Recollections of a Long Life - An Autobiography | Page 3

address I ever
delivered was at a great temperance gathering (with Father Theobald
Mathew) in the City Hall of Glasgow during the summer of 1842. My
mother's discipline was loving but thorough; she never bribed me to
good conduct with sugar-plums; she praised every commendable deed
heartily, for she held that an ounce of honest praise is often worth more
than many pounds of punishment.
During my infancy that godly mother had dedicated me to the Lord, as
truly as Hannah ever dedicated her son Samuel. When my paternal

grandfather, who was a lawyer, offered to bequeath his law-library to
me, my mother declined the tempting offer, and said to him: "I fully
expect that my little boy will yet be a minister." This was her constant
aim and perpetual prayer, and God graciously answered her prayer of
faith in His own good time and way. I cannot now name any time, day,
or place when I was converted. It was my faithful mother's steady and
constant influence that led me gradually along, and I grew into a
religious life under her potent training, and by the power of the Holy
Spirit working through her agency. A few years ago I gratefully placed
in that noble "Lafayette Avenue Presbyterian Church" of Brooklyn (of
which I was the founder and pastor for thirty years) a beautiful
memorial window to my beloved mother representing Hannah and her
child Samuel, and the fitting inscription: "As long as he liveth I have
lent him to the Lord."
For several good reasons I did not make a public profession of my faith
in Jesus Christ until I left school and entered the college at Princeton,
New Jersey. The religious impressions that began at home continued
and deepened until I united, at the age of seventeen, with the Church of
the Lord Jesus Christ. As an effectual instruction in 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 Torrey held the chemical
professorship. He was engaged with Dr. Gray in preparing the history
of American Flora. Stephen Alexander's modest eye had watched Orion
and the Seven Stars through the telescope of the astronomer; the
flashing wit and silvery voice of Albert B. Dod, then in his splendid
prime, threw a magnetic charm over the higher mathematics. And in
that old laboratory, with negro "Sam" as his assistant, reigned Joseph
Henry, the acknowledged king of American scientists. When, soon
after, he gave me a note of Introduction to Sir Michael Faraday,
Faraday said to me: "By far the greatest man of science your country
has produced since Benjamin Franklin is Professor Henry." With
Professor Henry I formed a very intimate friendship, and after he
became the head of the Smithsonian Institution I found a home with
him whenever I went to Washington.
Our class, which graduated in 1841, contained