Hopkins said of him: "Doing many things, he did them all well. What he has done in each position and relation has been a decided success." This is the striking figure he makes in the history of our college.

In what science or branch of learning he excelled I do not know, but it is fitting to say of him, now that he is dead and gone, that as a student in college, as tutor, professor and president, here and elsewhere, he was facile princeps-easily chief-doing his whole duty with soul, body and spirit; resolved to do with his might what he had to do, and never to admit the possibility of failure. He had physical difficulties to contend with that his best friends did not fully understand. With these he was weighted in the race and battle of life. Many would have found in them an excuse for declining to enter the arena. To him they were incentives to higher purpose and more zealous action, knowing how short the contest must be, how suddenly it might be finished. But with these embarrassments he conquered. To whatever subject he applied his acute, penetrating and powerful intellect, he went into it and through it, knowing it thoroughly, was able to teach it to others, and so became its master and dis

penser. His executive force was marvellous. He was so willing to do that he could easily do too much. No burdens seemed too great, no duties too many.

It was an error of judgment—perhaps it should be called an error of genius-that he was never able to say with Paul, whose name he bore, "This one thing I do." He did too many things. The measure of success he attained in them all seems to contradict the criticism. But there is no reason to doubt that if his life had been devoted to the pursuit of business affairs he would have been distinguished among great men of wealth. Had he entered civil life he would have taken rank among the great leaders of men. He touched both these spheres, and made demonstrations of his powers. But we know and honor him to-day for his success as a teacher of science and the arts; a sagacious and skilful officer of the college whose name adds lustre to the roll of great men who have left the stamp of their intellectual and

moral characteristics upon this institution. And when we contemplate the attainments which a few of the great students of our own and former times have made, we are compelled to adopt the thought of another and say, "We seem to be asleep at the base of these monuments of study, and scarcely awaken to admire." The ceaseless activity of Dr. Chadbourne always reminds me of the remark of Ferguson : "The lustre which man casts around him, like the flame of a meteor, shines only while his motion continues; the moments of rest and obscurity are the same."

Admirably that illustration presents the career of our departed friend. He was never at rest. His motion was perpetual, and hence the lustre of his character was always shining.

And so on the wing the arrow of Death, the unerring archer, pierced his side. He fell in the midst of his work: fell suddenly. Stricken down away from home in the midst of a journey, lying in a place of business in the midst of a great city, yet there when the mortal agony seized him he pursued the work that he came to do. It was so like him.

And then the bed of death was changed into a triumphal car; angels came down to escort him upward on his shining way; visions of celestial glory appeared, and he talked with God as friend to friend. His vigorous intellect, illumined with a light that "never was on land or sea," solved mighty problems that aforetime had been to him great mysteries; and the infinite verities of eternity became palpable to his senses, as he lay like Jacob beneath the stars, beholding the gates of heaven open to his mortal eyes.

Nobody dies till his work is done. And then it is well to die.

The tenderness of wedded and filial love ministered to him in those hours when flesh and heart were failing; wiped the death-sweat from his noble brow, kissed his breath away, and wafted his ransomed spirit to the bosom of his Lord and Redeemer.

It was a grand, good life. His was a blessed and happy dying. Let my last end be like his!

DR. EDWIN F. HATFIELD.

THE HIDING-PLACE OF HIS GREAT POWER.

In this city are several circles, societies or coteries of ministers who meet at stated times for social improvement and enjoyment. When death comes into the company, it is common in the one to which I belong to spend the time of the next meeting in talking about the deceased, reciting pleasant memories, making a study of him that we may get all the good we can from him, now that he is dead.

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In this way we studied Dr. E. F. Hatfield when we were last together, and a very profitable time it was: very pleasant also. That is one of the charms of our intercourse. Christian friendship, when the delights of learning, wit and good-fellowship are added, is one of the highest pleasures that earth affords, and is about as near to that above" as we shall get till we sit down in the Father's house on high. I have been reciting since I came in from the meeting the many pleasant reminiscences to which I have listened, and the pleasure will be lengthened if I write you briefly of them before I go to sleep.

