond's connec- 
 tion with Vassar College, first as a corporator and after- 
 wards its first President, his loyalty to the central idea 
 of the Founder the elevation of women was most con- 
 spicuous. In every form, whenever occasion called for 
 expression, he was always among the foremost in accord- 
 ing to woman her equal right to confidence, honor, and 
 emolument. 
 
 In his whole College life, Dr. Raymond was always 
 woman's champion and friend when her commendation 
 or defense seemed to require his attention ; and in the 
 very last moments of his official life, he showed his sense 
 of justice in speaking in defense of her intelligence, her 
 capacity for action, and the delicate but ever-enduring 
 power and influence of her conscience and fidelity to 
 principle. 
 
 Modest in the extreme, yet firm, and always displaying 
 a courage equal to his convictions, Dr. Raymond labored 
 patiently with a broadly liberal and catholic spirit in 
 carrying out the desires of the Founder that the College 
 should be unsectarian, but thoroughly Christian in its 
 character and influence. To his sweet, brave, and gene- 
 
6 04 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 rous spirit, and his wisely directed and untiring indus- 
 try, may be attributed that success which has crowned 
 the First College for Women. 
 
 The sentiment of reverence for the sex for whose wel- 
 fare Dr. Raymond labored so long and so successfully 
 was doubtless inspired by his home associations with 
 one who shared his life-joys and sorrows, and the labors, 
 the anxieties, and the successes which attended the 
 organization and career of Vassar College. 
 
 Faithfully your friend, 
 
 BENSON J. LOSSING. 
 
 From WM. ALLEN BUTLER, LL.D. 
 
 My acquaintance with Doctor Raymond began in the 
 autumn of 1874 at Vassar College, where I found him 
 engaged in the work of the examinations preliminary to 
 the opening of the college year. In a brief interview, I 
 received from him a general view of the methods of the 
 institution, given with the clearness and completeness 
 which marked his utterances on that subject, and I was 
 much impressed with his mastery of the system under 
 his charge. My subsequent acquaintance and friendship 
 with him only served to deepen this impression, and to 
 enhance my admiration of the way in which he dis- 
 charged the peculiar and responsible trust to which he 
 devoted his life. He had his work thoroughly in hand, 
 and it was shaped and executed according to convictions 
 and purposes so firmly settled in his own mind that 
 their expression in action seemed easy and natural. I 
 have no copy at hand of the minute adopted by the Board 
 of Trustees,* on the occasion of his death, to which you 
 refer. It was prepared by me at the time of its adop- 
 tion, while the sense of the great loss we had sustained 
 
 * The minute referred to is found on page 712. 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 605 
 
 was fresh and strong ; but my effort was to give, in a few 
 simple words, an estimate of his character and labors 
 which should be absolutely true and just, borrowing 
 nothing from the excited feeling of the moment or the 
 partiality of personal friendship, and I think every word, 
 there recorded is as true to-day as it was when first 
 penned. I am more than ever satisfied that the success 
 of the College is very largely due to the tenacity and 
 singleness of purpose with which Doctor Raymond pur- 
 sued and wrought out, according to his own convictions, 
 the plan of the Founder. I could enlarge upon this, 
 but it is not needful ; when he rested from his labors, 
 his works followed him, and they have in them the per- 
 petuity which belongs to all faithful and elevated ser- 
 vice in the cause of education, blessing those who have 
 been the recipients of his instruction and counsels, and 
 keeping alive his own precious memory and example. 
 
 Most sincerely, 
 
 WM. ALLEN BUTLER. 
 
 In the unfaltering pursuit of his purpose, Dr. Ray- 
 mond was sustained by the cordial sympathy and co- 
 operation of all his associates in the Board of Trustees. 
 Among those to whom he turned most frequently for 
 counsel was one to whom he repeatedly acknowledges 
 a debt of "sympathetic and effective help." No one 
 knew more of the intricacies of his path than his friend, 
 President Anderson of the University of Rochester, 
 his former chief in the faculty of that institution, and 
 his later colleague in the Vassar Board of Trustees, 
 on whose experience in solving educational problems 
 he especially relied. Their views were in harmony 
 with regard to the educational movements of the 
 day, and side by side they had struck valiant blows for 
 
606 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 the cause. There had been instituted, in 1863, by the 
 Regents of the University of the State " an annual 
 convention of the instructors in the institutions subject 
 to their visitation," to be held at Albany under the 
 name of the University Convocation. Here Dr. Ander- 
 son and Dr. Raymond had met as representatives of 
 the colleges over which they presided, and had united 
 in urging reforms in the cause dear to both. At this 
 Convocation, in the summer of 1879, Dr. Anderson was 
 called to speak the words which commemorate the 
 labors of his colleague. Although no notes of this 
 address were preserved, Dr. Anderson has most kindly 
 consented to reproduce its statements, which furnish a 
 view of the complexities of the work at Vassar College : 
 
 It is eminently proper that this Convocation shall put on 
 record its estimate of the attainments, character, and labors 
 of the distinguished educators who have been connected 
 with it. 
 
 The death of Dr. John H. Raymond, President of Vassar 
 College, has produced the most sincere and earnest sorrow 
 not only in the minds of his former associates, but among 
 educated and thoughtful persons throughout our land. Dr. 
 Raymond was called away in the full vigor of his intellect, 
 when many years of successful administration might reason- 
 ably have been expected from him. 
 
 He was an eminently successful teacher during his entire 
 public life. While a Professor in Madison University, in 
 the University of Rochester, and Principal of the Polytech- 
 nic Institute in the city of Brooklyn, he made those varied 
 attainments and acquired the administrative experience 
 which prepared him for his last and broadest field of action 
 in the new institution at Poughkeepsie. All his antecedent 
 activity was adapted to discipline his mind and character 
 for the crowning labor of his life. 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 607 
 
 I will not attempt, in the few moments allotted to me, to 
 analyze the rich and manifold life of our deceased colleague 
 and friend. There are a few points, however, that struck 
 the mind of every thoughtful observer. To some of these 
 I beg leave to call your attention. 
 
 His moral character, naturally harmonious and well pro- 
 portioned, was rendered singularly pure and elevated by 
 the life-long belief and practice of the great truths of the 
 Christian revelation. These truths he held in connection 
 with an equally firm belief in those revelations of the 
 Divine existence and character found in the human mind, 
 and in the constitution and course of nature. All these 
 modes of revelation he viewed as alike authoritative, and he 
 co-ordinated them into a broad and intelligently conceived 
 system of moral and religious truth, equally removed from 
 the narrowness of credulity on the one hand, and of 
 skepticism on the other. 
 
 His intellectual capacities were of a high order, and they 
 had been assiduously enriched and invigorated by exact and 
 various learning, especially in the departments of General 
 Literature, Philosophy, and Formal Logic. He was familiar 
 with the Arts of Design, and by conscientious study and 
 intelligent travel had become an appreciative connoisseur 
 and an able critic. 
 
 We have known few men who illustrated more completely 
 than he the characteristics of the elegant and accomplished 
 scholar. His bearing in society was dignified and courteous, 
 approaching the type best known as that of the " gentleman 
 of the old school." 'In his relations to his colleagues he 
 was always gentle and considerate, and while ready to 
 weigh the opinions of others, manifested a conscientious 
 adhesion to theoretical convictions and practical decisions 
 which he believed to be sound and just. His manner in 
 discussion was so gentle and unobtrusive that those who met 
 Jiim casually could not easily understand the unyield- 
 
608 JOHN //. RAYMOND. 
 
 ing sternness of his adhesion to what he believed to be his 
 duty, even in the face of the most powerful opposition. He 
 was deliberate in forming his conclusions; but when they 
 were once formed, he showed great tenacity of purpose 
 in their execution. When in middle life he was charged 
 with executive functions, he developed an administrative 
 capacity which few of his friends believed him to possess. 
 This was shown during his residence in Brooklyn, but in a 
 much higher degree after he assumed the Presidency at 
 Vassar College. 
 
 The difficulties which he met with in this situation were 
 very great. The college was about to make a comparatively 
 new departure in education. The old and time-honored 
 curriculum was to be tried on a new class of pupils under 
 new conditions. The end in view was to furnish a course 
 of study for young ladies which, if not in all respects identi- 
 cal with that given to young men, should be in the fullest 
 sense of the term its equivalent. 
 
 The modifications to be made in the old course of study 
 and discipline, necessary to produce the most elevating and 
 healthy effect upon the mind and character of young 
 women, were not easy to determine. Those only who were on 
 terms of intimacy with Dr. Raymond were aware of the 
 perplexity and trouble it gave him to settle upon the 
 educational policy of the institution, amid the mass of con- 
 fused and conflicting opinions which were put before him. 
 The most extravagant expectations were indulged in. 
 The number of persons, male and female, throughout the 
 Union who felt called upon to give advice, and to predict 
 the failure of the institution unless that advice was followed 
 in every particular, was fearful to contemplate. Some 
 wished the main force of the institution devoted to the 
 development of feminine athletes. Other parties required 
 the young ladies to be manufactured into nuns, philosophers,, 
 or prim and formal school-mistresses. 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 609 
 
 These letters of advice, many of them written in a delicate 
 and feminine hand, and proportionately imperative in tone, 
 would furnish a thesaurus of dogmatic and contradictory 
 precepts for the future educator. To compare all these 
 with the teachings of experience, and to meet the reasonable 
 expectations of that vast body of thoughtful and intelligent 
 women whose confidence was necessary to the success of the 
 experiment, was no ordinary task. The venerable founder of 
 the Institution was living, who, though a man of great sagacity 
 and the kindest and most considerate of friends, was entirely 
 without experience in questions connected with the internal 
 organization of the College. The Faculty was composed of 
 persons whose habits and antecedents were widely divergent. 
 It was largely made up of ladies unaccustomed to the duties 
 and responsibilities of chairs in an institution organized 
 on a plan requiring so much thoroughness and breadth of 
 attainment. The discipline was of necessity divided be- 
 tween the President and Lady Principal, by rules which 
 required of each much tact and soundness of judgment in 
 their practical application. 
 
 The Trustees also were to a great degree unfamiliar with 
 the special requirements of a great school for young ladies 
 and the special difficulties and dangers which it involved. 
 Expenditure was to be adjusted to an income which could 
 not be exactly known. The conflicting claims of different 
 departments of instruction were to be reconciled, and the 
 capacities of untried teachers were to be ascertained, and 
 employed to the best advantage. The degree of freedom 
 of action to be allowed to young ladies, a large proportion 
 of whom had passed the ordinary term of school-life, was to 
 be settled. 
 
 The course of Dr. Raymond in the midst of these diffi- 
 culties was eminently cautious, considerate, and wise. He 
 was conservative in practice though hospitable to all hew 
 movements of thought. He was so willing to yield on minor 
 
6 io JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 points, to the opinions of others, that it encouraged attempts 
 to control his action regarding questions upon which his 
 convictions were settled and his course immoveably fixed. 
 In short, he possessed that rare combination of qualities of 
 mind, character, and attainment which constitutes adminis- 
 trative capacity. 
 
 He was beyond all question the foremost among those men 
 who in our country have devoted themselves to the work of 
 extending and elevating female education. He was a 
 pioneer in a course upon which many have now entered 
 who will profit by his experience and be inspired by his 
 example. 
 
 The history of female education can never be written 
 without taking into account Dr. Raymond's labor and 
 thought in the organization of Vassar College. 
 
 Many friends of the college were led to express something 
 like despondency for the future of the institution when 
 he was taken away. But it is a poor compliment to the 
 work of our deceased friend to suppose that it was so want- 
 ing in solidity and thoroughness that none but himself 
 could build on the foundations which he laid. The crucial 
 test of the labors of all pioneers in education is found in 
 the facility with which they can be entered upon and con- 
 tinued by their successors, without producing confusion or 
 disorganization. He labored and thought, that others 
 might successfully " enter into his labors." The real power 
 of great educators is adequately estimated only by the 
 enduring impression which they leave behind them, and the 
 facility with which new men can carry out and perfect the 
 ideas which they have organized, and build upon foundations 
 which they have laid. 
 
 " The stamp of the mind [forma mentis} is eternal," said 
 the great Roman historian. When the mental and moral 
 characteristics of a great man have been incarnated in an 
 institution of learning, it forms one of the most enduring 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 611 
 
 of monuments. Such a monument our friend has left in 
 the institution which he so loved, and for which he so 
 earnestly and successfully labored. 
 
 As early as 1867 we find a reference to Dr. Ray- 
 mond's interest in the discussions of the Convocation. 
 He had desired to secure the sympathy of other edu- 
 cators in the State in the new enterprise, and to correct 
 some popular misapprehensions with regard to it 
 However conservative he might be with respect to 
 woman's relation to society, he was eminently pro- 
 gressive in his view of her right to a thorough and 
 advanced education. Those who opposed this view 
 found him a fearless foeman. His introduction of the 
 subject in the Convocation of 1867 was preliminary to 
 a much fuller discussion the following year, when he 
 was invited to present a paper on " Liberal Education 
 for Women." 
 
 He writes to his wife : 
 
 " IN CONVOCATION," ALBANY, Aug. 6, 1867. 
 Here I am, so far on my way to the dear spot where 
 my earthly treasures are gathered. I have already 
 pitched into old-fogyism on the subject of "Female" (!) 
 Education, and compelled them to postpone the subject 
 for another year. The rank and file of the meeting are 
 with me, and the old fossils of the Regency are begin- 
 ning to open their eyes. They hear the whistle and the 
 roar, and begin to suspect that the cars are coming. 
 Whether they clear the track in time is a question for 
 them. 
 
 ASSEMBLY CHAMBER, ALBANY, Aug. 5, 1868. 
 Well, dear wife, my anxieties are happily over. I read 
 my paper at the Convocation meeting this forenoon at ten. 
 
612 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 I awoke and rose at five to finish pruning the irre- 
 pressibly exuberant thing, and when it was finally done 
 concluded it was not worth the reading. After all my 
 attempts to compress, it would run over the hour to 
 which I was restricted. For the first time I felt de- 
 pressed and despondent. You can think where I went 
 for inspiriting not wholly in vain; still, when I began 
 to read, it was with anything but sanguine hopes of suc- 
 cess. I soon found, however, that I had struck the chord, 
 and warmed up. The hour ended; I was still twenty 
 minutes from the end; but they wouldn't let me stop. 
 By vote of the Convocation, the next business in order 
 was postponed, and I was requested to finish. 
 
 A lively discussion followed for another hour and a 
 half, and the general impression seemed to be that it 
 was the subject of the meeting thus far. I have at least 
 accomplished the object I had in view, in awaking an 
 interest in the question and setting minds and tongues 
 in motion. The debate was particularly lively on the 
 part of some of the " Ladies' Seminary" and " Institute" 
 men, who did not relish the application, however cour- 
 teously made, of sound principles of education to their 
 shallow and superficial methods, and who found the big- 
 gest kind of a foot in their nice little plan for getting a 
 legislative recognition next winter of their courses as 
 the proper liberal education " for ladies." 
 
 There is abundant proof that he was true to his 
 theories of thoroughness in education in dealing with 
 his own students. No plea would win his consent to a 
 sacrifice of those " sound principles" for which he con- 
 tended. To one for whom he had felt a warm personal 
 friendship, and who sought his permission to make 
 fatal retrenchments in the college Course, taking the 
 studies of the two last years in one, he writes: 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 613 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE, June 30, 1868. 
 
 MY DEAR : Attribute it to my sincere affection 
 
 and esteem for you that I respectfully but positively 
 decline attempting to answer the question you propound. 
 I cannot consent to be in any way a party to plans which 
 I honestly believe would endanger your health and 
 seriously injure your education. If you can tell me how 
 to compress two years into one, or to force any kind of 
 growth to twice its natural rate without weakness as the 
 inevitable result, you will make it possible for me to 
 enter upon the consideration of such a question. With 
 my present convictions, I could not so tamper with the 
 unfolding and training of such an intellect as yours 
 without a loss of self-respect and a sense of positive 
 wickedness which I know you would not ask me to en- 
 dure. 
 
 If it is impossible for you to continue at College more 
 than another year, take my earnest advice, and let that 
 make no difference whatever in the prosecution of the 
 regular, systematic course of college study. Abandon 
 without hesitation the idea of graduating. The College 
 Degree is of no value except as the evidence, or rather 
 as the recognition, of a certain amount of intellectual 
 culture. That amount of culture I do not believe you can 
 really and healthfully obtain in less than two years ; and if 
 we would consent to confer the Degree on you on easier 
 conditions than on your classmates, I do not believe that 
 on reflection you would be willing to accept it. You 
 would believe no name to be " a good name" for you to 
 wear that did not represent a reality. 
 
 If, however, my views do not convince you, and you 
 are resolved to try an experiment which I believe will be 
 fatal to the best training of your mind, there is one 
 course. We shall require of you, as conditional to a 
 Degree, no more, no less, than we require of your class- 
 
6 14 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 mates. You may elect either of the two regular courses, 
 and in that course any three of the studies laid down 
 as simultaneous for the Junior and Senior years. To 
 graduate at the close of next year, you must master six 
 simultaneously. If you can do this as we do the work here> 
 and pass the examinations, we cannot refuse you your 
 Degree. 
 
 "Alma Mater" has fixed her standard, and, if she is 
 to accomplish her high mission, she must adhere to it. 
 You, I know, are the last one to ask her to lower it for 
 you. 
 
 My dear , the thought of losing you from our 
 
 class before it has fully accomplished its great work is 
 painful beyond expression. But this at least we will 
 have to say, that so far as your education was allowed to 
 proceed at Vassar College, it was an honest education, 
 solid and thorough and true. In the strength of which 
 purpose I can subscribe myself 
 
 Yours sincerely and faithfully, 
 
 J. H. RAYMOND. 
 
 With whatever sincerity the officers of Vassar Col- 
 lege labored for a noble end, they were subject to con- 
 stant misunderstanding, and to much hasty criticism. 
 With all the fairness and forbearance of Dr. Raymond's 
 nature, he was keenly sensitive to unjust charges, and 
 could repel such attacks with vigorous weapons. 
 
 The following extracts from an article, written by him 
 in reply to one in Godeys Ladys Book for April, 1 870, 
 entitled " The Two Educations," will show something 
 of the spirit in which Vassar was frequently assailed and 
 occasionally defended : 
 
 . . . And, first, it is to be regretted that the writer, when he 
 felt it to be his duty to sit down to an elaborate and unfriendly 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 615 
 
 criticism of the Vassar system, should not have felt equally 
 bound to ascertain just what it now is, instead of going back to 
 the catalogue of 1867, and expending his censure on so much 
 that belongs wholly to the past. 
 
 There is another oversight, for which it is harder to find a 
 charitable excuse ; for the fact which it ignores lay open before 
 the writer on the very page he professes to dissect. I refer to 
 the privilege of electing studies, so liberally allowed at Vassar. 
 One would suppose from his representations that all the stu- 
 dents of each regular course were compelled to pursue all the 
 studies laid down in the course. Thus, speaking of chemistry, 
 he says : " It appears only once, and then merely as one of seven 
 studies" leaving it to be inferred that the students of chemistry 
 give to it only one seventh of their time while pursuing it. 
 " On the other hand," he says, " astronomy is pursued through 
 two years, as if all the fair students were intending to follow the 
 sea." The simple fact is that no fair student of Vassar is re- 
 quired (or, under ordinary circumstances, allowed) to take more 
 than three full studies at any one time, and these, in the ad- 
 vanced years, are just the three which she herself selects as 
 best adapted to her wants. " Each student elects three of the 
 studies laid down for each semester, subject to the approval of 
 the faculty." * 
 
 The specific complaints made are : too much of Greek and 
 astronomy, too little of chemistry. But Greek impurely optional 
 throughout. None study it but those who have gone to Vassar 
 to enjoy the special advantages it affords for doing so. ... 
 
 The same is true of astronomy. No one need study it at all. 
 But if any desire to, either for the purpose of " following the 
 sea" or for some more womanly reason, she will find ample op- 
 portunities at Vassar. And, pray, let me ask, to what use 
 would our friend have the College put the magnificent observa- 
 tory reared by Mr. Vassar for women, or the gifts of the accom- 
 plished lady who directs it, if not to just this to afford young 
 women who have this desire the means of fully gratifying 
 it? . . . 
 
 As to chemistry, the facts are these. First, there is a brief 
 
 * Catalogue of 1867-8, page 18. 
 
616 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 course in the sophomore year introductory to mineralogy and 
 geology; next, those who take it up as a regular study devote 
 to it one third of every day during half of their senior year, 
 when their powers of acquisition are most mature and vigorous; 
 then, those who choose may continue it through the entire senior 
 year ; while to the " special " student there is absolutely no limit 
 she may, if her circumstances warrant, give it her whole time. 
 Orre must be difficult to suit who cannot find amidst this variety 
 an arrangement "adapted to her needs." At the same time no 
 student is compelled to study even chemistry, " queen science" 
 though it be and the royalty of its claims will not be disputed 
 at Vassar if it be not queen science to her ; that is, if it holds 
 no valuable relation to her own objects in life. 
 
 In a word, the principle on which Vassar College has arranged 
 her course is that of opening to her daughters as wide a variety 
 of valuable acquirements as her means permit ; and, after having 
 first by proper elementary discipline prepared them to be bene- 
 fited by the privilege, allowing and aiding them to make a wise 
 selection a selection varying in the number of studies accord- 
 ing to the time each has to spend, never so many as to compel 
 superficiality or hazard health, and varying in character accord- 
 ing to their respective needs. Can a better principle be proposed ? 
 
 But our censor does not confine himself to details. He strikes 
 at the foundation, which he declares to be " in many respects an 
 eminently false one. The whole system is based on a serious 
 error. ... It is based, not on a consideration of the real 
 needs of the students, but on the semi-obsolete systems which 
 have existed in certain ancient universities Oxford and Cam- 
 bridge, Harvard and Yale and which those universities are 
 themselves now discarding as unsuited to the wants of our 
 time." Nor are we left in doubt as to what the sin of this 
 ancient system is. It is the great amount of " Greek, Latin, and 
 the abstract mathematics" which it requires, to the exclusion of 
 studies better "calculated to benefit the student," whatever 
 those may be our critic does not inform us* 
 
 * I emphasize this fact, as it is characteristic of the school to which, 
 I fear, our critic belongs. They are industrious in pulling down ; 
 their capacity to rebuild we must take on trust. Nothing can surpass 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 617 
 
 The managers of Vassar College are not blind to what is going 
 on about them. In common with most intelligent people of 
 the period, they have become pretty well informed as to the 
 faults of the colleges, and the defects of the college system. 
 Some of them are recognized leaders in the party of educational 
 progress, and know, 1 suspect, better than their critic can in- 
 form them, what is the state of the controversy between the old 
 and the new education, and the precise extent to which Yale 
 and Harvard have "discarded " the former and accepted the 
 latter. At the same time they are practical men. While 
 welcoming the wisdom of the present, they do not think it 
 necessary to cut themselves off from the wisdom of the past. 
 While pruning the excesses of the received system, they do not 
 propose to pull it up by the roots; nor will they deem him a 
 competent adviser who so counsels. They do not forget that 
 the "certain ancient universities," of which theorists speak so 
 flippantly, are still the great schools of the world, full to-day of 
 vigorous and productive vitality, and that they are educating 
 the dominant intellect of this generation as they have educated 
 that of all former generations since modern civilization began. 
 Above all, they believe that just at the point at 'which this attack 
 is made the old system is invulnerable, resting not only on a 
 sound principle, but on the only sound principle, and that a true 
 and solid "higher education" is simply impossible on any other. 
 
 But let us first ascertain exactly how far Vassar has gone in 
 this particular sin, not of teaching Greek, Latin, and the abstract 
 mathematics for "they [it seems] are not utterly useless" but 
 of teaching them compulsorily and to such an extent as " renders 
 the course little better than a false education throughout" 
 Greek may be thrown entirely out of the account, for, as we 
 have seen, none is required. Latin is a required study through 
 the first year, mathematics to the middle of the second; beyond 
 that both are elective. Full courses there are for those who 
 want them ; but, as for the amount of Latin and mathematics 
 
 the air of easy authority with which he topples over the fabrics that 
 other men have reared, and orders the ground to be cleared of the 
 debris. But when we look for what he proposes to substitute, we 
 must be content with very empty generalities. . . . 
 
618 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 required, it is hardly too much to say that not a respectable 
 academy in the land would own to teaching less, and it is all 
 over in the first third of the course. 
 
 But why require so much? Why pay even this deference to 
 an effete system ? Why waste any time in College on the culti- 
 vation of mere " verbal memory and the talent for computing, 
 two of the lowest faculties of the mind "? Why not put the 
 students at once, and keep them constantly, at "the inductive 
 sciences, which belong to faculties of a higher order "? . . . 
 
 There are two ways, then, even of teaching the inductive 
 sciences, both true and both useful, but useful for very different 
 purposes, and to different classes of students. The first is 
 popular and compendious, imparting the mere results of science 
 to those who have not opportunity or taste for more. It is an 
 education for elementary schools, of immense value to the com- 
 munity at large, and it has heretofore been regarded as specially 
 adapted to " \htfemale mind." The other is scientific and com- 
 paratively severe, going to principles, accompanied with dem- 
 onstrations, and training the learner in the methods by which 
 scientific results are obtained. This is distinctively the higher 
 or liberal education. It is the kind for which colleges are 
 established and sustained, and by which an educated class (in 
 the special sense) is created in a community. Without such a 
 class, and the culture that produces it, not only must literature, 
 philosophy, and all intellectual professions languish and die, 
 but popular education itself could not be sustained, and the 
 advancement of science would be an impossibility; and the 
 nation that " discarded " it would sink into contempt, and dis- 
 appear from among the cultivated peoples of the earth. 
 
 Now, it so happens that for the successful prosecution of this 
 kind^l education, a certain amount of preparatory discipline is 
 found to be necessary. The necessity lies in the nature of the 
 mind on the one hand, and in the nature of science on the 
 other. . . . 
 
 It happens also to be the fact that no other means of dis- 
 ciplinary preparation have yet been discovered so effective as 
 just those two studies of Latin and the abstract mathematics. 
 There has been a deal of theorizing about the possibility of find- 
 ing a substitute the inductive sciences themselves, it is con- 
 
YASSAK COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 619 
 
 tended, might be made to serve a good purpose but the thing 
 has not been done ; nor does any one think it at all likely to be 
 done who knows, as practical educators know, on the one hand, 
 the admirable and infinitely diversified gymnastic afforded by 
 those studies to all the mental powers, and, on the other, their 
 special relations to the whole science and philosophy, to all the 
 languages and literatures, of modern Christian Europe. . . . 
 And more than this, it is a point about which, to the full 
 extent required for the justification of the Vassar course, there 
 is no difference of opinion among the most distinguished advo- 
 cates alike of the old and the new education.* 
 
 The simple reason, then, why Vassar College holds her 
 regular students to Latin and mathematics for a while at the 
 beginning of their course is that they may be better fitted to do 
 the work she has for them to do before they reach the end ; 
 that they may bring to chemistry and the other inductive 
 sciences, as well as to literature and history, morals and meta- 
 physics, and to the study of the modern languages, minds in- 
 toned and invigorated by a healthful drill, and equipped with 
 
 * Pages might be filled with testimonies drawn exclusively from the 
 great advocates of educational reform. John S. Mill, for instance, 
 will hardly be regarded as a man behind the age, and what does he 
 say, speaking of the classical languages? " To these I would pre- 
 serve the position in it [t. e., in the curriculum of liberal education] 
 which they at present occitpy." Remember, too, he is speaking of the 
 English curriculum ; and he devotes just one fourth of his famous 
 " Inaugural Address" to justifying this position. As to mathematics, 
 hear Comte, the very prophet of the new education. " Mathematical 
 analysis is the true and rational basis of the entire system of positive 
 knowledge. . . . By this study alone we obtain a just idea of what 
 a science really is, and learn precisely the method always followed by 
 the human mind in its positive researches. ... All scientific edu- 
 cation which does not commence with this study is, therefore, and of 
 necessity, defective at its foundation" 
 
 And yet our critic speaks of these studies as merely " cultivating 
 verbal memory and the talent of computing, two of the lowest facul- 
 ties of the human mind." The view is so superficial that it is difficult 
 to believe it seriously entertained by one who writes, in general, so 
 intelligently on the subject. 
 
620 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 just those instruments of thought for which they will have daily 
 need, in whatever fields of knowledge they elect to toil. And 
 as this is not a matter of theory but of experience, the proofs of 
 which are wrought out day by day under their very eyes, it is 
 not at all probable that the managers of Vassar College will 
 change either their views or their policy. 
 
 And now, in conclusion, let me tell our friend what is the real 
 sin of Vassar, for he has missed it altogether. The "serious 
 error," if such there be, "on which its system is based," is simply 
 this that WOMAN shotildnot be excluded from the benefits of this 
 HIGHER CULTURE. If woman is to have a liberal education at 
 all, she must get it on the same conditions with others ; there 
 can be no doubt about that. But ought she to have it at all ? 
 That is the only question. Has she strength of brain enough 
 to receive it ? Has she sufficient moral earnestness and energy 
 of purpose to carry her through? Will thorough training do 
 for her what it does for a man? Will it not destroy feminine 
 grace and delicacy? Will it not break down her physical 
 health ? Will it give clearness, breadth, force, and fertility to 
 her mind; dignity, weight, refinement, and symmetry to her 
 character? Has God or the coming age any work for her to do 
 in the family, in society, in the church, in science and letters, in 
 any of the intellectual professions or arts, which calls for such 
 training? Is there any demand for it in the community? In 
 this fair, broad land of ours, teeming with souls and industries, 
 are there any young women who have the desire, the capacity, 
 and the leisure for study, and for whom the means should be 
 provided ? These are grave questions. We do not assume to 
 answer them dogmatically; time will determine. If the answer 
 be in the negative, then must Vassar College be pronounced a 
 mistake not the mistake, however, of its managers, but of its 
 generous Founder and his princely gift. Vassar College is a 
 school for liberal education, or it is a stupendous solecism. For any 
 other purpose, its costly collections, its library of ancient and 
 modern literature, that "staff of learned professors which leaves 
 so little to be desired "the whole thing is a blunder and a 
 waste. The sin of the Trustees and Faculty is that they believe 
 it to be neither, and that, sharing in the confidence of their 
 noble friend, the founder, and thoroughly convinced that God 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 621 
 
 and the age are calling for the experiment, they proceed to make 
 it without anxiety as to the result 
 
 Whether any were moved to turn from the error of 
 their ways by this presentation of truth is not recorded. 
 But no disparagements could hinder the good work 
 which, in sight of believers and unbelievers, went 
 steadily forward to the close of the first decade. Even 
 before that period the College had achieved its place, 
 and we are glad to be able to adduce here the generous 
 testimony of one who was in close relation with the 
 beginnings of the enterprise, and actively useful in 
 laying its foundations. The following letter from Dr. 
 M. P. Jewett refers to Dr. Raymond's " Vienna Pamph- 
 let" already cited : 
 
 MILWAUKEE, July 10, 1873. 
 
 MY DEAR DOCTOR : . . . I cannot forbear expressing the 
 profound interest with which I have read, once and again, 
 your admirable exposition of the aims, etc., of Vassar College. 
 It will attract the attention of all, on both continents, who 
 are interested in the education of young women. It is a 
 masterly vindication of your present course of instruction. 
 I easily follow you in every step of the gradations by which 
 you have reached the high ground on which you now stand, 
 and I heartily concur in the conclusions to which you have 
 come. I can also conceive, though imperfectly, the embar- 
 rassments, perplexities, and vexations you have encountered 
 in reaching the goal. 
 
 And now, after years of toil and battle, having achieved 
 a triumph not less honorable to you than fruitful of benefi- 
 cent results to women, I devoutly hope you may for a long 
 time enjoy the reward of victory. You can have no greater 
 earthly happiness than to see successive classes going forth 
 with your benediction to fill the high places of feminine 
 power and usefulness in all parts of our country. 
 
622 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 As for myself, I feel happy in the humble part I was per- 
 mitted to bear in laying the hidden foundations and building 
 the rough scaffolding of the grand temple. I never could 
 have overcome the obstacles you have vanquished in rearing 
 the superstructure. Being advised of these from year to 
 year, I have long been persuaded that it was best for myself, 
 as well as for the College, that I left in 1864. And I have 
 felt a true sympathy for you in all your struggles, and a 
 great joy in all your successes. 
 
 Hitherto, business affairs have prevented me from visiting 
 the East; another year I hope to have that pleasure. I 
 want to see dear old Poughkeepsie, the College, the grounds, 
 the internal working of the institution more than I can tell. 
 
 Trusting to your indulgence for my freedom in speaking, 
 I am, as ever, very faithfully yours, 
 
 M. P. JEWETT. 
 
 But as Dr. Raymond had urged, amid the trophies 
 which Vassar had brought to crown the commemora- 
 tive day closing her first decade, her mission was but 
 begun. The " key-note" for the future which he struck 
 at that time echoed his own most earnest feeling. It 
 was the burden of his desire that the blessing which 
 the College held for its students should be free to 
 many to whom it had hitherto been denied, and he 
 lost no opportunity to press the claims of this class, 
 and to urge the endowment of scholarships for their 
 benefit. In the few letters written during the three 
 remaining years of his life, he constantly gives expres- 
 sion to his strong feeling on this subject. 
 
