into a splendid park, every detail of convenience and beauty being consulted in the transformation. The old walks were replaced with something substantial, grading and planting were carried out on an extensive scale, the drainage was remodeled, and many other such things, which seem small separately, but mean so much collectively, were attended to. The following buildings were added: The Halsted observatory in 1869, the gymnasium in 1869-70, Reunion Hall and Dickinson Hall in 1870, the Chancellor Green library and the John C. Green school of science in 1873, University Hall in 1876, Witherspoon Hall in 1877, the observatory of instruction in 1878, Murray Hall in 1879, Edwards Hall in 1880, the Marquand Chapel in 1881, the biological laboratory in 1887, and the art museum about the same time. The administrative side of the college was invigorated in many ways, a dean being added to the executive officering in 1883. The faculty was gradually built up by importation of professors from other institutions, and afterwards by training Princeton men as well. Twenty-four of Dr. McCosh's pupils are now in the faculty. The course of study was revised and made modern, without giving up the historical essentials of liberal education. Elective studies were introduced and developed, and the relating of the elective to the prescribed studies in one harmonious system was always kept in view. To the old academic course of four years, leading to the degree of bachelor of arts, courses leading to the degree of bachelor of science and civil engineer were added, and graduate courses leading to the university degrees of doctor of philosophy and doctor of science were organized. The entrance requirements were improved in quality and were exacted with more firmness. interior relations of the various departments of study to each other and to the general culture of the student were gradually better adjusted, and beginnings of specialized study founded on general culture were instituted. The use of the library was made of importance as a help to the students' regular class work. The two literary societies, Whig and Clio, were relieved of the distress under which they had suffered from secret societies, by exterminating these societies, and helped in their friendly rivalry by the establishment of additional college honors open to their competition. Old class room and chapel disorders slowly gave way before better buildings and improved instruction. Useful auxiliaries to the curriculum were encouraged, and, in particular, the president's "library meeting” was started. Here, month after month, the upper classmen met in large numbers to

"I remember," said Dr. McCosh, "the first view which I got of the pleasant height on which the college stands, the highest ground between the two great cities of the Union, looking down on a rich country, covered with wheat and corn, with apples and peaches, resembling the south of England as much as one country can be like another. Now we see that height covered with buildings not inferior to those of any other college in America. I have had great pleasure in my hours of relaxation in laying out-always assisted by the late Rev. William Harris, the treasurer of the college-the grounds and walks, and locating the buildings. I have laid them out somewhat on the model of the demesnes of English noblemen. I have always been healthiest when so employed. I remember the days, sunshiny or cloudy, in April and November, on which I cut down dozens of deformed trees and shrubs and planted large numbers of new ones which will live when I am dead. I do not believe that I will be allowed to come back from the other world to this; but if this were permitted I might be allured to visit these scenes so dear to me, and to see the tribes on a morning go up to the house of God in companies."-Life of Dr. McCosh, pp. 195, 196.

2 Indeed, the traditional university constitution-a semimonastic life, fixed terms of college residence, adherence to old academic custom, and a hierarchy of degreesis found nowhere in more vigor than at Princeton. The true future of Princeton lies not in the development of professional schools nor in the pursuit of utilitarian studies, but in both the college and the graduate department is inseparably bound up with the cause of pure academic culture and learning.-Prof. W. M. Daniels, The Critic, October 24, 1896.

hear some paper by Dr. McCosh, some professor from Princeton or elsewhere, some bright alumnus or scholar attached to a university. Distinguished strangers got into the habit of coming to see the college, and such visits as those of General Grant and other American dignitaries, and of the German professors Dorner and Christlieb, of the Duke of Argyll, of Froude, and of Matthew Arnold were greatly enjoyed. And so by slowly working agencies a change in the way of growth, now rapid and now apparently checked, was taking place. The impoverished small college was being renovated, uplifted, and expanded; it was put on its way toward a university life. Its faculty and students increased, until in 1888 the 16 instructors had become a body of 43 and the students were over 600. Yet this gratifying increase is not the great thing. It might have come and amounted to little more than a diffusion of weakness. But it was qualitative as well as quantitative, for the college was steadily producing men, and a body of men having an intense esprit du corps of great value for the future solidarity of Princeton; for Dr. McCosh not only left his indelible mark upon them singly, but fused their youthful enthusiasms into one mastering passion for Princeton as a coming university, democratic in its student life, moved by the ideas of discipline and duty, unified in its intellectual culture, open to the core. His relations with the students were intimate and based on his fixed conviction that upon them ultimately rested the fate of Princeton. This conviction meant more than that he saw in young men the coming men. "A college depends," he once said, "not on its president or trustees or professors, but on the character of the students and the homes they come from. If these change, nothing can stop the college changing." To his eyes the movement that determined everything was the movement from below upward and outward, and the business of president, trustees, and professors was to make this mass of raw material into the best product possible; but, first of all, the material must be sound if there is to be success in the product. The philosopher of elemental realty 2 was never more true to his

