but, with a brave heart and God's blessing, we shall go through them."

The following, on the same subject, and of about the same date, is from one between whom and my father there had grown up a warm attachment; and the only justification offered for thus making public a private letter, without the writer's leave, is, that by his deeds and worth, he has allowed his name and all that concerns it to become public property:

CRESSON SPRINGS, PA., July 22, 1861.

-

MY DEAR DOCTOR, Having a leisure moment to-day I thought that I would write to you a few lines. The telegram this morning reports a great battle at and in the vicinity of Manassas Junction. I am very anxious to hear the result. I fear that, in consequence of our having so few disciplined troops, and so many officers who have had no experience, our losses will be very great. I feel that this matter has been forced upon us the firing upon my little band at Fort Sumter opened a war from which our government could not withdraw. Only one course is now left for us, to meet all the responsibilities as becomes Christians and soldiers. That this civil strife will be attended with incidents which will sadden and sicken the firmest hearts, none who know the decided and sternly bitter determination of our Southern enemies, can doubt. I feel, and acknowledge too, that as a people, we have far forgotten our God, and that we have justly incurred his wrath. Let us pray that He will be, as He has ever shown

Himself, merciful to us, and that He will soon bring hope and peace and love to our land again. Mrs. Anderson joins me in sincerest and warmest regards.

Ever yours truly,

ROBERT ANDERSON.

REV. JOHN MCVICKAR, D. D., Chaplain U. S. A., New York.

The chaplain early asked and obtained permission to visit and minister to the Southern prisoners who were confined on the Island, and in the harbor of New York; and I judge by the many letters of thanks from friends and interested persons that the duty must have been kindly and faithfully performed. Bishop Whittingham, writing on the 18th of September, 1861, says:

"MY DEAR DOCTOR, -I was greatly pleased to find how thoroughly you had anticipated all that I wished to ask you in behalf of the erring men who are now prisoners in the port of New York. For the kind way in which you meet my interference, and the loving words in which you express yourself concerning it, I can only thank you with heartiest returns of grateful affection."

On the 10th of September, 1862, a communication was received from the commanding officer of the post, in obedience to the new regulations of the War Department, requiring of the chaplain residence on the Island. It was one of the necessary changes in point

of strictness required by war times, but to my father it came as a sort of death-blow. His varied duties in New York city forbade his living out of it, and he combated the order in every possible way, for his heart was in his work among the soldiers, and though in his seventy-fourth year he was not feeling old. I have before me a paper in his handwriting, and drawn up in legal form, entitled "Grounds for Relief," etc., giving under heads the various, and many of them strong reasons, why this order should not be binding in his case. But the War Department had no time then to be looking into exceptional cases, consequently, when the order was repeated, my father resigned, and the last settled ministerial work of his life was brought to a close.

What was grief to him was secret joy to his family and friends. They saw no prospect of voluntary resignation on his part, yet they had felt for some time that his age, and the value of his experience as a counselor in the Church, made it important that this duty of great exposure and hazard should be given up. It was therefore looked at by them as a kind providence, and my father soon came to acquiesce in the view, settling, in its own way, a difficult problem. Thus ended a phase in my father's life which stood out with a distinctness that made it almost look like the work of another man, and suggested that separate treatment which requires us now to take up again the thread of his ordinary life, eighteen years previous.

CHAPTER XX.

COLLEGE VIEWS: 1840-1850.

THE requirements of the invalid daughter, of whom mention has been made, led to the giving up of the Turin farm, as too far away, and the purchase of a small place on Staten Island. It was a comfort so far as it gave pleasure and enjoyment to the sick one, but beyond that it never went. This place never was a home, and after a few years, when the sufferer for whose gratification it had been purchased went to her rest, it was parted with without regret. The interests as well as duties of these years, from 1840 on to 1850, centred in the college and flowed out to the chaplaincy and Church societies. There was no lack of interest, however, in general matters, as evidenced by various articles in the current press, over the familiar signature of " M." To show how very familiar it was, and, consequently, how ready as a writer was my father in all the live interests of his day, I venture to quote the following jeu d'esprit from the "Churchman:

MR. EDITOR,-Having been complimented more than once since the appearance of the last "Churchman," by some friends who know my signature, on

my change to liberal Low-church principles, it has forced so strongly on my mind the inconvenience resulting, at least to the writers themselves, from there being two contributors to the same paper under the same signature, that I have determined to trouble you and my namesake, " M.," with this notice of it. Hitherto, I am willing thankfully to acknowledge that the balance of divided merit arising from a common name has been greatly in my favor, inasmuch as it has been the means of gaining me credit with my friends, not only for many zealous and good articles which I did not write, but also for much poetry that I could not have written, the reputation of which, with the usual inconsistency of man, inasmuch as nature has denied me the faculty, I prize, even more, perhaps, than it deserves. But be that as it may, now that it has come to doctrine, that, I confess, is a nicer matter, and, as I can, to use a cant phrase," pin my faith on no man's sleeve," I now feel myself forced, however unwillingly, thus publicly to renounce all claim to the aforesaid poetry, and to state that I am unwilling to undertake the responsibility of my brother M.'s Church opinions, as he doubtless has long been of my metaphysical lucubrations; and if a mere personal question like this were worth the trouble I would request you to decide between us the priority of use, in order that one or the other might recede. As the world of letters lies free before us where to choose, the loss, on whichever side it fall, may be easily supplied; and the poet comforts us with the assurance that "the rose by any