righteousness, my faithful mother's letters to me when a schoolboy were
more than any sermons that I heard during all those years. I feel now
that the happy fifty-six years that I have spent in the glorious
ministry of the Gospel of Redemption is the direct outcome of that
beloved mother's prayers, teaching example, and holy influence.

My preparation for college was partly under the private tutorship of the
good old Dutch dominie, the Rev. Gerrit Mandeville, who smoked his pipe
tranquilly while I recited to him my lessons in Caesar's Commentaries,
and Virgil; and partly in the well-known Hill Top School, at Mendham,
N.J. I entered Princeton college at the age of sixteen and graduated at
nineteen, for in those days the curriculum in our schools and
universities was more brief than at present. The Princeton college to
which I came was rather a primitive institution in comparison with the
splendid structures that now crown the University heights. There were
only seven or eight plain buildings surrounding the campus, the two
society-halls being the only ones that boasted architectural beauty. In
endowments the college was as poor as a church mouse. There were no
college clubs, no inter-collegiate games, thronged by thousands of
people from all over the land; but the period of my connection with the
college was really a golden period in its history. Never were its chairs
held by more distinguished occupants. The president of the college was
Dr. Carnahan, who, although without a spark of genius, was yet a man of
huge common sense, kindness of heart and excellent executive ability. In
the chair of the vice-president sat dear old "Uncle Johnny" McLean, the
best-loved man that ever trod the streets of Princeton. He was the
policeman of the faculty, and his astuteness in detecting the pranks of
the students was only equalled by his anxiety to befriend them after
they were detected. The polished culture of Dr. James W. Alexander then
adorned the Chair of the Latin Language and English Literature. Dr. John