of them lately; they are still as fragrant as if
preserved in lavender. His heart was a very pure fountain of noble
thought, and of sweet, unselfish affection.

He died at the right time; his great work was complete; he did not
linger on to outlive himself. The beloved wife of his home on earth had
gone on before; he felt lonesome without her, and grew homesick for
heaven. His loving flock had crowned him with their grateful
benedictions; he waited only for the good-night kiss of the Master he
served, and he awoke from a transient slumber to behold the ineffable
glory. On the previous day his illustrious Andover instructor, Professor
Edwards A. Park, had departed; it was fitting that Andover's most
illustrious graduate should follow him; now they are both in the
presence of the infinite light, and they both behold the King in His
beauty!

Fifty years ago one of the most famous celebrities in the Presbyterian
Church was Dr. Samuel Hanson Cox, famous for his linguistic attainments,
for his wit and occasional eccentricities, and very famous for his
bursts of eloquence on great occasions. He was at that time the pastor
of the First Presbyterian Church of Brooklyn, and resided in the street
where I am now writing (Oxford Street); and the street at the end of the
block was named "Hanson Place" in honor of him. His large wooden mansion
was then quite out of town, and was accordingly called "Rus Urban," In
that house he wrote--for the _New York Observer_--the unique series of
articles on New School Theology entitled "The Hexagon," and there he
entertained, with his elegant courtesy and endless flow of wit and
learning, many of the most eminent people who visited Brooklyn. The boys
used to climb into his garden to steal fruit; and, as a menace, he
affixed to his fence a large picture of a watch-dog, and underneath it a
dental sign, "Teeth inserted here!" The old mansion was removed years
ago.

In 1846 he was the moderator of the "new school" Presbyterian General
Assembly. It was during the sessions of that assembly that the famous
debate was waged for several days on the exciting question of negro
slavery, and when some compromise resolutions were passed (for those
were the days of compromise salves and plasters)--Dr. Cox rose and
exclaimed, "Well, brethren, we have _capped Vesuvius_ for another year,"
But "Vesuvius" would not stay capped, and in a few years one of its
violent eruptions sundered the "new school" church in twa