 To his Eldest DAUGHTER. 
 
 COLLEGE HOME, Dec. 24, 1876. 
 
 MY DARLING CHILD, AND CHILDREN ALL : I write from 
 a lonely house. All are gone but Grandpa and me, and we 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 623 
 
 propose to take an early start to-morrow to join the rest for 
 a Christmas dinner in Brooklyn. But I cannot go till I 
 snatch one moment for a Merry Christmas to my dear ones 
 in the West. If I could only catch a ride in Santa Clans* 
 reindeer sleigh, and pop down the chimney into the midst 
 of you! I should like to see little D.'s eyes open, and to 
 hear R. laugh and shout when the stockings are opened. 
 But the merry old fellow is so full of business, and his sleigh 
 so full of knickknacks, that he has no room for passengers 
 and can't be bothered with them. So I must e'en stay at 
 home, and try to imagine what a jubilee you are having. 
 
 We are coming to the close of the year, both the home- 
 family and the college-family, with abundant cause for 
 thankfulness. Health and harmony, plenty to do and a fair 
 success in the doing of it, render the session thus far a pros- 
 perous one, and the prospects are good that it will continue 
 to be such. 
 
 The College dispersed for the holidays Thursday morning. 
 I started off with the crowd for a little trip to Albany, whither 
 I went to attend a Convention of New York college presi- 
 dents and professors, called by the Board of Regents to 
 consider some measures for strengthening the college interest 
 in this State. Like most suggestions originating with that 
 collection of old fossils, the "measures" were of the most 
 innocuous and inconsequent character. We had a good 
 time, nevertheless, we college men, some twenty or twenty- 
 five in number at least I had, in airing my ideas in respect 
 to the condition of that interest, the need of more radical 
 " measures," and a generally more heroic treatment in order 
 to cure the evils, and especially the want of a new and vital 
 element (live men, practical educators, representatives from 
 the colleges themselves) in the administration of the interest. 
 I have been spoiling for a fight on that theme for about ten 
 years, and I saw my chance. I told them that I represented 
 the " female brethren," so they must expect me to speak my 
 
624 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 mind, and I spoke right out in meeting. It was kindly 
 received, and led, I hope, to a good result. After indorsing 
 the propositions of the Regents, the college men present had 
 a meeting by themselves, and determined to organize a sort 
 of annual convention of colleges (embracing two delegates 
 from each college in the State) to look after our common 
 interests; appointed a committee to draw up a circular to 
 the colleges inviting them to send delegates to a preliminary 
 meeting next spring, and adjourned. If the thing goes as 
 I think it will, it shall not be my fault if our old-fogy Con- 
 script Fathers don't get waked up to some sort of activity. 
 
 Well, here I am fighting my battles over again, like a 
 superannuated old soldier as I am. Dr. Anderson was 
 there, and made as usual a rousing speech. We came down 
 in the cars together, the next morning, he on his way to 
 New York, and had much pleasant chat. 
 
 I am expecting to go on this week to the Annual Reunion 
 of our Boston Alumnae, and next week attend that of the 
 New York Alumnae. I am more and more satisfied that this 
 alumnae feeling is the hope of the College for the future, and 
 everything possible must be done to keep it alive and to 
 make it fruitful. Like the rest of the world, I want money 
 money money. But not for myself. I want to see these 
 advantages open to every poor girl in the land who has brains 
 and a heart, and who desires to cultivate and train them for 
 the service of God and humanity. When I think of the 
 millions given to make the highest culture free for men, and 
 absolutely nothing to open the fountains of knowledge to 
 women, my blood boils, and I am ready to cry : " How long 
 O Lord !" But women must do it, and, first, by feeling the 
 need. When they cry, for hunger and thirst, provision will 
 be made, not before. 
 
 Once more, a Merry Christmas to all, and a perpetual 
 blessing from the ever-full heart of 
 
 Your loving FATHER. 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 625 
 
 In his highest hopes for the College he was sure of 
 the sympathy of one who had loyally and lovingly 
 served it, and to whom the two following letters are 
 addressed. A peculiar bond united those who had 
 shared its earliest labors and struggles. With all the 
 diversity of character and views which marked the first 
 faculty of Vassar College, they were one in loving 
 devotion to a cause whose success was a matter of 
 common anxiety. Without the united support of the 
 noble men and women who were his fellow-workers in 
 the faculty, the president could hardly have sustained 
 his great burden. Among all the friendships that 
 cheered his different fields of labor, none bore a stronger 
 test than that which strengthened the hearts allied in 
 this faithful service. As they watched and worked to- 
 gether, they also rejoiced together in the hours of social 
 relaxation which came amid their cares. Such were 
 the hours of that happy birthday which the congenial 
 coterie of friends from among the faculty and teachers, 
 welcomed to the sacred family places, observed as a 
 common festival. The recurring day was remembered 
 long after the band was broken by death and removal, 
 and never failed to recall to one member of that circle 
 the years when they had " worked side by side for a 
 noble interest." 
 
 To Dr. ALIDA C. AVERY. 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE, Sept. 10, 1876. 
 
 MY BELOVED PHYSICIAN : . . . Your faithful birthday 
 letter of 1875 rested in my breast pocket ("nearest my 
 heart") till that of 1876 found it there, in worn and faded 
 envelope ; and thence I draw them both forth to-day, the 
 interiors as fresh and bright and genial and welcome as the 
 
626 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 day they came to hand. And the ridiculous thing about it 
 is that they are waiting all this time in expectation of being 
 forthwith answered ! And answered they have been, a hun- 
 dred times in the spirit. (Is it not the spirit that quicken- 
 eth ? the "letter" profiteth not.) Is there not some spiritual 
 telegraphy that has made you often conscious that my 
 thoughts were with you, and my longings toward you, for 
 some nearer, freer, and fuller converse than this by pen and 
 paper ? There ought to be, for pen and ink and paper have 
 ceased, for me, to be fit mediums for friendly intercourse, 
 not merely from their limitations, which are seriorus enough, 
 but from positive associations odious and disagreeable. 
 To me, who have numberless business letters to write daily, 
 they have become the badges of a weary servitude, and I 
 wait in vain for the days when I am not so overwhelmed 
 with the letters that must be written, that I can begin those 
 that I want to write. But, be assured, none of these dis- 
 agreeable associations attach themselves to letters received^ 
 and of the many proofs of affection with which you have 
 honored me, by gift and deed, none have ever gone more 
 directly to the spot, or done me greater good, than these 
 cordial missives which you dash off with such rapid ease 
 that it would be wicked in you not to rain them on thirsty 
 souls like my own with an ungrudging liberality, " hoping 
 for nothing again." . . . 
 
 I have been away once this summer and managed to get 
 two or three weeks of real rest and refreshment, on which I 
 am sure you would have bestowed your cordial approval. 
 First, I went to Martha's Vineyard by invitation of a 
 Baptist association, which holds a sort of grove-meeting 
 there summers my stent being a speech on "Woman's 
 Work for Christ," which, much to Maria Mitchell's delecta- 
 tion, the Boston reporters said " produced a profound im- 
 pression." But there was too much excitement there for 
 real enjoyment, and I was glad to get away to Clark's 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE THE FUtST DECADE. 627 
 
 Island, a true Saint's Rest in Plymouth Bay. Here I 
 feasted and fattened on sea-air and sea-diet, with yachting 
 and rowing ad libitum^ and a daily dash of salt water, not to 
 speak of the good company and the absolute exemption 
 from business or the fear (almost the thought) of it. 
 
 After a week there, I came away to meet Mrs. Raymond 
 in Boston, en route for Lynn, where we were Miss Mitchell's 
 guests for four days. Daily drives along the picturesque 
 coast, and among the aristocratic summer cottages, to 
 Swampscott, to Saugus, to Nahant, a sail down Boston 
 Harbor to Nantasket, a day and night at that charming 
 watering-place, some fine surf-bathing, with a drive to 
 Whittier's new and beautiful home in Danvers (though we 
 unfortunately missed the poet), all together made out a 
 most enjoyable programme. We brought the astronomer 
 home with us for a final observation on the transit of 
 Saturn, and when she had gone (last Monday) settled down 
 to work again. 
 
 I have two important vacancies to fill. Another " French 
 Instructor" goes, and, alas, another of the veterans, whom I 
 can ill spare. Miss Ellen Lord is made " Professor of 
 Greek and Latin" at Wellesley, and goes. I think she may 
 be happier there, not only because she occupies a wider and 
 more independent sphere, but because she is in cordial 
 sympathy with Mr. Durant's religious views and aims in 
 the management of his institution, and I hope her most 
 sanguine expectations may be realized. But oh ! this 
 sundering of old ties is hard, very hard and some of us are 
 beginning to feel lonely here among so many new people. 
 Why did you go? You were, and are, a part of the original 
 Vassar, and I cannot yet make it seem right that you should 
 be in this world and yet not here. It would have refreshed 
 you mightily to see the great gathering of Alumnae at last 
 commencement, and especially to witness their demonstra- 
 tions of enthusiastic affection for Alma Mater and their 
 
628 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 vigorous, business-like proceedings for doing something in 
 her behalf. We have not labored in vain ; the seed sown 
 with trembling and anxiety, and not without tears at times, 
 has not been lost, coming years will reap the harvest. But 
 the time of anxiety for Vassar, in my opinion, is not past. 
 A new crisis is before us. Multiplied competition is going 
 to reduce (for a while) the number of our collegiate students ; 
 and to save us from being swamped with preparatories, 
 endowments must be had. Will they come ? oh ! will they 
 come ? But I must stop. Dear Doctor, try me once more. 
 Write, and see if I do not answer you. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE, March 8, 1877. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND AND EVER-BELOVED DOCTOR: Your 
 letter reached me, prompt and punctual, on the yth with its 
 bright face and free superscription and generally healthy 
 look so suggestive of the writer; and its contents well, of 
 those I am at present too full for utterance. But I am 
 determined not to carry this in my breast-pocket till my 
 next birth-day. . . . 
 
 Sixty-three ! my grand climacteric ! And I reach it hale 
 and hearty that is, for me; really in better health than when 
 thirteen years ago I accepted my present position, feeling 
 that if I could get from five to ten years more of work out 
 of me, it was all I could reasonably hope. Ten years was 
 my most distant goal, and I never expected to reach it. 
 But here I am, with as fair a prospect, so far as I can see, of 
 another like extension to my days and labors. It is no affec- 
 tation, my dear friend, to say that to you more than any other 
 human being I feel that I owe this improvement in my 
 bodily condition, not merely to your judicious professional 
 treatment when I was in your hands an invalid, but to the 
 invaluable hygienic ideas you gave me and your example of 
 decision and sound common-sense in the use of them. 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 629 
 
 And that is but a small part of my debt to you. Have 
 you not suffered with me, fought by my side, taken and 
 struck hard blows in support of me, and never faltered or 
 flinched in the hour of trial? Were you not, so to speak, 
 my companion in arms, " partner of my toils, my feelings, and 
 my [ill] fame"? And now that the field is won, and the 
 sky clear, and everything sweet and lovely, it seems that 
 you ought to be here to share it with us. But I will not 
 regret that you have gone, nor wish you back. The war is not 
 ended. There are other fields to be fought, other laurels 
 to be won ; rather let me say, other truths to be vindicated, 
 and other foes of Truth and Right to be faced and smitten 
 and put to flight. And if God has given you courage and 
 capacity, why should they be withheld ? His cause needs 
 you, His friends need you, and you will find no place where 
 you will be so contented to be as where you are doing most 
 to make the world what it ought to be. 
 
 There is nothing of new or strange in our College life. 
 You know that the number of our students has fallen off to 
 about 320. Hard times and new opportunities for girls 
 elsewhere explain the fact. There is nothing discouraging 
 in it. It will compel harder work here to find means (by 
 endowments or otherwise) to help the hundreds that ought 
 to be educated, but cannot pay money for it. I have not 
 given up my hope of scholarships. There is money some- 
 where. The springs are to be opened and the channels 
 dug that is all and it will be done in God's good time. 
 
 We are mourning the loss of another efficient teacher, who 
 is called to be Professor of Mathematics in Wilson College, 
 Pa. This is the third experience of the kind we have 
 had this year, and we are threatened with a fourth. It 
 is a little trying to be deprived in this way of the services of 
 our teachers, just as they have become thoroughly trained, 
 but we may find some consolation in the thought that Vassar 
 is thus educating not only her students to be teachers in the 
 
630 JOHN H. RA YMOND, 
 
 schools and academies of the country, but her teachers to 
 be principals and college professors. . . . 
 
 It is late ; and if my Doctor were here, she would scold 
 and send me to bed. So lest she should hear of it, adieu ! 
 and God bless you. 
 
 His appeal for scholarships was repeated with in- 
 creasing earnestness in his annual reports to the Board. 
 In his sixth report (1871), he says : 
 
 About twenty students have received assistance from Mr. 
 Vassar's Auxiliary Fund, two of them to the amount of $200, 
 the rest only to the amount of $100. The high character of 
 these beneficiaries, the success with which they have prosecuted 
 their work, and the promise of great usefulness which they give 
 without exception, are such as to impress me with a profound 
 sense of the value of this part of our Founder's philanthropic 
 plan, and to create an earnest desire for the augmentation of 
 means for gratuitous instruction in the College. The country is 
 full of young women who earnestly long for such advantages, 
 and have every qualification for turning them to good account, 
 but who lack means and friends able to make the necessary out- 
 lay. To many the limitations imposed by Mr. Vassar's benefac- 
 tion are fatal ; it is as impossible for them to raise $300 or even 
 $200 a year as $400. Indeed, the very class for whom a com- 
 plete and thorough education is most necessary, those who are 
 dependent upon their own resources, and who are fitting them- 
 selves for usefulness as teachers, are of all others most likely to 
 find themselves in this condition. It would be sad if the predic- 
 tion should even in part be realized that Vassar is destined to 
 become a place where rich men's daughters may get a first-class 
 education at a low rate, while those very young women the 
 daughters of clergymen and teachers, and others devoted to 
 lives of professional labor on whom the country must depend 
 to supply its demands for thoroughly educated female teachers, 
 are shut out through poverty. 
 
 Generous provisions are made for young men of this class who 
 are struggling towards honorable and useful professions. Little 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 631 
 
 or nothing has thus far been done to assist young women in the 
 same direction. Is it too much to hope that there are men and 
 women of wealth in the community who would, if properly 
 approached, respond to an appeal of this kind ? And is it too 
 soon to begin to inquire what practical measures can be taken 
 at Vassar, by the endowment of professorships or of scholar- 
 ships wholly or partially free, to bring the rates of tuition here 
 within the reach of those of limited means, and so to complete 
 the great work of benevolence which the Founder has begun ? 
 
 In the tenth annual report (1875) he urges the same 
 plea : 
 
 The twenty-four students aided by the Vassar Auxiliary Fund 
 have all proved worthy of the encouragement thus afforded, and 
 among them are some of the brightest minds and finest char- 
 acters we have educated. Besides these, a considerable number, 
 who otherwise would have been obliged to leave their studies, 
 have received aid from private sources. Contributions to the 
 amount of several hundred dollars, to my personal knowledge, 
 have been obtained for this purpose through the private exer- 
 tions of members of the Faculty. 
 
 For reasons stated in the report of the Standing Committee 
 on Scholarships, no formal measures have been taken for solicit- 
 ing scholarships this year. But the subject is not sleeping. 
 Evidences reach me from various quarters that not a few are 
 beginning very seriously to weigh the claims of this among 
 other objects of enlightened philanthropy. I trust the time is 
 not distant when it will be generally acknowledged that our 
 daughters should share equally with our sons in opportunities 
 for the highest intellectual training they are capable of receiv- 
 ing; and that a much more liberal proportion of the gifts which 
 large-hearted men and women are constantly making to the 
 cause of education should flow into this channel. There are 
 colleges in our country which announce that no young man 
 with capacity and a desire for education shall be refused admis- 
 sion to their classes, or allowed to leave them, for want of means 
 to defray the expense. Why should not Vassar throw open 
 equally wide her doors ; and, while furnishing her advantages on 
 
632 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 the most liberal terms to those who are able to pay for them, 
 offer them freely to those who are not ? not offering a " charity 
 education" to any, but uniting the money of the wealthy with 
 the brains and brainwork of talented youth in an alliance 
 honorable to both and beneficent to all mankind ? The time 
 will surely come ; I believe it to be near at hand. 
 
 His faith was not disappointed, although the seed 
 which he sowed in ceaseless efforts was slow in ripening 
 to the longed-for harvest. He knew where to touch 
 ready sympathies when he turned for aid to those who 
 had themselves gathered the fruits which he longed to 
 have multiplied a thousand-fold. Besides the sums 
 raised by the Alumnae as a body, there were some 
 among the students who responded to his plea in pri- 
 vate gifts, and thus opened to others the fountains 
 from which they were themselves drinking. He had 
 corresponded with one of this number, whose generous 
 part in such benefactions had greatly cheered him, and 
 who writes to a college friend after his death of their 
 common bereavement : 
 
 Surely we old girls are not selfish in measuring the loss 
 to our college home, and passing in silence by the nearer ties 
 that have been broken ; they are sacred. We belong to that 
 larger family circle to whom he was master and friend we 
 all felt sure of that. I am glad to think that I have kept 
 some letters which he wrote me, filled with that broad earnest 
 spirit of love for the College interests, or, I should say, by 
 that untiring eagerness to help our worthy students they 
 and the College interests must always be one. 
 
 Since the clasp is broken, we must all hold tight together, 
 and indeed I think that the college will find the old students 
 never more ready to help than now when the days look dark 
 ahead, because the old master is at rest. 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE THE FIRST DECADE. 633 
 
 This was the expression of a feeling which many 
 shared, and which bore the fruit that he would have 
 most desired. At the close of the second College year 
 after the death of Dr. Raymond, the completion of a 
 fund for two scholarships was announced by the alum- 
 nae, one the " Hannah Lyman " and the other the 
 44 Raymond " scholarship. At the same time a third 
 scholarship was founded by the Rev. Dr. Magoon, of 
 the Board of Trustees, in memory of his lamented wife. 
 
 The sacredness with which he regarded the claims 
 of this cause is seen in the following tribute to the 
 beauty and worth of such " memorial scholarships," as 
 witnesses of the love borne by the living for their dead : 
 
 What memorial could be selected more fitting! What 
 marble pile so enduring, or (to the mind's eye) so beautiful! 
 No stone, or heap of stones, standing inert and silent against 
 the sky, doing no work, bearing no fruit, refreshing no life, 
 its only value the form impressed upon it from without, and 
 which every hour is wasting and hurrying to decay, but a 
 Horeb rather, a smitten rock, from which (as from a heart 
 made sweeter and better by the chastening rod) shall flow 
 a perpetual fountain of beneficence, a stream not merely 
 bearing blessings to the needy, but feeding the growth of a 
 Christian soul, reappearing and forever renewing, and multi- 
 plying itself in the fruitful activities of a consecrated life. 
 
 Surely, to live continually on earth in such a ministry is 
 not unworthy the desire of even a spirit in glory. Might it 
 not add a thrill of satisfaction even to the joys of heaven, to 
 be conscious of ever watering the roots of one such plant of 
 righteousness, and in the progress of time of having helped 
 multitudes of the struggling children of God to a richer, 
 nobler, and more useful life ! 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 FROM the beginning of his work at Vassar College, 
 Dr. Raymond had little time for family or friendly 
 correspondence, and we can only follow him in the occa- 
 sional glimpses which hurried letters afford. There was a 
 most natural explanation of his apparent neglect of old 
 and tried friends. The days of "summer rest" were 
 numbered almost as soon as begun, his entire vacations 
 being consumed in filling the vacancies which were al- 
 ways waiting in his list of instructors. Many of his 
 letters are recitals of journeyings and " interviews," with 
 the analyses of character and qualifications which show 
 his fastidious care in filling every office. Nothing 
 could be more trying than the conflict with these ques- 
 tions of choice which were continually presented. He 
 sometimes came to an extremity of indecision, as when, 
 after a long catalogue of competing claims, with all 
 their various intrications, he exclaims, " But how can I 
 compare these people ! It is so perplexing to carry all 
 these points in the mind at once. I get very tired try- 
 ing to balance and reckon them, and quite discouraged 
 of any satisfactory results except by the slow, dear pro- 
 cess of actual trial." 
 
 A single extract gives a hint at one principle upon 
 which these selections were made : 
 
 Well, you see I have made a pretty strong case in 
 iavor of . And the case is a strong one, better, on 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE CORRESPONDENCE. 635 
 
 the whole, than I expected; the best, probably, that will 
 offer. Yet I find myself hesitating. There is something 
 that I miss something that I want so much. With 
 plenty of talent, I see no gleam of genius. Ought I to ask 
 it? With indubitable proofs of a good substantial educa- 
 tion, I catch no traces of culture, in the higher sense, not 
 merely of knowledge of the best intellectual work, but 
 of living, loving sympathy therewith. Can we do with- 
 out it ? If she were ten or fifteen years younger, with 
 such elements as she manifestly possesses, I should expect 
 much from the influences of the College. But at forty- 
 five we are pretty much as we shall be. That her college 
 work would be done conscientiously, intelligently, satis- 
 factorily, I have hardly a doubt. But it seems that every 
 new member of our corps should add a new element to 
 the higher life of the College, should reinforce the strug- 
 gling principles of progress and improvement. 
 
 To Miss LYMAN. 
 
 ROCHESTER, July 30, 1866. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND AND FELLOW-WORKER : With desire 
 have I desired to write you at several points in the hot 
 and dusty race I have been running the past three weeks, 
 but there was always so much else that must be done 
 that I was compelled to forego the luxury. Well, I am 
 on my last stage of traveling, at least. To-morrow I 
 hope to get away to Angelica, and although I have be- 
 fore me there the comfortable little job of constitution- 
 making, I shall at least feel for a while that I am out of 
 the hunt, that I am not chased to death by an inexorable 
 pack. But alas! I forget that mails arrive even at An- 
 gelica, and that the faithful Schou has orders not to let 
 them go empty. . . . 
 
636 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 I pass a multitude of vexatious disappointments in New 
 York. The next important stoppage was at Hartford, 
 where I hoped for much and accomplished nothing, except 
 in the way of visiting and ZW^-ing. Istayedatjohn Hook- 
 er's "Saints' Rest" (so called by those who have shared 
 its genial Christian hospitalities); on "Nook Farm," the 
 charming wooded retreat just out of Hartford-, where Mrs. 
 Stowe and her two sisters, Mrs. Hooker and Mrs. Perkins, 
 are nestled with their families in three lovely cottage 
 homes. We did the best we could, with the thermometer 
 above 90, to be happy and mutually entertaining, driv- 
 ing to the picturesque points about the city, talking faint 
 politics (we were all of a mind), reading Shakespeare 
 (" think of that, Master Brooke," and call me a miracle 
 of good-nature), or panting under the hot forest shades 
 which embosom the cottages. It was here that " Gail 
 Hamilton" was first named to me as a possible acquisi- 
 tion for our English Department. You must not be sur- 
 prised if, in that stifling atmosphere, anything sug- 
 gestive of a gale should have a pleasant sound. It seems 
 that Miss Dodge was a teacher in the Hartford High 
 School, and also at Mr. Curtis's, before she commenced 
 her " career" as author, and she has left behind her a 
 most enviable reputation, particularly in this " English 
 Department," and in the very respects which especi- 
 ally interest us. Mrs. Stowe was the first who named 
 her to me ; but I inquired of several educational gentle- 
 men who knew her, and of some of her pupils (now mar- 
 ried and exceedingly intelligent people), and the testi- 
 mony was uniform and very flattering: as a" teacher of 
 composition and literature fascinating and inspiring, 
 personally pure, true, good, kind, modest, and interesting 
 in manner, a sincere and earnest Christian. The sharp 
 "strong-mindedness" of her Gail Hamilton style they 
 seemed to regard as in a great measure, like the name 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE CORRESPONDENCE. 637 
 
 itself, a character de plume, assumed by a freak of genius, 
 etc. . . . 
 
 Although she was not destined to a mission at Vas- 
 sar, Miss Dodge afterwards rendered the College an im- 
 portant service in recommending a most valuable 
 teacher. A bit of spice from her pen is always wel- 
 come : 
 
 HAMILTON, MASS., Sept. 13, 1876. 
 MR. RAYMOND. 
 
 DEAR SIR: Miss C. has advised me that she has re- 
 ferred you to me, among others, regarding her standing 
 as a teacher. I have a very high opinion of Miss C. as a 
 teacher, and a very high opinion of myself as a judge of 
 what a good teacher is ! ... She has had a long expe- 
 rience, and all her experience has been brilliantly suc- 
 cessful. She has a bright, quick, original mind; she is 
 thorough and sincere, lady-like and direct, of generous 
 nature, without a particle of jealousy or suspicion. She 
 enlists at once the affection and the enthusiasm of her 
 pupils. She is stimulating and agreeable gentle and 
 energetic. I have so much faith in her that if she should 
 go to Vassar and fail, I should not lay the fault in the 
 least to her, but should say it was all owing to the vicious 
 methods of Vassar ! Though I must say, also, that, from 
 the reports of Miss Mitchell and Miss Mary Spalding, I 
 have a very high opinion of Vassar begging your pardon. 
 
 I fear that I shall harm Miss C. by my eulogy, but 
 I can't tell a lie, Pa, in this centennial year, not even to 
 save the good name of a friend. 
 
 The good name of Vassar is not confined to the report 
 of a single pupil or professor. I mention those, however, 
 because I have not the slightest faith in the public repu- 
 tation of any school. Very respectfully, 
 
 MARY A. DODGE. 
 
638 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 When Miss Lyman had promised to come and " help" 
 Dr. Raymond at Vassar, she had given the pledge 
 of an entire consecration. Whatever support he 
 could gain from a boundless sympathy, an all-con- 
 suming zeal and consummate self-surrender, in the 
 cause to which both were committed, he ever owed to 
 her. The debt was recognized by those who watched 
 him most anxiously in his own household, and who 
 rejoiced in the thoughtfulness which found constant 
 opportunity to divide his cares. 
 
 He was indebted to that thoughtfulness for the occa- 
 sional days of absence and recreation in which his 
 strength was renewed. He was only able to make 
 requital in the rare times when his faithful helper was 
 fain to confess that she, too, was mortal, and when the 
 wonderful vitality for which she claimed a limitless en- 
 durance yielded at last to exhaustion. There was little 
 room for selfishness in lives absorbed in a common 
 sacrifice. In this " partnership of noble deeds" the 
 only rivalry was one of good-will and devotion. Notes 
 from him to his " Lady Principal " during vacation, and 
 other correspondence, will show their generous relation 
 of mutual helpfulness, and the kind of labors which so 
 often made his " vacations" anything but free from his 
 constant cares and responsibilities 
 
 SPRINGFIELD, Nov. 14, 1866. 
 
 MY DEAR "L. P.": I am glad to hear that you are 
 getting on so smoothly at Vassar, though I cannot (do 
 my best) suppress the apprehension that under the 
 smooth surface of your representation lurks the reality 
 of many a weary care and unconfessed heart-ache, and 
 that this delicious season of rest for me is purchased 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE-CORRESPONDENCE. 639 
 
 dearly by those who bear my burdens for me. This one 
 comfort I have, that, through my absence, you are in 
 part relieved of one great care for the time, and, if I re- 
 turn really recruited, your kindness will accept that as a 
 reward. God grant it, for your sake and for the sake of 
 that which I think is dearer to us both than our own 
 gratification. Never did the College seem so precious 
 to me as to-day; how clearly do I see the things to 
 be done, so many and so great, and how can I acquiesce 
 in the failure of strength at this crisis ! I do not feel 
 dissatisfied with the summer's work. Though far from 
 perfect, of course, and not exactly what I wished, it will 
 do for a beginning. But it is only a beginning, only the 
 planting of my fulcrum and the fixing of my lever. 
 I do want to try the working of it how can I be 
 denied ? 
 
 I am glad I went to South Hadley. It was as I ex- 
 pected, and a noble representative institution. But how 
 different a work is ours ! how much more comprehen- 
 sive and difficult! how much more numerous and diverse 
 the elements to be mastered and moulded into a harmo- 
 nious unity, and brought into subjection to the spirit and 
 faith of Christ ! O Master, who is sufficient for these 
 things? Who but Thee, who art able to subdue all 
 things to Thyself ! 
 
 I am thankful for all the help that you receive from 
 Mrs. Banister's suggestions, and hope that you can soon 
 have her with you again. With her counsels, and with 
 the increased experience of Miss Morse and your other 
 faithful helpers, I hope you will soon be able to throw off 
 part of your care. Don't fail to remember me to all the 
 good friends, to Miss Mitchell, "the bright, unwavering 
 star," and to R. R. P. (id est, the radiant " Resident 
 Physician"). And so, farewell. Obey the doctor, be 
 merciful to yourself and to all the sinners around you, 
 
640 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 visit the widow and fatherless at " P. H.", * and as ever 
 be true to Your friend and brother, 
 
 J. H. R. 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE, } 
 
 PRESIDENT'S OFFICE, Dec. 5, 1866. f 
 
 Well, my dear friend, you see " the whirligig of time" 
 brings us revenges. It is but a week or two since you 
 were crowing over the slight impression occasioned by 
 my absence from the College, and now I have the su- 
 preme satisfaction of assuring you that you are missed 
 just as little. You might stay till next week and, for 
 aught I can see, things would run along just as smoothly 
 as though you were here. There's comfort for you ; and 
 I advise you to take the comfort of it, as I did. Do you 
 know how I scold (and wish I could shake) myself for 
 being so stupidly blind, until the last two or three days, 
 to the extent to which you were wearing yourself out by 
 your unmerciful self-taxation ? " Unavoidable," say you. 
 No doubt it seems so ; but why did you allow me to con- 
 tinue in that miserable hallucination ? and do you claim 
 a monopoly in friendly considerateness and decision ? 
 Claim it or not, I am afraid you have had it thus far ; 
 but get you rested and strong once more, and see if I let 
 you steal a march upon me so again. 
 
 Our Faculty meeting yesterday afternoon carried light 
 weight, and made the faster time. Languages, Astron- 
 omy, and the Principal Ladyship all away, the rest of 
 
 * The "local habitation," which owed its familiar name to the four- 
 year-old member of the family. The busy little eye had taken in the 
 conspicuous initials which, in those pristine days, left no doubt 
 of the way to the president's house, just in time for a reply to 
 some admiring questioner : "Why, don't you know where I live? 
 I live in P.H." From that time "P. H." became the watchword 
 for all restful and friendly joys to those who sought peace within its 
 walls. 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE CORRESPONDENCE. 641 
 
 us had a cosy chat over matters and things, and passed 
 everything mm. con. The most important topic was the 
 approaching holidays and the pressure which already be- 
 gins to announce itself for individual extensions of the 
 same. All agreed that we must be stiffer on that point. 
 Do let me hear that you are in a state of utter oblivion 
 as to College and College matters. There is no College. 
 It was a myth, a dreary nightmare of the past, but it is 
 gone now. When you come back you will find us all 
 dancing no, that would never do singing with glee, 
 and will have nothing to do but join in the burden. 
 Burden ? bah ! what an ill-omened word ! Well, never 
 mind, see to it that you roll all your burdens off and 
 leave them behind you. For, believe me, all is going 
 right. He who sent us hither does not forget and will 
 not forsake us, and we shall yet praise Him who is the 
 health of our countenance and our God. 
 
 BROOKLYN, March 19, 1866. 
 
 MY DARLING DAUGHTER : I reached here safely at 11.45 
 Saturday evening, and found them all up and waiting for 
 me. It was delightful to see Uncle Ward and Aunt 
 Fanny looking so well and hearty. You may be sure it 
 was a happy meeting so far as I was concerned, for I 
 have lived so much with them that I seem to be of them 
 and they to be a part of mine, and it revived so much of 
 the slumbering past such a full tide of memories, joyful 
 and sad, came rushing over me that you will not be sur- 
 prised to learn that we watched far into the " wee hours," 
 and that it was long after my head touched the pillow 
 before the billows of excitement had subsided. 
 
 Yesterday was a full day three long and powerful 
 sermons from Mr. Beecher, two in his own pulpit, direct, 
 searching, impressive presentations of gospel truth to 
 
642 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 the hearts and consciences of saints and sinners, and the 
 third in Uncle Tasker's parlor, whither he had come to 
 enlighten his old " compagnon" on the President's policy 
 of reconstruction. It was grand, very grand, a thou- 
 sand-fold more satisfying to my own mind than anything 
 he has ever said in public, and dwarfing out of sight the 
 petty peddlings of the politicians on the subject, from 
 the President down. "Am I convinced ?" No, at least 
 I dare not admit it to myself while still feeling the sweep 
 of that wonderful current of thought and eloquence, and 
 unable as yet to discriminate between its effects and that 
 of his facts and logic. 
 
