eacher, scholar, and college president all rolled into
one! During the twenty years of his brilliant career at Princeton he
displayed much of Jonathan Edwards' metaphysical acumen, of John
Witherspoon's wisdom, Samuel Davies' fervor and Dr. "Johnny" McLean's
kindness of heart; the best qualities of his predecessors were combined
in him. He came here a Scotchman at the age of fifty-seven, and in a
year he became, as Paddy said, "a native American."

To my mind the chief glory of Dr. McCosh's presidency at Princeton was
the fervid interest he felt in the religious welfare of his students. He
often invited me to come over and deliver sermons to them, and
occasionally a temperance address; for he was a zealous teetotaler and
prohibitionist, and I always lodged with him at his house. As I turn
over my book of correspondence I find many brief letters from him. In
the following one he refers to the remarkable revival in the college in
the winter and early spring of 1870:

COLLEGE OF NEW JERSEY, PRINCETON, Jan. 9, 1873.

_My dear Dr. Cuyler:_

In the name of the Philadelphian Society, and in my own name, I
request you to conduct our service on the day of prayer for
colleges, being Thursday the 30th of January. It is three years, if
I calculate rightly, since you performed that duty for us. That
visit was followed by the blessed work in which you took an active
part. May it be the same this year! The college is in an
interesting state: we have a great deal of the spirit of study;
there is a meeting for prayer every night except Friday; the class
prayer meetings are all well attended, in some of the classes as
many as sixty present; but we need a quickening. I do hope you will
come. Our habit is an address of half an hour or so at three PM in
the college chapel, and a sermon in one of the churches, especially
addressed to students, but open to all in the evening. Of course,
you will come to my house, and live with me. Yours as ever,

James McCosh.

To hundreds of the alumni of Princeton this letter will stir the
fountain of old memories. They will hear in it the ring of the old
college bell; they will see the lines of students marching across the
campus to evening prayer and into the chapel. Upon the platform mounts
the stooping form of grand old "Uncle Jimmie," and in his broad and not
unmelodious Scotch accents he pours out his big, w