This must have been a year of hard work to the young professor in the preparation of his different courses of lectures, and yet, with that characteristic boldness, and forgetfulness of self in all matters of duty, which ever characterized him, he did not hesitate the ensuing year to ask permission to enlarge the duties of his chair. He already identified himself with the interests and reputation of the college, and at his urgent request the subjects of Intellectual Philosophy and Political Economy were, in 1818, without any extra emolument, added to his department. This was the first course of political economy lectures established in any American college.

But college duties, however onerous, were not allowed, from the very first, to shut out entirely those of his more sacred profession. In Grace and Trinity churches he often rendered assistance by preaching and otherwise, and if we may judge by the following lines from his mother the year before he came to the city, there must often have been the need:

"The bishop is still on his eastern tour through Connecticut. I hope this will be the last, and that they will select some one to preside over them, exclusively their own, as we are too much in want of his services ourselves. Unless we have aid from the country next Sunday we shall be obliged to shut two of our churches."

On the 29th of January, 1818, he delivered an address in St. Paul's Chapel, before the New York Bible and Common Prayer Book Society, which was published by request. This was his first publication.

It is not remarkable as a composition, and yet was probably effective from its simple directness.

In another way, also, did my father keep up his professional tone of mind, though I have no reason to suppose that it was done for that purpose. He was in the habit of writing short lectures on some portion of Scripture, suitable to the day or season, for use at family worship. They were short, simple, very much to the point, and loving in tone. This was kept up for many years, and must have had its influence on both himself and others.

The question respecting a regular course of theological study for candidates for Holy Orders was then attracting considerable attention in the Church. The House of Bishops had lately put forth an authoritative course of reading for candidates. Mr. C. C. Moore, the only son of the Bishop of New York, had given in trust, to meet the wants of this demand in the future, a large property on the outskirts of the city. The regents of the University of the State had also made propositions to Columbia College and Trinity Church respecting a new college on Staten Island, without theological restrictions respecting its President, but with a theological school attached. Thus the whole subject, in all its bearings, was being forced upon the thinking minds of the Church. Bishop Hobart, though looking with interest upon the proposition of the regents, doubted their motives, and as far as personal inclination went, favored a diocesan seminary. The plan of a general seminary of the whole Church was, however, the most popular, and, as

we know, was finally carried into successful operation; though many of the difficulties which Bishop Hobart foresaw have since been painfully realized. My father naturally took a deep interest in these questions. When the general seminary was determined on, he threw himself with all cordiality into the carrying out of the plan, and was himself chiefly instrumental in the gathering and endowment of its noble library, still his mind first turned to other plans in connection with the college of which he was a professor.

I find among his papers of the year 1820 one entitled "Plan of Theological Professorship to be attached to Columbia and other colleges." The plan, which is first given in brief, is as follows:

"The endowment for the support of the professor to be created by donations from individuals attached to the Protestant Episcopal Church until it reaches a revenue of $2,500 per annum.

"The appointment of the professor to rest with the Bishop of the Diocese of New York, subject to the approbation of the Board of Trustees.

"The duties of the professor to be

"1. A sub-graduate course of lectures on the evidences of revealed religion, to be delivered weekly to such of the classes as the trustees may see fit to appoint, of which course the president of the college to be visitor.

"2. A course of theological instruction confined to the students of divinity, in accordance with that prescribed by the canons of the Protestant Episcopal

Church. Of this course the Bishop and Standing Committee of the Diocese of New York to be visitors."

A somewhat similar plan for a law professorship, drawn out two years later, shows the working, at that early period, of my father's mind towards that principle of a university which has now become so popu

lar.

"As this law professorship," he writes, "will probably serve as a precedent for connecting with the college other graduate courses of study, it requires consideration to place it under such guards that it may not interfere with the good order and discipline of the institution.

"To prevent the degradation of the existing college course, the course of law should be based upon it, thus making the former necessary, this being regarded as a graduate course, taking up the student where the sub-graduate one has left him. But though ostensibly intended for graduates of the college, it need not in practice be restricted to them. .

"It is not sufficient that this lectureship be added to the college; it must be ingrafted into it. It must be made part of a great whole so as to unite aptly with it, and have a common interest and common feelings.'

This fear of degrading the sub-graduate course through unrestricted contact with professional lectures, and the importance of binding the latter to the college corporation by common interests and common feelings, sounds more like the experiences of 1870 than the warnings of 1822.

In a little bundle of scraps marked "Sweepings of my Portfolio, 1820," I find one entitled "Greek Epigram written in Miss H's Album.” The Greek is classical and shows the scholar, but I content myself with the English version which accompanies it:

"Mary, to try my wit, a verse demands,

And gives her album to my trembling hands,
But guile befriends me where my wit is weak:
To hide the faults her critic taste would seek
I shade. my dullness with a veil of Greek."

This readiness to gratify others with a few lines of rhyme, which not unfrequently rose to poetic merit, was with my father quite proverbial. And though it must often have been something of a trial added to the exactions of a busy life, good-nature seldom, I might almost say, judging by the following incident, never failed.

A young relative, a school-girl, sought him one day for an acrostic. She met him within the college green, cloak on arm and bag in hand, bound for the country. Seeing her look of disappointment, and drawing from her her errand, he gave into her charge his cloak and bag, and sitting down on the steps of a brother professor's house, wrote on the back of a letter, in a few moments' time, the desired lines, and then hurried on his way with, we cannot doubt, a light heart. A request for verses was nearly always put aside with the plea of want of time, but in spite of that the verses generally came.

The summer vacation after Dr. Bard's death was