 It was one o'clock again before we got to bed, and all 
 feel this morning the reaction of the strain. 
 
 Last evening we had a full circle gathered around our 
 dear old Sabbath altar Uncle Ward and Aunt Fanny 
 with their boys; all Uncle Robert's folks down to little 
 A., who is the present occupant of the throne of infant 
 sovereignty in this empire of hearts; every one of Aunt 
 Susan's; while mother and I stood for the ancient " 152," 
 which I wish had been more largely represented. 
 
 We shall leave New York (D. V.) in the ten-o'clock 
 train to-morrow, hoping to see you about two. Kiss the 
 dear children one and all. Tell Miss Lyman she does 
 not know how it clears one's intellect and braces up one's 
 heart to get out of that whirl and to take an outside view 
 of things. I have no perplexities left. My course is as 
 clear as a revelation, and it seems very, very strange that 
 I should ever for a moment have questioned what was 
 to be done. But I feel all the while that I am stealing 
 her refreshment, and shall not be contented after my re- 
 turn until I persuade her to take her turn. 
 
 Your loving father, J. H. R. 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE-CORRESPONDENCE. 643 
 
 To Miss H. W. LYMAN 
 
 PRESIDENT'S OFFICE, July 21, 1867. 
 
 I think I wrote you from Angelica of my change of 
 purpose in relation to the Rochester Commencement. 
 After a second sweet country-Sabbath, my thoughts be- 
 gan to turn again eastward and workward. The vacant 
 professorship especially rolled itself back upon me, and 
 I found I should no longer be easy there. So, on Mon- 
 day night, I took the Erie cars and was on my way to 
 New York. 
 
 Tuesday night saw me in a comfortable state-room on 
 a " Sound " steamer, on my way to New Haven,* where 
 I was received cordially by Prof. Porter, introduced to 
 the Dons, and placed at once en rapport. Wednesday 
 was Alumni Day, and I spent the forenoon in Alumni 
 Hall, hearing reports on various subjects of interest to 
 the college, and speeches from representatives of the 
 Yale clubs now forming great centers in different sec- 
 tions of the country; the afternoon in listening to a 
 finished address from Dr. Adams of New York; and the 
 evening to a good sound political harangue from Mr. 
 Ferry, U. S. Senator-elect, on " the duty of a republic to 
 be just." I also found time to run around the grounds 
 and buildings, and to chat with a good many people. . . . 
 I saw your friend Prof. Whitney, also Profs. Thatcher, 
 Fisher, Oilman, and old Dr. Bacon, and others, and had 
 pleasant talks with all. All were full of inquiries about 
 Vassar. Three or four were named for our open pro- 
 fessorship, and I saw and talked with two. But every 
 professor, I think, mentioned one man as being just the 
 
 * [Whither he was going, in the hope of finding a professor as well 
 as of getting, at the Commencement Exercises of that great seat of 
 learning, some helpful hints for his own young enterprise at Vassar.] 
 
644 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 thing we wanted, and probably to be had, Mr. Eugene 
 Schuyler of New York, a lawyer by profession, a scholar 
 by choice and practice, a great modern linguist (he trans- 
 lated a novel from the Russian, whose publication you 
 have seen noticed in the papers lately), and one whose 
 tastes would all incline him to such a position in such an 
 institution. In the course of Commencement exercises 
 on Thursday, Prof. Porter came to me on the stage to 
 say that he learned that Mr. Schuyler had come on, and 
 he promised to find him and introduce me. 
 
 The Commencement exercises commenced at 9^ A.M. 
 and continued till 5^ P.M. (!) with an interval of two 
 hours, or so, at noon for dinner. The pieces were all 
 very good, with a wonderful sameness of sentiment, 
 style, and delivery, and as there were twenty-two of them' 
 with a dozen pieces of music averaging from ten to fif- 
 teen minutes each, we might be pardoned for beginning 
 to suspect that there might be too much of a good 
 thing, and for meditating a pilgrimage of honor and 
 homage to the tomb of the Roman Sage (whoever he 
 may be) who invented the maxim, Ne quid nimis. When 
 the literary Decalogue is written, let that be the first 
 three and the last commandment. (And methinks I hear 
 Dr. Bishop say, Amen.) 
 
 The ceremony of conferring degrees, for which I had 
 sat through the whole, the temple to this formidable 
 portico, was so singularly unceremonious, and, in the 
 comparison, so ludicrously small, that, if I could have 
 obeyed the impulse, I should have thrown myself back 
 and laughed, "sans intermission, an hour by the dial." 
 About one hundred and twenty young men, in succes- 
 sive squads (" awkward squads") of ten each, some with 
 hats and some without, came down the middle aisle, 
 stumbled up the steps on to the stage, and over the 
 toes and shins of its occupants to the front of the pulpit ; 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE CORRESPONDENCE. 645 
 
 listened to the venerable president as (handing to one of a 
 squad the sheep-skins for all) he read to each the self- 
 same Latin form, in tones so low that, though sitting 
 within twenty feet, I could not catch a distinct word after 
 the ever-repeated initial formula, "Pro auctoritate mihi 
 commissa " then stumbled over another set of shins and 
 toes and down another flight of steps into a side aisle, 
 by which they disappeared and were forever lost in the 
 common herd, mingling their special verdure with the 
 universal mottled mass. Meanwhile the spectators in 
 the gallery, as those who had no interest in what was 
 going on and were glad they had not, were rejoicing in 
 their release from the long confinement and making the 
 best (that is, the liveliest) use of their emancipation, both 
 with legs and tongues. Everybody was glad when, the 
 last squad having come and gone, the President raised 
 his voice to request " Order during prayer," and closed 
 the performance with a short prayer and the benediction. 
 For myself, considering what I had come for and what I 
 had got, I felt like the Irishman who had been allowed 
 to work his passage on the canal by leading the horse, 
 and who concluded at the end of the route, " But for the 
 name of the thing, faix ! he might as well travel afut." 
 In the evening, at President Woolsey's levee, Professor 
 Porter sought me out to say that he had found Schuyler, 
 and ascertained that, to his own great delight, he had just 
 obtained the consulship at Moscow, and that nothing 
 could keep him this side the Atlantic. But, since seeing 
 me, Prof. Porter had thought of another man who per- 
 haps was even better suited to our wants, and he de- 
 scribed him temptingly. He was a brother of Major 
 Robert, Professor of Practical Engineering at West Point, 
 whither he had gone a few days before, expecting about 
 this time to accept an appointment offered him at Gran- 
 ville College, Ohio. If I could secure him, he thought I 
 
646 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 would get a prize. It was a race against time, and I 
 won it by a hand's breadth. I reached West Point the 
 next P.M., and found my man, talked with him till mid- 
 night, began again in the morning and talked till noon ; 
 brought him and his brother up to the College the next 
 day; answered all. his questions ; took him to see Dr 
 Bishop, and parted with him with the understanding that, 
 if we wanted him (within a week), he would come. . . . 
 I take to him, and feel it in my bones that he will be 
 the man, and that before the week is ended we shall 
 have a Professor of Languages. 
 
 ANGELICA, August 18, 1867. 
 
 Here I am for another peaceful Sabbath. I had prom- 
 ised to preach for the people here, in fulfillment of an 
 old engagement. But my good brother Bliss, with sister 
 M. A., happened along in time for me to press him into 
 that service, and to-day has been a true Sabbath. The 
 sermon was a quiet, thoughtful unfolding of the thought 
 (i John 3 : 2) that " the essential blessedness of the 
 heavenly state consists in assimilation in character to 
 Christ, through intimate acquaintance and immediate 
 intercourse with Him." Can it, will it ever be? Is it 
 a reality, this blessed hope of ours, and not a bright 
 phantom of illusory desire ? a sober fact, so soon to be 
 grasped in actual experience ? How hard to believe 
 how infinitely harder not to believe it! Who can repress 
 a sigh for the speedy dissolution of this "earthly house"? 
 If there be nothing beyond, surely the sooner it is re- 
 solved to elemental dust the better ; and if we have 
 another, and such another, "eternal 'in the heavens," 
 with such capacities and such companionships! 
 
 But I do not feel quite ready for my departure yet. 
 The conviction strengthens within me that I must see 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE CORRESPONDENCE. 647 
 
 this College business through through at least this first 
 period of uncertainty and doubt and embryonic confu- 
 sion, until it has won a determinate and recognized place 
 among the institutions of Christian culture, and com- 
 menced the career which wiser and firmer hands shall 
 guide to blessed results. Tune, Domine, dimittas! 
 
 NEW YORK, August 24. 
 
 Your note followed me here to Babel, where I am 
 stewing among the newspapers. It was hard to lose the 
 end of that pleasant visit with brother Bliss, and the 
 blackberries, which had just reached their perfection. 
 But as you say (and wisely was it said), " No self-indul- 
 gence when College interests are at stake." 
 
 I have finished the work with Dr. Bishop and Prof. 
 Backus, and they have gone home. And now I must 
 see what can be done for a Music Professor, and 
 shall " fight it out on that line" if it takes the rest of 
 the vacation. It is a little trying to find that it is still 
 necessary to propitiate the Almighty Dollar. Is it pos- 
 sible then to serve God and Mammon both at once ? 
 But that is a hard speech, and let me take it right back. 
 Something must be sacrificed, no doubt, to material 
 necessities. But I cannot help longing for a little more 
 freedom in working for some of the higher ends. 
 
 The letter to Miss G. left by mail the day I received 
 it. It will be hard to let her go, but is Vassar College 
 so low that it cannot afford to wish well to its teachers 
 and to advise them honestly? We ought not to want to 
 keep her unless we are prepared to make it for her 
 advantage, ought we ? 
 
 POUGHKEEPSIE, Sept. 2, 1867. 
 
 "Oh! this College, this College! this ponderous load, 
 this inexorable tyrant, this "old man of the sea"! shall 
 
648 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 I ever escape its grasp? Shall I ever roll off the burden? 
 Nothing is ever settled, "never ending, still beginning;" 
 the Sisyphean task undoes itself as fast as it is accom- 
 plished, and, whoever is free, I must go back to begin it 
 over, I must carry the perpetual weight of responsibility 
 and care. And at every point I am so unequal to its 
 demands! Did I mistake how could I so utterly mis- 
 take the Master's will as to suppose myself called to 
 this place? Or did He send me here, as He has sent a 
 thousand more faithful servants to a gibbet, a stake, a 
 fiery furnace, to chasten and to test me ? One consola- 
 tion remains my strength is fast wasting, and I shall 
 soon know the whole." 
 
 Such, my dear friend, was the agreeable tenor of my 
 meditations on Friday night, as I lay in a close hot room 
 at the Morgan House, stung by mosquitoes, with a bur- 
 den of too much supper on my stomach and a burden 
 of too' much care on my brain. I had been canvassing 
 New York for a week in search of a Musical Professor; I 
 had stirred up all Teutondom; had satisfied myself that 
 there was nothing American that would do; had four or 
 five Germans in me, whom I was trying to digest for the 
 Committee on Faculty (no one of the lot digestible); had 
 only two schemes that seemed to promise well, neither 
 of which I feared would be appropriated, and the general 
 result appeared to my night-visions as a prospect of 
 " chaos come again" at the opening of next term. 
 
 You will be pleased to know that the morning scat- 
 tered a large portion of the demons, and that the rest 
 have since followed suit. When I got back home (yes, 
 home, and a dear home I find it); when I saw what had 
 been done since I left for our greater comfort; when the 
 images of the loved and the true started up around me 
 in corridor and chapel and library and " P. H.," and as 
 I wandered over the grounds; when I met Dr. B. and 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE CORRESPONDENCE. 649 
 
 Mrs. B. and Farrar and Schou, and became aware how 
 much healthier the tone of the management is becoming; 
 when I went up to Prof. - 's room, so cheerful and 
 tasteful and pleasant, and found him at work so intelli- 
 gently, in preparation for his duties, and had more con- 
 genial and inspiring talk with him in an hour than with 
 others in two years, and heard more music (oh! Bach 
 and Beethoven, and Handel and Haydn!) in one even- 
 ing than the College has heard since it opened, do you 
 wonder that my lungs began to crow? that I laughed at 
 the blue-devils? that my heart clapped its hands, and 
 my whole soul sang praises to God? 
 
 To-day (Sunday) I have rested: physically by both a 
 morning and afternoon service of profound sleep, and 
 spiritually by sweet meditations on the faithfulness and 
 goodness of Him we serve, as I sat and listened to Prof. 
 Robert " discoursing most eloquent music." To-morrow 
 1 take the early train for New York. Nothing is accom- 
 plished yet; but I go hopeful. I am trying for a good 
 thing, or what seems so to me, and I am willing that 
 God shall decide. 
 
 During the year previous to the date of this letter, 
 had occurred a most notable event in the history of 
 the College the death of its venerable and beloved 
 Founder. Mr. Vassar had always retained his place 
 on the Board of Trustees, and every year at their annual 
 meeting addressed them on the subject so near to his 
 heart. Dr. Raymond's own description of the striking 
 scene will be of interest : 
 
 The last occasion on which Mr. Vassar met his associates of 
 the Board was as memorable as the first. It was on the 23d of 
 June, 1868. Seven years had intervened; the first four had 
 been years of unintermitted and exhausting care, as he watched 
 the development of his plans, personally superintending the 
 
650 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 erection of the magnificent college edifice, the laying out of its 
 grounds, the collection and arrangement of its scientific cabinet, 
 its library, and all its varied appointments for mental and physical 
 training, and participating with intense interest in the long and 
 anxious discussions by which its internal organization was slowly 
 matured, and its numerous offices of trust were suitably filled. 
 The last three, the years which followed the successful opening 
 of the college, were a period of serene and solid satisfaction 
 during which, as he himself testified, the expenditure of his for- 
 tune was yielding him more genuine enjoyment than he had ever 
 experienced in its acquisition. 
 
 The day of which we speak was singularly beautiful, even in 
 that most beautiful of the months. Mr. Vassar had, for some 
 weeks, been suffering from a functional derangement of the 
 heart, which, without materially affecting his general health, had 
 considerably reduced his strength. But that morning he rose 
 feeling more vigorous than usual, dressed himself, according to 
 his custom, with scrupulous care, and drove to the College at the 
 hour appointed for the annual meeting of the Board. It was the 
 day preceding Commencement, and the College was full of the 
 cheerful bustle of preparation. Parents and friends were gath- 
 ering and making arrangements to take the students home, and 
 the light of the coming vacation was reflected in many a happy 
 face. Among them all, none shone with a fuller joy than that 
 of the venerable man who moved from group to group, the 
 observed of all observers, with a kindly look and salutation for 
 all, and a certain radiance of beauty which many noticed and 
 spoke of afterward as not of earthly origin. 
 
 At 1 1 A.M. the Board convened, and, immediately after the 
 organization of the meeting, Mr. Vassar proceeded to read his 
 customary address. As his tone was somewhat feeble, and he 
 read sitting, the members of the Board gathered closer around 
 him and listened in profound silence. Suddenly, when he had 
 almost finished, his voice faltered and ceased, the paper dropped 
 from his hand upon the table by which he sat, his head fell back 
 upon the chair and so he was gone! Without a struggle or 
 sign of pain, his spirit had passed away ; and after the lapse of 
 a few moments, during which the machinery of life seemed 
 gently running down, his body rested in its last repose. 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE CORRESPONDENCE. 651 
 
 When, an hour later, the trustees reassembled to listen to the 
 closing paragraph of the address, it was found to have an almost 
 prophetic interest : 
 
 " And now, gentlemen, on closing these remarks, I would 
 humbly and solemnly implore the Divine Goodness to continue 
 His smiles and favor on your institution, and to bestow on all 
 hearts connected therewith His love and blessing, having pecu- 
 liarly protected us by His providence through all our college 
 trials for three consecutive years, without a single death in our 
 Board, or serious illness or death of one of the pupils within the 
 college walls. Wishing you, gentlemen, a continuance of health 
 and happiness, I bid you a cordial and final farewell. Thanking 
 you kindly for your official attentions and services, and not ex- 
 pecting, from my advanced years and increasing infirmities, to 
 meet with you officially again, I implore the Divine Goodness to 
 guide and direct you aright in all your councils." 
 
 Had Mr. Vassar read these words himself, they might have 
 been received as comparatively conventional and commonplace; 
 but, in the light of the solemn event which had just occurred, 
 they were felt to possess a peculiar and solemn significance. If 
 he had been permitted to choose the circumstances of his death, 
 he could hardly have desired a change. He had struck the fin- 
 ishing blow in what he called "the last great work of his life;" 
 and he had done it with characteristic deliberation and care. 
 During the preceding winter he had revised and carefully re- 
 written his will, and made a disposition of his worldly estate 
 which he intended should be final ; and in the annual address, 
 which he believed would be his last, he had taken great pains 
 to incorporate all that he wished to say in regard to the future 
 management of the college. He had been permitted to say it 
 all personally, and under circumstances which would invest his 
 parting counsels with a sacred interest; and only that portion 
 of his written communication was reserved for another voice 
 to utter, which depended for its true interpretation and pro- 
 foundest effect on the silence of his own. His work then was 
 done, completely and well done; and there, on the field of 
 philanthropic effort to which he had consecrated his well-earned 
 means and his latest energies, the monuments of his enlightened 
 liberality standing on every side around him, amidst his chosen 
 
652 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 fellow-laborers and with the implements of his generous toil in 
 his hands, there, just as the last stroke was struck, his life and 
 his labor ceased together. " He was not, for God took him"- 
 and who can hesitate to recognize, in the remarkable circum- 
 stances of his death, a seal of the divine approbation and 
 acceptance? 
 
 To a DAUGHTER. 
 
 COLLEGE HOME, Oct. 17, 1869. 
 
 We have never commenced a year in the College with 
 such an appearance of healthy interest in religious things 
 as this year. The improvement is quite noticeable, and 
 I do not know how to account for it. The proportion of 
 professing Christians (between one third and one fourth) 
 is rather less than usual. But the attendance at all the 
 religious meetings was from the very first much more 
 general, and the readiness of the Christians to take part 
 in the meetings is very encouraging. The meetings are 
 all interesting. The monthly concert, by the Society of 
 Religious Inquiry, drew together a large proportion of 
 the students in the chapel, and the exercises, without 
 any foreign aid, were delightful. I hope these are har- 
 bringers of good. Would it not be pleasant if the Lord 
 should send us an old-fashioned "outpouring of the 
 Spirit," and many of these dear girls should be brought 
 to know and love the Saviour! I have taken to the pen 
 again, in my preparations for the pulpit, and you will be 
 charmed to know that I have stopped short of forty min- 
 utes in every sermon. The old students and teachers 
 enjoy it all the more for the memory of what they have 
 suffered heretofore. 
 
 In other respects, the College never before opened so 
 satisfactorily. The number of students is the largest 
 we have ever received, and of a higher average of ex- 
 cellence. We have sifted out the chaff more mercilessly. 
 About thirty failed to meet the examination tests and 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE CORRESPONDENCE. 653 
 
 were sent away, and this may have something to do 
 with the general vigor with which the students as a body 
 are beginning to work. Our young professors and new 
 teachers are taking hold with a will yes, with a ////, 
 that's the word. They know what they want, and mean 
 to bring things up to a higher standard in more than 
 one respect. They are very independent too, and we 
 shall have some live and perhaps sharp discussions. But 
 I like it. It augurs well for the progress of the College. 
 
 During the year 1870 Miss Lyman's health had been 
 perceptibly failing, and although she resumed her duties 
 in the fall of that year, it soon became evident that 
 she would be unable to continue them. She gradually 
 withdrew from the college family and from her cares 
 among them, until at last obliged to admit, although 
 unwillingly, that her work was done. Her closing days 
 are described by Dr. Raymond in letters to Brook 
 lyn friends : 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE, Feb. 4, 1871. 
 
 A fuller week it seems to me I never had. First of all, 
 Miss Lyman gave out and gave up last Sunday, her birth- 
 day. It was the last day, I think, that she has been out of 
 her bed. She had been expecting till the last moment to 
 meet her Bible-class, but then sent for me and resigned it 
 to my hands, saying that it was the last thing she had per- 
 mitted herself to give up, and that she felt her work on earth 
 was ended. 
 
 On Sunday morning she had our family into her parlor, 
 according to her old custom, after the service, to show us 
 her birthday presents, mostly of flowers, and seemed quite 
 happy and bright. She sat in her grand new sick-chair, 
 beside the table covered with the pretty things, and talked 
 for more than half an hour with all her old animation, and 
 
654 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 was almost rebellious when the doctor came in and sent us 
 away. But that night came the great change. " Tokens 
 were sent that the Master had called for her, and that she 
 must prepare to cross the river." Since then she has failed 
 rapidly, and has several times seemed on the point of depar- 
 ture. She suffers no pain, but has distressing paroxysms of 
 prostration and faintness, and an exhausting (though not 
 violent) cough. Her mind is clear and calm and trustful. 
 She only prays for patience to wait and endure until the 
 struggle is ended. Her sister Mrs. S. is with her. She has 
 disposed of all her earthly affairs, and dismissed them finally 
 from her mind. Dr. Avery is devoted in her attentions, 
 though hardly restored to her own health, and is an 
 unspeakable comfort to Miss Lyman. Miss L. is too weak 
 for much conversation, but, as she finds strength, sends for 
 one and another to say what she has on her mind. Of 
 course there are many things which occur to her to say to 
 me, and I try to be at hand to respond to every call. She 
 never seemed so noble or so lovable. 
 
 The past week has also been the last of our first 
 semester. For the first time we had formal Examinary 
 Committees, appointed by the Trustees, and, though most 
 of them stayed away, I had to give attention to those who 
 came. Worst of all, I have had classes to arrange, and 
 every student to provide for, for the next term, involving 
 several Faculty meetings and an infinite amount of detail. 
 Every night I have been pegging away till ten or eleven. 
 Our last Faculty meeting adjourned last evening at half- 
 past ten, and the last papers were not drawn off till after 
 midnight. I could hardly have got through if Prof. Orton 
 had not taken my " Communicants' Meeting" (preparatory 
 lecture) last evening, and to-day I exchanged with one of 
 the city pastors. But I am nicely through, and everything 
 is ready to start our big machine to-morrow without a day's 
 delay on the work of a new term. I feel well repaid for 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE CORRESPONDENCE. 655 
 
 my labor, and a little proud, though probably there will be 
 blunders enough developed to-morrow to chasten that. 
 Miss Lyman used to help me a great deal in this work, but 
 she hardly realizes now that it is going on. The routine 
 of the College she has ceased to think of, though her mind 
 is still busy in regard to the great principles of its organiza- 
 tion and administration. 
 
 There is indeed a shadow upon the house ; how soon the 
 angel who casts it will enter, we know not. But it is not 
 gloom, and things go on quietly and natural as ever. Our 
 suffering friend has not the uplift and comfort which we 
 could wish for her. The physical prostration and distress 
 are too great to allow of much thought, and the " weakness 
 and emptiness," she says, "are in the heart too." Not that 
 there is the least apparent wavering of faith. She knows in 
 whom she has believed. Nor any reluctance and unreadi- 
 ness to depart; indeed her chief complaint of herself is that 
 she is so unwilling to stay. " Oh," said she to me yester- 
 day, " I have been and am so rebellious against this pro- 
 longing of life. ... I know what it means. God means to 
 keep me here until I am willing to stay. ... I am afraid we do 
 wrong in our representations of death, as though it were an 
 easy and bright thing. The minister paints it in such 
 glowing colors, and the boys and girls sing about it in their 
 beautiful hymns, and we all come to believe that ' dying is 
 but going home.' The truth is, I suspect, that except in 
 very rare instances dying is very hard work, and we need 
 much grace to do it." 
 
 Miss Lyman's death, so widely and deeply mourned, 
 occurred February 24. At the funeral services, held in 
 Montreal, Dr. Raymond was requested to add a few 
 words to the tributes of affection and respect from her 
 
656 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 pastor and others. It was difficult for him to speak at 
 all, far more to give adequate expression to his views 
 and feelings, but he felt that it would be a privi- 
 lege at least to express to the citizens of Montreal, and 
 especially to the personal friends of Miss Lyman so 
 largely gathered there, the sense of indebtedness, sin- 
 cerely felt by himself and his associates, for the loan 
 of so much of wisdom, grace, and efficiency to the inter- 
 est which he stood there to represent. 
 
 " Our gain" (said he), " I am well aware, was your loss, and we 
 have nothing to return but our thanks. Indeed I should hardly 
 know how to meet many here, who mourned her removal from 
 your midst six years ago as an irreparable bereavement to them- 
 selves and their children, were I not sure that they know as well 
 as I that she was influenced in her decision to change the field 
 of her labors by motives far above all personal or local consid- 
 erations. She had had similar invitations before; had, indeed, 
 so frequently considered the question with the same result that, 
 when the proposition came from Vassar, she had the answer 
 ready. She would have at once dismissed it, with a smile, but 
 for one expression in the letter containing it, which touched a 
 chord of peculiar sensitiveness in her bosom, and compelled a 
 more careful and serious consideration : "Whether in this field 
 the MASTER has work for you to do." And when after a full 
 investigation of the facts, and having sought counsel of those in 
 whose advices she was accustomed to confide, she became satis- 
 fied that it was a call of Christian duty, she decided at once to 
 go, nor for a moment after swerved from her purpose. 
 
 " It was no easy task to which she was called to aid in the 
 organization and direction of a college for women, whose aims 
 were, perhaps, higher and its resources ampler than those of 
 any similar institution in the world. To that task she brought 
 no ordinary qualifications. Her natural gifts, amounting almost 
 to a genius, for her profession, had been enriched by an educa- 
 tion of no ordinary range. Her early training in a college town 
 in New England, her extensive acquaintance with teachers, 
 professors, and Christian ministers, her familiarity with the 
 
VASSAR COLLEGE CORRESPONDENCE. 657 
 
 many interesting questions which have of late been agitated 
 respecting the education of women, and her life-long experience 
 in the actual management of the young, all made her counsel 
 invaluable in the molding of the great enterprise to which she 
 had been called. The direction of the whole domestic life of 
 the College, and the immediate material supervision of the per- 
 sonal interests, the social department, and the spiritual welfare 
 of its pupils, devolved upon her; and I need not say that the 
 care of a family of more than three hundred and fifty young 
 ladies, and with them more than thirty resident teachers, to one 
 especially whose standard was so high, was no sinecure." 
 
 Dr. R. spoke at some length of her responsible and 
 varied duties as Lady Principal of Vassar College, and 
 of her distinguished ability and success in their dis- 
 charge, remarking that 
 
 " in the performance of her difficult work she never spared her- 
 self. Well has it been said by her pastor and friend that hers 
 
 was a life of toil and suffering But she bore all 
 
 cheerfully ; even when the burden of a wasting disease was 
 added, and long after many would have felt themselves 
 exempted from further responsibility, to the last moment of 
 possible exertion she labored on in devotion to the Master she 
 served, to the cause she so much loved, and to the precious inter- 
 ests of her charge. . . . 
 
 " Summoned from my study to witness her last moments, I 
 came into her room just as the latest breath was leaving her 
 lips, and I could almost fancy that I caught the rustle of the 
 wings as her emancipated spirit leaped from its prison-house of 
 clay to immortal life on high. Wonderful was the change which 
 passed upon the face as we stood and watched the expression 
 of weariness and pain passing away, and the features settling 
 to a perfect repose. ' Even so He giveth His beloved sleep.' " 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 
 
 THERE are none who can better understand the im- 
 pulse which Dr. Raymond gave to the cause of a 
 higher education, and the wisdom with which he 
 directed that impulse, than those who came under his 
 guidance as students, and who learned from him lessons 
 which gave a new significance to life. One who had 
 known him in this relation replies to a friend who had 
 asked, " what was the secret of his influence ?"- 
 
 I wish I could as easily express my sense of the secret of 
 President Raymond's influence as I can my conviction of its 
 power and enduringness. But it is not easy to say why we 
 loved and honored him, only, it was impossible to do other- 
 wise. When I recall those College days, I think less of any- 
 thing he said to us or did for us than of himself. 
 
 In dealing with us, he seemed ever to take it for granted that 
 our aims were high, that our lives were consecrated ; and to be 
 so regarded is for every thoughtful soul a lift upward. 
 
 It seems to me that the best influence is generally so subtile 
 as to defy analysis. The power of a life hidden with Christ in 
 God cannot be set down in words. As I try to think what it 
 was which made me love Dr. Raymond, what were the traits of 
 character in him which impressed me most, again and again 
 come up the words strength and sweetness. He seemed to live 
 near to God ; and often when he spoke to us, it was as if he had 
 but just come from communion with Him. I think of him, too, 
 as being wonderfully just, wonderfully patient, in a position 
 where it must have been peculiarly difficult to be just and patient. 
 
 K. A. S. 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 659 
 
 There were many others who found it difficult to 
 separate what he did for those whom he taught from 
 what he was. The good that he wrought upon them is 
 incidentally defined in a sermon recently preached at 
 Vassar College by Rev. Lyman Abbott of New York. 
 In illustration of a thought which he was seeking to 
 develop, Dr. Abbott said : 
 
 We are not merely to be disciples or pupils of Christ, we are 
 to be followers or imitators of him. It has always been charac- 
 teristic of great instructors that they have done more than 
 teach their disciples they have impressed their own character 
 upon those who were under their influence. It was this power 
 of impressing himself upon his pupils that made Arnold of 
 Rugby great; it was this power of impressing themselves upon 
 their scholars that gave to President Hopkins of Williams 
 College, Dr. Lyman Beecher of Lane Seminary, Dr. Finney of 
 Oberlin, and others whom it would be easy to name, a national 
 reputation. Nay, I need not go outside these walls and our 
 own memories for an illustration to serve my purpose. The 
 free atmosphere of Vassar College, as fraught with inquiry and 
 investigation ; the characteristic tendency of its pupils to learn 
 and judge for themselves ; its breadth, its catholicity, its Chris- 
 tian liberality, and its large charity, are all monuments bearing 
 witness to the power of him whose child in a certain sense the 
 College was; who did more than stand at the head of its admin- 
 istration ; who did more than teach a portion of its classes ; who 
 impressed himself upon the institution in all its departments, 
 and the pupils in all its classes, and left it as a monument to 
 his memory when he went forth from this sphere to a larger, 
 higher, nobler work beyond the vale. 
 
 Dr. Abbott had before recognized the spirit of his 
 teachings, and embodied his view of it in a sketch of 
 Dr. Raymond, from which an extract is taken : 
 
 Some small men cast large shadows ; some large men cast 
 small shadows. Dr. Raymond was greater than his reputation. 
 
66o JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 He was unambitious of fame. He was a teacher, an administra- 
 tor, and a pioneer, and he found his reward in his pupils, his col- 
 lege, and the silent influence of his work in the community. His 
 character was essentially that of an instructor. " I wonder," 
 said a friend to him in a quiet conference in his parlor one day 
 last spring, " that you do not weary of going over and over again 
 the same dry and dusty path, the alphabet of mental and moral 
 science." " That," replied Dr. Raymond, with quiet significance, 
 " is because you are not a teacher. An investigator finds his en- 
 joyment in exploring new fields; a teacher in developing new 
 minds." His interest was in his pupils ; his reward was in their 
 affection. When, last Commencement Day, the valedictorian, 
 speaking for her class, bade him good-by, the tears came un- 
 bidden, to his eyes. "These farewells," said he afterwards to 
 us, "are too much for me. For I know they meant it, every 
 word." To him character was everything, and the instrument 
 nothing. The library at Vassar has no doors to its book-cases, 
 and the room itself is scarcely ever closed. " It must use up the 
 books fast," we said to him, " to have them so free for use," 
 "So the Board sometimes think," he replied ; "but the books 
 are made for the young ladies, not the young ladies for the books. 
 The more they are used the better." And in Vassar they are in 
 constant use. Dr. Raymond lived not for Vassar College ; both 
 he and the College lived for Vassar collegians and alumnae. 
 
 In his religious faith he was a Christian liberal. He believed 
 in liberty of mind and conscience more than in any special creed 
 or dogma. He had an intense faith in the vital spiritual truths 
 of the Christian religion, and small regard for the accretions 
 and accidents of a later human philosophy. He was more de- 
 sirous to make the young ladies think for themselves than to 
 induce them to think as he did. He gathered about him a fac- 
 ulty representing widely differing phases of theological opinion. 
 But his co-laborers were all agreed in the two articles of Christ's 
 creed : love to God and love to man ; and on that platform he 
 and they worked harmoniously togther. There are two ways in 
 which young people may be trained to regard skepticism : to fear 
 and flee from it ; to be interested in and investigate it. Dr. 
 Raymond had no faith in the piety that is rooted in ignorance, 
 and under his influence Vassar College has fearlessly taught its 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 661 
 
 pupils that Christianity has nothing to fear from doubt, that 
 nothing is to be accepted as true that will not bear investigation. 
 As an administrator he had the rare art of governing without 
 seeming to do so. It is comparatively easy to govern ; Dr. Ray- 
 mond moulded. He rarely issued a command ; but rarely was a 
 request disregarded by either his co-laborers in the faculty or 
 by his pupils. He could stand resolutely for a principle, or for 
 his own authority in administration if need be; as was once or 
 twice proved in special exigencies. But generally he had no 
 need to do so. He pervaded the college rather than ruled it ; 
 he was felt rather than obeyed. 
 
