warmth of public feeling existed that the board were forced, in order to satisfy both parties, to listen to everything that could be brought forward in relation to it. The senate chamber in the capitol, in which we sat, was in general crowded with auditors. Clowes has the faculty of making warm personal friends; some middle-aged men sat there who wept like children when anything unfavorable to him appeared in evidence.

Yours affectionately,

JOHN MCVICKAR.

The result of this trial was unfavorable to Mr. Clowes, and he was suspended from the ministry.

The two room-mates thus accidentally thrown together during an ecclesiastical trial at Albany, and both destined to do good work in their different spheres, were soon again, as we shall see, to cross each other's path.

In the mean time, an intimacy, if not a friendship, grew up between them, and a correspondence commenced, which, on one side at least, was started in Latin.

CHAPTER IV.

CHANGE FROM PASTORAL TO ACADEMIC DUTIES: 1817.

N the

IN

66

year 1817 the Rev. Dr. Bowden, Professor of Moral and Intellectual Philosophy in Columbia College, died. My father's name was soon mentioned in connection with the vacant professorship. The matter is thus touched upon in Miss Bard's diary: :August 8th.—I have this day received a great shock, though the circumstances that occasioned it may be designed by a wise Providence ultimately for our good. Dr. Bowden, one of the professors of the college, is dead, and some of Mr. McVickar's friends think, if he would accept the station, it could be procured for him. He has been written to on the subject and I am waiting in the most painful anxiety to know the result. He will do what he considers his duty, and what will be best for the interests and happiness of his family, and my dear brother will urge him to that effect. But O, what a blow to his and my sister's happiness, and, indeed, to all our families, to have him and their beloved daughter sepaAnd what shall I do, or who shall Why art thou so full of heaviness,

rated from them. I part from?

6

O my soul, and why art thou so disquieted within me. Put thy trust in God.'"

The following few lines from one with whom my father was then quite intimate, would seem to lead to the conclusion that he did not interest himself much in the result:

DEAR SIR,

...

NEW YORK, September 5, 1817. We have parties running very

high here respecting the vacant professorship in Columbia College. I hope to talk over this and other matters with you ere long under your own vine and fig-tree, which I am happy to learn you have determined not to abandon; for, you may rely upon it, you are happier and more useful where you are than if you were professor of moral philosophy, rhetoric, and belles-letters, etc., etc., in Columbia College. Believe me, my dear sir, Yours most respectfully, CLEMENT C. MOORE.

The fact that parties were running very high respecting this professorship was unfortunately true, and still more unfortunate was it that Mr. McVickar's Albany room-mate, Mr. Jarvis, afterwards the learned historian, between whom and my father quite an intimacy, as we have seen, had sprung up, should be his chief rival. But so it was, and, as is often the case, the confident one was disappointed, the careless one successful. The following letter from Mr. Jarvis, though long, is given entire, as being in every way interesting, showing the friendly spirit between two of the rival candidates, and also as markedly characteristic of the future Church histo

rian. It seems to have been in reply to one from my father, in Latin, which is fair evidence that the parochial work of the last six years had not broken the old habits of systematic study :—

up

MY DEAR SIR,

6

BLOOMINGDALE, September 25, 1817. I have too much to say and too little time to say it in to reply to your letter in the same language. My thoughts are so impatient to be with you that they choose the lightest and most rapid vehicle, and will not wait for the more dignified, slow, and solemn pace of the old Roman state coach. You kindly inquire about my health, my family, my studies, and the books I have read at least you suggest them as topics of correspondence. As to the last you mention, de libris imprimendis,' 1 it does not come within the circle of my acts or even of my projects. Since my return my time has been much occupied by business, which had suffered some derangement from my long absence, and by parochial duties which have been more than ordinarily numerous. I have made out, however, to read one book of Quintilian, Longinus, a portion of Lord Kames, and some other critical works, and am at present examining, or rather commencing an examination of the Chronology of Syncellus, the Chronicon Paschale, Eusebius, and Josephus, as compared with the Samaritan, Greek, and Hebrew Bibles, and the modern system of Usher, Blair, and others. For this purpose I have been making chronological notes from Josephus, and have proceeded as far as the Ninth Book, 1 Of publishing.

and I think it very evident that his chronology has been corrupted, and that it must have been originally the same as what now appears in our Hebrew copies. These, with Riley's narrative and the Reviews, make up the total de libris legendis.' With respect to the Church, I can say but little, as I have seen scarcely any of the clergy since my return. They have been so much out of town, that Mr. Milnor told me he had been called upon to perform the parochial duties of Trinity, not one of the clergy of that parish being in the city. What shall I say to you with regard to the college? On Monday Dr. Bard favored me with a visit and informed me that you are a candidate for the vacant professorship. This information, I must confess, gave me some pain, because it places me in a situation which I hoped never to have been in with regard to you. Early this month one of the trustees asked my permission to nominate me, to which I assented, and I find that my name is publicly mentioned. Mr. Bristed has been and still is very active in soliciting votes, and the warmest of his supporters, I understand, is your friend Clement Moore. I concluded, therefore, that he also could not have known of your wishes. For myself, I have not taken any step to secure an election, nor shall I stoop to solicit a single vote. However the matter may terminate, my dear sir, I hope and trust that it will produce no difference in our feelings of friendship so happily begun. It pains me, indeed, to think that my gain should ever be your loss, and I most heartily wish that some course could