He was a

You perhaps have heard of Harlan Page. wonderfully useful layman in New York fifty years ago. He was the father, it might almost be said, of them who work for individual souls; that is, he made a business of winning men to the Saviour, one by one, and very hard must be the heart that would not yield to the prayers and tears and sweet persuasions of that lovely man of God. He fell in with young Hatfield, and fastened himself unto him with cords of love, so that to escape was impossible and he yielded himself a "captive willing to be bound." Then he was easily persuaded to the holy ministry, through college and seminary, laying a deep foundation for usefulness. He was not half fledged, but was thoroughly furnished for his high calling.

Now I am about to say something that will to some appear extravagant. New York never had a pastor in it whose ministry was more fruitful and permanently useful than that of Dr. Hatfield.

There are bright and glorious traditions of his success in the pulpit, that to those who receive them only as traditions seem incredible, so utterly unknown now in the churches are such scenes as were common in his pastorate. There was fervor and logic in his preaching, and it is sadly true that logic does not often get afire. When it does, the best kind of preaching comes. Some of the brethren while speaking of Dr. Hatfield referred to one of his contemporaries who reasoned mightily out of the Scriptures and was a giant in intellect, but had few souls for seals of his ministry. But they wisely said we must not measure a man's usefulness by the numbers whom he counts as converts. One soweth and another reapeth. Dr. Hatfield did both, and there are few who reach the understanding and the heart also with so much effect. That is the great lesson to be learned from his life and labors. Being a man of cool, calm judgment, strong, good sense, without fanaticism, a walking encyclopedia of facts and statistics, a sort of multiplicationtable on foot, an antiquarian in taste, fond of old books and pamphlets and manuscripts, delving in lore as dry as dust, he nevertheless was full of juice, the marrow of the Scripture, the love of the gospel and the desire of saving souls. This is a rare combination. Few men ever saw such a blending of attributes and such a result when the man came forth from the crucible melted and moulded for the Master's

use.

We have not yet hit upon the hiding of his power. For I do not fear to use the word power as applied to this wise winner of souls. He was a devout man. Very holy he was. No one could be led by him in prayer without feeling himself led very near to the throne of grace. Thus he had with him always the power of the Holy Spirit. Not by might, not with the excellency of man's wisdom, not by the will of

man, but by the Spirit of God, was this man made mighty to the pulling down of strongholds of sin and of building up the church.

There is no pastor in this city now whose aisles are habitually crowded, year in and year out, with sinners asking what they must do to be saved. His were. And not only in the prime and vigor of his life, but even down to old age. When he went to the west from the east side of the town, at a time of life when his enthusiasm, if not his natural force, might be abated, the signs from heaven were as on the corner of Broome and Ridge streets, when the fire of youth burned in his glowing breast. Every year a hundred or more enlisted under his banner, and endured to the end.

What he was, every well-educated, pious preacher may be. His success did not depend on adventitious circumstances which justify others in despair. He took hold of his work with both hands, and compelled success. This is genius. Why was he prince among clerks, the chief clerk, the ablest and best man for figures of arithmetic that the church has discovered in our day? Why was he an accomplished ecclesiastic, master of the minutest details of canon law and order? Why so familiar with the dates and facts of history, so that it was dangerous to differ with him and fatal to assail his positions? Because he gave his whole mind to everything he put his hand to. Sincere, honest, without guile, pertinacious and of strong will, he knew that everything was possible that God would direct him to do.

Now, take such a man as that and put him in the pulpit in such a city as this, and what will come of it? God with him, inspiring him with energy, zeal, love, warmth, already full of truth, sound learning, vast reading, and strong sense, he throws himself at and into the people, and they hear as for their lives. I believe in the supernatural. Every new birth is a new creation. The age of miraculous conversion is not passed. It did not close when the modern prophets of our Israel went up to their glory. God is with his ministers, in his church, and the people will see wonders and

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