 The true " secret" of his empire over the hearts and 
 wills of those who listened to him is divined by one 
 who as a teacher at Vassar College had seen its power: 
 
 Though no man living could hold more strongly to the pro- 
 priety and necessity of absolute obedience to rightful authority, 
 yet he was untiring in his efforts to win those whom he was set 
 to govern to a complete and hearty accord with the eternal prin- 
 ciples on which all rightful authority rests. This may perhaps 
 be said to have been the key-note of his administration. He de- 
 sired yes, he yearned to teach his students that Law is not a 
 tyrant, but a friend. He seemed not to exact obedience to his 
 own authority so much as to a higher authority, whose claims 
 upon himself he deeply recognized. For this law he was jealous 
 with exceeding jealousy, while offenses against his personal dig- 
 nity were passed by as lightly as the circumstances of the case 
 would at all permit. His calm, judicial bearing indicated most 
 clearly his deep respect for the law which it was his to expound. 
 
 No small aspect of any question, even though it might be the 
 aspect upon which the world was running, away, could ever be- 
 guile him from his habit of cool and thorough investigation. 
 His profound conviction that every human soul has a hunger 
 and an aptitude for truth made it possible for him to be very 
 patient, to hold the present subject to the future, to believe in 
 those large results in which Time is an important factor. Therein 
 was shown preeminently the breadth of his nature. He could, 
 in the face of all discouragement, trust Wisdom to win her way 
 
662 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 by her own loveliness, and to come at last to be a dear and per- 
 petual guest in the heart which had freely chosen her. It was 
 his delight to show how lovely she is, and to induce these young 
 creatures to sit humbly at her feet. And his desire for them was 
 by no means limited to intellectual culture, even of the largest. 
 If only he might persuade them that all lines of knowledge and 
 thought lead up to the perfect central orb tht " Wisdom un- 
 create" then, indeed, he could trust that his heart's desire for 
 them would, sooner or later, be accomplished. 
 
 He sometimes used the word " Other-worldliness," and you 
 felt, as he uttered it, that in it he summed up his idea of the 
 spirit in which life should be conducted. 
 
 The lessons which many owed to him have been 
 again and again acknowledged. Not a few hearts 
 echo the words of an early graduate of the College, 
 who was one of the first to mourn his loss: 
 
 Oh, if we alumnae, scattered all over the country as we are, 
 could only look upon his face once more ! We can even take 
 no action as a body, but you must all feel that a thousand 
 hearts are with you in the fellowship of grief. President Ray- 
 mond was always to me, as he must have been to all who came 
 under his influence, an ideal ; and though he has gone from us, 
 he must ever live in the lives of those who have known his 
 example. I can truly say that to his teaching I owe most of my 
 appreciation of what life means. 
 
 The loving gratitude and remembrance of his students 
 have been so warmly and so widely expressed that a 
 special place is given in this memorial to their words of 
 personal reminiscence. From the many tributes which 
 have come from them, those are chosen which most 
 fully recall the times when his power to move them was 
 strongly felt. Such were the occasions of his chapel- 
 talks, which became noted for their effect in revolution- 
 izing public opinion in the college community. They 
 were all the more impressive from occurring at wide 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 663 
 
 in ervals, and only when the current of popular feeling 
 needed to be turned with a strong hand. The memory 
 of every student of Vassar must hold some picture of 
 the excited company that came out of the chapel at 
 such times, laughing and crying, fairly convicted and 
 converted by his words ; and most of these crises be- 
 came known to tradition as well as memory. One of 
 the alumnae writes : 
 
 We always felt it to be the great misfortune of the students 
 that the pressure of care on the shoulders of the President made 
 his familiar intercourse with them so nearly impossible; and yet 
 I have been surprised at the strong expressions of feeling at his 
 loss which I have heard from those who were " preparatories " 
 during his last year at the College. 
 
 The first few months of my college life showed me much in 
 him that appealed in a quiet way to my admiration ; but my 
 first approximate idea of the force of his character came from 
 one of his chapel-talks. This was, I think, a common experi- 
 ence. Some girl used to say, " No one knows the President 
 till she has heard him thunder and lighten a little." It is hard 
 to give one who did not hear them an idea of the effectiveness 
 of these talks. When they were of the nature of reproofs, the 
 general principle underlying the case was so clearly set forth, 
 and, at the same time, sympathy with the offenders and an 
 appreciation of the whole situation were so apparent, that no 
 student with any claim to fair-mindedness could help seeing the 
 reasonableness of the President's position. When they were 
 needed, there could be words that burned like fire; but the 
 seriousness of the talk was often relieved by a little humor. 
 
 G. H. L. 
 
 A more extended account of some of these appeals 
 is given by a former student, who still remains at the 
 College as a most valued teacher : 
 
 Perhaps the best proof of the impressiveness of President 
 Raymond's chapel-talks is the fact, paradoxical as it may appear, 
 
664 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 that those who most felt their influence find difficulty in recalling 
 their exact form of expression. They were so admirably adapted 
 to the hearers' needs that they were assimilated almost direct- 
 ly, became merged in the thought and feeling of each individual. 
 At least, I recognize this peculiarity in their relation to myself as 
 the reason why I can give little more than the motif of some 
 most logical and exquisitely planned addresses which worked 
 powerfully upon the sentiment and action of our College world. 
 Such a one is associated in my mind with the year 1871. It 
 was directed against that mistaken spirit of narrow utilitarian- 
 ism which has in all ages been the bane of woman's education. 
 Naturally, the earlier years of the College brought to her class- 
 rooms many students who were still influenced by the old 
 belief that woman's declining years began early in the twenties, 
 that no educational advantages could compensate her for with- 
 drawal from society at the so-called " marriageable age." Con- 
 sequently there was a wide-spread desire to make every attain- 
 ment, however imperfect or superficial, a means of rapid ad- 
 vancement in the College course, to "skip" classes whenever 
 such action seemed feasible, by means of the most daring and 
 irregular of special courses, At a time when the Faculty had 
 been inundated by an unusual number of such plans, urged by 
 individuals with an importunity often tantamount to imperti- 
 nence, President Raymond detained us one evening after 
 prayers by a most impressive plea for truthfulness and thor- 
 oughness in our Collegiate work. He began, as he invariably 
 did, by liberal concessions to the special needs of those who 
 were petitioning to " make up three semesters of Greek during the 
 summer vacation, so as to graduate with the class of 187-," or 
 to "take four and a half studies the first semester of the Junior 
 year, since I have studied Physics in the High School course 
 and have a strong taste for Natural History, so that Geology 
 will not be difficult for me." Such concessions were never his 
 least effective arguments ; the most hard-headed special pleader 
 inevitably winced under the delicate edge of the implied satire. 
 Then came a clear, striking exposition of the purposes of the 
 College curriculum, the necessity of its symmetry, the close inter- 
 dependence of its parts, the fallacy of that policy which would 
 work it out in a slovenly or hasty or one-sided fashion. And as 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 665 
 
 he warmed to his subject, he rose into eloquence in extolling 
 the glory of genuine education, and denouncing the meanness 
 which would seek to purchase its shadow without just claim to 
 its substance. He admonished us fervently of our high calling 
 as among the first women to seek its blessings, and warned us 
 of the degree to which we must imperil the success of Matthew 
 Vassar's experiment if we allowed ourselves to countenance the 
 superficial methods of the young ladies' finishing school 
 within our College halls. 
 
 The effect of his words was marvelous, combating, as they 
 did, the vanity and the self-interest of those at whom they were 
 particularly aimed. Many even of those who had not felt them- 
 selves the object of his reproof were stirred to a nobler and more 
 scholarly ambition by his exhortation, and this effect was not 
 the exception but the rule. 
 
 He was singularly fortunate in dealing with the minor morals 
 of our conduct. For instance, he was a firm believer in mus- 
 cular Christianity, and frequently called our attention to the 
 observance of that College rule requiring regular out-of-door 
 exercise. On one occasion he playfully ridiculed us for the 
 drooping, listless gait with which many students performed 
 their daily sixty minutes' walk, saying, " Young ladies, I see you 
 sauntering through these grounds like prisoners weighed down 
 by chain and ball. I would rather have you bound forth to meet 
 your exercise, rejoicing in the blessings of God's free air and 
 bracing wind." The hint was obeyed in the same merry spirit 
 which characterized its expression. Two days later, when a 
 jovial group of girls rushed out of a side entrance with such 
 vigor as nearly to overthrow Dr. Raymond's entering figure, 
 they laughingly justified themselves, "Oh, well, we were only 
 bounding forth to meet our exercise as he directed us to do." 
 No doubt he ascribed the overflow of spirits to its proper cause. 
 No matter was so trivial that he could not dignify it by his 
 judicious handling; no reproof so severe that his kindly sympa- 
 thy could not somewhat soften its harshness. Not seldom a 
 humorous allusion or inference closed his most serious talks, 
 and let us down easily to the level of every-day thought. After 
 the lapse of ten years, I well remember such a one which pointed 
 an earnest appeal for loyalty to College regulations. "But," 
 
666 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 said the Doctor, " what if, after all, there should be one among 
 you who found these reasons insufficient to command her obedi- 
 ence, who must confess herself out of harmony with our laws, 
 unwilling to bring herself into conformity with them ? You 
 ask me, What should we do then ? Has the College any ultima- 
 tum for such cases ? Do you remember how Uncle Toby dealt 
 with the exasperating little fly? He did not crush it. Far 
 otherwise. But he took it gently between his thumb and finger, 
 carried it to the window and said, ' Go, little fly ; the world is 
 wide enough for me and for thee.' " 
 
 Fortunately for myself, I usually heard these remarks from 
 the stand-point of the law-abider; but I knew that they made 
 an equally strong, if different, impression upon the law-breaker. 
 
 It was a mooted question with us whether the President was 
 quick at seeing our jokes. One of the Senior classes was rather 
 inclined to maintain the negative. Their Mental Philosophy 
 class celebrated his birthday by sending him a huge bouquet of 
 roses, in roguish allusion to his constant public mention of the 
 rose's fragrance as the archetype of pleasant sensation ; but he 
 did not "see the point." But there could be no difference of 
 opinion about his ability to make jokes. The atmosphere of our 
 College society was always rather electric ; and at one time and 
 another we have been convulsed by general excitements, whose 
 force was quite out of proportion to their cause. It was natural 
 for us to take a great interest in the memorable election of 1876. 
 The ardent sympathies of fathers, mothers, and instructors were 
 communicated to many of our students, the uncertain and con- 
 flicting reports received during the day after election aroused 
 them still more, the spirit of fun helped the matter along, and 
 evening prayers called a very eager, nervous company into our 
 chapel. After the devotional exercises were over, the President 
 took off his spectacles with an air which we knew how to in- 
 terpret. " Young ladies," he began, " I recognize the anxiety 
 which has possessed you to-day; I appreciate and share its 
 intensity. The present bids fair indeed to be a grave crisis in 
 the development of our national life. There are many reasons 
 why we all should have found the suspense of this day hard to 
 bear. But I wish now to calm you with the statement that 
 further agitation is needless ; for the matter is already decided." 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 667 
 
 Quick as thought, an -expectant rustle ran along the seats. It 
 was settled at last, then, and Dr. Raymond would tell us whether 
 the victory was for Hayes or Tilden ! " I said, young ladies," 
 blandly continued he, " that the matter was settled. I repeat 
 the statement. The last vote has long since been cast ; and now 
 nothing remains to be done that will materially affect the issue 
 of the contest. The numerical results of the election have not 
 yet reached us, and it may belong before they do. In the mean 
 time I recommend you to exercise patience, and as much forti- 
 tude quiet fortitude as you can command." 
 
 I have always wondered if the vengeance invoked by the vic- 
 tims of this peculiarly trying hoax may not have exercised some 
 occult influence over those wavering proceedings of the Elec- 
 toral Commission which falsified the good Doctor's announce- 
 ment. 
 
 Dr. Raymond's admirable qualities were not exhibited in pub- 
 lic admonition alone. Many of his old students can bear warm 
 testimony to the candor, the gentleness, and the patience with 
 which he met them in private interviews. I can add my tribute 
 to what has been said in praise of his justice ; and quite as 
 powerful an element was his clear perception of the student's 
 point of view. His own nature was so broad in its tastes and 
 likings that he seldom lacked sympathetic appreciation of any 
 impulse or action which was not radically immoral. Thus it 
 was the easier for him, as it was the more effective with the 
 offender, to point out the hasty judgment, the faulty logic, the 
 misdirected feeling, which lay at the base of any transgression. 
 This policy was never that of arbitrary will ; he aimed at con- 
 trolling the college-world by fostering a healthy, intelligent 
 public sentiment ; and while nothing could have been more ab- 
 horrent to his taste, nor more quickly have aroused his opposi- 
 tion than the communistic spirit which sometimes displays it- 
 self in every college, his choice was always to rule by virtue of 
 a cheerful loyalty on the part of his students. 
 
 H. C. H. 
 
 The power which he had of investing with dignity 
 the most trivial subject anything which could con- 
 
668 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 tribute to the formation of character is illustrated in 
 the recollections of another : 
 
 I well remember some of his chapel-talks, though it is hard to 
 give any idea of their substance, much less of their fervor. At 
 one time he was annoyed by a habit the girls had of scribbling 
 upon any available surface. The walls, every scrap of paper, the 
 fences, even the stones, were the prey of our vandalism. At 
 last he could endure it no longer, and one night he freed his 
 mind. First he drew an irresistible picture of the state of the 
 walls, fences, etc. Then his own words kindled the fire of his 
 indignation and he inveighed against any willful destruction. I 
 can hear now his ringing words, " No pure, high soul will delib- 
 erately spot or even blot any stainless object in God's world 
 whether it be a clean reputation or a white sheet of paper. Be- 
 ware lest the hand that needlessly destroys the one may blacken 
 also the other." I do not believe that any girl who heard him 
 ever used a pencil idly again. He had a way of driving truths 
 home. 
 
 One of his attacks was directed against a prevailing habit of 
 sauntering. He made an appeal for purpose in the trifles as 
 well as the great things of life ; and he claimed that if a strong 
 motive once took possession of the soul, it would certainly show 
 itself in even so simple a matter as the gait. " Don't shuffle, 
 physically or mentally. It costs more than it comes to. You 
 cannot afford to be slipshod." 
 
 I am sorry that I cannot recall the flower-talk. I remember 
 its occurrence, but cannot seem to find the right end by which 
 to unsnarl my tangled recollection of it. I met him once in the 
 garden in my freshman year, when he could scarcely have known 
 me by sight, and he gave me a rose from a cluster he had in his 
 hand. I shall never forget the strange mingling in his manner 
 of stately courtesy toward me and of tenderness toward the 
 flower. It was always beautiful to see him touch a flower. 
 
 One Philalethean day the society felt poor, and so appro- 
 priated comparatively little money for flowers. But those which 
 were purchased, and the few which were given, were peculiarly 
 beautiful, rarely so, and were exquisitely arranged. I came 
 upon him standing over a tall vase in the parlor. It contained 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 669 
 
 a single branch of three roses. He said, " IVe been thinking 
 how wisely the economical party have defended their so-called 
 parsimony. I believe I have never enjoyed the flowers as much 
 as to-day. A crowd of flowers is as objectionable as a crowd of 
 people. Don't you suppose the personality of those roses would 
 rebel at being put beside that calla lily? and yet both are per- 
 fect." I can see him now as after Sunday service in chapel he 
 would stop, on his way from the platform, to bury his face in 
 the pyramid of flowers which Dr. Avery or Professor Braislin 
 had arranged. I think their fragrance was his benediction. It 
 seems to me that he always used to pause to notice them. 
 
 His enthusiasm for music was, as you say, unbounded. One 
 of my pleasantest talks with him was about Beethoven. I had 
 played, as my maiden effort in a concert at the College, Beetho- 
 ven's Opus 31, No. 3. It was a favorite sonata of your father, 
 and he waited after the concert to tell me so. I remember that 
 he did not try to flatter me- by praising my execution of the 
 work. That was wretched enough. I never had any physical 
 ability for music, but my soul was in it, and he said something 
 about my "understanding" of Beethoven which went straight to 
 the right spot. We stood and chatted for a moment in the 
 chapel, and then he asked me into his parlors, and for fifteen 
 minutes he tailed about the power and beauty and wonder of 
 Beethoven's music, until I really felt that language could say 
 no more. I don't believe the Great Master ever had a more 
 sincere or powerful eulogy. 
 
 Did I write you of the Sunday-evening sings in which he 
 used to delight ? I can recall now some of the hymns which he 
 always selected. 
 
 " They who seek the throne of grace 
 Find that throne in every place." 
 
 And especially Faber's 
 
 " God's glory is a wondrous thing, 
 Most strange in all its ways. " 
 
 During the winter of 1876 (my Senior year) came the great 
 revival of religion at " Vassar." I shall never forget his interest 
 
6 70 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 and his wisdom in that. Early in its history, he called a dozen of 
 us into his office, and talked it all over with us asked us about 
 what we were doing, warned us against over-anxiety, and assured 
 us that he believed the whole thing to be the work of the Lord, 
 and that it had come as a growth from within, outward not 
 vice versa. He prayed with us before we left his room. I re- 
 member that none of us rose from our knees with dry eyes. 
 The revival was a great delight to him, and I believe he loved 
 our class especially for the cordial part they took in it. I re- 
 member meeting him in the garden one wintry day, and he 
 
 stopped me to say, " Miss , I want to tell you that the 
 
 monthly reports have just come in, and we have never had a 
 better rank than in this month. That does not look as if reli- 
 gious excitement was interfering with the work of the College, 
 does it ?" 
 
 Even the members of the lower classes who did not know him 
 at all felt his power. One day a girl came into my room fairly 
 crying with disappointment over a decision of President Ray- 
 mond which had just been sent her. It related to her course of 
 study. In the midst of her sobs she exclaimed, " I can't help it. 
 I think this is pretty hard ; but it must be right, for President 
 Raymond is \hz justest man I ever knew." That was the uni- 
 versal testimony. 
 
 I suppose you have his famous sermon on Friendship. We 
 were always glad to have him preach it. It would have been 
 welcomed every year. I hope it may go into the volume you 
 are preparing. Hardly a thoughtful Vassar girl whose princi- 
 ples of life were not influenced by that sermon. 
 
 There was another sermon which we liked very much. It was 
 on the text, " Herein do I exercise myself, to have a conscience 
 void of offense towards God and man." Those two, and our 
 Baccalaureate sermon (on " Prove all things ") I shall never 
 forget. H. E. H. 
 
 His students all knew his love for flowers and his in- 
 tense enjoyment of music. There are many to whom 
 he will ever be associated with all beautiful sights and 
 
 o 
 
 sounds, and some will never see sunset light upon 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 671 
 
 mountain or river without a thought of him and of the 
 evening hour which preceded the chapel service, when 
 he was so often seen in the college grounds reveling in 
 the treasures of the garden or drinking in the beauty 
 of the distant mountain view. A single word from 
 him often unlocked new stores of meaning and enjoy- 
 ment to those who met him in these walks. They 
 are recalled in the following letter: 
 
 It was my misfortune when a student at the College to know 
 very little of your father in his social relations. Until after I 
 had passed from under his kindly care as a student, circumstances 
 did not give me the opportunities that others so much enjoyed 
 of knowing him as a friend. But I always felt him such, for the 
 pleasant smile and friendly greeting were always ready for me 
 whenever I chanced to meet him in the walks he was so fond 
 of taking in the few leisure moments that came to him. One 
 of the pleasantest memory-pictures that I have of him is as I 
 used to see him in the garden when the long summer days had 
 come. You know how beautiful those summer sunsets and twi- 
 lights were, and how much he enjoyed pointing out the varied 
 tints of cloud and sky, and the beauties of the flowers in their 
 evergreen-bound home at the north of the College. 
 
 I have me before a slip of paper containing a line of his hand- 
 writing that I have been cherishing during these seven years 
 since it was written. It was when I was quite a stranger, and 
 in answer to a formal request from me concerning a certain 
 course of study which he did not at first think it wise for me to 
 pursue. It is now only a faded pencilling of these words : 
 " Granted, with my best approval and blessing." But it may be 
 interesting to others than myself as showing the personal and 
 kindly interest he took in the work of every student under his 
 care. 
 
 There is a sentence of one of his sermons, or it may be from 
 one of his chapel-talks, that has always lingered in my memory . 
 " Remember that the truest condition of real success is to be 
 what you appear to be." This perfect sense of justice has made 
 a deeper impression upon me than any other attribute of his 
 
672 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 character, and we can find no better illustrations of this than in 
 these same chapel-talks. F. M. C 
 
 Another testimony is given to the sympathy with 
 which he entered into the individual interests of the 
 students whenever they required his personal direction : 
 
 That first time I was called into the mysterious precincts of 
 the President's room rises vividly before me, for such impres- 
 sions are not readily effaced. It was seldom we were summoned 
 to a personal interview for the assigning of studies ; but requests 
 were made in writing, and mine had been made in all due form. 
 My course of study before entering college had been desultory, 
 leaving me in some branches far behind and in others ahead of 
 the class I planned to enter, and I proposed undertaking more 
 work than was usually allowed ; so President Raymond wished 
 to talk with me about the best course to pursue, and I answered 
 the summons with fear and trembling. I never dreaded a call 
 into his presence after that. He greeted me with his grave, 
 kindly smile, and in a few moments, by his tact and unaffected 
 courtesy, made the awkward country-girl forget her constraint 
 and soon learned from her the story of her hopes, anxieties, and 
 ambitions. He did not offer one word to dampen enthusiasm, 
 however foolish, but rather directed it, and his interest and sym- 
 pathy were shown many times afterwards. 
 
 One other visit to that room I remember especially. It was 
 to pass a private examination in Psychology, and the same 
 thorough work was exacted as in the class-room ; but there was 
 an unwonted touch of the humorous in the Socratic method of 
 questioning. In social intercourse with the students, this same 
 humor had fuller play, and there was no one in the College who 
 had a keener appreciation of a witty remark or could tell a story 
 better. Perhaps the contrast with his usual grave earnestness 
 when acting as teacher or preacher made this love of fun only 
 the more marked. 
 
 But it was from the pulpit that he made his influence most 
 strongly felt over our lives. A common remark among Seniors 
 was that the President's sermons had grown more and more im- 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 673 
 
 pressive from the time they entered College, implying that the 
 change had been in him, while the fact was that they had been 
 growing to a fuller appreciation of the vigor and beauty of the 
 language used and the value of the lessons enforced. One par- 
 ticular discourse, on " Choosinga Definite Aim in Life," was the 
 direct means of causing some of us to determine what should be 
 our life-work, and forming a plan which has been our control- 
 ling purpose ever since that quiet Sunday morning. L. B. 
 
 The ready humor which many remember was one of 
 his most effective weapons. He often made use of it 
 in introducing some unwelcome announcement to his 
 college audience, winning them by the smiles or laugh- 
 ter with which they could not fail to greet it to commit 
 themselves to a cheerful view of the subject. He was 
 the medium of their requests to the Faculty, and while 
 he conveyed to them the decrees of that imperial body, 
 his wit and tact were often of the greatest service in 
 taking the edge off a disappointment. The same qual- 
 ities came in play in his interviews with the various 
 committees who were sent to urge important suits, 
 sometimes appealing to him from the decisions of the 
 Faculty. These were usually delegates from class or 
 society meetings, where the affairs of church and state 
 were discussed with a warmth appropriate to matters of 
 such moment. 
 
 The committees returned, the petition perhaps un- 
 granted, but the righteous anger with which faculty, 
 president, and college had been threatened, strangely 
 evaporated. They seldom failed of cordial acquiescence 
 in the verdict, won by his fairness and by his genuine 
 sympathy with the feeling which prompted the request, 
 while he had known how to divert it into a different 
 channel. 
 
674 JOHN //. RA YMOND, 
 
 Some account of such instances was asked from one 
 who replies : 
 
 I was away from the College while those meetings to which 
 you refer were held. When I went back again, President Ray- 
 mond had reduced all things to "order serviceable," and so I 
 am afraid I cannot supply the information you would like about 
 
 them I remember one little scene which seems to 
 
 me perfectly to express one of the characteristics most appreci- 
 ated by all the girls. Some mischief-maker was sent for and 
 told that she must go to the President. As she went out of my 
 room, after I had been questioning her about the probabilities 
 of " her case," she said, " I would just as lief go as not he is 
 perfectly /j/." I am sure other people must have written you 
 of this thing it was the feeling I had most strongly toward him 
 a certainty that I should be dealt with fairly. It used to 
 come out very strongly in recitation. Mental Philosophy was a 
 befogging thing, you know, and I often admired the nice dis- 
 crimination with which he distinguished between the stammer- 
 ing expression of a really grasped idea and that which came 
 from lack of thought or study. 
 
 Of course, though, my pleasantest and most grateful thoughts 
 of him are as my father's friend. I think the trying thing, in- 
 separable from so large a place as Vassar, is the feeling of lost 
 identity, and the fact of sometimes being with him as myself 
 and not " a student" gave me an entirely different idea of him. 
 I shall never forget the day when he and Dr. Lathrop took your 
 sister M. and me down to Poughkeepsie. Your father kept us 
 all full of real fun. I remember his taking up a plate of nuts 
 and raisins that one of the ladies at the church gave him and 
 saying in an aside, " Plate-O thou raisin-est well," and this was 
 only one of a constant succession of jests and puns. I feel sorry 
 for every girl who tells me she is going to the College when I 
 realize that she will never know Dr. Raymond, whom I, and so 
 many others, found the best teacher and preacher and helper and 
 friend our school-life ever knew. B. W. B. 
 
 The impressions of those who knew him in the class- 
 room as well as in his more public ministrations, are 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 675 
 
 related by another who has exchanged the duties of 
 pupil for those of a teacher at the College : 
 
 Perhaps one of the most trying times in the experience of a 
 new girl at Vassar is the chapel service of the first night after 
 her admission to the College. The excitement of the examina- 
 tions is over, her friends are gone, and she is left to take the first 
 step of her new life alone. I think there can be very few stu- 
 dents at Vassar who do not remember the chill feeling of insig- 
 nificance and weariness that crept over them as they took their 
 places silently and timidly on the benches. And there are none, 
 I am sure, who can fail to remember the feelings with which 
 they looked at Dr. Raymond as he stood at the desk. In that 
 hour ambition seemed pitifully inadequate ; all attraction fell 
 away from long-cherished plans, and settled purposes seemed 
 ropes of sand. Many of us dropped our heads and cried heartily 
 from pure loneliness and home-sickness, others stiffened our- 
 selves with a defiant endurance even more miserable; but one 
 and all instinctively waited for the President's voice. We were 
 tired and miserable ; we saw a calm, controlled man whose very 
 tone quieted the tumult of feeling in the unhappy hearts before 
 him. We heard the words of a prayer which made us forget 
 ourselves in a serene trust in an Infinite Father. There was no 
 lack of sympathy for our troubles and worries, but we were made 
 to feel that all minor relations ought to be merged in the one 
 supreme care of discharging our responsibility as self-respecting 
 human beings. This was a lesson we often heard from Dr. Ray- 
 mond, but it could never come again with the same power as on 
 that first night when it soothed us into self-control and strength- 
 ened us for work. From that time we were under the spell of 
 his peculiar influence an influence which made him, how- 
 ever active as administrator or professor, through all and above 
 all the President. Some of us never knew him personally; but 
 his opinions we could not fail to know, and these guided and 
 restrained us with the virile force of the man himself. To this 
 first chapel most of us look back as to the beginning of a series 
 of impressions less vivid and less definite only because we learned 
 to expect them. 
 
 Dr. Raymond's chapel-talks supplied the medium through 
 
676 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 which he influenced the body of students in all matters of public 
 opinion and discipline. The formation of a healthy and just 
 public opinion was one of his chief cares, and he always endeav- 
 ored to make us govern ourselves as far as possible. How often 
 has he addressed his little republic and urged upon " its careful 
 consideration" measures in regard to which every one of us 
 knew that he had but to lift his hand and the die would be cast. 
 We never noticed that our knowledge of this fact interfered in 
 the least with the cheerful alacrity of our committees. 
 
 Dr. Raymond was very much interested in all efforts for the 
 improvement and adorning of the college buildings and grounds. 
 We remember the indignation with which he defended the flower- 
 garden from the depredation of some of the students, the ming- 
 ling of pathos and humor in his description of the mental con- 
 dition of people who profaned beauty and marred purity. One 
 night as we waited for the well-known bow which dismissed 
 us from the chapel, the President said, " I wish to speak to 
 you of the propriety of trampling upon part of the College 
 policy." A short pause pointed this revolutionary speech ; 
 then he went on, "Young ladies, I would recommend to your 
 attention the new paths." Every girl looked at her neighbor 
 and thought of the hour she had paced up and down the lake 
 path in monotonous ease rather than try the loose earth of 
 the walks which had been but a few days ploughed up. A hearty 
 laugh from the students showed that they had understood the 
 Doctor's rebuke and taken it in good part. For five minutes he 
 talked to them in his most graceful and humorous style ; he 
 treated them to a little bantering philosophy on variety as the 
 spice of life, and the next day found the new walks anything but 
 paths of peace. 
 
 The students always looked upon the President as the foun- 
 tain of all authority and knowledge. Even in the minor affairs 
 of every-day routine they weighed his slightest word and con- 
 sidered it final. 
 
 At Vassar, as at all colleges doubtless, there come times when 
 the students grow a little restive under the restraints of disci- 
 pline and attempt to step over prescribed limits in social and in- 
 tellectual life. It is then that ambitious girls divulge the most 
 preposterous plans for their own rapid development, and that 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 677 
 
 delicate ones ask for double and triple work. Such times as 
 these were always a peculiar care to Dr. Raymond, and he often 
 felt that they demanded very energetic treatment. Then he 
 opened the storehouse of his satire and disapprobation. Just after 
 'the students had handed in their election of studies on one 
 particular June, it was discovered that there had been an unusu- 
 ally large number of extraordinary and unreasonable requests 
 preferred. The President satisfied himself that most of the pe- 
 titioners were more anxious to gain a step in class rank than 
 to make use of wider advantages, and that, even in cases when a 
 legitimate ambition was the motive, the method was a mistaken 
 one. Selecting two or three typical cases, the President met 
 the students in chapel. He described in detail the requests he had 
 received in his office, analyzed their real substance, showed their 
 necessary implications supposing them granted, and appealed to 
 the right feelings of the girls themselves, to gain their with- 
 drawal instead of forcing their refusal by the Faculty. 
 
 In the last year of Dr. Raymond's life came one of the most 
 marked instances of his influence in these chapel-talks. There 
 had been a peculiar spirit of insubordination among the stu- 
 dents, and all the ordinary means had failed to meet it. Its 
 most marked manifestation was an open and pronounced dis- 
 regard for authority and admonition. The President made one 
 appeal to the students for righteous self-government, but it was 
 of no avail. A second time he detained them in the chapel, 
 and was greeted by a little murmur of impatience and dissatis- 
 faction. Few of those who were in that audience will ever for- 
 get the expression of his face as he looked slowly over the 
 benches and the gallery as if to assure himself that he had made 
 no mistake; then dropping his hand sharply on the desk, he 
 said, " For ten years I have talked to you from this desk, my 
 children ; to-night, for the first time, I am treated with disre- 
 spect. I never expected to see this night, and I certainly never 
 wished to see it." For a minute he seemed almost overcome 
 by his emotion, but speedily recovering himself, he threw all 
 his power of feeling into a ringing vindication of College law. A 
 flood of righteous indignation descended upon the offenders, 
 and the right of the College to demand strict obedience was 
 proudly vindicated. " Remember, young ladies, the doors are 
 
678 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 as wide open to tell you ' go' as they ever were to receive you. 
 While I am here the College law shall be obeyed, and those 
 who resist it shall answer for the fault to me." The effect of 
 this address can hardly be understood by people not accus- 
 tomed to college audiences. The students fairly quailed, and 
 left the chapel silent and frightened. 
 
 Dr. Raymond's strong personal influence over the students 
 has been alluded to. Few of us ever attempted to analyze it, 
 though we all had daily illustrations of it. His sympathetic 
 voice and admirable delivery doubtless had much to do with his 
 control over his hearers. One instance of this kind comes to 
 mind now. Each year he was in the habit of giving a series of 
 metaphysical sermons, intended primarily for the Senior class. 
 These sermons were very carefully prepared, and always de- 
 livered with great enthusiasm. On this occasion the class was 
 a little inclined to skeptical views, and had shown signs of a 
 tendency to forsake old landmarks and throw aside as useless 
 old restraints. The subject of the sermon was Conscience, and 
 the Doctor was vehemently defending it upon rational grounds. 
 Looking around with an air of intense conviction and some in- 
 dignation, he exclaimed, " Conscience is no extract from a 
 statute-book" an impressive pause then triumphantly, " Con- 
 science, young ladies, is a 'categorical imperative !' " One of the 
 preparatories said that she shook all over while the President 
 waited, and she never was so relieved in her life as when she 
 found out what conscience really was, though she hadn't the 
 least idea what a categorical imperative might be. 
 