"I think it proper to state," wrote Dr. McCosh, "that I meant all along that these new and varied studies, with their groupings and combinations, should lead to the formation of a studium generale, which was supposed in the middle ages to constitute a university. At one time I cherished a hope that I might be honored to introduce such a measure. From my intimate acquaintance with the system of Princeton and other colleges, I was so vain as to think that out of our available materials I could have constructed a university of a high order. I would have embraced in it all that is good in our college; in particular, I would have seen that it was pervaded with religion, as the college is. I was sure that such a step would have been followed by a large outflow of liberality on the part of the public, such as we enjoyed in the early days of my presidency. We had had the former rain, and I hoped we might have the latter rain, and we could have given the institution a wider range of usefulness in the introduction of new branches and the extension of post-graduate studies. But this privilege has been denied me."-Life of McCosh, pp. 213, 214.

2 The last remark by Dr. McCosh in this chapel was a memorable one. It was given several years ago, on a Sunday evening, in the simple religious service held here in the close of the day. He had been asked repeatedly once more to preach in the pulpit from which he had so often spoken, but had declined, from a fear that he might not be able to endure the strain. This simple and less exhausting service he readily undertook. On the occasion to which I refer he read with a touching emphasis St. Paul's 13th chapter of First Corinthians, that wonderful chapter in which the apostle discourses on charity. Having ended the reading, he gave a brief analysis of its points, remarking on the great climax of the last verse, "And now abideth faith, hope, and charity; but the greatest of these is charity." Then he announced his purpose of saying a few words on the first clause of the 9th verse, and read it slowly; and those who heard it will not forget the scene as he said, "For we know in part," instantly adding with an almost triumphant tone, "But we know."— Dr. James O. Murray.

principles than just here. Given, however, a body of students of sound stock, he felt sure the desired results in their discipline and culture were obtainable by intelligent and patient treatment. First of all, as the negative condition of success, he insisted that idleness be done away with, otherwise nothing could be done to counteract the positive vices to which idleness gives occasion, and nothing to develop the mind by wholesome exercise. Next on his programme came an orderly and regular course of study to be pursued by the student without faltering. Then, in order to bind all the student's life into one and place him in the right direction, he depended upon the sense of moral responsibility, quickened and energized by Christian truth.1

It was a simple programme, and great as it was simple. His capacity for detail was marvelous, and hence he could meet special individual needs as well as plan on the general scale. It seems as though his sanity of judgment and constant endeavor to develop normal character was the very thing that enabled him to recognize the kind and extent of departure from the normal standard in any student at any stage of development. Once he met a rather pompous undergraduate, who announced with some impressiveness that he could no longer stay in the church of his fathers, as he needed something more satisfying, and that he felt it proper to acquaint Dr. McCosh with the great fact. The sole reply was, "You'll do no such thing." And so it turned out. In answer to a cautiously worded long question put by a member of the faculty, in order to discover whether some one charged with a certain duty had actually performed it, the answer came like a shot, "He did." No more! How short he could be! To an instructor in philosophy whom he wished to

'I should sadly fail in doing any justice to the memory of Dr. McCosh did I not lay a special emphasis on the Christian element in his administration. Amid all his high ambitions and large plans and unsparing labors for the college, he never forgot, and his faculty was never allowed to forget, that it should maintain the character and do the work of a Christian college. He believed profoundly that education must have a Christian basis. He was loyal to all the traditions of the past, and he sought to administer the office he held in the spirit of its noble charter. It was under his guidance that the practice of administering the holy communion at the beginning and close of the college year was instituted. It was to him a source of the truest joy when this beautiful chapel was reared by the generosity of the donor. He wrote the graceful inscription on yonder tablet. In private and in public, in active cooperation with the Christian society of the college, and in many a confidential talk with his students on the great themes of religion, he sought always to develop the Christian element in college life. I do not think he favored the idea of a college church. In fact, though a Presbyterian by deep conviction, he avoided anything which would divert attention from his own aim to make the college Christian rather than denominational. The catholicity of his spirit here was full and large. The legacy of devotion to the Christian element in college life he has left us is indeed a sacred and abiding one.-Dr. James O. Murray.

2 What a figure he has been in Princeton history! I need not describe him. You can never forget him. You see him tall and majestic; his fine head resting on stooping shoulders; his classic face, with a voice like a trumpet; magisterial; with no mock humility-expecting the full deference that was due his office, his years, and his work. Here is the fruit of his life: the books he has written; the college that he has built; the alumni all over the land who are his greatest pupils. Through a quarter of a century and more he lived among us-a stalwart man, with an iron will; no mimosa he, sensitive, shrinking and shriveling at the touch of criticism; but a sturdy oak that storms might wrestle with but only heaven's lightning could hurt; loyal to conscience; deep in conviction; tender of heart; living in communion with God, and loving the Word of God as he loved no other book; he was the president who woke the admiration, and touched the hearts, and kindled the enthusiasm of Princeton men. No wonder they were fond of him.-President Patton's Memorial Sermon.