 Dr. Raymond's attitude as a teacher of metaphysics impressed 
 students as being judicial, critical, and courageous. The sub- 
 ject studied was usually the Scottish philosophy, but the work 
 of the class-room was as little limited as time would permit. 
 The first lesson the students were taught was that no authority 
 ought to be unquestioned ; the second, that the benefit to be ob- 
 tained from a semester's work in philosophy was entirely de- 
 pendent upon the mental vigor which the student brought to 
 bear upon its problems; and the third, that honest and indepen- 
 dent methods ought to be followed out, whatever their apparent 
 conclusions. 
 
 Consequently Dr. Raymond allowed a great deal of blunder- 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 679 
 
 ing in his class. A student often started with a palpable mis- 
 understanding of the topic of the author, but she was listened 
 to patiently in the hope that she would be able to clear up her 
 own difficulties by stating them distinctly to herself. If she did 
 not succeed in this, the President would come to her and help 
 with pointed questions and definite issues. Verbatim recita- 
 tions were never permitted except in the few instances where a 
 student had proved her inability to do anything better. A stupid 
 recitation was always received with forbearance, but alas for the 
 bright girl who had not properly prepared her lesson, and who 
 attempted to make " a rush" on general principles ! Her per- 
 formance was sometimes endured for five or six minutes; then 
 she was stopped, while the President, in half a dozen quiet sen- 
 tences, picked her display to pieces, and presented the shreds to 
 the class for a warning. The attempt was seldom repeated. 
 
 The Doctor was a great stickler for exactness of expression in 
 recitation, and chose his own words with the greatest care. 
 The girls often dreaded to recite on abstruse points, for they 
 said it was like one of Dr. Hinkel's translations, " a mental ex- 
 ercise." On such occasions the President would pass from one 
 student to another down an entire section of the class, appre- 
 hension before him and sorrow behind, asking, "Would you 
 
 suggest any changes in this description, Miss ?" One day 
 
 the search for "an exact designation" for a certain process of 
 mind had been continued until it reached the student of all others 
 in the class most inclined to hair-splitting. She evidently felt 
 the responsibility of her position, and the class settled back in 
 comfort while she and the Doctor should have it out. She spared 
 neither vocabulary nor facts, and that definition was a model of 
 metaphysical completeness and incomprehensibility; but the 
 President was still unsatisfied, so the facts were again carefully 
 reviewed, and this time translated into the most monstrous 
 terms of the "School" nomenclature. The Doctor listened 
 
 gravely, then said, " Well, Miss , how would 'thinking ' do ?" 
 
 The twinkle in his eyes pointed the joke and gave the class an 
 excuse for a hearty laugh. 
 
 President Raymond's manner of lecturing to his class was 
 generally very quiet and perfectly conventional ; but all of us 
 can remember times when he threw this manner off, and we 
 
68o JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 caught glimpses of what we could not help believing was the 
 real man under the professor. Then we felt the power of his 
 stern condemnation of disingenuous reasoning, and of his gene- 
 rous enthusiasm for devotion to truth. It was in his own 
 class-room that students saw most plainly the courage and can- 
 dor which were such important factors in Dr. Raymond's policy 
 and character. To that class-room many of us look back as to 
 the place where we learned practically that good impulses must 
 be supplemented by intelligent convictions, and that the evolu- 
 tion of principle must keep pace with that of character. 
 
 M. A. J. 
 
 The occasions were rare which called forth a severe 
 public rebuke. But they were burned in the memory 
 of those present. A student writes : " I wish that you 
 might learn something of his talk at the time of the 
 Gypsy Encampment. I once heard a vivid and enter- 
 taining description of the whole affair from Miss - . 
 She was one of the chief culprits ; but she spoke as if 
 that difficulty and the president's wise treatment of it 
 were the secrets of whatever success she might achieve 
 in life." A clue to this talk from the inner side is 
 found in a note from Dr. Raymond to the Lady Prin- 
 cipal, and may be quoted to illustrate the caution with 
 which his reproofs were administered. He never drew 
 an inference from doubtful facts, or pronounced a ver- 
 dict till possessed of all possible evidence : 
 
 MY DEAR " L. P." : I learn that a number of our students have 
 visited the gypsy encampment to have their fortunes told, going 
 to the fence, waving their handkerchiefs to draw them out, pay- 
 ing money, etc. I find myself stirred with a profound indigna- 
 tion, not so much at the wickedness of the thing as its intense 
 stupidity and vulgarity. And I feel like going to chapel to- 
 morrow morning and giving them a talk. I only fear going 
 too far, and don't know that I have all the facts I ought to 
 have. What I have came direct enough. But an immediate 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 68 1 
 
 check must be given. What do you think? Shall I "explode," 
 or wait till you have inquired farther? J. H. R. 
 
 " This was one of the most scorching traditions of 
 the College," said one who had heard of it from 
 others ; " I wish I could give any idea of one of his 
 bursts of righteous indignation and the effect it had 
 upon us," she continued. " It seemed a fiery current 
 that swept everything before it, withering and consum- 
 ing every unworthy thing." It was the same power of 
 concentrated passion which has been noticed by others, 
 which like " waves of torrent fire" was poured forth 
 not so much upon the sinner as the sin. 
 
 Other letters refer to the qualities which appealed 
 to the hearts of the students : 
 
 I think it would be very hard to give a stranger any adequate 
 idea of President Raymond's chapel-talks ; their very perfection 
 puts it out of our power. But there was one other way in which 
 he always moved me quite as much. I think I first learned the 
 real grandeur of the Bible from Dr. Raymond. It was an in- 
 spiration, night after night, to hear him read from it. I shall 
 never forget, as long as I live, the grand way in which he used 
 to read the defense of Paul before King Agrippa, and I know 
 that there are many besides me who will not forget it. It always 
 seemed to stir his blood, and I am sure it always stirred ours. 
 There was a simple, heroic dignity about it that used to thrill 
 me through and through. 
 
 It was in such ways, I think, that most of us learned to know 
 Dr. Raymond. Few of us had any personal relations with him, 
 very few of us knew him well. I believe it is only the strongest, 
 truest character that, so aloof from us all, could yet have had 
 such a hold upon us all. We listened to him day after day, in 
 the class-room and in the chapel, and we all loved him, and we 
 every one of us bear his stamp. I have not a more sacred feel- 
 ing than my reverence for him, and that is true of every gradu- 
 ate whom I ever heard speak of him. 
 
682 . JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 I have two letters from him which I have kept for a long 
 while, and which I think show his great "justice" and " patience" 
 in College life. I send you the whole of the Miscellany incident 
 just as I have kept it ever since. The first letter, as you see, was 
 terribly severe, and I remember very well now how I sat up 
 pretty nearly all night thinking about it and answering it ; and 
 how happy the second one made me when it came. Perhaps 
 because I love all those memories, it means more to me than it 
 can to anybody else ; but in those very qualities that you speak 
 of, the justice with which he heard all I had to say, the patience 
 with which he sat down to "talk the matter over" and help me 
 out, and in his affectionate tempering of a too harsh rebuke, it 
 has always seemed to me very beautiful. E. E. P. 
 
 The correspondence which is spoken of related to 
 an article which had appeared in the Vassar Miscellany, 
 the College magazine. An eminent lecturer who had 
 addressed the College had been severely criticised in 
 its columns, and the president invokes the aid of the 
 " editorial prerogative" to " prevent the recurrence of 
 such indiscretions." He accords to the students all 
 due freedom in expressing through their own organ 
 their honest estimate of such efforts, accepting the 
 editor's theory with regard to the right of criticism. 
 But the clearness with which he defines the province of 
 " the impersonal critic, bound according to the cur- 
 rent notion to be oracular and judicial at whatever 
 cost," but " forgetting to inquire whether the relations 
 of the parties warrant the assumption of judicial func- 
 tions," and the delicacy with which he sets forth those 
 relations, are most suggestive to those responsible for 
 the tone of such magazines. 
 
 The characteristic expression of his views on this 
 subject must be omitted to allow room for other per- 
 sonal recollections : 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 683 
 
 May 1 6, 1880. 
 
 I was young and very immature even for my age when I 
 entered Vassar, but from the first my admiration of your father 
 was enthusiastic. How I wish I could recall the kindly, fatherly 
 words from the chapel-desk which cured my home-sickness ! I 
 can only tell you that in that first unsettled year at College, when 
 a man with a nature less grand and a heart less large than his 
 might have failed to gain a hold upon his students, your father 
 laid the foundation of that personal influence which he ever 
 afterward exercised over us all to such a remarkable degree. 
 
 I think it was during my Sophomore year (i 867) that we had an 
 address from a then prominent lyceum-lecturer, which aroused 
 riotous discussion on the "Woman Question," a subject which 
 most of us sadly misunderstood at that time. Do you remember 
 the sermon preached by your father on Thanksgiving Day of 
 that year, in which, in his calm, forcible way, he overcame the 
 influence of that lecture ? I have always said that that Thanks- 
 giving-day talk ought to have been printed in letters of gold. It 
 must have set many restless unwomanly ambitions at rest besides 
 my own. Many of us learned then from those few words what 
 might have required many bitter mistakes to teach us; that is, 
 that the highest education and development are needed for the 
 workers in the quiet, humble walks of life. The sermon was 
 more than a revelation it was an education to me. 
 
 Another (Sunday) sermon which impressed me very vividly 
 was that on the " Sin of Judging." Your father delivered it a 
 second time, by request, and it was afterward printed. 
 
 Among my first delightful recollections of my enjoyments at 
 College are the Shakesperean readings which made Thanks- 
 giving days such real red-letter days to us. I do not believe 
 there could be finer interpretations of Shakespeare without the 
 aid of any accessories than your father used to give us. Do you 
 remember how distinctly each character stood before us ? How 
 deliciously funny he used to be in the comedies ! Was there ever 
 such a " Bottom ?" His drollery in that character never lost the 
 delicate charm that belongs to the " Midsummer-Night's Dream." 
 There have been other just as funny " Bottoms," but they were 
 not Titania's lovers. I speak of this because the delicate sense 
 of humor which your father possessed is such a rare gift. 
 
684 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 Surely all who knew him must have recognized his sympathy 
 with an appreciation of all beautiful things. In music I especi- 
 ally felt his congeniality. An expression of commendation 
 from him was always dear to me, for I felt that he was a dis- 
 criminating critic. Do you remember his telling us of the "vials 
 of wrath which he had to keep corked up" during a concert 
 where he sat near some noisy people? I never hear people talk 
 during music now that I do not think of Dr. Raymond's " vials 
 of wrath." I remember his deep love of Beethoven, and a per- 
 formance of any of the symphonies (notably the fifth and seventh) 
 at once brings up certain Thursday evenings when I used to sit 
 in the outer courts (though not quite in outer darkness), for I 
 could listen enrapt to the music which came through the 
 closed doors of the President's parlor. You must remember 
 those Thursay evenings and your father as the moving spirit. I 
 think that no reminiscence of my Vassar life has the power to 
 move me as this has. I used to have a good many musical chats 
 with your father. If I could only remember them in detail ! 
 
 It must have been a great privilege (which I never enjoyed) 
 to accompany him in his walks. He must have got very near 
 to Nature's heart. I am sure that she never kept her secrets 
 from him. His love of nature showed itself constantly in simile 
 and metaphor in all his talks with us. In short, his interpreta- 
 tion of the beautiful was an elementary education in any of the 
 arts. 
 
 His influence as a teacher was felt 'in every department of the 
 College, such was the breadth of his culture. 
 
 But above all, to me, he stands out as the perfect incarnation 
 of justice. His judgment (which involves every faculty of the 
 mind) seemed never to err. M C. T. 
 
 Another writes : 
 
 My feeling toward President Raymond was always reverent. 
 So much so that it almost seems presumptuous in me to speak of 
 him at all. As I have grown older I have felt more and more 
 how much Vassar owes her success to the wisdom of her first 
 President. Other men of as ripe scholarship might have been 
 found tp fill the difficult position, other men of as great ability 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 685 
 
 in this or that direction. But where could have been found an- 
 other with that rare combination of qualities summed up in the 
 word wisdom ? As we look back on the course of the College 
 in those early years, when it would have been so easy to wreck 
 the infant enterprise, and see how its growth toward a higher 
 standard of scholarship and a more liberal tone of sentiment 
 was quietly fostered, while all fantastic enthusiasm which could 
 have produced a reaction and hindered its true advancement 
 and success was as quietly repulsed, we feel that a truly wise, 
 comprehensive, and far-seeing mind guided its counsels. I can 
 never think of President Raymond without a feeling of reverent 
 gratitude for the tone which his life and work gave to the College. 
 My memory of his chapel-talks goes back very far and is very 
 vivid. But it is more an impression of the earnestness and 
 clearness of the speaker and the influence on the students than 
 a recollection of the talks themselves. The appeal was always 
 first to the understanding of the students, then to their moral 
 dignity. The matter was placed before us so fully and clearly 
 that we could not but see the strength and justice of the posi- 
 tion he took ; then came the appeal which assumed that, seeing 
 the right, we must inevitably choose it. The first of these talks 
 I remember was in June, 1866, at the close of the first College 
 year. There was no class prepared for graduation, but the Phi- 
 lalethean Society was to give an entertainment. President Ray- 
 mond was at that time president of the society. The College 
 offered to give a collation in connection with the entertainment. 
 But among some of the members there arose a spirit of opposition 
 to the arrangement which the authorities wished to make. They 
 thought the independent position of the society was compro- 
 mised when Dr. Raymond, in his position as president of the 
 society, tried to influence its action and bring its arrangements 
 into harmony with those of the College. A stormy meeting 
 lasting several hours was held. The wordy war ran high, the 
 president listening in patience till patience ceased to be a virtue. 
 Then he flung parliamentary rules aside and made us a speech 
 which carried all before it, and showed us how small was that 
 spirit which could consider the interests of any body of the stu- 
 dents different from the interests of all. Finishing, he made an 
 apology for transgressing the neutrality of his position as chair- 
 
686 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 man, which was greeted by hearty applause, and followed by a 
 unanimous vote in harmony with his wishes. 
 
 Has any one spoken to you of the beauty of his Bible-read- 
 ings ? The chapel services were always full of interest when he 
 conducted them. Much that had grown dead through often 
 hearing became living again as he read it like a new story with 
 all the wonder and beauty just opened to us. I never shall for- 
 get his reading of the parable of the Prodigal Son. All other 
 persons that I have heard read it have seen only the father's 
 love and mercy for the returning sinner. In emphasizing this, 
 they pass over the not unjust complaint of the elder son. But 
 he gave the answer, " Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I 
 have is thine," with a depth of reproving tenderness in which 
 seemed concentrated the trust and affection won by years of faith- 
 ful service. The sermon on Friendship I remember distinctly. 
 It was written in 1868, at a time when an epidemic of violent in- 
 timacies was prevailing in the College. Its high and noble 
 standard has been practically embodied in the lives of those who 
 have listened to its teachings, for nowhere can be found more 
 beautiful friendships than among those who lived and studied 
 together in our dear Alma Mater. I very much hope the sermon 
 will be published ; and there are two others I should much like 
 to see again, one on " The exceeding sinfulness of sin," the other 
 on the Bible, considering in what sense it was revelation. 
 
 E. R. C. 
 
 Much regret is felt that there is not room to include 
 in this volume those sermons which are especially re- 
 membered and prized, and which have borne fruit in 
 the lives of so many. Those familiarly known in Col- 
 lege as the " Judge not" and the " Friendship" sermon 
 were most marked in their immediate practical effect. 
 The latter was first preached during the absence of the 
 Lady Principal from the College, and Dr. Raymond's 
 allusion to it in a brief note written to her at the 
 time will show his sympathy with the needs of those 
 under his care, and his fairness in tracing such youthful 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 687 
 
 errors to a natural cause instead of blindly condemning 
 them: 
 
 VASSAR COLLEGE, March 13, 1868. 
 
 MY DEAR " LADY PRINCIPAL :" . . . Yesterday I preached a 
 sermon on " True Friendship." . . . The more I think of 
 it the more it seems to me that the unhealthy developments 
 which have caused us anxiety of late are the natural results of 
 the artificial life to which these young people are here shut up 
 the outcropping of youthful impulses under stimulants whose 
 nature they do not understand and that the true correction is 
 more ample instruction. It is a confirmation of the soundness of 
 your views for months past, and when you are again at your 
 post, I shall feel more than ever the importance of your doing 
 this much-needed work. 
 
 The discourse which has been remembered as a 
 Thanksgiving-day talk was afterwards remodeled and 
 preached as a Baccalaureate sermon on the Mission of 
 Educated Women. There is no other which can bet- 
 ter illustrate the character of the doctrine taught at 
 Vassar College ; and the passages quoted from it may 
 answer some grave doubts which are still expressed 
 with regard to the tendencies of a higher education for 
 women. Those who fear such dangers, and would 
 guard the young women of the present day from the 
 errors of " strong-mindedness," may possibly see a way 
 of escape in the influences of the education here set 
 forth. It may be found in the Appendix. 
 
 The reminiscences which have been given in this 
 chapter will testify how faithfully his high ideal of 
 womanly culture was held up to the students of Vas- 
 sar College. But their remembrance cannot offer more 
 grateful tributes to the lost president and friend than 
 those which were paid to him while yet among them. 
 The place which he held in their hearts was yearly 
 
688 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 proved in the words addressed to him in the hour of 
 parting. The beauty of his teachings had imbued the 
 young lives which he guided, and was breathed back 
 to him in these valedictory utterances. The passages 
 in which he is individually addressed are taken from 
 some of the Valedictories which most deeply moved 
 him : 
 
 The class of '75 joins all students in times past, all those 
 who shall come after, all those here to-day, in its acknowledg- 
 ment to you, our President, of the nobility which identified 
 you with an unpopular reform, of the bravery with which you 
 have kept the charge, of the faith in us which has sustained you 
 and persuaded others. Truer to our interests than we to our 
 own, you have steadily raised our standard, you have firmly 
 held us thereto ; at the end of our course, we realize that the 
 good of all results in that of each, that by faithfulness to this 
 general good vou have advanced the intellectual growth, the 
 moral welfare of our College. 
 
 The words said of Lord Chatham rise to our lips, "Something 
 finer about the man than anything he ever said," till we remem- 
 ber those words which have ended each day, which have begun 
 each week ; and even then, the prayers spoken in our behalf 
 se"em to us no finer than the prayer of an earnest life. We shall 
 miss these words, our President. When the day's lessons were 
 ended, when we were weary of work, they have brought us into 
 harmony with the ways and thoughts not ours ; when the les- 
 sons of life are ended, when we wish for utter rest, they will 
 return to us again. When each soul stands alone, making those 
 decisions which are to influence her life and that of others, may 
 they ring in our ears ! 
 
 As long as we think of the things which are lovely and true 
 and of good report, as long as we keep our faith in God, as long 
 as we work for humanity, as long as human life is a growth into 
 reality, your memory will grow real. It will come to us also at 
 the times of social enjoyment, and on the day of the nation's 
 thanksgiving. To you we stand with others, one out of many 
 classes ; to us, you stand alone, one out of many men. 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 689 
 
 May there be something in our lives finer than anything we 
 can say, wherewith to prove the fruits of your influence ! 
 
 With gratitude to the hour which first gathered us in this 
 chapel and connected our lives with yours, we bid you an ear- 
 nest farewell. 
 
 The following extract is taken from the Valedictory 
 address of 1874: 
 
 My classmates, if those weak words of mine could be thought 
 to contain all the gratitude that we render to those who have 
 made the blessings of the past thrice blessed to us, I might well 
 seal my lips and trust that reverent silence would be an eloquent 
 interpreter. 
 
 But to-day your full hearts will respond sweetly to the faintest 
 touch. I should wrong myself and you if this last hour did 
 not hold a thankful farewell to the best friend of our College 
 days. 
 
 For four years, sir, you have been the wise monitor of our 
 lives. Your patience has borne with our waywardness, your 
 judgment guided our untrained energies, your counsel directed 
 our purposes. Your impartial candor has made many a rough 
 way smooth ; we have often thanked you for justice more com- 
 plete than we could render to ourselves. None can know as 
 well as we how bravely you have met the manifold trials of 
 your position. The strong shield and support of our Alma 
 Mater, your voice and pen have been ever ready to repel the 
 attacks of her enemies, and your thought and care untiringly 
 spent to raise her above danger from such attacks. Thus we 
 have learned to value you as the right man in the right place, 
 the fit instrument of a great design. 
 
 As you have stood to us in a relation filled by none before 
 you, so your place in our affection and our esteem is all your 
 own. But we praise you also as the judicious champion of 
 Universal Education, and honor you for the self-forgetful zeal 
 which devotes life and strength to the great cause. Truly, our 
 tribute can be but a tithe of that which grateful women shall 
 one day bring to him who, faithfully and well, fulfilled the 
 duties of first President of Vassar College. 
 
690 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 The following note accompanies a copy of the last 
 words of affectionate praise to which he ever listened 
 from the voice of his college daughters. It must 
 always be a joy to remember how deeply they touched 
 his heart, and to feel that the last moments which he 
 spent in the place which had known his ministrations 
 were made glad by the loving recognition of those for 
 whom he had labored : 
 
 August 15, 1880. 
 
 In accordance with your request, I send the accompanying 
 extract. As I re-read it now, after the lapse of two years, I am 
 more deeply conscious than ever before how feebly it expresses 
 the love and reverence in which we held our President. We all 
 honored him. We all felt the dignity and beauty of his daily 
 life, and realized what a power it was to mould us for good. 
 Until our Senior year, it was mainly through his chapel-talks 
 that most of us learned to know him. They were always 
 freighted with an earnest purpose, were informal, and therefore 
 the more effective. As I think now of those familiar talks and 
 recall their effect upon the students, I see with increasing ad- 
 miration how completely Dr. Raymond understood the way to 
 reach what was best in us. He believed that in popular senti- 
 ment lay the only remedy for popular evils, and so skillfully did 
 he touch upon our errors that he invariably caused us to become 
 our own strongest accusers. The kindly humor which would 
 sometimes tinge his most earnest reproofs never failed to pre- 
 vent that rebellious feeling which a rebuke so often arouses. 
 During that year which was his last and our last, we enjoyed 
 the closer relationship of the class-room. Although he was 
 there, for the first time, our teacher in name, we feel that he 
 had taught us always through the bright example of his pure 
 and noble life. 
 
 From the Valedictory of 1878 : 
 
 " The circle of our unsaid farewells has narrowed till it holds 
 but one. Would there were no occasion for that one to be 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 691 
 
 spoken ! Since we must say that sad, last word to you, our 
 President, may it be eloquent with our love and gratitude. The 
 generous dedication of your life to an object doubtful of success, 
 but of whose right to succeed you had a firm conviction, swells 
 the number of those whose highest aim is to discover and spread 
 abroad the seeds of truth. This alone would command our rev- 
 erence ; but we cherish a deeper, closer feeling, which is a con- 
 sequence not of your devotion to the general cause of intellectual 
 advancement, but of the interest which you have manifested in 
 our welfare. And as we, your daughters, now bid you farewell, 
 we feel that one of the tenderest and most hallowed memories 
 of our lives will be that of the beloved President who has been 
 at once advisor, instructor, friend." 
 
 In the fall succeeding that bright Commencement- 
 time, the following words were read by many tearful 
 eyes in the opening pages of the Vassar Miscellany : 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 "O strong soul, by what shore 
 Tarriest thou now ? For that force 
 Surely has not been left vain! 
 Somewhere, surely, afar, 
 In the sounding labor-house vast 
 Of being, is practiced that strength, 
 Zealous, beneficent, firm! 
 Yes; in some far-shining sphere, 
 Conscious or not of the past, 
 Still thou performest the word 
 Of the Spirit in whom thou dost live. 
 Prompt, unwearied as here! 
 Still thou upraises! with zeal 
 The humble good from the ground, 
 Sternly represses! the bad! 
 Still like a trumpet dost rouse 
 Those who, with half-open eyes, 
 Tread the borderland dim 
 'Twixt vice and virtue; reviv'st, 
 Succorest! this was thy work, 
 This was thy life upon earth." 
 
692 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 Were it possible for the students of Vassar College to say all 
 that their love and gratitude for President Raymond would dic- 
 tate, they must relate the long story of the growth of their Alma 
 Mater. Its details would illustrate, as nothing else could, the 
 peculiar virtues and the special gifts of his character. It is not 
 fulsome eulogy to say that a manifest decree of Providence 
 made him the first executor of our Founder's plan. What but 
 that rare compound of patience and energy for which he was 
 pre-eminent, which was admitted to be his most admirable 
 characteristic, could have performed the arduous tasks set be- 
 fore the first president of the first woman's college? To-day 
 Vassar College is not a colossal experiment, but an accomplished 
 fact; we are proud of her large share in making the phrase 
 "The Higher Education of Woman" once the by-word of an 
 incredulous world the watchword of earnest thousands. But 
 fourteen years ago it required moral courage of a high order to 
 link one's name with her unpopular cause. In assuming her 
 leadership, Dr. Raymond doubtless seemed to many to stake 
 his well-won reputation on the issue of a complex and doubtful 
 problem. Nothing less than his cheerful, resolute perseverance 
 could have met and vanquished the endless difficulties of organi- 
 zation, the thousand discouragements arising from the excep- 
 tional nature of his work. Nothing but his tact, his acuteness 
 in distinguishing the essential from the non-essential, could 
 have guarded the infancy of the College against the dangers 
 which menaced it from popular prejudice, from willful detrac- 
 tion, and even from the conflicting views of its best friends. As 
 he labored, he learned ; when the first trying days of experiment 
 had passed, none were more ready than he to conduct the Col- 
 lege on a broader and more enlightened plan than that which 
 the Founder had sketched. Here rose into prominence another 
 of his best traits the liberality, the judicial candor of his mind. 
 He could assimilate good from every experience even from his 
 own mistakes. To the day of his death we could be proud to 
 realize that our President was a growing man ; happy in know- 
 ing that our Alma Mater felt the expansion of his views as a 
 steady upward impulse. 
 
 But it is in relation to the internal life of our College that we 
 most fondly recall Dr. Raymond "the father among his chil- 
 
COLLEGE REMINISCENCES. 693 
 
 dren," he loved to call himself. Here appeared all the virtues 
 which marked his public life, softened by a spirit of truly fatherly 
 tenderness. Engrossed as he was by the manifold labors of his 
 office, the size of our ever-varying family allowed him compara- 
 tively few opportunities for general social intercourse. Those 
 older students whose work received his special care learned to 
 feel for him the warmest personal attachment. They could fully 
 appreciate that geniality, those broad, kindly sympathies, that 
 perennial freshness of nature which President Raymond mani- 
 fested towards the whole college community in his position of 
 chaplain and chief disciplinary officer. What words can do jus- 
 tice to the memory of his " chapel-talks" ! How patiently and 
 gently he put himself on the level of those whom he sought to 
 influence ; how skillfully he appealed to their best impulses ; 
 how adroitly he manipulated the springs of human nature; 
 how scathingly he could rebuke the obdurate! " I have always," 
 he used to say, " found most success in governing young people 
 through teaching them to make their own deductions from the 
 general principles of right action." How many students have 
 gone out from his presence counting their error indeed a dis- 
 guised blessing, since it had brought them within the scope of 
 such wise, inspiring admonition ! 
 
 When, at the close of our college year, he met us all for the 
 last time at evening worship, the soft gloom of the June twilight 
 had shaded our little chapel before he spoke his few words of 
 affectionate farewell. Into each heart his earnest words called 
 a foreboding of change and loss. Yet which of us all could at 
 that moment have believed that the first great change would be 
 the silence of that kind, familiar voice, the banishing of that be- 
 loved face which had come to seem the fixed light of our col- 
 lege home ? Six weeks later, when the news of our bereave- 
 ment flashed over the wires, we could look back and see 
 that we had been warned. Sometimes within the past twelve- 
 month the elastic step had been a little languid; the resolute 
 will had failed to hide the tokens of intense physical weariness. 
 Perhaps we should be glad that our affection blinded our judg- 
 ment. Now that he has left us, memory does not mar the pic- 
 ture of his beautiful life by one shade of weakness or decay. In 
 those last June days some of us took a final farewell of our Alma 
 
694 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 Mater. For such it may well be that " Vassar College without 
 President Raymond seems almost an impossibility." In their 
 thought the old-time haunts are still animated by his venerated 
 presence. But how is it with those of us who had the harder 
 lot of coming back to the home whence he had gone, who found 
 the familiar halls desolate in the shadow of a great loss ? We 
 have known the full sadness of taking up the work which his 
 beloved hand has forever laid down, of missing at every turn our 
 strong helper and counselor. Yet we too can feel that Vassar 
 College has not lost, can never lose, President Raymond. The 
 life which he spent in her behalf yet lives in her a power and 
 an inspiration. We remember the purity and singleness of his 
 aims, the unwavering faith in the true and the beautiful which 
 made his earthly career a constant preparation for the higher 
 existence ; we cannot doubt the heroism which was able at the 
 last, cheerfully, unquestioningly, to leave the completion of his 
 life-task to other hands. Shall we not then best honor him by 
 rising above the sorrow for our earthly friend to the emulation 
 of his nobility ? And what thought can more confirm our faith 
 in the grand future of Alma Mater than the knowledge that she 
 has absorbed the vitality of this rare life ? H. C. H. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 CLOSING DAYS. 
 
 THE last years of my father's life were spent, like 
 all that had preceded them, in busy and exhausting 
 labors. If he had never consciously chosen a watch- 
 word, it still shone out from his daily life in the work in 
 which he delighted. The element of rest seemed almost 
 eliminated from his experience, even the Sabbath bring- 
 ing him the pastoral cares which rested so sacredly 
 upon his heart. His preparation for the pulpit was 
 usually made Saturday night, after he had vainly at- 
 tempted to rescue time from the engrossments of the 
 week, and the early morning light often found him 
 writing upon the unfinished sermon. The vacations 
 which brought rest to others were full of work for him, 
 as the changes of each year left vacancies to be sup- 
 plied in the College corps, which involved much 
 thought, discussion, and correspondence, and he could 
 not go far enough from home to escape the daily pack- 
 age of letters which faithfully followed him and ever 
 brought new subjects for reflection. The spring of 1875, 
 which closed so successfully the first decade of the Col- 
 lege, found him with health greatly impaired, and grave 
 fears were entertained by many of his friends. He 
 would have been poorly prepared for the duties of 
 another year without the summer of refreshment 
 which was secured to him by the action of the Board 
 of Trustees and by the generous gift of some of its 
 
696 JOHN H. RAYMOND, 
 
 members. It was a gift of new life. He sought restor- 
 ation once more in European travel, and was again 
 greatly benefited. 
 
 But three years sufficed to exhaust the stores of 
 strength which he laid up in those life-giving months. 
 Although they were free from the special perplexities 
 which he had known in the earlier and experimental 
 years of the College, they brought a burden of daily care 
 which few could measure, as he freely gave'of brain and 
 heart to the interests which were so precious to him. 
 Yet never was his life more joyfully given to his work. 
 The hours of depression were rare, and, while his bodily 
 strength failed, his spirit was perpetually renewed. 
 
 I am permitted to cite here the impressions of one 
 who had been associated with him in the daily duties 
 of his office, written soon after his death to a long- 
 absent friend : 
 
 The two points that have impressed me most in my constant 
 intercourse with him have been his unfailing cheerfulness and 
 his all-embracing charity not merely kindly benevolence of 
 feeling, but a great Christ-like love for every human being, a 
 determination to believe the best of everybody, in spite of 
 appearances, and an effort to search for honorable and praise- 
 worthy motives as an explanation of conduct. Both these 
 points have been especially prominent during the last year. He 
 was so light-hearted, there was such a constant ebullition of 
 happy, joyous feelings, that I find it impossible now to believe 
 that his physical strength was, even then, yielding to the long 
 and bravely borne burden of over-work and care. The success 
 which crowned his great and arduous labors was so great and 
 manifest that he could not help having intense satisfaction and 
 happiness in it. One after another, obstacles were overcome. 
 Each year he saw his ideal more fully met. He had in large 
 measure the greatest happiness that can come to a human 
 being, the evidence that through his instrumentality lives were 
 
CLOSING DAYS. 697 
 
 constantly growing nobler and purer. He was so permeated 
 with the conviction that the work in which he was engaged was 
 God's work, and that he was doing it consciously for Him, that 
 when he heard His voice calling him to another sphere of labor, 
 he turned easily, without any shock or hesitation, to obey the 
 call. I cannot think of his life during his last years without 
 feeling that he had, and that he enjoyed, the most rich and ample 
 and satisfying return of all his labors. 
 
 This was the fruition which came to him amid his 
 very latest duties. Never was it so sweet, or so evident 
 to those about him, as in the last days of his public 
 ministration. A year which had not been free from 
 great anxieties had closed propitiously ; the last burden 
 was rolled from his heart, and he gave himself up to 
 the enjoyment of the present and of the bright future 
 which he saw before the College. " Never have I been so 
 thoroughly satisfied with a Commencement," he said. 
 He entered with joyous zest into all the duties, social 
 and official, of the busy week. All the strength and sun- 
 shine of his nature seemed gathered up in that one 
 last effort. Many who were present at that time 
 remember the brightness which in looking back to it 
 now seems a radiance of look and manner. He was 
 everywhere present, exchanging greetings and con- 
 gratulations with all. Every face that he met and 
 every hand that was stretched out to him seemed to 
 touch some special chord of memory or loving interest 
 in his heart. He was particularly happy in the return 
 of many of the earlier students and alumnae, and each 
 received a welcome and a blessing. Every member of 
 the large class which graduated seemed to hold an 
 individual place in his acquaintance and affection, as 
 each one came to say farewell and lingered to hear his 
 parting words. 
 
698 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 The three days which followed Commencement were 
 joyful days to those who cherish the last unshadowed 
 memories of husband and father. All the brightness 
 of his life seemed to culminate and shine forth in those 
 cloudless hours. A wealth of love and delight and 
 blessed companionship was poured out upon the 
 children and grandchildren and young friends who sur- 
 rounded him, as he gave himself up to their every wish 
 in walks or drives or the readings which they begged for. 
 
 On the fourth day after Commencement, which was 
 the Sabbath, he suffered from a severe headache, which 
 seemed only the natural reaction of the week's excite- 
 ment. From that time no hour was free from suffer- 
 ing. By the advice of friends he went on Monday to 
 Saratoga, hoping for benefit from the waters, but 
 upon arriving there was greatly prostrated ; threat- 
 ened, the physicians said,, with an attack of malarial 
 fever. His beloved friend, the College Superintendent, 
 Mr. William Forby alas! so soon to follow him to 
 the better Country had accompanied him on the 
 journey and remained with him at Saratoga, giving him 
 the most devoted sympathy and attention till the worst 
 symptoms were relieved. Alternations of improvement 
 and relapse awoke the apprehensions of his friends. 
 His wife had joined him, and was daily hoping that he 
 would gain strength for the journey home. But each day 
 disappointed the hope, until his friend Mr. Matthew 
 Vassar, who had become seriously alarmed, went him- 
 self to Saratoga to offer the affectionate and timely aid 
 without which the. journey could hardly have been 
 accomplished. He engaged a special car, and every 
 step of the painful way was made easy by his thought- 
 ful care and his appeals to brakemen and conductors, 
 
CLOSING DA YS. 699 
 
 who avoided as far as possible the jarring and jolting 
 of the train. It was a long and trying ride from the 
 depot in Poughkeepsie to the College, and the rapidly- 
 wasting strength of the invalid was well-nigh exhausted. 
 Arrived at last, Mr. Vassar lifted him from the carriage 
 and bore him in his own arms up the long stairway to 
 the rooms from which he would go out no more. His 
 deep sigh of relief and the whispered " God bless you" 
 were the only sign of the longings which were satisfied 
 in the rest of home. Here loving hands ministered to 
 him, and though many hearts were anxious, it was only 
 with the fear of a long-continued illness. Among those 
 who were summoned was his life-long friend and 
 beloved brother, Dr. Bliss, who spent many hours by 
 his bedside. A letter from him will tell the story of 
 those days of silent watching and close the last chapter 
 of this Life : 
 
 CROZER THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, .) 
 CHESTER, PA., March i, 1880. J 
 
 MY DEAR NIECE: In complying with your request that I 
 should give some account of your father's last hours, allow me 
 to say a word first about the stages by which I had seen him 
 approach the end. I think it was in November of the preceding 
 fall that, yielding to the urgent advice of physicians, he had con- 
 sented to rest for three weeks only (they had recommended 
 some months), a part of which time he and your mother spent 
 with us. We were grieved, not to say shocked, at the manifest 
 enfeeblement of his health. Still, although your aunt seemed 
 already to foresee that her brother would not stay long on the 
 earth, I did not entertain such a thought. I was indeed per- 
 suaded that the rest which he was taking was quite insufficient, 
 but he almost promised that he would the next summer throw 
 off altogether his burden for a year, or for six months at least. 
 As we had seen him once or twice rally from similar depression 
 of health upon a little relaxation, I easily believed that a long 
 vacation after that year's labor a vacation to be spent abroad 
 
700 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 if possible would assure him several years yet of his happy and 
 most useful life. 
 
 I was encouraged in this hope by the lively interest which he 
 still took in all topics of literature, theology, political and social 
 science, and especially of education. The work at Vassar Col- 
 lege was constantly on his heart. He had plans of authorship 
 especially in regard to some of the text-books needed in his 
 own course of instruction, which, although he spoke somewhat 
 doubtfully about living to carry them out, I saw no reason why 
 he should not accomplish. 
 
 Very precious to me is the remembrance of some of the par- 
 ticular conversations which we had during those days. The 
 more precious, seeing that afterward, at the last, there was no 
 opportunity of intercourse which it was so painful to miss. The 
 impression that I retain of it all is just such as I would wish to 
 have of my dearest friend, who was soon to be taken away from 
 the earth. Nothing was said directly about death, but various 
 intimations proved that it was present in his thought as a not 
 distant probability ; and there were the most definite expres- 
 sions in the face of all which lately has combined to try our 
 faith in the Bible, in immortality, and even in God of an un- 
 shaken and restful trust in the old truths of the Gospel. His 
 hope was not made ashamed, because the love of God had in a 
 long and varied experience been shed abroad in his heart. 
 
 I think of that visit as in the line alas that it should have 
 been at the termination ! of meetings which, after our delightful 
 intimacy at Hamilton, were interrupted by wide remoteness of 
 residence and by our common engrossment in labors and cares, 
 but which, happily more frequent since my residence here, I had 
 trusted should continue while I lived, my life's refreshment, in- 
 spiration, ornament, and joy. But life I might have known is 
 for work, and its other ideals will become realities only in an- 
 other sphere. 
 
 When in the fall of 1877 your father had returned home, we 
 were cheered for a time with encouraging reports of his im- 
 proved health. But in February following, and again in March, 
 I had occasion to visit Vassar College, and then I found him 
 suffering with rheumatic pains in the back which greatly crip- 
 pled him and made the discharge of his ordinary duties very 
 
CLOSING DAYS 701 
 
 difficult. The change since November in his appearance and 
 capability of movement struck me as sadly ominous. Still, his 
 control over the indications of pain was so effectual ; so bright 
 were the gleams, which broke through at times, of his old 
 manner in the family and with his friends, considerate, genial, 
 witty, and wise ; and so deep was his interest in his work and 
 everything of human concern, that it was easy in his presence 
 to feel that the coming vacation would make all right. On one 
 of those visits I noticed that in referring to the book on Ethics 
 which he had had in mind to write, he spoke of it as that which he 
 could have wished to prepare, and added, " But I shall not have 
 time for that now." How he revived at approach of summer, 
 went strongly through the preparations for Commencement and 
 through the Commencement itself, you, who were favored in 
 being with him during the few bright days which followed, can 
 tell better than I, who never heard a clearly conscious word from 
 him afterward. 
 
 Some time during the last of July of that year your sister N. f 
 who was with us, was called home on account of her father's ill- 
 ness. I myself became so anxious from the accounts of his state, 
 although these were not strictly alarming, that I went to Vassar 
 in the fore part of August and staid a couple of days. But I 
 did not at that time see the beloved invalid. His physician pre- 
 ferred that no one should be admitted to his room except those 
 who had the immediate charge of him, apprehending that the 
 sight of visitors might affect him unfavorably. How often I 
 have since wished that I could at least have looked on him then, 
 heard one distinct utterance from his feeble lips, or felt even the 
 conscious pressure of his hand ! And I quite agree with what 
 one of the old Vassar teachers wrote to you : " If the doctors 
 had known your father completely, they would not have been 
 afraid at any time to let you see him. His heart was not set 
 upon living, and his will was so at one with God's will that noth- 
 ing could really disturb him. How his cultivated soul shone 
 out in those days! He was so thoroughly self-controlled, so 
 balanced at the center, that physical pain could not dominate 
 him." Hope still predominated in the reports of your father's 
 condition when I left. Brief notes of your mother to us within 
 the next few days tended, in spite of her evident desire to see 
 
702 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 encouragement, to aggravate our anxiety; and on the morning 
 of Monday, August I2th, I received from her a dispatch desiring 
 me to return if possible to Poughkeepsie. I made all haste to 
 reach there that afternoon. A word from your grandfather at 
 the railroad station at once relieved me and confirmed my fears : 
 " Alive, but almost gone." 
 
 The first sight of your father himself somewhat reassured me. 
 He did not seem at that glance to be so near his end as I had 
 expected ; scarcely even beyond hope that he might yet live. He 
 lay with his eyes closed, his hands extended on either side of him, 
 breathing somewhat heavily, but apparently free from pain, and 
 taking no notice of things external except when pointedly 
 aroused. A little medicine or nourishment or stimulant would 
 be given him every few minutes, which made it necessary to 
 awake him. He did not then open his eyes or try to speak, 
 but took quietly whatever was offered him, seemed to swallow 
 without special difficulty, and fell again into slumber. I noticed 
 that his color was not that of death, but face and hands showed 
 blood freely circulating ; the pulse was rapid though feeble, and 
 somewhat unsteady. However, Dr. T., when he came, pointed 
 out the steps of decline through the last twenty-four hours, 
 which were plainly leading to a not distant end. 
 
 I learned that since his case became alarming he had said but 
 little to indicate his thought or feelings about it. I concluded 
 that he had sooner than others become aware of the seriousness 
 of his malady, and had serenely resigned all into the hands of God, 
 seeing the uselessness of trying longer to concern himself with the 
 work here which lay so near his heart, or about the loved ones 
 he was soon to leave in the care of a heavenly Father. The 
 last sentence that he tried to speak was eminently characteristic 
 of him. It was broken, and difficult to catch, but distinct in 
 meaning: "How easy how easy how easy to glide from the 
 work here to the work " there, he evidently wished to add, but 
 even the gentle force required for that failed him. 
 
 After I had been with him an hour or so, I spoke to him, tell- 
 ing him my name, upon which he opened his eyes with a glance 
 of dim but unmistakable recognition. When I asked if he had 
 the Saviour's presence in the way through which he was pass- 
 ing, he made an effort to speak one short word which was cer- 
 
CLOSING DAYS. 73 
 
 tainly " Yes." Some of us kneeled down by his bed and a minute 
 was spent in audible prayer for him and for those he was leav- 
 ing behind. Those friends who watched him said he evidently 
 caught the sound of prayer and glanced toward the quarter 
 whence it came. But it is hardly probable that he could follow 
 one continuous sentence. I sat fanning him, much of the time 
 alone, until quite late in the evening, when the nurse took him 
 in charge for the remainder of the night. 
 
 It would be of little use, I fear, for the purpose of your memoir, 
 my dear niece, for me to endeavor to report the thoughts which 
 crowded on my mind by that bedside, whence the Saviour in 
 Heaven was summoning to Himself my most dear friend, that 
 evening. Yet if I could express them, they would serve at least 
 to intimate the sense which one who had known him well for 
 more than forty years entertained of the worth of the dying 
 man. Enough that my vivid recollection of all that time brought 
 to view no trait of his character, no* act done, no word spoken, 
 which I could wish to change, obscure, or forget. To praise 
 ordinary excellencies of character in him would be a wrong to 
 his virtues.* As much as in the case of any man I ever knew, 
 to say the least, it seemed to me that death needed only to 
 release him from bodily infirmities to make him manifestly 
 meet for " the inheritance of the saints in light." For our eter- 
 nal companionship we do not want him other than he was, 
 except that that very soul should be transferred to " the build- 
 ing of God, not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." 
 
 While I sat fanning him late that evening, the windows being 
 open, there came from the road in front of the College grounds 
 the sound of song. It was as if some Sunday-school, or other 
 such company of young people, returning from an excursion 
 into the country, were singing one of their familiar hymns. The 
 tones were much subdued by the distance, yet instantly your 
 father's measured and audible breathing was suspended, once 
 and again, in a manner which showed beyond question that the 
 music had caught his ear and interested his attention. Who 
 can tell what it may have suggested to his mind ? 
 
 * "Integritatem atque abstinentiam in tanto viro referre injuria 
 virtutum fuerit." TACITUS, Agric, IX. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 FRIENDLY TRIBUTES. 
 
 IN this brief chapter have been gathered a few of 
 many healing and helpful words spoken or written 
 about the departed friend. And, first, some portions 
 of the remarks of the Rev. Dr. Edward Lathrop, at 
 the private funeral services held in the College : 
 
 It is on occasions like this that the heart speaks. It is not 
 the time for elaborate and studied discourse not even for such 
 arrangement of first thoughts as might, in cooler moments, seem 
 to be most appropriate and just. We are here to bury our 
 friend, and in the freshness of our grief we can think only of our 
 loss, and remember only how much we loved him. I know I 
 will be pardoned if in a single moment I give utterance to a few 
 words which are personal, in part, to myself. I have been so 
 long, and at times so intimately, associated with this beloved 
 and honored brother (I do not now allude to official association), 
 I have known him so familiarly in the more private walks of life 
 in the intimacies, first, of college life (we were students to- 
 gether in those early days), in the family, and in various other 
 relations that I had come to esteem and love him as one of the 
 most excellent and true-hearted and noble of all whose friend- 
 ship it has been my privilege to enjoy ; and now he has passed 
 from my earthly vision, and as these precious remains lie before 
 me I do not think of him as Dr. Raymond, the accomplished 
 scholar, the learned professor, the distinguished President of 
 Vassar College, but rather and simply as John H. Raymond, the 
 guileless man the genial, the companionable, the trusted friend. 
 The man is more than the scholar ; the qualities of the heart 
 are of greater worth than the badges of office. And yet I must 
 not forget that interests of more than a private nature are 
 
FRIENDLY TRIBUTES. 709 
 
 affected by the event which summoned us here to-day, and that 
 I am, in some sense, the representative of those wider interests. 
 
 Doubtless the greatest work of Dr. Raymond's life, and that 
 impress of his character and teachings which will be the most 
 permanent and far-reaching, are the work which he performed 
 in his connection with this College, and the impress which he 
 left upon the minds and hearts of those who have annually gone 
 forth from these halls to do the honest womanly work for which 
 his and other associated hands had trained them. He was fitted, 
 in a pre-eminent sense, for the position which he occupied. In 
 his physical structure and peculiarities, if I may so speak, in his 
 temperament, and in his mental characteristics, he was qualified, 
 as few are, to be the instructor, the monitor and guide of the 
 young, especially of young women. Gentle, refined, winning, his 
 very presence was an elevating inspiration, and in his Christian 
 manliness, and yet freedom from everything like religious affec- 
 tation and cant, the moral influence of his life, as he moved 
 unostentatiously and cheerfully among his numerous college 
 family, was most benign and salutary. In other respects, more- 
 over, he possessed the fitness to which I have referred, in an 
 unusual degree. His whole previous intellectual training had 
 qualified him for the discharge of the complex and difficult duties 
 of the office to which he gave the strength of his later and best 
 days. . . . 
 
 The work which he undertook, and which he sedulously 
 prosecuted to the end of his life, was, at the outset, environed 
 with difficulties which those only can fully estimate who were 
 his co-laborers in reducing to something like order and system 
 what seemed to be wholly confused and chaotic. A new experi- 
 ment was to be tried. An enterprise, such as the world had not 
 before known was to be inaugurated. An experience in unusual 
 and untried methods was to be acquired, and, in a word, a task 
 was to be undertaken which might well test the patience, if 
 indeed it should not exhaust the energy, of the stoutest and 
 bravest. To this task our friend earnestly set himself. Calmly, 
 unpretentiously, cautiously he felt his way, until, one after 
 another, the problems were solved, the rubbish taken away, and 
 the edifice in its beauty, as we now see it, stood revealed. In 
 doing his work as judgment and conscience dictated, it is need- 
 
706 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 funeral meeting of friends was quietly held on Friday afternoon, 
 in the chapel where he had so often led the devotions of the 
 great College family and spoken to them the words of truth and 
 soberness concerning life, its duties, and the life eternal. His 
 friend for more than forty years, Rev. Dr. Edward Lathrop, 
 President of the Board of Trustees of Vassar College, in his 
 discourse gave voice to the profound affection and esteem 
 which the departed one had inspired. A last hymn was sung, 
 and the last look silently taken of the face of the dead. The 
 burial took place the next day. Several of the Trustees of the 
 College, delegated for this purpose, accompanied the family and 
 other friends on their sad errand down the Hudson, on the steam- 
 boat " Mary Powell" The most respectful sympathy was ex- 
 pressed by the very look of all, even of the people connected 
 with the boat, to whom the face and form now still in death had 
 become familiar. Many of the company knew and could not 
 fail to remember now the appreciative enjoyment with which he 
 had so often viewed the charming scenery through which we 
 glided toward our destination. We might have felt that truly 
 
 "The hills, 
 Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun," 
 
 with all the poet's grand and beautiful array of the phenomena 
 of nature, 
 
 " Are but the solemn decorations all 
 Of the great tomb of man ;" 
 
 but that sentiment could not suit with the funeral of one so 
 cheerful in his views of life, and who, having faithfully served 
 God and his generation, had simply risen to a more beautiful 
 and blessed state. To him the grandeur and glory of external 
 nature was, rather, the adornment of man's earthly dwelling-place 
 and hint of the more entrancing beauty of the world to come. 
 
 Peculiarly suggestive of solemn reflection was the passage of 
 our burial-train through the crowd and bustle of the two cities. 
 How striking the contrast between that surging activity of the 
 scene on which his life began and the pulseless quiet in which 
 he lay at the end of life ! Would any one of the busy or the 
 careless throng heed the salutary lesson ? Slowly we threaded 
 our way across New York over the East River through the 
 
CLOSING DAYS. 707 
 
 streets of Brooklyn, still more nearly associated with the early 
 training and subsequent labors of our departed friend. We 
 passed close in front of certain doors to which he had been well 
 known and ever welcome. It would have seemed the most 
 natural thing in the world if he had been seen that moment as- 
 cending the steps. It was still hard to be persuaded that he 
 would never tread them again, that these places which had 
 known him so well through nearly a lifetime would never know 
 him more. 
 
 Other friends were awaiting us in the sacred inclosure at 
 " Wintergreen Hill" in Greenwood Cemetery. There our 
 precious charge was fondly laid, among the graves of his father 
 and mother and children who had gone before him, and of many 
 other relatives and friends. Years and generations will pass, 
 and still the hearts of some visitors to that Paradise of Tombs 
 will be tenderly moved as they read on a plain granite cross the 
 name of JOHN HOWARD RAYMOND. 
 
 G. R. B. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 FRIENDLY TRIBUTES. 
 
 IN this brief chapter have been gathered a few of 
 many healing and helpful words spoken or written 
 about the departed friend. And, first, some portions 
 of the remarks of the Rev. Dr. Edward Lathrop, at 
 the private funeral services held in the College : 
 
 It is on occasions like this that the heart speaks. It is not 
 the time for elaborate and studied discourse not even for such 
 arrangement of first thoughts as might, in cooler moments, seem 
 to be most appropriate and just. We are here to bury our 
 friend, and in the freshness of our grief we can think only of our 
 loss, and remember only how much we loved him. I know I 
 will be pardoned if in a single moment I give utterance to a few 
 words which are personal, in part, to myself. I have been so 
 long, and at times so intimately, associated with this beloved 
 and honored brother (I do not now allude to official association), 
 I have known him so familiarly in the more private walks of life 
 in the intimacies, first, of college life (we were students to- 
 gether in those early days), in the family, and in various other 
 relations that I had come to esteem and love him as one of the 
 most excellent and true-hearted and noble of all whose friend- 
 ship it has been my privilege to enjoy ; and now he has passed 
 from my earthly vision, and as these precious remains lie before 
 me I do not think of him as Dr. Raymond, the accomplished 
 scholar, the learned professor, the distinguished President of 
 Vassar College, but rather and simply as John H. Raymond, the 
 guileless man the genial, the companionable, the trusted friend. 
 The man is more than the scholar ; the qualities of the heart 
 are of greater worth than the badges of office. And yet I must 
 not forget that interests of more than a private nature are 
 
FRIENDLY TRIBUTES. 709 
 
 affected by the event which summoned us here to-day, and that 
 I am, in some sense, the representative of those wider interests. 
 
 Doubtless the greatest work of Dr. Raymond's life, and that 
 impress of his character and teachings which will be the most 
 permanent and far-reaching, are the work which he performed 
 in his connection with this College, and the impress which he 
 left upon the minds and hearts of those who have annually gone 
 forth from these halls to do the honest womanly work for which 
 his and other associated hands had trained them. He was fitted, 
 in a pre-eminent sense, for the position which he occupied. In 
 his physical structure and peculiarities, if I may so speak, in his 
 temperament, and in his mental characteristics, he was qualified, 
 as few are, to be the instructor, the monitor and guide of the 
 young, especially of young women. Gentle, refined, winning, his 
 very presence was an elevating inspiration, and in his Christian 
 manliness, and yet freedom from everything like religious affec- 
 tation and cant, the moral influence of his life, as he moved 
 unostentatiously and cheerfully among his numerous college 
 family, was most benign and salutary. In other respects, more- 
 over, he possessed the fitness to which I have referred, in an 
 unusual degree. His whole previous intellectual training had 
 qualified him for the discharge of the complex and difficult duties 
 of the office to which he gave the strength of his later and best 
 days. . . . 
 
 The work which he undertook, and which he sedulously 
 prosecuted to the end of his life, was, at the outset, environed 
 with difficulties which those only can fully estimate who were 
 his co-laborers in reducing to something like order and system 
 what seemed to be wholly confused and chaotic. A new experi- 
 ment was to be tried. An enterprise, such as the world had not 
 before known was to be inaugurated. An experience in unusual 
 and untried methods was to be acquired, and, in a word, a task 
 was to be undertaken which might well test the patience, if 
 indeed it should not exhaust the energy, of the stoutest and 
 bravest. To this task our friend earnestly set himself. Calmly, 
 unpretentiously, cautiously he felt his way, until, one after 
 another, the problems were solved, the rubbish taken away, and 
 the edifice in its beauty, as we now see it, stood revealed. In 
 doing his work as judgment and conscience dictated, it is need- 
 
710 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 less to say that he sometimes differed in opinion with those of 
 his associates whom, nevertheless, he highly respected and 
 esteemed. But this much must be said in honor of him whose 
 face in the flesh we shall see no more and in justice to him it 
 must be said that while he frankly and forcibly expressed his 
 own convictions on all questions affecting the interests of the 
 College, he yet always expressed himself courteously and with 
 due consideration of the opinions of others. It was his prero- 
 gative to suggest methods and measures, but he urged nothing 
 dogmatically, and much less did he utter anything offensively. 
 With all his greatness of intellectual wealth, he was yet a child 
 in the simplicity and tenderness of his heart. He cherished no 
 malice toward any; he nursed no spleen, evinced no bitterness, 
 thought no evil ; but, on the contrary, was in spirit as he was in 
 manner, always and everywhere, the Christian gentleman. The 
 Board of Trustees, whose deliberations have been uniformly 
 harmonious, will bear me witness that in the rare instances in 
 which differences of opinion have arisen as to the questions of 
 policy introduced by the President, the reasons for the adoption 
 of the proposed measures have been so clearly and cogently 
 stated, and yet so respectfully urged, that in almost every in- 
 stance his recommendations have been adopted, because, on 
 careful examination, they have been deemed to be wisest and 
 best. These remarks touching the spirit and bearing of Dr. 
 Raymond will call forth, I know, a hearty response from those 
 especially who have been intimately associated with him in the 
 departments of instruction and government. These, his col- 
 leagues, will sadly realize, when they again come together to 
 resume their college work, that it is not alone their President 
 that they have lost, but more, their friend. And how sincere 
 and wide-spread will be the sorrow of the hundreds of the 
 alumnae, as in their homes they read the notice of this death, 
 and recall the paternal counsels of him who was, in no insignifi- 
 cant sense, their father, and whose benediction rested upon 
 them when they went forth from this pleasant retreat to enter 
 the broader fields of duty and trial ! Who will not miss him, 
 that has ever known him in the intimacy of his personal friend- 
 ship ! in the sweetness and tenderness of his loving heart ! 
 
FRIENDLY TRIBUTES. 711 
 
 I have said nothing specifically, thus far, as to President 
 Raymond's personal religious character and life. This sketch, 
 necessarily imperfect as it is, would be still more defective were 
 I to leave this point untouched. He was a Christian of high 
 and noble aims. Religion with him was not a mere name, but 
 a divine reality. His views of scriptural truth were distinctive 
 and settled, and while, on all proper occasions, he was ready to 
 state and defend those views, his spirit nevertheless was emi- 
 nently catholic, and he embraced in his warmest Christian 
 sympathies all, of every name, who were partakers of like 
 precious faith with himself. It was his earnest wish and 
 endeavor, as I know from repeated interviews with him, that 
 this institution, while in no sense sectarian, should yet be inter- 
 penetrated with the principles of a pure and ennobling Christi- 
 anity. It was education, in its complete and highest sense 
 education crowned with practical godliness that he aimed to 
 give to those committed to his care. I have intimated that his 
 purpose in early life was to devote himself to the Christian 
 ministry, and although he never received formal and public 
 ordination to that work, he yet preached not a little, and his 
 pulpit addresses, as many will testify, were not only remarkable 
 for the chasteness of their diction and, at times, for their 
 captivating eloquence, but they were also weighty and powerful, 
 as embodying instruction of the highest religious moment. . . . 
 
 And what remains to be said ? There are those here present 
 whose grief is sacred, and into the privacy of whose sorrow not 
 stranger nor friend may enter. I cannot, I dare not lift that 
 veil. I can only commend such to God and to the word of His 
 grace. May the Judge of the widow, and He who has promised 
 to be the Father of the fatherless, be to these stricken ones all 
 that our most earnest prayers can invoke. How precious to 
 such are the words which fell from the dying lips of him whom 
 they sorrow, but not as those who have no hope : " How easy 
 how easy to glide from our work here to our work there." 
 Yes, easy for him who has done life's work well, and who when 
 the summons to go up higher comes, has nothing to do but to 
 die, and to enter upon that purer, sublime service. Wherefore, 
 with these words, let us comfort one another. 
 
712 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 At a special meeting of the Board of Trustees of 
 Vassar College, held at the College on Friday, August 
 l6th, 1878, a committee was appointed to prepare a 
 minute in reference to the death of Dr. Raymond. 
 The chairman of the Board appointed as such com- 
 mittee Mr. William Allen Butler, Rev. Dr. Elias L. 
 Magoon, and Mr. Rezin A. Wight, who reported the 
 following : 
 
 The Board of Trustees of Vassar College, convened in a special 
 meeting for the purpose of taking action in reference to the 
 death of Dr. John H. Raymond, the President of the College, 
 desire to place on record an expression of their profound per- 
 sonal grief at the great bereavement, of their sincere sympathy 
 with the family of their deceased friend and associate, and their 
 high appreciation of his personal character, and of the signal 
 services rendered by him to this institution and to the cause of 
 education. 
 
 Dr. Raymond was elected President of Vassar College in 1864, 
 before the completion of the college buildings, and before any 
 students had been matriculated. To the task of organizing and 
 establishing upon permanent foundations a new institution with- 
 out precedent in the extent and completeness of its design, 
 intended to furnish to woman a thorough collegiate education, 
 he brought qualities which fitted- him most admirably for this 
 new and experimental sphere. In hearty sympathy with the 
 views of the Founder of Vassar College, President Raymond's 
 thorough scholarship, his genial and refined nature, and his 
 quick appreciation of the peculiar needs of the minds committed 
 to his care gave him a special aptitude for the work, while his 
 rare executive ability, his untiring industry, and his capacity for 
 the details incident to the multifarious duties of his office gave 
 him at all times the mastery of the affairs committed to his 
 charge, and enabled him to control with apparent ease the vari- 
 ous departments of the institution. In the class-room; with 
 the Faculty ; in the Committees, and meetings of the Board of 
 Trustees; in the chapel, where he ministered as the spiritual 
 adviser and instructor of so many bright and earnest minds, and 
 
FRIENDLY TRIBUTES. 713 
 
 in his intercourse with the professors and teachers, the students 
 and other inmates of the College, and with all who visited it 
 on whatever errand of solicitude or inquiry, he was always the 
 same considerate, patient, and sagacious counselor, guide, and 
 friend. The judicious and jealous care with which he guarded 
 at every point the interests of the institution to which he had 
 given life, and which he served with a passionate devotion, were 
 most conspicuous, while the elevated Christian spirit with which 
 he was imbued pervaded its whole character and was its per- 
 manent source of strength and beauty, giving to his adminis- 
 tration of the College the seal of the highest usefulness and 
 power. 
 
 Dr. Raymond was permitted to see the complete success of 
 the institution, and to confer at its successive commencements 
 the diploma of the College on more than three hundred and 
 sixty graduates, many of whom in various parts of our own 
 country and distant regions of the world are now in different 
 spheres of duty, illustrating the truths in which they have been 
 taught within these walls under his wise oversight, while the 
 number of students who have pursued a partial course of in- 
 struction during his Presidency exceeds twenty-five hundred. 
 While we mourn his death in the maturity of his powers and 
 before the completion of the full measure of the more extended 
 usefulness we had hoped he might accomplish, we find in its 
 circumstances abundant sources of consolation. His great work 
 in the establishment of this College according to the beneficent 
 plan of its revered Founder has been well done; it has been 
 tried and tested, and will abide ; he saw and rejoiced in this well- 
 earned success ; and with no abatement of his interest or ardor 
 in the work, having just dismissed a graduating class of special 
 promise with words of encouragement and counsel, in this sea- 
 son of summer rest he has gently laid down the burden of 
 earthly care and duty, leaving to his family and to us the pre- 
 cious legacy of an unsullied name, worthy of special honor in 
 the roll of patient and self-sacrificing men and women who in 
 the noble calling of the teacher have been the educators and 
 examples of the race. 
 
 As a representation of the feeling of the College 
 
714 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 Faculty, an extract is here given from an article by Prof. 
 T. J. Backus in the Poughkeepsie Eagle, of Aug. 8th. 
 
 When the Founder of Vassar College sought the advice of dis- 
 tinguished educators in selecting the man who should be trusted 
 with the delicate, the dangerous work of organizing the first 
 great college for the higher education of women, he found it to 
 be almost the unanimous opinion that the experience, the suc- 
 cess, the temperament, and the accomplishments of Doctor 
 
 Raymond made him the man for the position His 
 
 work here began in the summer of 1865, when the College 
 was opened. Beset by the prejudices of over-conservative men 
 and by the exhortations of over-radical men, threatened by the 
 dangers that attend great social experiments, he was ready for 
 every emergency. He brought to his task an unwearying 
 patience, well developed power of observation, a cautiousness 
 that seemed at times to border on cowardice, but it was 
 the cautiousness which attends the heroic man. His ear has 
 been attentive to the voice of duty, and when she has 
 bid him act, he has been the man of courage. This quality 
 of caution in President Raymond has been of incalculable 
 value, not only to Vassar College, but also to the great 
 educational interests which it represents; for Vassar is 
 beyond all question the leader in the education of women, and 
 other colleges of women are following to success in her track. 
 That cautious man has guided Vassar into no dangerous ways. 
 Educational blunders have not been made. The present curri- 
 culum at Vassar is the skillful co-ordination of many educational 
 forces. It is a growth of thirteen years, and it has been culti-. 
 vated by the vigilant and skillful care of President Raymond. 
 
 None but his most intimate acquaintances have known of the 
 cares of his office. He has been an uncomplaining man under 
 crushing burdens ; and his success in carrying these burdens has 
 been without pride, with no ostentation. 
 
 A year ago this summer, in ill health, he denied himself 
 needed rest, remaining at his post during the entire vacation, 
 watching the interests of the College with great self-sacrifice. 
 The friendly warnings of his physicians were unheeded by this 
 
FRIENDLY TRIBUTES. 715 
 
 man, whose sole object was faithfulness to trusts which had been 
 committed to him. At that time the seeds of his disease were 
 rooted, and through the year past they have been growing. 
 His sufferings have been severe, but in spite of suffering and of 
 physical weakness he has assumed unusual and mighty cares, 
 patiently, cheerfully doing all things, enduring all things. 
 They who heard his parting words to his last graduating class, 
 as he eloquently portrayed the dignity and beauty and glory of 
 faithfulness, may recall the dignity and glory of the man as he 
 
 unwittingly applauded the chief grace of his own spirit 
 
 From near and far, anxious inquiries and tenderest sym- 
 pathies have been sent to President Raymond's friends during 
 the last fortnight, showing how important a place this unpre- 
 tending man has held in the esteem of those who knew his 
 worth. His death is a loss that will be felt in the society of 
 learning; a multitude of men and women who have been his 
 students will mourn for him with filial love ; his associates in the 
 Board of Trustees and in his Faculty, while grieving over his 
 departure, may yet rejoice that the work for which he was 
 peculiarly fitted has been so far carried on by him that no 
 adversity, not even his death, can shake the firm foundations he 
 has laid. This venerable man's dignity and worth have had no 
 more touching tribute than is paid in the quiet grief seen on the 
 faces of men and women in the service of the College. His 
 many deeds of kindness to them, and his services quietly and 
 indirectly given to poverty, are now bringing to his memory the 
 incense of gratitude. 
 
 At a meeting of the Board of Trustees of the Brook- 
 lyn Collegiate and Polytechnic Institute, held December 
 5th, 1878, the following memorial was submitted by the 
 President, Mr. Isaac H. Frothingham, on the part of 
 the Committee appointed to prepare the same : 
 
 BROOKLYN COLLEGIATE AND POLYTECHNIC INSTITUTE, ) 
 October, 1878. f 
 
 The Trustees of this Institute, recalling its early history, are 
 desirous that its records should bear witness to the respect enter- 
 
716 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 tained by the members of the Board for the character and 
 memory of the late John H. Raymond, LL.D., the distinguished 
 President of Vassar College, and for so many years connected 
 with this Institution as President of its Faculty. 
 
 Called by the unanimous voice of its Board of Trustees, at the 
 organization of the Institute, to mature and carry into practical 
 effect the course of instruction which had been adopted as the 
 basis of its influence and usefulness, he brought to the sphere of 
 his labors, and to the development of the work to which the 
 Trustees had given many months of careful deliberation, a 
 hearty and sympathetic co-operation, a mind trained by patient 
 investigation and tested by wide and varied experience, enriched 
 by a generous culture and vitalized by a growing estimate of the 
 magnitude and importance of the enterprise in which he had 
 been called upon to take so prominent a part. 
 
 Methodical, judicious, painstaking, and laborious, he gave to 
 the early years of the Institute, the years of its growth and un- 
 folding, the best powers of a gifted mind and the devotion of an 
 earnest life; and he was cheered in his work by the growing 
 success of the undertaking, the full appreciation of his services 
 by a discriminating circle of co-laborers, the approval of the 
 Trustees, and by the growth of an enlightened public sentiment. 
 
 In his acceptance of the Presidency of Vassar College, he 
 carried with him the esteem not only of those who were imme- 
 diately associated with him in the educational work of the 
 Institute but also of those who had known him less intimately 
 through the influences of his labors in our city, and the best 
 wishes of all for an abundant success in the new and important 
 experiment of a higher education for females, as President of 
 Vassar College, to which he had been invited under the most 
 favorable auspices. 
 
 A genial companion ; a true and sincere friend ; an educated, 
 high-minded, pure and patriotic Christian gentleman ; a trusted 
 educator of the mind and heart in all that was generous and 
 ennobling, he won our warmest love and our sincerest regard ; 
 and his services will ever be held by us and all of his associates 
 in the work of the Institute, and in the wider spheres of his 
 usefulness, in grateful and cherished remembrance. 
 
 In our love for him, we would remember those of his house- 
 
FRIENDLY TRIBUTES. 717 
 
 hold and family in their great bereavement and sorrow, and would 
 tender to them the assurances of our most cordial sympathy 
 and regard. 
 
 On motion, the above memorial was unanimously adopted by 
 the Board, and the Secretary was directed to enter the same 
 upon the minutes, and to transmit a copy to the family of the 
 deceased. 
 
 B. F. FROTHINGHAM, Secretary. 
 
 In this connection extracts are given from an article 
 contributed to the Christian Union shortly after my 
 father's death, by his nephew, Dr. Rossiter W. Ray- 
 mond, who was one of the first graduates of the Poly- 
 technic, in Brooklyn : 
 
 I think the impression which Dr. Raymond invariably pro- 
 duced upon his pupils and associates was that of complete self- 
 control and unalterable gentleness in mind as in manner. Look- 
 ing upon his calm self-poise, one was tempted to imagine that it 
 was no great achievement in him that he " had been made so." 
 Yet this was the result of thorough discipline upon a fiery soul. 
 The tremendous energy he displayed in work was a power which, 
 in another man, or in him under other culture, might have mani- 
 fested itself in passion. The transformation of heat into motion 
 is a doctrine of physics which has its spiritual analogue. 
 
 Akin to this control of temper was the habitual cheerfulness 
 and courage manifested by Dr. Raymond. His temperament 
 was naturally mercurial sensitive to exaltation of joy, and, by 
 consequence, to a morbid depression of spirit. But he carried 
 the strength of one mood in reserve against the weakness of the x 
 other. As that exquisite contrivance, the Corliss engine, adjusts 
 its effort to its varying work, maintaining a uniform rate, so he 
 learned, so far as outward manifestations were concerned, to be 
 moderate in triumph, and to put forth greater endeavor in the 
 presence of greater difficulty or under the weight of heavier bur- 
 den. But the engine bears in every member the strain which 
 its uniform revolutions do not betray ; and so he broke down at 
 last under a pressure of labor and responsibility which none but 
 
718 JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 those most intimately acquainted with him suspected to be wear- 
 ing him out. . . . 
 
 No one could doubt, who knew him, that the secret source 
 of his strength and peace and self-command was religious a 
 personal faith and a constant adherence to principle. But re- 
 ligion works through different channels in different souls. Some 
 feel its power most in meditation, some in simple resignation ; 
 I think Dr. Raymond's inspiration came chiefly through work. 
 I have heard him quote with approbation Carlyle's glowing 
 outburst on that theme ; and his whole life was an illustration 
 of it. 
 
 Work was not play to him. He knew no way of doing things 
 easily. He managed men and mastered problems by no mere 
 intuition. Doubtless he had a natural gift in that direction. 
 Otherwise he could not have come, as he did, to be considered a 
 man who never failed, whose name once given to any plan was a 
 guaranty of its success. But he deserved this confidence chiefly 
 because he so thoroughly and laboriously studied and prepared 
 every step which he took. It was hard for him to leave to sub- 
 ordinates the arrangement of important details. His complete 
 command of the subjects he had so carefully examined was evi- 
 dent in the force with which his views were advocated and the 
 general certainty with which they were impressed on the boards 
 of trustees associated with him. I have repeatedly witnessed 
 his extraordinary industry and caution in inquiries concerning 
 the fitness of candidates for positions in Vassar College. So 
 thorough were such inquiries that when a person had once 
 passed the test victoriously, and had been recommended by the 
 Doctor to the Board, it was rare (if, indeed, it ever happened) 
 that his candidate could be defeated by whatever combination 
 of other interests and views. His influence, based on the esteem 
 and respect of his associates, grew stronger with their growing 
 
 admiration of his ability. Quaint old Mr. , of the Board 
 
 of Trustees, said of him, "Our President can dive deeper, swim 
 farther, and come out drier than any other man living !" 
 
 The subordination of impulse to training, so evident in the 
 particulars already mentioned, was strikingly exemplified in his 
 rhetoric. In conversation and extempore speech he was ordinarily 
 deliberate even to hesitation ; in written sermons and essays his 
 
FRIENDLY TRIBUTES. 719 
 
 style was elaborate, stately, and strong. That superficial fluency 
 which, like the rapids in a river, merely indicates shallowness of 
 the stream, he did not possess. But, let him be aroused by a 
 great occasion, he was astonishingly eloquent. Then the slow 
 training of years, the fastidious choice of words, and the careful 
 precision of thought which hemmed the current of his ordinary 
 speech became the conduit through which an irresistible torrent 
 of power was discharged. An occasion of this kind, described 
 to me many years ago by one who was present, I have never for- 
 gotten. It was in Rochester, N. Y., during the excitement which 
 followed in 1850 and 1851 the passage by Congress of the Fugi- 
 tive Slave Law. Toward the close of a mass meeting of citizens, 
 convened to express the public indignation, Dr. Raymond, then a 
 quiet professor in the young University of Rochester, was called 
 upon for a speech. He responded with "the speech of the even- 
 ing," an impromptu philippic, magnificent in eloquence, terrible 
 in logical force, perfect in rhetorical form, and " white-hot," as my 
 informant expressed it, with feeling. The audience was electri- 
 fied ; and the whole scene revealed how grand is the power of 
 speech when, fused in the furnace of art, it pours a fiery tide, 
 perfectly fluid yet perfectly controlled, to kindle, enlighten, or 
 destroy, as its master wills. Another somewhat similar occur- 
 rence was narrated in my hearing by Mr. Beecher, after his re- 
 turn from that famous tour duringwhich he delivered in England 
 his series of addresses on the civil war. For a part of the tour 
 Dr. Raymond was his traveling companion ; and Mr. Beecher 
 tells that on one occasion they were guests together at a " break- 
 fast," where speech-making was expected. Mr. B., thinking that 
 it would be well to have his own probably impetuous words con- 
 firmed by " something weighty, calm, moderate, and judicial in 
 tone," managed that Dr. Raymond should be next called upon. 
 But the Doctor, as he afterwards confessed, had been boiling, 
 ever since he had entered England, with suppressed indignation 
 over the public and private remarks then fashionable concerning 
 his country, her troubles and their cause. His speech was so 
 bold, so powerful, so unqualified in its patriotism, so wrathful 
 in its denunciation of slavery and the allies of slavery, so fiery 
 in eloquence, that his friend sat amazed to hear him. "He 
 took my breath away," says Mr. Beecher. " I said to myself, ' Is 
 
720 JOHN H. RA YMOND. 
 
 this John ? ' " Yes, it was he, polished, loaded, aimed and fired. 
 The matured power prepared through many years may thus be 
 discharged in some supreme moment far more effectively than 
 the unconfined ardor of youth, which flashes in the pan, explodes 
 in the air, makes a noise, and hits nothing. 
 
 I am reminded of another combination of qualities, often dis- 
 sociated, which gave a peculiar charm to his character. He 
 possessed an unfailing dignity, together with a keen sense of 
 humor. Every one of us boys at the Brooklyn Polytechnic 
 knew that the Doctor loved a joke, but not one would have pre- 
 sumed on that account to abate an iota in the respect which 
 belonged to our relations toward our President. It was a per- 
 petual consciousness of the dignity of his office and duty, not 
 of his own importance in it, that surrounded him like an atmos- 
 phere. Some of my recollections of those days concern the 
 administration of school discipline; and I can testify from ex- 
 perience that it was no light thing to be easily laughed off when, 
 after minor measures had failed, a fellow was summoned to a 
 private talk with the President. He scorned artifice and cant, 
 encouraged and practiced sincerity of speech, addressed his 
 pupils as his equals in social rank and moral responsibility, but 
 pursued them with relentless logic until they were ready to think 
 the Doctor's questions and reasons worse than the rod which, 
 by the w,ay, was never invoked in aid of his discipline. On the 
 other hand, his enjoyment of fun and his sympathy with youth, 
 which broke out in a thousand ways, were, I think, important 
 elements of the magnetic power which he exerted, and of the 
 capacity of endurance which he manifested. These things are 
 great lubricators of the machinery of life. They relieve labor 
 from drudgery and bring many a respite to care. When on rare 
 occasions Dr. Raymond was fully released from official responsi- 
 bility, the boyish zest with which he enjoyed a " real vacation" 
 proved the elasticity of his spirit. Alas ! he was loaded too 
 long and too dangerously near the limit of elasticity. Molecular 
 changes will come at last, and the resilience of the steel will 
 be impaired. His death, after acute disease had spent itself 
 and departed, was due, as the physicians declare, to sheer ex- 
 haustion. 
 
 Intellectually, also, his was a balanced mind, blending with a 
 
FRIENDLY TRIBUTES. 7 21 
 
 wide and tolerant recognition of the views and rights of others 
 a clear and firm adherence to his own matured conclusions. 
 Candid conservatism is rare in these days. In politics, theology, 
 and science alike, one school clings with bigotry to all that is 
 old, afraid to give an inch to change lest it takes an ell ; another 
 school runs eagerly after all that is new ; and a large part of the 
 remainder waits the issue, wringing hands and moaning, " What 
 are we coming to?" In more than one free interchange of opin- 
 ion and speculation on such subjects, I have had occasion to 
 feel the influence of Dr. Raymond's spirit so liberal, yet so far 
 from indifference ; so full of charity, yet so strong in faith. I 
 should be ashamed if it were necessary to say that he included 
 in his sympathy other religious denominations than that to 
 which he belonged. In his own words, "the names which sepa- 
 rate Christians are not so old as the Name which unites them." 
 But this were a small measure of his charity, which embraced 
 all men and appreciated the good in all. . . . 
 
 Power without ambition, consecration without bigotry, enthu- 
 siasm without fanaticism, gentleness without timidity, persever- 
 ance without combativeness, dignity without pomp, mirth with- 
 out frivolity, versatility without dissipation of energy, candor 
 without uncertainty, and piety without cant is it any wonder 
 that features like these combined cannot be drawn to the life? 
 A man of such endowment and such culture, if he had turned 
 it all to personal ends, would have been recognized as great. 
 Is his greatness any the less because he lived for others, and 
 chose that work which is most important and most useful, 
 though not most celebrated of all ? But we need not complain 
 of even his earthly reward. His fame, like the fame of Arnold 
 of Rugby, will live and grow through generations of those to 
 whom, and to whose fathers and mothers, he was strong guar- 
 dian, wise guide, dear friend. 
 
 Dr. Sewell S. Cutting, an early friend of Dr. Ray- 
 monds', his successor in the chair of English Literature, 
 Rhetoric, and Logic at the University of Rochester, 
 and a valued co-laborer with him in educational mat- 
 ters subsequently, writes as follows * 
 
722 JOHN H, RAYMOND. 
 
 NEW YORK, August 17, 1878. 
 
 MY DEAR MRS. RAYMOND : When I went to Poughkeepsie 
 yesterday to attend the funeral of your husband, I did not know 
 that the funeral was intended to be private. I followed the impulses 
 of my heart, and indeed I am thankful that I was ignorant of 
 the arrangement, and that I was permitted to be of those who 
 looked for the last time on his dear face, and who heard from the 
 lips of Drs. Lathrop and Bliss those just and beautiful tributes 
 to his character and life. 
 
 For ten years previous to the time when I succeeded him at 
 Rochester, I had met him often and had had the pleasure of 
 accounting him among those special friends with whom I had 
 had a thousand common sympathies. He was nearly of my own 
 age, and the kind of culture which interested him interested me 
 also, and we had common hopes and ends in reference to the 
 condition of our churches and our work in education. It was a 
 sorrow to me that our late paths brought us less together, but I 
 was not the less an observer of his work, and the old love never 
 died out of my heart. After repeated failures I went to the last 
 Commencement at Vassar, and at such inconvenience that I can 
 almost say I went for his sake, and, now that he is gone, I am 
 more thankful than I can tell that I had the blessed privilege of 
 listening to those impressive words, welling out from the depths 
 of his own spirit, with which he closed his parting address to 
 the graduated class. They dwell on my ear like distant music, 
 the more sacred for the associations which will bind them for- 
 ever to my memory. 
 
 And now he is gone gone to rejoin Maginnis and Richardson,. 
 Mrs. Kendrick and Mrs. Conant leaving us to linger a little 
 and then to follow, gone with his work rounded and complete,, 
 caving a finished life and an everlasting remembrance. 
 
 I cannot forget, my dear Mrs. Raymond, that the very virtues 
 which we commemorate in your husband render your loss the 
 greater ; but you know in Whom he believed, and you have the 
 same faith to your strength and consolation. " He will never 
 leave nor forsake you " this is assured you, and this will be your 
 stay. We who are in the evening of life have not long to wait 
 for the setting sun. 
 
 ' Ever, my dear Mrs. Raymond, 
 
 Yours, S. S. CUTTING. 
 
FRIENDLY TRIBUTES. 723 
 
 Mr. Beecher was in California at the time of Dr. 
 Raymond's death. His prompt missive of sympathy 
 and sorrow sent to my mother was one rather of per- 
 sonal than of general interest, but in a private letter 
 from Virginia City to a friend in Brooklyn, he wrote 
 the following tribute of love and of discriminating 
 eulogy, with which I gratefully close this record : 
 
 I was much moved, yesterday, at the tidings of the death of 
 John Raymond. I had been riding night and day across the 
 great desert plains, and had just reached this city of mountains, 
 and sat in the hotel office looking over a newspaper, when the 
 telegraphic paragraph met my eye. Well, another thoroughly 
 good and wholly useful man has ascended. There are few whose 
 lives will yield so much wheat and so little straw and chaff. 
 He was a man of strong convictions, which he carried without 
 continual explosions ; a man of strength, whose way was that 
 of gentleness. He had a sound conscience for himself, with 
 great tenderness for the consciences of other people a rare 
 combination. He was a cautious man, with advanced and pro- 
 gressive views in regard to every department of human life. 
 His forte, in public life, was organization and conduct. His 
 work as an educator will constitute a part of the life of four 
 great institutions, two of which were born of him, and were the 
 incarnation of his spirit and wisdom. He was a considerate 
 and tender friend without jealous or exacting moods. His 
 honor was without spot. His religion was large, generous, 
 fruitful in all personal loveliness. The few faults he had were 
 of great advantage to the general effect of his character, as the 
 shadows of a picture help all the light. I loved him. He was 
 one whose friendship made me rich. Now that he is hidden 
 with excess of light, I wonder that I did not make more out 
 of him, in communion, friendship, religion everything! How 
 many hearts will thank God in his behalf for rescue and release! 
 Dying was his appropriate culmination; dying, too, in the full 
 strength of mind and body, in the very midst of great endeavors, 
 without long and weary-waiting old age. He has been wrapt in 
 light. He knows. He is satisfied. God bless him ! the dear 
 old fellow, now young again with unwasting and eternal youth. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 MISSION OF EDUCATED WOMEN: 
 
 A BACCALAUREATE SERMON TO THE GRADUATING CLASS OF 
 1871, PREACHED AT VASSAR COLLEGE. 
 
 BY PRESIDENT JOHN H. RAYMOND. 
 
 MATT. 5 : 14-16 " Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill can- 
 not be hid. Neither do men light a candle and put it under a bushel, but on a 
 candlestick ; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let your light so 
 shine before men that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father 
 which is in heaven." 
 
 [After an introductory exposition of the text, and of 
 other " teachings of the Divine Man to His friends and 
 personal followers," showing that " because they were 
 privileged to receive such instructions they were bound 
 by special responsibilities to be nobler and better than 
 other men," Dr. Raymond proceeded to his particular 
 application of this principle.] 
 
 And now, speaking to-day for Alma Mater, to those who have 
 dwelt so long within the circle of her influence, may I not with- 
 out irreverence appropriate the words of our Lord, and apply the 
 principle of them in a somewhat lower relation lower, and yet 
 in some respects essentially the same ? The education you have 
 received at her hands is also a gift of God and not so much a 
 gift as a stewardship, a sacred and precious trust. The fact that 
 you have received it will make you objects of special interest 
 and attention. Its effect should be must be, if you have 
 improved it to distinguish you from others who have not 
 
726 MISSION OF EDUCATED WOMEN. 
 
 enjoyed similar advantages, to separate and lift you in certain 
 respects above the average level not, however, in order to 
 minister to yourvanity, to inflate you with a fancied superiority, 
 or to feed a miserable love of admiratiou and praise, but to fill 
 you with a sense of greater responsibility. 
 
 Here, then, we find the lesson of the hour. It is the special 
 mission of liberally educated women, by illustrating the bene- 
 ficent effects of high culture in themselves, to commend it to 
 others, and so to glorify God. 
 
 The cause of liberal or collegiate education for woman stands 
 in some respects, to-day, in a similar position to that of Chris- 
 tianity in our Saviour's time. Men believe in education, and in 
 a certain kind of education, for your sex as well as ours, just as 
 they then believed in religion generally, and in certain specific 
 forms of ancient faith, Hebrew or heathen. But their very 
 familiarity with the benefits conferred by the old faiths would 
 make them suspicious of the new one, and disposed to subject 
 its claims to a rigorous scrutiny and to practical tests. " By 
 their fruits ye shall know them." The criterion by which our 
 Lord exposed the defects of others was one whose justice He 
 recognizes in our text as applied to His own doctrines and 
 adherents. The best evidence that Christianity has ever afforded 
 of its divinity is found in what it has done for those who 
 embraced it especially in what it has made of them. By this it 
 has won its triumphs in the past ; by this will be determined 
 hereafter its claim to universal empire. And so must it be with 
 whatever is new and progressive in the methods of woman's 
 education. There are many who stand in doubt of the expedi- 
 ency of any change. The amount and kind of education which 
 sufficed for your mothers and grandmothers limited in its 
 range of topics, and superficial and unscientific in its forms of 
 statement, exercising almost exclusively the memory and imagi- 
 nationaiming mainly to refine the taste and sensibilities, and 
 to cultivate those exterior accomplishments which serve merely 
 to adorn domestic or social life this they believe to be sufficient 
 and best for you. They know what it did for former generations. 
 The noblest realization of womanhood hitherto maybe pointed 
 to as its triumphs. Whatever the world has known of feminine 
 loveliness and grace of feminine dignity and strength as well 
 
APPENDIX SERMON. 7 2 7 
 
 all that the world has gained from female influence all that 
 woman has heretofore contributed to the common stock of 
 intelligence and virtue, of purity, sweetness, and force in thought 
 or action, of discernment of truth, or devotion to principle, is 
 associated in the minds of men with the old and comparatively 
 meager modes of female culture, and it is not strange if they 
 hesitate to replace those with others whose merit is yet to be 
 tried. You must not wonder if they demand proof that the 
 change is to be an improvement. 
 
 Some may arrive at such a conviction theoretically, by rea- 
 sonings a priori ; but mankind at large, rest assured, will 
 require the practical demonstration, On you, who take the 
 longer course and the stronger course, the eyes of watchful 
 observers will be fixed. What do they more than others ? is a 
 question that will be asked respecting you, with a significance 
 reaching beyond you to the system of training you are supposed 
 to represent. Has that system produced is it beginning to 
 produce a nobler class of women ? women clearer in discern- 
 ment, sounder of judgment, more earnest, intelligent, and effect- 
 ive in the conduct of their appropriate business ? Are they 
 better fitted than the average of women for intercourse with 
 intellectual men ; better fitted to be wives and mothers in an age 
 of advanced intelligence, to preside in the household, to move 
 in cultivated society, to act well their part in all the scenes of a 
 more perfect Christian civilization? While increasing their 
 strength, has their education not diminished their grace? 
 While preparing them for new exigencies in the coming 
 age, has it not impaired their loyalty to those profounder, 
 broader, and more sacred responsibilities which are coeval 
 with time and universal to the race? Are their moral prin- 
 ciples the firmer for resting on a scientific foundation ? Does 
 their devotion to God burn with an intenser flame from their 
 larger acquaintance with His works and ways ? Do their sym- 
 pathies sweep through a wider range and stir with a quicker 
 sensibility because, through history, poetry, and philosophy, they 
 have looked upon man in a greater variety of outward condi- 
 tions, and with a profounder insight into the elements of his 
 nature ? Has their discipline of mind proved also a discipline of 
 character, so that they meet the actual emergencies of life its 
 
728 MISSION OF EDUCATED WOMEN. 
 
 ordinary as well as its extraordinary duties, its trials alike of pros- 
 perity and adversity not only more gracefully, but more wisely 
 and more worthily ? The old-fashioned virtues of womanly 
 gentleness and generosity, of womanly modesty, patience, and the 
 spirit of self-sacrifice, tender-hearted pity and open-handed 
 bounty, purity of thought, moderation of speech, prudence in 
 action do these shine in them with augmented, not diminished, 
 luster? And so has the " new education" made these women 
 actually more beautiful and more valuable in their homes, in 
 society, in the church, in all the relations and activities of life? 
 Depend upon it, such are the questions which will be asked about 
 you in the thoughts of many. Your characters and lives will 
 answer, and according to the answer, on the whole, will judg- 
 ment be passed on your Alma Mater, and on the system of 
 training which she has adopted. 
 
 In what ways, then, you will ask, are liberally educated women 
 to distinguish themselves as such, and so conciliate the confi- 
 dence of mankind for the cause of high womanly culture? 
 Many suggestions spring to my lips in reply, but time is passing 
 and I will restrict myself to two. 
 
 i. And first, I would say, by serious aims and dignified pur- 
 suits in life. 
 
 The name of woman is widely identified in the popular mind 
 with the idea of frivolity. It is the fashion with many to regard 
 her as constitutionally weak shallow and light-minded by the 
 decree of God. And (alas that we must confess !) there has been, 
 and still is, too much in the habits of many of your sex that . 
 gives a color of plausibility to the doctrine. When we consider 
 what constitutes the staple of ordinary female conversation, the 
 character of the reading of which women are the greediest 
 devourers, the utter trifles on which, when not compelled to 
 drudge, they often manage to spend their energies when we 
 think especially of their devotion to dress and personal decora- 
 tion, and their thraldom to fashion in all its monstrosities of 
 taste, indecencies of suggestion, and infinite pettiness of detail 
 a thraldom to which so many of the best submit, and would 
 almost seem to love their bonds it is enough to shake the 
 faith of the stoutest believer in woman's capacity for high intel- 
 lectual culture. 
 
APPENDIX SERMON. 729 
 
 Practically, it is no answer to these patent facts to retort that 
 there are just as many shallow and silly men as there are shal- 
 low and silly women, that it is the influence of men that makes 
 women trifling, or that, if on the whole the average man has 
 more weight of character and power of serious thought than the 
 average woman, it is because life furnishes him with larger 
 opportunities and more inspiring motives. This may be true, 
 or it may not. It is at best a matter of opinion, and will weigh 
 little with those who look daily on the facts, and with whose 
 theory of woman's sphere and mission those facts harmonize 
 only too well. To those who regard woman as intended to be 
 the pet and plaything of man, the mere ornament of his home, 
 the minister to his affections and tastes alone, his pretty solace 
 and diversion from the graver occupations of life, and who 
 believe her only serious functions to be physical to be the 
 mother and nurse of children, the care-taker of the household, 
 and the provider for the bodily wants of its inmates to such it 
 will seem only fitting that she should be correspondingly 
 endowed, and that her constitutional traits and tendencies 
 should be those which most perfectly agree with a life so singu- 
 larly compounded of the butterfly and the beast of burden. 
 
 The true answer to this low doctrine of womanhood is fur- 
 nished by those women who, by realizing a higher ideal in their 
 own persons, show that female weak-mindedness is not univer- 
 sal, and therefore not constitutional, or necessary. Thank God, 
 there are many such. Lifting themselves in various degrees 
 above the level of ordinary inaneness, such women, serious, 
 thoughtful in the pursuit of truth and the practice of virtue, clad 
 in the dignity of conscious reason and immortality, stand up a per- 
 petual refutation of that libel on your sex, and the promise of a 
 better day for woman. Such instances, though perhaps excep- 
 tional, are by no means rare. Every age and country has pro- 
 duced them ; ever family contains them. Where circumstances 
 have favored, they have acquired learning, have shone in litera- 
 ture and art, have organized and directed charities (often on the 
 largest scale) in peace and in war, and have ruled nations with 
 a wisdom above that of kings. Oftener, unaided by outward 
 conditions, against the current of custom and prejudice, by the 
 sheer force of an earnest intelligence seeking its fullest develop- 
 
73 MISSION OF EDUCATED WOMEN. 
 
 ment, reaching after knowledge as its birthright, and growing 
 by the healthy exercise of the faculties within the sphere allowed 
 them, whatever that might be, they have attained a largeness of 
 nature, intellectual as well as moral, and a potency of influence, 
 which all acknowledge and must admire. 
 
 These are the truly educated women. Though they may 
 never have sat at the feet of masters, or seen the inside of school 
 or college, they have attained all the ends of a true culture by 
 as much as they acquired breadth of information, discipline of 
 faculty, and power of soul. And every system of female educa- 
 tion must be tried at last by its power of producing such women. 
 I care not with what show of outward accomplishments or what 
 dexterity of social art the young woman may have been taught 
 to glitter in crowded saloons and win the applause of fascinated 
 admirers. I care not what school has awarded her its diplomas, 
 how long the catalogue of pretentious " branches" she has 
 nominally pursued, nor how great the eclat with which she 
 figured in class-room or on examination-day. If her accom- 
 plishments have left her poor in intellect and feeble in nature, 
 if she has not learned to love knowledge for its own sake and 
 to pursue it with a life-long interest, if she has not become an 
 earnest-minded ivoman, seeking from choice the companionship 
 of the intelligent and wise (living or dead), devoting her powers 
 to noble practical ends, and forever escaped from the possibility 
 of relishing what is petty and shallow, vulgar and weak, in the 
 life of her sex she is not an educated woman, and the school 
 or the masters who, through their deficiencies, have left her in 
 thatcondition, merit only execration and contempt. 
 
 Behold, daughters of Vassar, the rule by which you will be 
 tried, and we with you. If you are capable of receiving a truly 
 liberal education, and we have truly furnished it, men will know 
 it by the elevation of your characters, by the dignity and 
 earnestness of your path through life. And, in the light of such 
 evidence, you need not fear that their acknowledgment will be 
 stinted or slow. 
 
 2. My second thought is this : the liberally educated woman, 
 if she would honor her training, must be distinguished by a true 
 and noble womanliness. 
 
 Of all the mistakes committed by those who in this age are 
 
A PPENDIX SERMON. 7 3 1 
 
 advocating the cause of woman, I think the gravest has been 
 that of challenging an issue on the broad declaration that woman 
 is the equal of man. Not that I doubt that in some respects 
 the declaration is eminently true, but because I am sure that in 
 others it is eminently talse, and by its ambiguity adapted to 
 betray the undiscriminating into false and hurtful positions 
 positions which alarm a wise conservatism, give ribald opposi- 
 tion abundant material for its warfare of abuse, confuse the pub- 
 lic judgment, and so set back indefinitely the progress of a true 
 reform.* 
 
 As it is easy to show that woman is in some respects man's 
 inferior, and as that logically invalidates the unqualified claim 
 of equality, an easy victory is given into the hands of the oppo- 
 nent. But worse than that, the desire and determination to be 
 equal with men inspires in many the endeavor to be like men, 
 and has misled many (I do not say all) to suppose that, in order 
 to be true to the rights of woman, they must rid themselves as 
 far as possible of feminine peculiarities, must cultivate a certain 
 manm's/iness in themselves and others, must become more or 
 less masculine in their tastes, their talents, their speech and 
 manners, and even in their dress. A fatal blunder indeed, which, 
 in a vain attempt to disprove the unquestionable inferiority of 
 women in some respects, sacrifices her indisputable claim to 
 superiority in others which would efface or obscure those dis- 
 tinctive traits that are the special glory of womanhood, and to 
 which even bad men yield instintive homage which shocks 
 the sensibilities of good men and wise women, and arrays a 
 changeless ordinance of nature against the cause it is seeking to 
 promote ! 
 
 * It is one of the blunders of that distinguished Englishman who has 
 volunteered to champion this cause, Mr. John Stuart Mill, who with a 
 genius for speculation, second hardly to -that of any living man, 
 appears sometimes to be singularly deficient in practical sagacity, and 
 who is said never to have conducted a practical issue to a successful 
 result it was, I say, a characteristic and fatal blunder of his to have 
 selected as his point of attack just that point of his adversary's case at 
 which it is most impregnable the principle, namely, that IN SOME 
 
 RESPECTS WOMAN IS, MUST BE, AND OUGHT TO BE SUBORDINATE TO 
 MAN. 
 
732 MISSION OF EDUCATED WOMEN. 
 
 The truth on this subject is alike obvious and important. 
 Woman, as such, is radically different from man, as such dif- 
 ferent in organization, different in function, different in the 
 modes and conditions of development. With the basis of a 
 common humanity (in respect to which they confessedly demand 
 a similar treatment), in the points in which they differ they 
 still are totally unlike ; unlike, not in degree, but in kind in 
 essential nature so unlike that the chasm which separates 
 them can never be bridged over, or by any amount of artificial 
 training made appreciably less so unlike that the question of 
 equality or inequality betweem them must always be simply 
 nugatory and absurd. 
 
 And as the woman is made different from the man, so is she 
 made relative to him. This is true on the other side also. 
 They are bound together by mutual relationships so intimate and 
 vital that the existence of neither is absolutely complete except 
 with reference to the other. But there is this difference, that 
 the relation of woman is, characteristically, that of subordina- 
 tion and dependence. This I hold to be the voice of nature, 
 which is the voice of God. It is certainly the testimony of 
 Scripture, and is sustained by the consent of both sexes, in all 
 ages, and among all peoples. Observe, however, this does not 
 at all imply inferiority of character, of capacity, of intrinsic 
 value in the sight of God and man ; and it has been the glory 
 of woman from the beginning to have understood and to have 
 accepted the position of formal or relative inferiority assigned 
 her by the Creator, with all its responsibilities, its trials, its fre- 
 quent outward humiliations and sufferings, in the proud con- 
 sciousness that that position is not in the least incompatible 
 with an essential superiority, and that it does not prevent her from 
 occupying, if she choose, an inward elevation, from which she 
 may look down with pitying and helpful love even on him she 
 calls her lord. God forbid that she should ever aspire to a less 
 womanly wisdom than this. Jesus said, "Ye know that the 
 princes of the Gentiles exercise dominion over them, and they 
 that are great exercise authority over them. But it shall not 
 be so among you : but whosoever will be great among you, let 
 him be your minister ; and whosoever will be chief among you, 
 let him be your servant. Even as the Son of man came not to 
 
APPENDIX SERMON. 733 
 
 be ministered unto, but to minister and give his life a ransom for 
 many." Surely, woman need not hesitate to estimate her status 
 by a criterion of dignity sustained by such authority. She need 
 not shrink from a position chosen by Christ and by Christlike 
 men, and in whose peculiar trials and griefs she is assured of the 
 sympathy and companionship of the Son of God. 
 
 I am not of those who believe in any arbitrary limitation of 
 "woman's sphere." God created her to be the companion of 
 man, because it was not good for man to be alone. He gave her 
 to him as a "helpmeet for him," i.e. complemental to him, a 
 companion congenial to his nature, an assistant exactly suitable 
 because just supplying his deficiencies. Herein the Creator 
 determined her general relation to man to be that cf an auxiliary. 
 But he said nothing of limits within which this assistance was 
 to be confined, and beyond which it was good for man to be 
 alone. Wherever it is right for man to go, it is right I do not 
 say that it is always expedient, but it is right //expedient, and 
 the question of expediency is therefore always in order for 
 woman to accompany him. In whatever form of labor he may 
 honorably engage, she may honorably be his associate, she may 
 with propriety proffer, and he with propriety accept, whatever 
 of aid she is either naturally able or can qualify herself to render. 
 In the care of their home and the training of their children 
 (where not only is her right undisputed, but his equal responsi- 
 bility too often ignored), in the management of his business as 
 well, in the discharge of all his duties as a member of society, 
 in the cultivation of his affections and the direction of his life 
 towards God in a word, through the whole circle of his rela-. 
 tions to this world and the world to come, in the entire conduct 
 of his affairs both public and private, at home and abroad,- it is 
 the privilege of woman to be his companion, his counselor, and 
 his helper, with absolutely no limitation save that which bounds 
 her ability, natural and acquired. It is his safety to recognize 
 her in this relation, and to give her the amplest opportunity to 
 develop and augment her power. 
 
 This is confessedly true in that sacred relation between indi- 
 viduals of opposite sex which makes of the twain one. It is 
 true also, in a qualified sense, of the relation between the sexes 
 in general. I do not believe in Mr. Kingsley's lyrical distribu- 
 
734 MISSION OF EDUCATED WOMEN. 
 
 tion of their functions, which assigns all the " work" to men, 
 and all the " weeping " to women. Man, too, has some weep- 
 ing to do on his own account, and in connection with all true 
 work ; and woman can help him in both. Nor do I think, with 
 many, that his sphere is all out-of-doors, and hers all within. 
 Nor do I agree with Dr. Bushnell, that it is man's sole province 
 to govern, and woman's to obey. Self-government, implying 
 alike the spirit of obedience and capacity to rule, is unquestion- 
 ably the high prerogative and the bounden duty of the. race, 
 and of every individual of the race. Man must do both, and 
 woman should help him to do both. Her influence is certainly 
 often needed, and always potent, to insure his obedience to law; 
 and I think it will be found some day that she can render him 
 valuable assistance in making laws worthy to be obeyed 
 though I am by no means a convert to "woman's suffrage" 
 either.* But I do resent the meanness of men who, on the pre- 
 tence of confining women to their " sphere," would exclude 
 them from any honest and modest endeavor to develop their 
 natures, to increase their knowledge and educate their powers, 
 or to serve the common weal in any field or form of innocent 
 labor, literary, scientific, or industrial in any pursuit or profes- 
 sion in which they are conscious of capacity for usefulness or 
 for honorable self-support. In all these fields of human activity 
 there is "woman's work" as well as man's to be done; and it 
 will be wise for society to lay aside whatever of prejudice there 
 may remain on this subject, and to throw them wide open for 
 the admission of your sex especially for that large number 
 who, remaining single from choice or necessity, are free to 
 employ their powers and acquirements for the common good. 
 
 * The abstract RIGHT of women, as members of society, to HELP 
 FRAME THE LAWS by which society is governed and the interests of all 
 affected, cannot be successfully questioned. But there is a further 
 question, a question of HIGH MORAL EXPEDIENCY, for them and for all 
 to consider. It is by no means clear that there are not other and 
 better, more womanly and therefore more effective ways for them 
 (especially for the good and wise among them) to influence legislation 
 and the public life, than by accepting the franchise, mingling in 
 political contests on equal terms with men, and merging their moral 
 ascendency in a mere popular count. 
 
APPENDIX SERMON. 735 
 
 But, having avowed thus distinctly my convictions on that 
 side, I return to reiterate that complemental truth, without 
 which all men instinctively feel that such views are fraught with 
 peril to some of the most precious interests of humanity ; viz., 
 that in none of these departments is woman's function precisely 
 the same as that of man. Exceptional cases doubtless may, and 
 often do, arise ; circumstances in which women, working alone, 
 must undertake and do the work of men and women both as 
 may equally well occur in the case of men, and in either case 
 the work may be well done. But it is none the less true, in a 
 broad view, that there is a natural and a clear distinction 
 between womanly and manly occupations ; that, in the distribu- 
 tion of united labors, there are kinds which appropriately 
 devolve on the one, and kinds which belong more appropriately 
 to the other ; and that, when that division is to be made, man 
 may, without arrogance, assume the leading part woman, 
 without sacrifice of dignity, diminution of usefulness, or 
 acknowledgment of inferiority, may and should accept the 
 auxiliary. This principle holds as well in the labor of the mind 
 as of the hands, in intellectual professions and pursuits as in 
 domestic and social life ; for nowhere can the distinction of sex 
 be obliterated, nor that fundamental relation between them be 
 wisely ignored, which, because it is the edict of nature, we must 
 acknowledge and respect as the law of God Himself. Nowhere 
 can it be out of place for woman to inquire what is womanly 
 and what not ; nowhere will it be safe for her to treat that 
 question as trivial or obsolete. 
 
 It is just at this point that measures for elevating and extend- 
 ing female education, according to the standards for the other 
 sex, will be watched by society with the most jealous care. 
 There is so much at stake, for both your sex and ours, that 
 indifference on either side would be criminal. The aim of these 
 measures is, in the words of our Founder, "to do for young 
 women what the existing colleges are doing for young men ;" 
 and the question is, how is that going to affect you? It will be 
 asked not alone by coarse, narrow, and prejudiced men, but with 
 still more profound and searching anxiety by large-hearted men 
 and the wisest women. This " new education," is it going to 
 make the girls boyish ? Will it blunt their sense of feminine 
 
736 MISSION OF EDUCATED WOMEN. 
 
 delicacy and feminine dignity ? Will it obscure their perception 
 of what is characteristic, and characteristically becoming to their 
 sex ? During their college life, are these young women going 
 to ape the forms, the fashions, the follies, perhaps even the vices, 
 of young men at college ? And when they go out, will it be to 
 seek the arena of indiscriminate competition with the other 
 sex, to complain and fight against "this gray pre-eminence of 
 man," to demand the same amount and kind of freedom with 
 him, an equal voice, and liberty to utter it (as nearly as they can 
 force the resemblance) in the same tones, the same places, and 
 the same way in a word, will it be protesting without discrim- 
 ination against the wisdom as well as the folly of the past, 
 against the essential and eternal right as well as the partial 
 wrong involved in existing usages, to demand not reform but 
 "revolution," and so, amidst fierce clamor and contention, 
 
 " To lift the woman's fallen divinity 
 Upon the even pedestal with man ?" 
 
 Depend upon it,if this were going to be its effect if this were 
 its legitimate and usual tendency the days of liberal education 
 for woman would be numbered, and rightly. But this will not 
 be its effect. Your older sisters, those who have gone before 
 you from these halls, have done much wherever they are known 
 to disarm the fear. We point to them with pride, as at once 
 scholarly and womanly women ; and you will continue and con- 
 firm their testimony. It will come gradually to be understood 
 that, in our college life, hoydenishness (alas ! that we must con- 
 fess to its existence at all) is not the rule, but the rare exception ; 
 that when it appears, it is never the accompaniment of high 
 intellectual aims, but a sign of the lack of them ; that it is found 
 almost exclusively among the very young and newly come 
 among us, and wanes with the growth of their minds and the 
 enlargement of their acquisitions ; that, where it is persistent, 
 it is with those only who, lacking capacity or diligence for suc- 
 cessful scholarship, resort to such means for creating a sensation ; 
 and winning a cheap and vulgar distinction with the thought- 
 less ; and that, among those who actually complete the severe 
 curriculum of the college, and receive the diploma of your Alma 
 Mater, those will be few indeed who, under the bias of false 
 
A PPENDIX SERMO*. V. 737 
 
 views and influences foreign to this place, go hence to swell the 
 ranks of the unwomanly women of culture. And, as year after 
 year adds to the number of women in our land who, here or 
 elsewhere (and, thank God, the opportunities are multiplying in 
 all directions), have improved the advantages of the most 
 advanced education, more and more clearly will it be seen that 
 the vast majority carry with them not only more serious and 
 elevated aims, a more settled purpose to accomplish something 
 worthy in life, and larger resources for success, but also a more 
 refined sense of feminine dignity, a more just appreciation of the 
 relation of the sexes, greater purity of thought, of speech, and 
 of manners, and an ideal of womanhood more rich and grand, 
 indeed, fuller of high aspirations and of force for good, but not 
 on that account less exquisitely distinctive, less sensitive to the 
 claims of wifehood, motherhood, and home, less devotedly loyal 
 to the divine idea and type of woman. 
 
 Students of the class of 1871 ! as you go to join the rapidly- 
 swelling numbers of the graduates of Vassar, will you not help 
 them redeem the promise which I have now made in your and 
 their behalf? Ye are our epistle. May they who read our 
 record, visible in you, be constrained to confess the truth of my 
 prediction, and to glorify God on your behalf ! 
 
 For you, the retrospects of the day doubtless vie in interest 
 with its prospects. You have passed within these walls four 
 years of deep interest not only to yourselves, but in the history 
 of the college. You have seen it advancing through many 
 changes steadily toward greater efficiency of organization, toward 
 the richer experience and more mature habits of an old and 
 long-established institution. You have contributed, individually 
 and as a class, far more than you probably suspect to form those 
 habits and to mould the character of your college for all time 
 to come. Let us hope that among those formative influences, 
 in which, spite of ourselves, we all take part, and which, when 
 they have once escaped us, are forever past recall, the good has 
 predominated over the evil, and that our beloved Vassar, while 
 she grows stronger with advancing years, will grow stronger for 
 good alone, stronger to do good to those who seek instruction 
 and culture within her gates. 
 
 The memory of one great change that has marked your 
 graduating year is in every heart to-day, and will throw a sad, 
 
MISSION OF EDUCATED WOMEN. 
 
 though not a gloomy shadow over the festivities of our closing 
 week. So very gradually was the influence of our late beloved 
 Lady Principal withdrawn from you, and in such perfect tran- 
 qulity did her sun at last go down, that you have hardly real- 
 ized the greatness of your loss. Yet you will cherish the mem- 
 ory of that noble form and character, of her wise counsels and 
 inspiring example, and of her invaluable services to your Alma 
 Mater, with a reverence and affection which the more intimate 
 intercourse of your senior year (had that been allowed you) 
 could not have failed to deepen. Would she were here to-day, 
 to unite with me and your other instructors in these words of 
 affectionate parting! Is it too much to hope that this privilege 
 may be granted her ? May we not without superstition fancy 
 that she is looking down with even more than her accustomed 
 feeling on this scene, and on you, the objects of central interest 
 in it ? Oh ! if she be, and if it be permitted her by some angelic 
 insight to read your spirits now, may she discern in every one, 
 amidst the swellings of personal affection that move you, 
 and in connection with profound gratitude to Him who has 
 given you to begin, to continue, and to complete a generous 
 course of education, the resolution, by God's help, to prove 
 yourselves worthy of At, and to show by your future char- 
 acters and lives that you have made a wise and unselfish 
 improvement of its advantages. You may not hope to 
 escape criticism, for you are henceforth in a sense repre- 
 sentative women. You cannot fail to help or to hinder the 
 great work in which we are engaged. So bear yourselves 
 that you need never shrink from criticism on your own account 
 or ours. Be sober, be earnest, be diligent. Be true to your- 
 selves, to your humanity and your womanhood as well. Be 
 true to God, who is the source of these blessings, and to the 
 multitudes of your sex who are longing to share them, and to 
 whom you will find many opportunities to speak the encourag- 
 ing word or lend a helping hand. The lights you have kindled 
 at these altars bear with you to your several homes and fields 
 of duty. Plant them, modestly but bravely, on whatever candle- 
 stick Providence may set for you, and let them so shine as to 
 benefit others, and glorify your Father that is in Heaven. 
 FAREWELL. 
 
I N I) EX. 
 
 ABBOTT, Rev. Dr. Lyman, ex- 
 tract from sermon by, 659; ex- 
 tract from article in Christian 
 Union by, 660. 
 
 Adams, Rev. Dr. William, 643. 
 
 Addresses, articles, and sermons j 
 by Dr. Raymond mentioned, 
 157, 269, 343, 401, 561/596, 6n, 
 623, 626, 670, 683, 686, 687. 
 
 Advice, in early letters, 135, 136; 
 to a daughter, on becoming a 
 Christian, 217; on the duty of 
 Christian giving, 223; on amuse- 
 ments, 229; on uniting with the 
 church, 236; to a student, 613. 
 
 Albany, N. Y., letter from, 78; 
 labors at, 176, 178, 248. 
 
 American Bible Union, 254. 
 
 Anderson, Prof. Henry J., 47. 
 
 Anderson, Dr. M. B., 249, 251, 
 253, 281, 301, 605, 624; com- 
 memorative address by, 606. 
 
 Angelica, N. Y., marriage at, 137; 
 summers at, 282-292, 345-358. 
 
 Annual Reports, extracts from 
 president's, 572-594 
 
 Anthon, Prof. Charles, 47. 
 
 Antislavery question, interest in, 
 259, 263-273. 
 
 Arnold, Dr. Thomas, of Rugby, 
 151, 263, 283. 
 
 Art, interest in, 242, 402, 589; in 
 Milan and Venice, 467; in Dres- 
 den, 480; in Berlin, 482; modern 
 German, 474, 477~479, 42; 
 earlier German, 481. 
 
 Avery, Dr. Alida C., 639, 654; 
 
 letters to, 625, 628. 
 Autobiographical Sketch, 32-67. 
 
 ]> \( < >N, Daniel P., 44. 
 Bacon, Dr. Leonard, 63. 
 Backus, Prof. T. J., 647, 713. 
 Banister, Mrs. W. B., 538, 542, 
 
 639- 
 
 Baptism, 73. 
 
 Barnes, Daniel S., 43. 
 
 Bates, Mr., of New York, 54. 
 
 Beecher, Dr. Lyman. 251. 
 
 Beecher, Rev. Thomas, 251. 
 
 Beecher, Rev. Henry Ward, early 
 acquaintance with, 167-177; 
 power of his eloquence, 251, 
 2 55. 338, 641; incidents of travel 
 with, 404, 411, 432, 456; letters 
 from, 169, 171, 303; letter of 
 personal recollections by, 398; 
 tribute from, 723. 
 
 Beethoven, love for. 242, 669, 684. 
 
 Bentley, Cyrus, 522. 
 
 Birth, scene of, 13; place of, 35. 
 
 Bishop, Dr. Nathan, 644, 646, 647. 
 
 Bliss, Dr. George R., 108, 646;' 
 conversation with, 69; letters 
 to, 16, 141, 143, 149, 150, 266, 
 3> 333, 334. SJS; account of 
 closing hours by, 699. 
 
 Bliss, Mrs. George R., letters to, 
 27, 373. 
 
 Boyish days, 34. 
 
 Bright, Dr. Edward, 247. 
 
 Bronte, Charlotte,. 353. 
 
740 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Brooklyn, early life in, 42; return 
 to, 126, 305; labors in, 309-328; 
 domestic life in, 336. 
 
 Brown, Goold, grammar of, 33; 
 school of, 39. 
 
 Brown University, visit to, 522. 
 
 Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, let- 
 ters from, 387, 389. 
 
 Buckingham, Stephen M., 512. 
 
 Buffalo, call to, 79. 
 
 Bushnell, Dr. Horace, 173. 
 
 Butler, Dr. Wm. Allen, letter of 
 personal recollections by, 604; 
 minute of Vassar College Board 
 prepared by, 712. 
 
 CARLYLE, Thomas, 115, 151. 
 
 Carson, Prof., of Philadelphia, 
 527- 
 
 Catholicity of views, 545, 598, 660. 
 
 Channing, Rev. William Henry, 
 261, 262, 275. 
 
 Chapel-Talks, 662-686. 
 
 Chase, Salmon P., 522. 
 
 Chatsworth, visit to, 418. 
 
 Chester, day at, 398, 412. 
 
 Children, letters to his, 203, 209, 
 213, 217, 221, 223, 229, 233, 516, 
 622, 641; sympathy with his, 
 181-184, 190, 287; influence on 
 his, 231, 238-244; death of his, 
 191, 196, 202, 331, 359. 
 
 Christian liberty, 232, 554. 
 
 Christian nurture, 186-190, 235, 
 236. 
 
 Christian union, article on, 157; 
 desire for, 235, 367. 
 
 Clifford, Gov., of Mass., 522. 
 
 ^ Closing Days, 695. 
 
 Co-education, views on, 599. 
 
 Collord, Prof. G. W., note from, 
 328. 
 
 College Life, 46. 
 Como, Lake, Sabbath at, 463. 
 Comte, quoted, 619. 
 i Conant, Dr. T. J., 87, 89, 100; 
 
 his defense of Gesenius, 155; 
 
 letters to, 106, 254, 475; letter 
 
 of personal recollections by, 101. 
 : Conant, Mrs. H. C., 88, 89, 125, 
 
 176, 255, 539; passage quoted 
 
 from, 103; letter in memory of, 
 
 106; poem by, 392. 
 : Consolation, letters of, 199, 293, 
 
 380, 395- 
 
 Convention, college, 623. 
 Conversion, 64-67, 123. 
 Convocation, University, 606, 6n. 
 Corporal plmishment, rejection 
 
 of, 320. 
 
 Covell, Rev. A. L., 79. 
 Curtis, George Wm., 523. 
 Cutting, Dr. S. S., 249; letter 
 
 from, 721. 
 
 DAGGETT, Chief-Justice, 58. 
 " D. D.," lines on, 145. 
 Defense of Vassar College, 614. 
 Douglass, Frederick, 259, 273; 
 
 letter of recollections by, 268. 
 Dresden, the Gallery at, 480. 
 Dxirer, Albrecht, works of, 481. 
 Duncan, Charles, 398, 409. 
 
 | EATON, Dr. George W., 125, 155. 
 E. C., letters to, 19, 22, 283, 288, 
 
 345, 346, 347, 356, 412, 439- 
 Edmunds, James, 134, 254- 
 Education, worth of, 506, 510. 
 Education, higher, for women, 
 
 519, 563-565, 581-589: P ublic 
 sentiment with regard to, 597; 
 paper on, read at University 
 Convocation, 611. 
 
INDEX, 
 
 74* 
 
 "Educations, the Two," 614. 
 Elmira, N. Y., 69. 
 
 FANNY FORESTER, 92, 154, 343. 
 Father and Children, 181. 
 Father, letters to his, 75, 137; 
 
 death of his, 24. 
 Ferry, Hon. Mr., 643. 
 Fishing, delights of, 351. 
 Flower, Mr., of England, 422. 
 Forby, William F.. 698. 
 Foster, Prof. Robert, letter of 
 
 personal recollections by, 324. 
 Founder's Day at Vassar, 503. 
 Freeman, Mr., 254. 
 Free Speech, a Plea for, 269. 
 Fribourg, 439. 
 Friendly tributes, 708-723. 
 Furca Pass, 445. 
 
 GESEXIUS, translations of, 155. 
 
 Ghent, day in, 485. 
 
 Grammar, early interest in, 33, 
 40, 122; preparation of work 
 on, 144, 147, 149, 150, 155. 
 
 Grandparents, home of, 35. 
 
 Granville College, call to the 
 presidency of, 153. 
 
 Greek, the study of, 587. 
 
 Griffin, Rev. E. D., 52. 
 
 Griffiths, Miss Julia, 259. 
 
 Griscomb, the senior, 43. 
 
 HADDON HALL, visit to, 419. 
 
 Hague, Rev. Dr. William, 528. 
 
 Hale, Mrs. Sarah J., 527. 
 
 Hamilton Days, 68. 
 
 Hamilton, N. Y., early school- 
 days at, 40, 296; student life at, 
 98, 102, 297; social life, at, 99, 
 103, 107, in, 123-126; literary 
 labors at, 84-88, 142-144. 
 
 Hamilton Literary and Theologi- 
 
 cal Institution, site of, 94; life 
 
 at, 70, 71. 
 Hamilton College (at Clinton, X. 
 
 Y.), 94, 169. 
 
 Harris, Judge Ira, 179, 248. 
 Harris, Hamilton, 179. 
 High School, New York, 33, 43,44. 
 Hitchcock, Prof, of Yale Law 
 
 School, 63. 
 
 Hodge, Rev. Mr., 251, 253. 
 Holme, Rev. J. S., 404, 407, 423. 
 Hooker, John, visit to, 636. 
 Howard, J. T., 168, 251; letter to, 
 
 302. 
 ; Howard, Mrs. J. T., letters to, 12, 
 
 Si, 82, no, 139, 161, 162, 164, 
 
 166, 348, 365, 406, 429, letter 
 
 from, 370; reminiscences by,n8. 
 Howard, Annie, 127, 373~393; 
 
 memories of, 463, 466. 
 Hughes, Thomas, 263, 283. 
 Hull, Judge A. C., 137. 
 Hull, Rev. Leverett, 138. 
 Hymns, criticism of, 302. 
 
 I.\ MEMORIAM, article in Vassar 
 
 'Miscellany ) 691. 
 Interlaken, 450. 
 
 JENNY LIND, impressions of, 251. 
 Jewett, Dr. M. P., 499, 504; letter 
 
 from, 621. 
 Judson, Dr. Adoniram, 93, 149, 
 
 154, 251. 
 Jungfrau, view of the, 449, 451. 
 
 KANSAS MEETING, 305. 
 i Kaulbach, 475, 478. 
 | Kendrick, Dr. Asahel C., 93, 155, 
 253, 261, 343; letter of personal 
 recollections by, 296. 
 j Ketcham, Rev. Mr., 77. 
 Kossuth, 266. 
 
74-' 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 LANCASTRIAN SYSTEM, 43. 
 
 Lathrop, Rev. Dr. Edward, 249 
 254; letter of personal recollec- 
 tions by, 97; funeral address 
 by, 708. 
 
 Latin, early study of, 33, 41; 
 views on importance of, 586, 
 587, 618, 619. 
 
 Lauterbrunnen, 450. 
 
 Leopold, King of Belgium, inter- 
 view with, 486-492. 
 
 Liverpool, letter from, 410. 
 
 London, rambles about, 399, 423- 
 425; architecture of, 425; speech 
 at breakfast in, 400, 456. 
 
 Lossing, Dr. B. J., letter from, 603. 
 
 Lucerne, 441. 
 
 Lyman, Miss Hannah W., letters 
 to, 533, 535, 539, 542, 544, 55O, 
 554, 635, 638, 640, 643-649; let- 
 ters from, 536, 543, 547, 548; 
 election to the lady principal- 
 ship of Vassar College, 557; her 
 failing health, 653; her death, 
 655; address at her funeral, 
 656. 
 
 MADISON UNIVERSITY, 93, 245. 
 
 Madonna, the Sistine, 480; Hol- 
 bein's, 480. 
 
 Magoon, Rev. Dr. E. L., 524, 633. 
 
 Marriage, 137. 
 
 Mclntosh, Mr., 179. 
 
 McVickar, Dr., of Columbia Col- 
 lege, 47. 
 
 Merriam, George, 292. 
 
 Milan Cathedral, 459. 
 
 Mill, John Stuart, quoted, 619,731. 
 
 Mission of Educated Women, 725. 
 
 Missions, Foreign, 74-76, 102. 
 
 Mitchell, Prof. Maria, 528, 585, 
 627, 639. 
 
 "Modern Painters," 155. 
 
 Molkenkur, the, 451. 
 
 Moore, Dr., ColumbiaCollege,47. 
 
 Morse, Alpha, 137, 284 ; letters 
 to, 246, 266, 305. 
 
 Morse, Mrs. A., 285, 291. 
 
 Morse, Miss A. E., 291, 639. 
 
 Mother, death of his, 42. 
 
 Mountain storm, 447. 
 
 Mountain view, 453. 
 
 Munich, art in, 474, 478, 479. 
 
 Museum at Vassar College, 595. 
 
 Music, appreciation of, 131, 242, 
 243, 649, 669, 684; in English 
 cathedrals, 416, 427 ; at Vassar 
 College, 590; relation to severer 
 studies, 588. 
 
 NAPOLEON, military road of, 443. 
 
 Nature, descriptions of, 94, 95, 
 345, 347, 351, 441-448; enjoy- 
 ment of, 90, 240, 241, 284, 289, 
 440, 671, 684. 
 
 New Brunswick, N. J., 77, 143. 
 
 New Haven, life in, 62. 
 
 Niles, Dr. and Mrs. H. E., 283, 
 
 345- 
 Niles, Mrs. H. E., 291; letter of 
 
 personal recollections by, 285. 
 Normandy, farms in, 432. 
 Norwalk, Conn., visits to, 36. 
 Nuremburg, 492. 
 
 ORTON, Prof., 654. 
 
 O'Sullivan, J. L., 48. 
 
 Oswego, letter from, 179. 
 
 Oxford, day at, 423. 
 
 PARENTS, 35. 
 
 Paris, 433-435- 
 
 Peabody, Miss Elizabeth, 273; 
 
 letter of recollections by, 274. 
 " Perfect in One," article on, 157. 
 Philadelphia, 80 ; visit to, 527. 
 
JM)l'.X. 
 
 743 
 
 Platt, " General," 525. 
 
 Polytechnic Institute, call to the 
 presidency of, 303 ; letter of 
 acceptance to, 307; aims and 
 scope of, 309; history of labors 
 at, 224-328, 314-321, 333-335: 
 its rejection of corporal punish- 
 ment, 318. 
 
 Porter, Dr. Noah, 643. 
 
 Porter, S. D., 248, 258. 
 
 Porter, Miss Maria, 259, 274, 279, 
 290. 
 
 Porter, Miss Almira, letters to, 
 330, 36o. 
 
 RAYMOND, I. W., 251, 337, 641; 
 
 letter to, 73. 
 Raymond, Mrs. I. W., letters to, 
 
 454, 483- 
 Raymond, Prof. R. R., Si, 109, 
 
 148, 264; letters to, 146, 154, 
 
 156, 310, 395, 410, 519, 528; 
 
 letter of personal recollections 
 
 by, 311. 
 Raymond, Mrs. R. R., letters to, 
 
 353, 433, 464- 
 
 Raymond, Dr. Rossiter W. , trib- 
 ute by, 717. 
 
 Religious experience, 59. 
 
 Reminiscences of personalfriends, j 
 by Dr. Edward Lathrop, 97 ; | 
 Dr. T. J. Conant, 101 ; Mrs. J.T. j 
 Howard, 118; Frederick Doug- j 
 lass, 268; Miss Elizabeth Pea- 
 body, 274; Mrs. H. E. Niles, 
 285; Dr. A. C. Kendrick, 296; 
 Prof. R. R. Raymond. 311 ; 
 Prof. Robert Foster, 324; Rev, 
 Henry Ward Beecher, 398; Dr. 
 Benson J. Lossing, 603; Dr. 
 William Allen Butler, 604; Vas- 
 sar College Alumnne, 658-686- j 
 
 Dr. George R. Bliss, 699; Dr. 
 
 R. W. Raymond, 717. 
 Removal of Madison University, 
 
 interest in, 159, 165; labors for, 
 
 178-180, 245-255. 
 Renwick, Prof. James, 47. 
 Rhone glacier,- 445. 
 Richardson, -Prof. J. H., 125, 253, 
 
 290. 
 
 Rigi, view from Mt., 442. 
 Riley, George, 522. 
 Ritter, Prof. F. L., 588, 590. 
 Robert, Prof., 585, 645, 649. 
 Robinson, Dr. E. G., 301. 
 Rochester, removal to, 245 ; life in, 
 259; recollections of , 279, 290. 
 University of, 245-255, 
 
 256, 303, 306. 
 Rouen, churches of, 430. 
 
 SABBATH evening at^sea, 407 
 
 Sage, William, 248, 258, 280. 
 
 Sanford, Hon. H. S., 485. 
 
 Scholarships, desire for, 506, 624, 
 628; plea for the endowment 
 of, 601, 630, 631 ; completion 
 of the " Hannah Lyman" and 
 " Raymond," 633; founding of 
 a memorial, 633. 
 
 Schuyler, Eugene, 644, 645. 
 
 Sears, Dr. E. H., 522. 
 
 Sectarianism, evils of, 235, 267. 
 
 Seymour, Prof. E. C., note from, 
 328. 
 
 Shakespeare, readings from, 104, 
 276, 287, 298, 683; visit to home 
 and tomb of, 420, 422. 
 
 Sheldon, Smith, 290, 505. 
 
 Smith, Prof. Goldwin, 522. 
 
 Smith, Prof., and Mrs. H. B., 538. 
 
 Sorrow, a chapter of, 359. 
 
 Springfield, Friends at, 292, 357. 
 
744 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Staples, Seth P., 57. 
 
 St. Gothard Pass, 442. 
 
 Storrs, Rev. Dr. R. S., 251. 
 
 Stowe, Mrs. H. B , extract from 
 letter of, 386. 
 
 Stuart, Prof., 156. 
 
 Student, letter to a, 613. 
 
 Students at the Polytechnic, rela- j 
 tions to his, 321, 326, 717; at j 
 Vassar College, 658-694. 
 
 TAYLOR, Prof., 152. 
 Teachers, his early, 32, 39. 
 Tenney, Prof. Sanborn, 528. 
 Thibou, Rev. L., 351. 
 Thrall, Rev. Mr., 342. 
 Translation, Bible, plan of, 74- 
 
 76, 102. 
 
 " Tom Brown at Rugby," 283. 
 Tyrol, the Austrian, 468, 474; 
 
 religious customs of, 469-473. 
 
 UNIVERSITY, *Brown, visit to, 522. 
 University Convocation, 606 ; 
 
 discussions at, 611. 
 University, Madison, 93, 245. 
 University of Rochester, raising 
 
 of endowment for, 245-255; 
 
 opening of, 256; labors at, 303; 
 
 close of connection with, 306. 
 University system, the, 566. 
 
 VACATION HOURS, 185, 282, 289, 
 292, 345, 349, 356. 
 
 Valedictory addresses, 638-690. 
 
 Van Eycks, paintings by, 481. 
 
 Vassar College, its origin, 499; 
 organization of board of trus- 
 tees, 500; erection of buildings, 
 501; act of incorporation, 502; 
 acceptance of its presidency, 
 514 ; plan of organization, 
 551; prospectus, 552; opening, 
 558, 559 ; formative years, 
 
 561; course of study ques- 
 tions involved, 561-572, 608; 
 course of study developed, 572- 
 594; course of study defended, 
 614; first class graduated, 580; 
 celebration at close of the first 
 decade, 595 ; review of progress 
 made, 596, 600; key-note for 
 the future, 601; faithfulness to 
 its mission, 602 ; correspon- 
 dence, 634; prosperity and 
 progress, 652. 
 
 Vassar, Matthew, letter to, 507; 
 letters from, 498, 515; charac- 
 terization of, 513; purpose of a 
 college for women, 499; first 
 interview with board of trus- 
 tees, 500; anxieties, 501; re- 
 tirement from executive com- 
 mittee, 502; celebration of his 
 birthday, 503; last meeting with 
 the board, 650 ; death, 650. 
 
 Vassar, Matthew, Jr., 698. 
 
 Venice, impressions of, 461, 467; 
 memories awakened at, 462. 
 
 Vienna Pamphlet, extracts from, 
 561; referred to, 621. 
 
 \YAA<;EX, Dr., of Berlin, 482. 
 AVales, North, travels in, 413. 
 Warwick Castle, visit to, 419. 
 Wayland, Rev. H. L., 260. 
 Wayland, President, 522. 
 Webb, Dr. Greenleaf S., 77. 
 Webster, Daniel, 264. 
 Welch, Dr., 251, 253. 
 Wilder, John X., 256, 257, 281, 
 
 290, 293; letters to, 248, 252. 
 Wilder, Mrs. J. N., letter to, 293. 
 Williams, Rev. John, 45. 
 Winchester Cathedral, 429. 
 Women, Mission of Educated, 725. 
 
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